What I Learned Since “My Faith Is Dead”

I wrote this a year ago. I’ve learned a few things since then, reminded of more, and changed a few ways as well.

I’m Not The Only One With Troubles

I got a lot of responses from this post. Some thanked me for being so honest. Others said they had felt similarly at one time or another. A small number simply encouraged me not to give up anyways. But then others actually shared their own struggles. Some quite similar to my own frustrations, others of a very different struggle.  These were things I never would have learned about otherwise. Many of these friends live time zones away. Learning that my friends suffer as well didn’t make me feel better, per se, but it helped give me a bit of perspective. Pain and disappointment are not things unique to any of us. I don’t know why sharing helps, but it does. Maybe because we’re not lying anymore.

There Are Only A Few Promises In Life

If your parents promised you Power Rangers action figures for Christmas, you’d be rightly disappointed with them when you instead got a pack of knock-off Chinese toys consisting of three Shreks, a Spider-Man, and an inexplicably orange Black Ranger. If however your parents made no such promise, then you have far less reason to be angry at them, save for the fact that you think you deserve Power Rangers (but you don’t because you’re a little brat). This is probably a very poor analogy for anything, but I enjoyed thinking of it so that’s what we’re going with. Prior to a year ago I had a lot of vague expectations about life, picked up from a variety of sources. Some of them from well-meaning books, others Midwestern friends with their seemingly perfect little married lives I simultaneously despised yet wanted for my own. I saw this sort of inevitable progression to life, that the things I desired were inevitable (“God will grant you the desires of your heart” and all) and would just sort of appear sooner rather than later. Really the only thing inevitable was my frustration with these broken “promises” boiling over into a big dramatic mess.

When you clear out the endless bombardment of platitudes and well-wishes, life looks far simpler. Benjamin Franklin was rarely more wise than when he wrote “Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” The Bible is, for Christians at least, more optimistic in the more long term view of things, but for here and now the kinds of things we can expect include persecution, temptation, family strife, false teachers, being misunderstood and other such things. That said, God also promises his presence throughout it all, and that he will never forsake us, and that all the troubles we go through now will be as nothing compared to joy we will soon know.

I’ve Tried New Things

Though it took me longer than most, I eventually realized that part of the reason my life was boring and disappointing was because I just sort of waited for it to happen. I’ve done some things to remedy this. I ran a half-marathon, I’ve taken a drumming class, and I’m several weeks into a poetry writing class, to name a few things. While out intrinsic worth as human beings made in the image of God cannot be diminished or enhanced by our own efforts, it’s a simple fact that our lives are better when we do things with them and take full advantage of our capacities. Expecting things to happen on their own is a good way to ensure they never will.

I’ve Developed A Strong Interest In Theology

I wish I could say that last November was what caused this, and while there was certainly more reading in my life since then, the real cause was both stranger and more mundane. To put it simply, I developed a crush on a girl of different denominational leanings from my own. What started as an idle attempt to see if there was truth to her beliefs (and thus a legitimate future for a relationship) spiraled into a whole mess of research, Googling countless questions, delving into Catholic dogma, Orthodox tradition, Reformation teachings, you name it. And questions led to more questions, questions I couldn’t even find being asked, requiring me to read entire books just to see if I could gleam what I was really looking for. And I found I enjoyed it immensely. In a sense this was a rediscovery, as I’ve always enjoyed reading both fiction and nonfiction, but instead of indulging my curiosity about orcas or VY Canis Majoris this had the added benefit of having eternal implications. It got to the point where I even decided to go back to school (something I’ve put off for nearly a decade) in hopes of learning more. Only downside is it’s a rather touchy subject and not something you can casually discuss at most dinner tables (unlike orcas) but such is life.

I’ve Become Slightly More Okay With Being Single

Still a bit of a sore subject for me but I figured I’d touch on it anyways. Along with somehow becoming a writer of some sort of effect one of the other things I felt I was being denied was marriage. And the fact is I am still single (the crush did not turn out, though like every other time I eventually discovered that it was probably for the best). Dating, or even getting to the point of dating, remains rather difficult. It could be I’m just overly picky and/or cautious. And I have tried online dating, on multiple occasions, to no avail. And yet, despite edging ever closer to “old” I’ve found that the existential dread of being “forever alone” has abated, at least a little. To the question, “would being a lifelong bachelor really be the worst possible fate?” I am starting to be able to answer “well, perhaps not.”

I don’t have a clue what the future holds as far as relationships go, and the fact that it involves a second person, possibly with their own self-indulgent blog, makes it all significantly more complicated. But I guess I’m willing to wait and find out, and occupy myself with more immediate concerns in the meantime.

The Gym Is A Waste Of Money

Yeah I’m never going to go regularly. I should just cancel the membership today.


On Encouragement, Optimism, and Other Alien Things

If you haven’t noticed by now, I am not an optimist.

I figured this out pretty quickly in my childhood. Immediately after learning what optimists and pessimists were, I decided that optimists were a bunch of dummies. I found the very idea repulsive; at times it even made me angry. Positive thinking? WTFever. And while my understanding of a great many things has expanded dramatically in my adult years, my concept of optimism and pessimism had largely been settled.

Were this some Christian testimony, this is the point where I would say that becoming one opened up my eyes and let me see the beauty and possibility of reality. This is of course not one of those. While I could occasionally coax up enough faith to believe that something great would happen in my life, most of the time I felt the most I had to look forward to was the resurrection of the dead. This life had no real promise for me. My highest aspiration was to suffer through it as stoically as I could.

That hasn’t gone so well either.

All the while trying to keep my head barely above the surface of Absolute Despair Ocean, I found myself constantly bombarded by the most annoying things.



Good ideas on how to make my life a little better.

I hated it all so much. At times I thought my friends were mocking me (and thus weren’t my friends at all). Then I decided they simply didn’t know what an awful hopeless person I was (and thus were too ignorant to be considered more than acquaintances). Sometimes I just sort of accepted it because I felt telling them off for daring to say such things about me, but not wanting to sound like some whiny guy fishing for yet more compliments.

In more recent years I got a little better at dealing with these foreign intrusions. I told myself “well, maybe they see something I don’t” or “well I guess I’m occasionally a pretty okay guy”. I was still resistant to it all, though.

Because if you are a hopeless loser and failure, then everything that happens in your life was just going to happen that way regardless; you can glide through life without ever trying, because trying won’t work. It’s very easy.

But if you aren’t hopeless, if you can succeed, then it is on you. You don’t have the excuse of “well it wouldn’t have worked anyways”, because it could have. You could strive harder, study the problem more thoroughly, and improve things.

That was not something I really wanted to deal with. Not in any big way. Sure, I could give a little extra at some smaller tasks and goals, but really applying myself? Acknowledging what I really wanted to do with my life and then going for it? That was just too scary. Drifting through life is sort of a dull ache, but failure hurts.

I think it is only in the last couple days that I’ve finally noticed what has been going on in my brain all this time. Well, maybe I’ve noticed it before, but now it is at the forefront, and impossible to ignore.

I saw this on Twitter earlier today.

The goofy little inspiring image wouldn’t have done much to me. I’ve seen thousands of those. They roll off my back like water or dodge balls. It’s what she said after. Because I am one of those cup half-empty goobers who likes to come up with an exception to every stupid little piece of encouragement and inspiration I come across.

And I couldn’t help but think about why this was. Why do little inspiring messages bother me so much? Why to compliments make me want to yell at my friends? How is it that I can be so unafraid of death yet so fearful of life?

I’m not quite sure I have an answer yet. Maybe it’s as simple as a weak faith, or my natural melancholy temperament and countless depressive episodes have just conditioned me against hoping for the best. This question and the answer to it aren’t really all that important, however, because there is a much better question that has a much more important answer.

What am I going to do about it?

And the answer is something. Lots of somethings. I’m going to write this blog post about it now instead of putting it off just because it’s late and I have to be up early in the morning. Whatever. I don’t sleep much anyways so what’s one more night? I’m going to sign up for a poetry class because for some reason I got it in my head that I want to be a poet and write good poetry because bad poetry is just the worst thing ever. I’m going to accept it as true when my friends say things like I’m witty and funny and personable and have grown a lot. I’m going to believe them so hard that I’m going to actually act like they are true. And I think in a sense that is the best way to react to a compliment: live up to it.

One of my friends said this to me today. “Don’t waste another day, Anthony. Your life and legacy are too precious and short.”

That’s a pretty hardcore thing to live up to. It actually left me for a loss of words for a minute or two (which is a problem when you’re supposed to be a writer).

So thanks, you weird people who said nice things about me and posted a bunch of dumb motivational messages. I will go live a better life! And if by some chance were lying, well, then I get to prove your smug jerk self wrong. So that’s fun too.


Fresh Off The Boat, Or How I Single-Handedly Saved Television For Asian Americans

I haven’t watched a lot of television in the past five years. I haven’t even owned a television in the past four, so what I do see mostly consists of being at other people’s houses, or once in a great while a show comes along that I simply must go out of my way to watch online.

I certainly hear a lot about TV shows, because everyone I know seems to watch them, and from their conversations and the one or two episodes I do see I can generally piece together what they are supposed to be about. How I Met Your Mother is about a guy who took like a decade to answer a simple question, Modern Family is actually about three families (one of them is gay), and Arrested Development is Michael Cera’s autobiography. So on and so forth. The last show I actually watched all the way through was Breaking Bad, which ironically is about creating so much bad that everyone’s life ends up ruined or ended.

When I started seeing ads and buzz for Fresh Off The Boat, I didn’t think much of it. I’ve been very critical of sitcoms ever since The Simpsons started to suck, and I think that was like a decade ago. Asian family sitcom. Woo. Right?


As the premier approached, one of my friends, Rebecca Sun, became very enthusiastic about it. When I commented on it, I got this as a reply.

youre our only hope

It hit me like a beam of Caucasian light: this wasn’t just some TV sitcom. This was a calling. I had to watch this show.

So a little over a week later when it finally came up for viewing on ABC.com. I suffered through repetitive commercials about curly hair, but I would not be deterred.

When I finally got to start watching the show, it was like nothing I expected. I’m not sure what I did expect, actually. I guess I just thought the mom and dad were the main characters, based on that one ad I kept seeing in the subway.

Fresh Off the Boat Key Art embed

That’s the one. You know I didn’t even notice that kid in the window? Turns out the story is really from his perspective. Yay advertising.

Anyways, the show itself is actually really funny, and not just in a “white people lol” way. Or even a “Asian people lol” way. It’s really more of a “people in unfamiliar terroritory lol” kind of funny, and I think anyone who has actually moved to a new place to start a new life can relate to it. If you’ve never really moved maybe you won’t get this show? I don’t know, but if you have never moved I do think you’re kind of a freak.

So I would recommend this show. But even if you don’t watch it, I can rest assured that my work is done. For by watching the first episode, and each subsequent episode as they come available, I know that I am doing what no one else can: I am giving this show the coveted 18-35 white male demographic view.

You’re welcome, Asian America.

Stuff I Learned From 2014

If there is ever an appropriate time to sit down and over think the past, I figure the designated last day of the year is as close as it gets. And away we go!

In no particular order, I learned:

1. just how difficult it is to supervise and train an uncooperative employee.

2. you can deny Jesus 70-something times in a single day and still feel pretty okay about yourself.

3. that New York City hurricanes probably won’t be a regular thing.

4. how to pass a New York State Driving Exam. My ability to drive is up for debate.

5. that ignorance is not bliss. Having the wrong idea about things can mess you up hard.

6. horror movies are still awesome.

7. that roller coasters are still the best thing ever.

8. that sometimes you just have to force someone to pick up a crucifix.

9. like a single Tango move. Or maybe it was Salsa?

10. Twitter is a fun place to visit, but don’t live there.

11. that photography is easy. Good photography, however, is an actual skill.

12. a vacation in summer is really no more weather-proof than a vacation at any other time of the year.

13. what a wonderful thing coffee really is.

14. that soda is not actually my friend, and has been hurting me for a long time.

15. life is bonkers and there is very little we can do about it. No but seriously it is.

16. that isolation will destroy anyone.

17. that sometimes playing dolls just means holding a doll and talking.

18. Salvation Army will let you donate pretty much anything and give you a receipt for it.

19. I have some really amazing friends. More than I thought I did.

20. that I might just have a future worth looking forward to.

Here’s hoping I don’t need to relearn any of the non-fun lessons. Happy* New Years.

*Your mileage may vary.

Virginia Trip 2014 Part 1: Trains and Winter Rains

7:00 AM: I rise to the sound of my iPhone alarm, brutally silencing it with a harsh glare and harsher touch. The air is wet with moisture. Hardly an ideal day for long distance travel, but a little late to do anything about it now.

7:15 AM: Basically screw around.

8:00 AM: Realizing at some point I need to get my act together, I stop screwing around so much and get to work packing. Though initially I endeavor to fit everything in my back pack, it was not to be, and I am forced to use my old gray duffel type thing.

8:XX AM: I stumble into Dunkin Donuts eager for a quick fix of energy. The cashier is bewitching and slyly manages to convince me to buy some manner of coupon card for ten slightly less expensive coffees. Confound it all.

9:50 AM: I arrive at Pennsylvania Station, noting immediately that my train is projected to be 15 minutes late. Putting all the years of cunning I have acquired from Amtrak at my disposal, I subvert bathroom lines, escalator lines, and even the expensive food. I am seated before most customers even know the train has arrived.

11:XX AM: The train departs, and we zoom out way through wretched New Jersey. Though I cannot see them, it is safe to assume the vile denizens attempted to claw their way in to feast upon my soft and delicious brain meats throughout the journey. Somehow we bypass the final boss entirely, but he no doubt awaits another encounter.

12:XX PM: A woman sits next to me, there being few other available seats. She is taken with me immediately, intuitively knowing that I am a dominant alpha male who can be trusted to protect her bag while she gets food. She knows it is not to be, however, and I applaud her restraint.

2:XX PM: We arrive at Washington DC. My love-struck companion departs, bravely hiding her tears. I sit in darkness and quiet, contemplating the weird way DC’s Union Station isn’t a thrice-damned basement like Nee York Pennsylvania Station. These are thoughts for another time.

5:XX PM: After a few hours in Virginia, I become aware that we are somewhat more behind schedule than I first assumed. Hacking the Amtrak central database using my username and password, I am able to deduce that we have been going really slow and are becoming later with each station and interlocking. Mildly annoyed, I decide it is counterproductive to destroy the train right then and there.

6:XX PM: I give in and eat Amtrak’s expensive food. Such a tiny can of soda. 7 oz, what the hell.

My Faith Is Dead

I’ve been a Christian for a little over 8 years, I think. I still believe it is true, for whatever worth that is, but I can no longer bring myself to live it. I can no longer trust that God cares about me, has my best interests in mind, or has any intention of making my life more fulfilling.

Time and time again, I’ve stepped out in faith, trying my best to believe what I couldn’t see, that God would pull through at the last minute and that everything I had been through would start to make sense. And time and time again, I’ve stepped forward just to find that there was nothing under my feet, and I fall down on my face. It’s become too painful. Every time I think something might be changing, that I’ve learned something or have grown somehow everything manages to fall apart and I end up no different or better than where I started. So I’m not going to try anymore. It doesn’t matter what God supposedly has planned, I can’t bring myself to get my hopes up and have them dashed again and again. I’m exhausted and my strength has given out, and there is no comfort to be found.

Hope in general has become a sick joke in my life. In the last several years I’ve only felt a few, so-called desires of the heart. One was some difficult to articulate desire to write something great that would make a mark on the world somehow. The other is so deep and personal that I can barely bring it up without becoming choked up, but I want to be a husband and father. But I know it’s never going to happen. I can’t do what it takes. No woman could ever love me that way, and if they deceived themselves enough to do it anyways, I could never inflict myself on her like that. They all deserve better.

Some of you might read this and think to reach out and comfort me. Do us both a favor and don’t bother. It’s happened before and it’s like clockwork. You say something like what a great guy I really am, or how what I do is so appreciated, or just that you arbitrarily love me. And maybe it makes me feel better for a little while. And then you leave and go back to your real friends and your busy fulfilling life, and I’m left all alone again until the high of temporary socialization fades. Maybe you do care, but you can’t help me.

Not sure where I will go from here. Probably find a lot more distractions until God finally relents and lets me die.

I wish I knew how to quit you, soda

Wow, has it been four months? Yes, yes it has. It even feels like it’s been four months since my last blog update. I know exactly why I haven’t been updating as well. There is no part of this that is not a surprise to me. I was not “caught off guard”, and I haven’t been “extremely busy”. I’d apologize, but I’m not actually sorry, and not that many people read this thing anyways (most who do got dragged in from one of my movie reviews or unfunny rants about media stuff).

This is not a blog update about blog updating or the lack thereof, however. There is plenty of time for that. Today’s update is to put into words my constant struggle with wanting to consume copious amounts of carbonated sugary love.

Oh my GOD I love soda so much.  So very very much. It’s delicious and makes me feel better and I just want it pretty much all the time. And it’s everywhere and it’s so cheap.

But I have to give it up. The rush might be nice, but the net result is me being sluggish. It makes me feel bloated, and the visual evidence makes it very clear that it’s also making me actual fat. These are not things I want to have to deal with now that I’m re-entering the running world (let’s be honest I need all the help I can get in that department). This gut of mine is a soda gut, and I’m probably on the fast track to Type 2 Diabetes.

And let’s be perfectly clear: if my sugar habit gets to the point where my ability to process glucose is compromised, I will die very soon thereafter.

This is not the first time I’ve tried curbing this addiction. I’ve tried just drinking in moderation, but it is way too easy to justify more and more and more (especially with self-serving soda machines). I’ve given it up for Lent, but Lent doesn’t last forever (and the last time I gave it up I couldn’t even stick with it for the full 40 days). Cold turkey is really the only solution. It just so happens it is also the most painful one. Did I mention my fixation on the stuff earlier? Because DAMN I want some. Like literally right now I want to go downstairs and pay a full $1 for a can of Dr Pepper (that’s right, I am such a fan of the stuff that I know not to add a period after the Dr part).

I mean, I grew up on the stuff. Almost without exception, we drank root beer with pizza, I always got a Dr Pepper from the vending machine at the oyster farm, and back when Super Size was still a thing you could get at McDonald’s, guess what I always got when eating dinner with my cousins? I kind of miss that giant bucket of fries we used to get too.

One of my friends suggested seltzer water, maybe with some juice in it or something, but I don’t know. I’ve tried seltzer before, and it’s just a strange thing to drink soda without the sugar or flavor. I’m pretty sure I can actually taste the carbon dioxide, and it’s not pleasant.

So it’s just a weird and obnoxious thing I have to do now.  Or, rather, a wonderful thing I have to not do anymore. Just not drink soda anymore. I don’t know if I’ll stay strong, or if I’ll break down and drink some eventually. But, well, here it goes.

Please try not to drink any around me.