I’m A Christian

When I say I am a Christian…

I’m apologizing for all the damage that “religion” has done. For the Crusades, the crooked “saints,” the two-faced politicians, hate speech, oppression, and self-righteous smucks. This is not right and, I believe, far from the heart of God.

I’m admitting that I don’t care enough for the poor or the homeless or the widows or the orphans or the third-world countries. That it is easy for me to notice specks in the eyes of others when there are logs jammed in mine. That sometimes there are more questions than answers and, fortunately, I don’t know or need to know it all.

I’m announcing that the problem isn’t murder, or abortion, or homosexuality, or war, or politics, or our behavior. The problem is ME. And you. And that out of the 6 billion people living on this earth we can’t help, in our own futile strength, to look out for the best interests of anybody but ourselves. We are our own idols.

I’m advocating Jesus, the one who reached out to prostitutes, tax collectors, the lame, the blind, the outcasts; Jesus, who was a humble yet strong carpenter, who bore his cross on his own beaten back. Not Jesus, the “clean”, smiley-faced, white middle-class Republican.

I’m asking for patience and grace and prayer as I try to live out, daily, the love and truth of Jesus Christ. I’m asking for forgiveness. I am no better than anyone else. This is more than a list of do’s and don’ts; it’s more than religion. It’s about connecting with a real God and being in a relationship that changes the way you see things and people and yourself. That allows you to see things for what they really are, and makes things “make sense.”

Yes, I am a Christian. I say that not out of smugness but weakness. I need help. Because even my good works are tainted.

The only badge I wear with pride notes the merits of Christ, not my own. Christ is my one and only Purple Heart.

And God is not prideful. If you come to him, He will accept you as you are, even when you have so often returned his love with indifference.

And you.

Ride A Cow, Find A Horse

Not a proper interpretation of the proverb.

It is an interesting experience to be raised in a Chinese home. (Then again, I wouldn’t know what it is like to be raised in a home that wasn’t.) I receive tasty and healthy homemade meals from my mom, and I get red envelopes full of money at least two days out of the year: Chinese New Year and my birthday. I also get lifelong lessons on things such as tradition, honor, and martial arts. (Just kidding. Sorry, white folk–as opposed to conventional stereotypes, we don’t all know Kung Fu.)

What’s more, the perspectives my family and I share regarding certain issues of life can be quite intriguing. It wouldn’t do justice to say it was just a race thing, because it also has as much to do with age, generational differences, religious, cultural, and individual experiences. But whenever there is a deeper issue worth probing into, we would always enjoy sharing about our respective worldviews. And whenever I lay down my pride or ego, a lot of times, I realize they are actually quite right.

From time to time, whenever appropriate, my parents would mix in old Chinese proverbs to supposedly illustrate or enlighten my knowledge of the topic at hand. Sometimes, I don’t pay much attention to them. But then there are times when it seems like a picture perfect example, a beautifully profound concept wrapped up in a simple, vivid phrase.

There’s a saying in Chinese that, loosely translated, means “Ride a cow, while finding a horse.” The first time I heard this was over dinner, when we talked about jobs, careers, and doing something you really enjoy. I was doing a stint at this dental lab at the time, and I told them how I had other aspirations of being a published author. I ranted and whined and complained. My parents, the patient ones that they are, heard me out. Then, before long, they responded with this proverb. This was one of the few that struck a chord that night, and has stuck with me ever since.

This maxim, at its core, means that while you are looking for a horse, it is good to be riding a cow. Why? Because it is much better to be riding something, as slow as it may be, instead of walking to get to your destination.

This applies to my friends and readers who are looking for jobs and/or a means to fund their passions, whatever they may be. I share this because I know for our generation, we are a mixed bunch. Some of us have no idea what we want to do. Others of us want to just follow our passion (even if it’s weaving dreamcatchers) and make lots of money doing it. I am guilty of the same. As I’ve shared many times before, I would love to make a living writing books and literature.

But, while I am cultivating my talent, I still need to have something to feed myself. To pay the bills. To allow me to support my own basic living. I still need my cow. That’s why I have a 9-5 which would afford me that (though it also happens to be a great job, a dream job for many).

So, I want to encourage all of my readers who are having a tough time in the job sector. It’s not easy. I know how it is–I didn’t find my first real job until 7 months after my graduation. It was a humbling experience. But what I’ve learned through the hardship was this: you must first lay down your pride, learn to suck it up, and continue to persevere in whatever craft or area you would truly like to pursue.

I think many of us are so used to having things handed to us or “getting it our way” that we aren’t used to the struggle. We don’t know what it means to bust our chops and work crazy nightshifts. But, often times, it is only through these seemingly “going-nowhere” phases that we learn the lifelong character lessons of diligence and sacrifice, lessons that prepare us for the next step in life.

Because as tough as it might seem right now, things will get better. But you can’t just sit there and wait. Do what you can with whatever opportunities, big or small, that are before you. The horse is out there, but it might take awhile to catch it.

So, if life hands you a cow, ride it. Cause in the meantime, it sure beats sitting or walking. And if all else fails, shake it. (I hereby absolve myself of any possible misinterpretation of those lines.)

The-PostGrad Blog

I found another blog started by a couple of friends that I thought is worth promoting. My friend Mike (with whom I’ve collaborated for projects involving Lux Mundi Media and theStand mag) hooked up with my other friend Sam K. (Relationship Theory) to talk about things related to the post-graduate life.

Being a fairly recent post-grad myself, I found the site to be practical, helpful, and entertaining in helping me navigate the sometimes-turbulent waters of this life phase. Advice on careers, money management, and other items could be found here. The blog only started fairly recently, but it’s worth a look.

Click here for the link or look under my Blogroll as well.

Happy Wednesday.

Quarter Century Affair

Yeah, so it’s gonnabe my 25th birthday in about 2 weeks or so. I don’t usually look forward to these too much, especially when you’re getting to about my age and all, but 25 is kinda big deal, right?

Man, I still remember the time when I was 5 and I was scooping water from the toilet and pouring it into a trash can cause I wanted to be a garbageman. I guess things have turned out a tad better than expected, no? Funny how time flies.

I normally don’t ask for presents either. In fact, I discourage people from getting me things. But this year, I thought of a cool idea: If you were to get me a gift, it would have to be either your favorite or most interesting book you’ve ever read. It’s a cool way to learn things about your friends and become more cultured at the same time, don’t cha think?

If I had to get you a book, it’d probably be The Life of Pi (Yann Martel). I wouldn’t call it my “favorite,” but it’s definitely the most interesting book I’ve read in recent memory that seems to cover all the grounds of philosophy, adventure, and life. So…what would you get me?

Relationship Theory

Knowing how we all love chatter about anything guy/girl or dating-scene related, I recently came upon a blog from one of my old college buddies, Sam K., who rants all about the subject.

The entries are funny, blunt, and interesting. You might not necessarily agree with all that he writes, but it’s certainly entertaining and thought-provoking. You gotta respect the man for wearing his heart out on his sleeve. And besides, let’s admit it–we could all use a little help with the opposite sex.

Anyways, here’s the link. You can also find it under the blogroll. Cheers!

The Butterfly Circus

I just saw a short film (20 minutes exactly) on the theme of hope that was pretty touching. It stars Eduardo Verastegui (Bella) and Nick Vujicic (his first film, hopefully many more to come). It also won the 2009 Doorpost Film Project Award. Let me know what you think.

Click here to see: The Butterfly Circus

Love at First Date?

My question to you is: “Do you believe in love at first date?”

I obviously believe that the “love at first sight” stuff is baloney, but how about that first date? How much can you tell from that first meeting/date? If you don’t feel that initial chemistry, should you cut it off then and there? Or do you give it at least one more shot?

But what if you guys totally hit it off, do you start shopping around at Tiffany’s? Or is that just pure infatuation? How much weight should you guys put on it, on that first meeting?

I think I’ve coming to my own conclusions, but wanted to hear from my readers and friends. Please share your thoughts (it don’t matter if you’re young, old, married, single, pimp, dork, whatever…just speak)!

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On an unrelated note–really–I’ve been feeling this song by an artist I recently discovered through my sister. His name’s John West, and the song’s called “Loved You Tonight.” Check it out.

Random Introspection

I think I suffer from a disease or something of the sort. It’s a disease that won’t let me rest without having two or three things to think about at a time. Things I gotta do, stories to write, places to go, people to meet, money to give, people to take care of. It’s like it never ends. The disease seems to end when I turn in to bed at night, but sometimes it doesn’t. Regardless, I must wake up the next morning and it’ll find me from right where I left it.

I don’t how serious is it because I don’t know what causes it or who has it. I’m only 24 years old–well, 25 in about a month or so–but I feel like I can’t stop this. It might probably be my quarter-life crisis, but I had one of those last year, so I should be safe for another 25 years, right?

I just feel life is like this treadmill that keeps going faster and faster with each passing day, and I’m only getting more and more depleted. Maybe it’s a Superman complex, maybe it’s delusions of grandeur. Who knows? I just know that I’m at the root of it all, and it’d be nice if I could die to myself completely, once and for all.

Until.

I’ve been realizing that as much as I’d like to save the world and make people do the same, and maybe even piggyback this whole thing, I can’t. And I need to save myself first. I am only one person with a very limited supply of energy, time, and talents.

But the energy I do have is enough for today, and that’s how it should be anyway. Take it a day at a time cause that’s all I have anyway, right? God doesn’t guarantee tomorrows.

I just need to open my eyes to look outside of me–my needs, my wants–that beast of a thing called self–and actually start embracing others as greater than myself. Whatever and however it is that I can add to their life. And then do it. That’s it.

Some of the most useful and influential people in life are also the simplest. They are just mastered by one set of principles they have found to be true, and they do it. I think I could benefit from this sort of beauty.

I need to simplify my life.

HI Trip: Day 1 – ABC’s & Puffies

My first day/night in Oahu. We landed in the Honolulu Airport at about 8:45, and my buddy Dene from ol’ times was there to pick us up. Right as we walked out of the terminal, we were hit with the warm humidity of the city. But it wasn’t too unbearable. In fact, it was probably just right for a wifebeater and shorts kinda guy.

A-B-C's for all the F-O-B's, and me

Dene drove us to Waikiki to drop off my sister and her friend Karen at one of my cousins’ hotels, the Royal Kuhio. The first thing you notice about Waikiki is how touristy it looks. It is full of hot spots for the several thousand visitors that are there, lining the streets in hopes of getting Ferragamo this or Hermes that on a special “island” discount (4 percent sales tax in HI). The one street we were on, Kuhio, was packed with hotels and chain restaurants and ABC stores. The ABC store is like your basic convenience store, except it’s a super-massive chain that translates into one being on every block—literally. I thought Starbucks was bad, but wow, ABC wins hands down. They don’t even sell different items in these different locations, it’s just all the same stuff. But the funny thing is, each one averages a good number of customers! Just a lot of suckas…like me, who go to every single one hoping for something different.

In Waikiki, they are like 70 percent Japanese. These aren’t your Japanese-American or 3^rd generation type Japanese—these are like from-Japan type Japanese. I have never seen more Japanese people in my life. I think there are more Japanese people here in Waikiki than in…Japan. Every tour bus, every trolley, every store unveiled a load of them. It’s like one of those clown cars where you see like 20 people get outta that one little bug—they just spring from every corner! With these people, you can easily tell them apart from the rest. They are much skinnier, paler, and animated-looking than the rest. And one person in their groups always has a wardrobe that consists of something of the sort: trucker hat, capris or cargo shorts, and pink something (t-shirt, socks or shoes).

So it was definitely a little more than nice to get off the “strip” and head towards calmer, quieter waters. Dene has a house right off the coast in a neat patch of hills several miles from the freeways and stores, in the Hawaiian suburbs. The drive down there was indescribable. It was a full moon that night, so the sky was alight with a velvety blue that allowed you to see the clouds glimmer like neon and the ripples from shore that looked like electric eels. It is like the total opposite of an LA driving experience of crowded streets, smog, and pissed-off crazy drivers.

A man could wake up to this every morning

Dene’s house was nice and cozy, a total bachelor’s pad that yet had an “ohana”-like vibe. I had a room all to myself upstairs. From all the snacks, drinks, and extra beds, you can tell he’s used to housing guests and hosting events. His backyard is also something else—just a nice, uphill patch of tall grass and plants that point towards the sky. It’s a house that reminds you to slow down a bit, a place that whispers peace and you can actually hear it because it is, for once, unbelievably quiet and serene.

After we dropped off my stuff, Dene, his buddy Kreig, and I headed towards the coast for some night fishing. Let me say that there was no better way to start off my trip than that. We drove right up, parked our pickup, and walked a short trail to the spot. There were a couple other cars that were driving off as we pulled in—they were probably couples making out. Dene told me he once came across this naked couple at night that was doing their “thang” in one of the shrubs off to the side. We had a nice laugh, but I couldn’t blame them—I’d probably do the same thing, if my wife and I didn’t have to fear people like Dene walking in on us with a huge oil lamp.

The beach was so isolated, yet inviting. You knew this was a place that only the locals knew. Nobody else would come here—not at this time of night, not for this sort of activity. When we got to the rocky shores, the mini-cliffs, we placed our stuff down and began our prep. Dene cut up some frozen squid as bait and Kreig got the poles ready. I, being the expert fisherman that I am, just stood there and watched. I’ve only gone fishing once before this, and that was about 8 years ago, so I figured I’d better serve my purpose by not getting in the way. (Though, of course, later on, I would happen to get my fishing line tangled with Kreig’s and spent half the time trying to recast after untangling…)

After we had cast our poles, we sat back and enjoyed a few beers and cigars. The breeze from the ocean was simply divine—it was very strong and invigorating. It wasn’t too cool either, it was just right. As the winds blew, as we sat there waiting for a pull from the line, sipping from our cans and staring out into the dark neon ocean, I felt like I was in some other world. That whole experience—it made you feel alive. I haven’t felt such a spiritual experience like this in quite some time. As I looked out, I thought of the twelve disciples, how they must have felt to go fishing with Jesus. I can say that I felt something more exhilarating than just the thrill of a catch that night.

The puffer fish didn't go down without a fight

Dene suddenly felt a tug from his line. After a long, hard-fought battle to reel it in, we saw what had been at the other end of that line—a 2-foot-long puffer fish! I swear it might have been the ugliest living, breathing thing I have ever seen. I know God made all things and declared it “good,” but maybe that puffer fish was like an aftereffect of the fall. Big boba-ball like eyes, and a huge mouth full of sharp, bony teeth. And this was before it blew up. After we got the hook outta its mouth—it was bent outta shape—we were trying to find ways to throw it back into the ocean. (We obviously couldn’t bring it back home to eat—they are poisonous—and we couldn’t just grab and toss it with our hands.)

So we pissed it off. Until it started making this huffing-puffing noise and blew up like a huge spiky ball from hell. Then Dene, with the same pliers used to wrench the hook from its jaws, pulled the fish by one of its spikes and flung it back into the waters. What a catch!

We packed up our things and headed back on the road. Kreig and I sat in the back of the pickup, with the candlelit moon and bright starry sky as our canopy. We shot the breeze a bit as nature’s breeze blew back. As I sat back, I thought to myself, does it get any better than this? It was just so good to get away. I didn’t want it to end.

And I know someday it won’t. This was only a taste of what’s to come…

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More entries to come in the following days. More pictures will be up on Facebook.

MY Take: (500) Days of Summer

Mr. Hansen shares a moment with Summer Finn

I was able to catch a showing of (500) Days of Summer this past Wednesday, starring Joseph Gordon-Levitt (3rd Rock from the Sun) and Zooey Deschanel (Elf…at least that’s how I remember her). The general consensus among my friends was that the movie was pretty legit, so even as opposed as I am to paying $12 per ticket for a movie that’ll probably sink my expectations, I pulled the trigger. Here are a few thoughts. (Warning, I’ll probably spoil the movie a bit so don’t read this if you plan on watching.)

So there I was, sitting inside this little independent theater in Claremont. As the movie was panning through the opening credits, I was thinking, “Here I am, in a public theater watching a chick flick with a girl and 2 other dudes who crashed the party and probably wanted to watch Inglorious Basterds instead.” This could be a recipe for disaster–the girl might very well be emotionally distraught afterward, and the guys could possibly take out their testosterone-filled frustrations on me physically at the end of it all. But right away, I was impressed with the artistic direction and “vintage”  feel of the film. Nice, the film has a chance and things might turn out okay.

As we begin, we are taken right into the daily routine of Tom Hansen (Levitt). He plays a greeting card writer in LA who becomes infatuated with the new assistant, Summer Finn (Deschanel). The camera is focused on him, so you pretty much see everything from his perspective/viewpoint. The plot develops as you see the two characters evolve in this friends/lovers/what are we? relationship, but since the film is shot anachronistically (non-linear), the audience is thrown right in the midst of the story and the conflict is quickly established; we know from the get-go that the relationship did not turn out with a fairy-tale ending. (In my opinion, a smart choice on director’s end to shoot it with this perspective, allowing the viewer to focus more on the details and cues on what leads to that unraveling, as opposed to the intrigue of the end result.)

Levitt seems a natural for this role, as he plays that nice, whipped “everyman” who’s had his hits and misses and wears his battle scars on his sleeve. Deschanel herself also holds her own as his love interest, an attractive young lady who carries a past filled with personal hardship and pains. She is an intriguing character–”charmingly elusive,” as my sister rightly observes–and her mystery is what carries the movie to the end even when Tom’s cards (no pun intended) are revealed from the beginning. They have a good on-screen chemistry, and the acting in this film is something to be noted. In fact, it might have made the movie what it was.

Quite frankly, the story itself isn’t all that original. It falls into that line of “boy meets girl, falls in love, gets heartbroken and emo” sort of genre. But when the topic of any work is love, it doesn’t always have to be. People are already hooked in. It’s the spin or twist or take on it that matters. And that’s what this movie tries to do: it asks you that question, “Do you think the ‘one’ really exists?” The answer to which lies deeper insights into our notions and ideals of love, whence they came and how that paints our whole approach on the opposite sex (and I suppose even all of life, if its concepts are extrapolated). Of course, the movie has its own interesting take.

But here’s my take: I believe and don’t believe the concept of the “one” both at the same time.

I’m not just saying this out of past frustrations and failures, but I state this as someone who’s coming to terms with what true love is and isn’t. Love (in the romantic sense) is an awesome thing, perhaps the greatest of all human emotions, but it isn’t everything. My last serious relationship is the prime example. We were dating for two and a half years, and I thought she was the “one.” We had great chemistry, interests, and mutual attraction. But guess what? As we evolved individually, our relationship didn’t. Towards the bittersweet end, we realized we couldn’t commit when the “he” and “she” variables in the equation were becoming so different. Sure, she had a lot of what I was looking for. But after a few months, after finally drinking the last of heartbreak’s bitter dregs, I opened my eyes to the truth: there are many girls who have a lot of what I am looking for! What would make her different from the rest? Is it the memories I shared with her? No–those are special, certainly, but couldn’t I build new ones with someone else? Is it her exceptional personality or talents? No–once again, there are tons of extremely cool and gifted women out there. Thus, I hastily concluded: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE ONE!

But then I thought about it some more. I think I came to some proper conclusions, but it still didn’t sit right within. And then I tried to approach it from a greater, bird’s-eye-view perspective. If I believe that God exists and has a perfect, better plan for me, wouldn’t that also involve someone with whom I would share the rest of my life? I honestly don’t know how that works–it’s always a hard thing to render free will and determinism, but what it did give me allowance for is this fact: God has made several potentially suitable partners for me, but the person with whom we decide to exchange our vows and commit to for the rest of our lives is the “one.” God says that that person is the one. Because at the end of the day, real love means commitment, even when the lubby-dubby feelings aren’t all there.

I grew up with all those false conceptions/notions of love too. Listen to one too many Kost love songs and this is what happens. But through all the pain, I have learned something invaluable. Love takes work, and like anything else you do in life, the more you do of something, the better you’ll be at it.

Anyways, just watch the movie. And let me know what you think. (If you’re a lady, perhaps we can even have a deeply engaging talk about it over some coffee. Just putting it out there…)