Author Archives: lucyinthesky

Moving Out

In my culture, there is only two reasons for a girl to be leaving her parents house. One, she is going to marry and she leaves to join her husband’s family. Two, and this one is very unlikely and still hard to see through, she leaves for a better college life.

And the thing is, I don’t fit into any of those categories.

Here is the first thing, I don’t plan on getting married. And this is going to sound contradicting, but I’m not ruling it out either. It’s just that I am not in a place of mind to be thinking about marriage. Marriage, for me, doesn’t mean completion. Marriage, for me, doesn’t mean that life is finally starting. But marriage, for me, doesn’t mean that I am going to be forever stuck as well.

I just haven’t found the person I would like to be forever with, nor do I think it is the time to start looking. When it happens it will happen and I know that there will be no regrets.

Here’s the second thing, I’ve tried college living at home. It doesn’t lead to anything other than depression. The first time I hit depression so hard, it took me months to get over it. The second time I tried my best to not be depressed, but it still came. I have to admit, I’m scared. College scares me. I know I can be good at it, but I know it come with a price as well.

So here is the final question, why am I moving out?

Why am I moving out?

Why?

My parents don’t want me to leave. Honestly, I could live the rest of my life at home and my parents would be okay with it. But do you see the issue with that? I could live THE REST OF MY LIFE at my parents house.

And I know, I know. Who wouldn’t love to live a life full of safety nets? I can buy and do whatever I want, whenever I want, and life would be peachy cause I have parents who takes care of all the bills. Who wouldn’t want that?!

Heck, this is one of the reasons why I waited 24 years before I was pushed into this decision.

Here is another part of this story. I have been conditioned into staying to protect my parents. For over 8 to 9 years all everyone has ever told me was that my parents needed me. And I believed it. My parents relied on me for everything. I had to grow up and I had to change myself over and over again just to satisfy their needs.

But then, you know what happened, my parents mentally and verbally abused me. For years they manipulated their words, and threatened my every thought and action. I couldn’t do anything. All my actions, whether they were purely good or slightly ill intent, were shot down.

I couldn’t even be my own person. I had to be my parents daughter. I had to be the face of my family. I had to be perfect.

That doesn’t sound so bad right? Being perfect.

But perfect is not who I am. I am flawed. And I am perfectly fine with being flawed.

So, what does that have with me moving out? I’ve been wanting to move out since the notion entered my mind when I was 16/17. But I was scared. I’ve been scared of leaving my parents. I’ve been scared of leaving everything I have ever known about my life. My normal was going to be shattered.

My parents need me but don’t want me. My parents want me but don’t need me. It is always one or the other.

They have the need to feel like everything is in their control. So they say things and do stuff that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

And I need to get away from that.

It’s honestly not as bad as it sounds. I’m not in a horrible place. But I don’t feel like I’m really living. I may live in their house, but it isn’t my home. I may have a room, but it really isn’t my room. My parents still feel like they can roam through my junk when they feel like it. And it may just be junk, but it is my junk.

I’m a very private person, other than me writing about my life all the time. But there are limits to my private life. I don’t like knowing that I don’t have a safe spot. And right now, I don’t have a safe spot at all.

So, even though it was my sister’s idea to move out, I am now taking the lead. Even though it was my sister’s plan, I am taking the brute of the aftermath. My parents are acting as if I was the mastermind behind the decision.

My parents know that I am not like any of their other children. I am the one to go out of pattern. The one who may follow their every order but the one to go against every plan they also have.

So, why am I moving out?

I am tired of being pushed and pulled. I am tired of having these expectations without information about what is really going on.

I am tired of not being in control of my life.

My Rants of Today

back home and nothing feels real. it’s a thing i go through. is there a word for this? it’s like after repetition everyday and then going through some crazy adventure, you miss the adventure and the everyday lifestyle is not enough.

the trip was good though. i guess i have been craving to be feeling like a part of something. i have never truly felt American and i have never truly felt Hmong, because i am both. and it was good to be part of that Hmong community again.

when i was young i was disappointed in my people and wanted nothing to do with them, but when i mentally grew up, i realized that i could never throw it away. even if i can never be wholly part of the Hmong community, i can at least fit in the way i want to.

also, i have known for a long time that there are going to be people who are negative about everything. they can’t help but put in their thoughts. in the past i would let them get away with it. if they want to continue with their thoughts, go right ahead, i can’t do anything about it.

but i have changed again. if they have a right to their thoughts, i also have a right to my thoughts. and i have a right to put them down if i have to, no matter who they are.

i hold grudges, i hold them for a long time. even if you don’t remember, i will. i will let you get away with things the first time and if it is only about me. but if you decide to attack me again and it is about someone who i support or love, then it is your fault for not being able to just stay silent and support me.

so yes, i can hold back, but don’t taunt me or i will be angered. also don’t make assumptions about people you don’t even know.

Why I Write Hmong Characters

I do not write Hmong characters to advocate the guilt Americans should have, for the things they have done to me. I write Hmong characters to show my Hmong community the shame we have inflicted upon each other. When you hear about a Hmong writer, you think, “Oh, no. Another one of those Asians mad about what we did to them.” I admit, I have read many of the books I mentioned. Some written so great, I have cried my eyes out. But I want to step away from the past, I want to look at us now, and how far we have come in this great new journey of ours.

Being born in America, I grew up with thoughts and expectations pressured into me. My parents, and every parent born in the generation of immigrating to America, have raised their children with an attitude. “Grow up well and do better. We have given you everything we possibly can. Now you have to do better than us.” “Our past is shameful; we don’t even have a land to call ours. We have fought and fought, and only to find ourselves here, in a place where we are nothing but trash.” “Do this, do that, act like this, don’t act like that.” “Date him, but keep plenty of other men on the side. You never know what can happen.” “Why did you choose her, when you can do so much better?”

Yet, the elders still wonder why their kids act out like they do. Why their kids have pitied themselves against each other. Why the kids shame them more than anything possible.

But my generation, those born to the parents who immigrated during the Secret War, look at our elders and see nothing but a road block in life. These kids and young adults look at our Hmong sisters and brothers around them, and see nothing but another competitor, another person we have to outshine, to look better in front of.  When you stand, with the face of your parents and every other face of your community judging you, you shrink. And when you back down, you are mad at those who have judged you and shamed you into hating your own culture, hating the very being of who you are.

Nobody loves being Hmong more than Hmong people, but nobody hates being Hmong more than Hmong people. We have shamed our culture into an act we keep doing to salvage who we are as a community. Marriage rules are no longer seen as respect to the families tying knots. Dating rules are longer seen as courting a partner you like. Funerals are no longer seen as cherishing the dead.

So why do I write Hmong characters?

I want Hmong kids and teens to be able to read them and know that they have a choice, one that hopefully satisfies their dreams and their parents. I want Hmong kids to be proud of their culture and to be happy to tell people of their ethnicity without shrugging in shame. I want Hmong kids to read stories where they are the main characters, someone they can relate to. I want Hmong kids to have a voice, for them to know they have a voice. I want them to know they have a story too, one that does not have to be shamed by our history. With the past in the back of our mind and with the passion to move forward.

But I do want Hmong kids to know their history. For the longest time, I had gone with only knowing facts that were told to me by my older siblings, by the tales of my parents and elders. My history was not taught in school, if I wanted to know where I came from, I had to ask my parents. And when they said Laos, I wondered how we were related to Laos. We had a home but never a home land. I had to search for the history of my people, learn of this Secret War raging on, and how it still rages on.

When someone asks me what my ethnicity is, I wonder how I should respond. Should I tell them that I am Asian American, or to be more specific, Hmong American, or should I tell them what the Hmong elders liked to called me, Hmong Meeka. Meaning a Hmong child born in America, too lost in the American culture we don’t even know a thing the elders are saying to us.

I have to say, though, I am not ashamed to tell people I am Hmong American. I know who I am. And why should I hide who I am? I know where my ancestors and grandparents are from, what my parents had to do to get us to America, and most importantly, where I was born.

But if my elders want to berate me for my small knowledge of our own culture, they have nothing but themselves to be ashamed of. Instead of worrying about money, pride, status, they should have been conserving their culture. Instead of shaming me for my knowledge, they should be teaching, and sharing their knowledge. Instead of telling me that someone else knows more than me, let me know about my culture. If I don’t know, how do you expect me to share our culture with our future children and their children?

I write Hmong characters to let Hmong girls and boys know that they are not alone. I write to let them know of our past, our present, and how they should view and value their future.

These Times are Hard

That is lyrics of a song playing while I thought about titles. Times aren’t hard at all. I’m just having to make decisions for my life.

Last semester, I had to deal with work, school, family, and personal stuff. The stress from it almost drove me crazy.

It was holiday season and I was working almost everyday for over 8 hours. I had to, we had gotten new people, who were airheads, and I felt like the place was going to fall into pieces if I wasn’t there.

I was into my second semester of my first year, and I was freaking out that I was not going to make it. I was scared that I was going to fall back into the person I used to be. The girl who was too scared to show up for class, so I just didn’t go. The expectations were too great, and I too minsulate to be there of any importance.

Since it was the holidays, family were always in talks of what was going on. This year, thankfully, my younger sister took the liberty of handling Secret Santa. But my other sisters would not concentrate on when we would meet, as if to avoid the subject. They wanted us to wait for them, but they didn’t want to be there…

I was having issues with my period… I was stressing so much, I missed a month. Then I tried to calm down enough to actually get it, and then I did. But I missed the month after… I struggled with it since I wanted to be healthy and happy. But how could I be healthy and happy when I was stressing out and not getting my period…

This semester is for difference. I plan on making big changes, to see how things go.

I decided that I was ready for the whole five classes. But to take those five classes, I knew I would have to change something about work. I decided that I was going to not work any day I had classes. I gave myself four days off from work, only to work Fri, Sat, and Sun.

It is something I need. I could not deal with going to school in the morning to receive assignments and know that I could not do them till I was done with work, only to have to be at school early again the next day. I don’t know why I did that to myself in the past.

I figured I could do with one less stressful thing.

I had worked there for five years. In those five years, I struggled through school for two years. One of those years were not successful and I worked through the last year and it was hard. The other three years, I struggled with personal family issues.

This year I want to do something different. The one thing [work] I put so highly, I will put down for a while and give myself time to work on other things.

There will be time in the future to work as hard as I do.

No Sleep Writing

Girls, be scared. I can make your boyfriend fall in love with me in matter of minutes and he may just leave you over the fact that he can’t stop thinking about me.

Boys, be scared. I befriend girls easily, they may just turn lesbian for me, and leave you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had stayed up all night, and I wrote that up there. I guess I write my thoughts out more when I am tired…

I’m going to try and explain this. It is actually really easy to explain.

A big majority of my cousins are girls. Every time one of them gets a boyfriend, I feel like I get a warning to step back and understand the fact that they are taken. Like, WOAH, am I that much of a horrible person that I would take a man my cousin is interested in…

A boy was coming to visit my cousin and she literally told me to back off and that he was hers.

 

My best friend told me her boyfriend, at the time, didn’t want her to hang out with me cause I might turn her ‘lesbian’,,, As if I had this magic power to do so….

A Little Something I Wanted to Share

I wrote this to a friend and thought it would be cool to post it here. I do mention references to my story I am writing, which is what sparked this conversation.

Have a little of my past 🙂

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Personally, why I don’t agree to forced marriage and fear it, is because I don’t want to lose my freedom. I had to struggle just to be the person that I am right now. When I was growing up, I was “the pretty one with white skin” that all the old ladies doted on. I grew up with expectations to do well, to marry well, and to have a good looking boyfriend/husband, all because the fact of me having “a pretty face.”
I was basically told what to expect out of life. But having all these words thrown at me didn’t make my feel any better. My sisters, and cousins had to witness it too. They were being compared to me, but I didn’t like to be the china doll that everyone showed off. Honestly, as a young girl, I didn’t think there was much about me that was charming. I blinked too much, I was empty minded, and filled with
imaginations.
It should have made me a bitch, and maybe it did, but since I was so different, I secluded myself. I didn’t want to stand out as “the pretty one.” It got to the point that if any guy talked to me, I would turn my back to them, honestly I was an ice princess during my middle and high school years. It was something that I never noticed till just last year..
I never allowed myself to grow to my full potential, I was scared to be ‘me’. So while I still worked hard, I pulled back in the department of social skills and love life.
For awhile I did find ‘me’, and I thought I was finally going to go somewhere in life, but things aren’t always that dandy and great. I had a conflict with my sisters. I had other life ambitions and they were worried about their love lives. We weren’t seeing eye to eye in anything. They were the closes people to me in my family, and in matter of months we hated each other with a passion…
But they were still my family, and with time we slowly became family again, but never as close as we once were.
I still lost myself though, and I was lost for so long too. I closed myself off again. My best friend could see it, but she didn’t know how to deal with it. She didn’t know what I had to grow up with. For years I would put on a mask with a smile, but I was basically dying on the inside.
It was just two years ago that I started on my life journey to be happy and to be ‘me’. I feel like I took three big steps in my life. If I were to be married, I would be taking four steps back.
Plus, I tend to think that my dreams carry heavy messages that I am afraid to admit, and I had dreams about forced marriages. Maybe it was due to the fact that I was thinking consistently about my story, but it showed me what my darkest fears were about forced marriage. People kept trying to get into my bubble, trying to control everything for me. Just like Luna, everyone was making mistakes for her and she had to deal with the mess. Nobody would let me grow as a person, and nothing would be mine anymore.
That is another thing, while growing up, my sister’s would claim things as theirs and I would step back and let them. I had nothing to claim as mine. Now that I do have something that is mine, I am scared that someone is going to take it away from me.
And yeah, I lost a lot of my sisters while I was young. They were never really sister figures though, or at least I felt like they never were. They never tried to understand me as a human being, even though I tried with every last tear to understand what was going on in their minds. I tried so hard with my younger sisters too, and it only left me hurt even more. I love them to pieces, but no one really understands me.. So yea, I do have a silent promise with myself to not let my younger sisters go through what I went through when all my married sisters left. Because honestly, when my family was already under scrutiny, it hurt that my sisters were finding love and I was stuck to deal with all the drama and gossip.
Rather than focusing on others, my main goal in life is to focus on me. As greedy as that sounds, it’s something that I owe to myself, to my kid self who worried too much about what other’s thought about themselves and about me.
When I write a stories, my characters are their own people, but I tend to leave a bit of me with my them. And that may seem greedy too, but I can’t help but leave part of myself in places that my family would never think to look.
I can’t seem to make my stories short…. I had to share my whole life story… (and why would i share my whole life story? i don’t fear my flaws or horrible past.)

End of the Year Project

14.12.31 end of the year 2

The year started off with new hopes, and a journey of dreams. I started school again with more motivation and determination than ever. To be going back to school with no other support than my own dreams was scary, and I feared every step of the way. But here I am, at the end of the year, and I finished the school year with some strong good grades.

I went through a lot of ups and downs with my physical appearance. I wanted to prove that no matter how I looked I could still be successfully happy. I proved myself right. No matter what words were thrown at me, at the end of the day I was glad to be me and to be going through the experiences that I was.

Through the year I learned that I should not be only seeking support, I should be giving support just as much. The world is not a nice place, and words can go a long way. So be happy for yourself, and be happy for others too, even if you envy them a tiny bit.

Happy New Years, may 2015 bring even more joy and success!

The Unwanted Flinch

The fact is I am not used to people touching me. I do not have a bad past of having unwanted touches. I’ve just never had that environment where I was hugged or had simple touches.

Now, when people try getting near me, I can’t help but flinch or dodge their approach. It makes me feel bad, but I just can’t help myself.

A while back, my co-worker tried to point out my earrings, saying that she wants something like mine, and I basically flinched at her movement to my ear… I felt so bad, it was as if I didn’t want her to touch me, but it wasn’t like that. I’m just not used to people getting near me…

A Sad Sunday Story

Sad Sunday Story…!

For the holiday season we always get seasonal people. We rarely ever get men on the floor with us, and this year there was a new guy. Up to this point in my life, I don’t really care about men at work, they are just co-workers. I see them as friends.

Today I was working at the jewelry counter. I was basically stuck to that counter since we aren’t really allowed to leave. The new guy, whom I will name Phil for privacy reasons, was greeting people in the store. That is his main job, to walk through the store and greet people. He is good at it. Phil is friendly and very talkative. Although he is good at what he does, Phil doesn’t like greeting people for hours on end.

Back to the point…

I was stuck in jewelry,  and Phil is walking the floor. We talked here and there, mindless chit chatter just to kill time. I don’t think much of it since I talk to a lot of my co-workers.

But this conversation started to change…

“How long have you been here for?” Phil asked.

“Five years,” I answered, nodding at the crazy number, “But it’s a good place to be.”

“Yes it is, I agree,” he replied.

“Yup. I started when I was 19. Now I’m pretty old.”

“No. Not at all. 24 is not old at all.”

Here I forgot that I was actually 18 when I started, so I gave him a wrong age…

“Yeah I guess.”

“24 is a good age to be.”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, it seems like a lot of people have been here for a while.”

“There are a few of us. Yes,” I said.

“Anna (again, a fake name) has been here four years.”

I thought about it and agreed to the right years of my co-workers working years.

Phil went on, “Ellen (yup another fake name) has been here for three.”

Again I nod and agree. He greets people as they walk by.

“Do you have a second job?” I ask him, “Many of the others, I know, also have second jobs.”

“No. no. This is the only thing I’m doing.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah. I’m actually writing a book.” He said. I get super interested, since it’s pretty out of the ordinary to find someone in the process of writing a story. And for someone to have the same interest as mine. “It takes up most of my time.”

“What is it about?” I continue to ask, just glad to kill time.

“It’s about,” Phil tells me, as he considers where to start, “a man. He is struggling through life, since a lot of bad things have happened to him, a lot of bad relationships. And so he is trying to find the reason why life is so bad and hoping to find happiness in the end. There is a lot of personal stuff and a lot of fiction in it. Not a lot of people have read my works. Only my younger brother, and he’s been saying a lot of exceptional things about it. He’s only 18. It’s been hard to find someone to exchange ideas with. A lot of things in the story has happened to me. I went through a bad marriage, very bad marriage. And after that, I was in a relationship. It was nice since I could throw ideas at her and to get creative feedback from her. But since then, it’s been hard to have no one there for me.”

While he tells his story, I nod and add in appropriate sounds of “okay and uh huh’s”

Phil continues to greet customers.

I had another question for him though, since he was into writing and all. “Did you go to any school for your writing?”

“No, no. I got into it in 7th grade. It was a great passion of mine. I stopped for a while, but then something bad happened to me and I started up again after that. I found that I had gotten a lot better too.”

I nodded, amazed. I was considering telling him that I was writing as well and that I had a similar story to his.

“Okay, I’m gonna take a walk around. I don’t want our manager (who I did not make up a name for since naming characters are hard for me) to think I’m not doing anything.”

“Okay. Yup, that’s fine.”

Phil takes a lap around our store, and honestly it wasn’t long enough. During this time my mind was rushing everywhere. I know I am not the only one to have their thoughts go wild.

What is his reasoning behind telling me all this? He doesn’t have to tell me. Phil was basically bearing his soul to me. Another human being has never done that before. All his weird intimate life stories and he was sharing with me!

I didn’t even care if he was just being friendly, I was starting to like this guy. I didn’t care that he was divorced and had a hard past with other relationships. He was very likable in this moment.

But I toned down my thoughts. I cannot like him too much! I cannot like him at all. It will be a small one-sided crush. He’s just something good to look at!

Why oh why was this happening to me now! I cannot be having a crush, especially on a co-worker nonetheless!

Phil made his round and came back to my counter.

“You’re back,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said.

“How was it?” I said knowing full well how he felt about his position.

“Oh it was just great,” he said sarcastically. “I have to ask,” he continued, changing the topic, “how long have you known Anna?”

“Which Anna? Do you mean Anna M. or Anna X.?” I asked back. We have so many employees who have the same name…

“Anna X. Short Anna,” Phil patted the air showing how short he meant.

“Ahh. Anna. I’ve known her for a while. She went to school with my younger sister and I’ve seen her around. So it’s been a while.”

“Okay.” Phil said, considering the new information he just received.

“I have to ask something, if it’s not too strange.” Phil said.

“Yeah?” I said back. I could feel something different this time though. This relationship I had going on was just about to change. I should have seen it coming, but I was so side tracked, I didn’t see it till it was too late.

“Do you know how old Anna is and if Anna has a boyfriend?”

 

Of course! Or course, when a boy is nice to me it is for something. But I still smile and answered. “I’ve seen her birthday once, and she is around my age. And I don’t know if she has a boyfriend, sorry.”

“No, no. That’s fine.”

Not much is said after that. Stuff was going on in the store and he went to help out. Soon after I was set free from the jewelry counter, and Anna came to replace me. I still had some time before my lunch break so I was helping around on the floor.

In the active department, I was straightening clothes and Phil comes over.

“Hey. I hate to be that guy. But could you figure out if she has a boyfriend?”

“I can try.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

I go back to my cleaning and he goes back to greeting customers.

I could not believe what just happened…

I was befriended just for information on one of my coworkers. I thought to what he had just told me. He was basically the main character of his story and he was trying to find happiness, but did he really need my help? If he was searching for it, couldn’t he man up and tell the girl himself.

I wasn’t angry or devastated. I would have been if I had liked him from the very beginning. But my feelings were a five minute blind misunderstanding.

I carried on with my job. Even though I was given a mission, I was still at work and while on the clock my job is my first priority.

Later on while going to my lunch break, he finds me on the floor again.

“Would it be obvious if you asked?” he asked me.

“I think so. But I’ll try not to say your name.” I tell him.

“Okay, yeah.”

We part ways and I go to the break room in the back of the store.

But he wasn’t done talking just yet, he came to the room too, after two minutes.

“I was just thinking and I wouldn’t mind if you said my name. We’re all adults. If she doesn’t like me then its fine. She’s pretty cool, I don’t think she would care. She would probably make a joke later. And I’m totally cool with it.”

“Okay. Yeah. I’m surprised you haven’t said it yourself.”

He laughs and agrees.

We part ways again and I settle down for my lunch. Which I could not swallow. I’ve never been in that sort of situation, my body was clamming up. I didn’t care about him, I was freaking out over the fact that I was just used for some guys own pleasure of finding out if a girl was single.

I waited till later on that night to tell Anna. Unsure of how long the conversation would last, I got my recovery for the zone I was responsible for.

After, I went and found her. I knew I would have to break it to her slowly. Let her figure it out before I said the whole thing. Anna was cleaning up purses, a perfect opportunity since it was in the corner of the store and no one was around.

“Hey Anna,” I said going up to her.

“Hey Lucy. What’s up.”

“So, I have something to ask you,” I said, “It’s gonna be really strange.”

She looked over to me, waiting for me to say what I had to say.

“I’m not sure if you have been noticing it already. I’m sure you have. But what do you think of Phil?”

Anna still doesn’t say anything. I’m sure she was trying to figure out what was going on.

“He want’s me to ask you something.” I said, filling the quiet space.

“Stop,” Anna tells me, “Don’t say it.”

I crouch over and lean on a display, “I don’t want to say it either!”

“Don’t say it. I can see where this is going. Don’t say it.”

“Okay. I really don’t want to say it. I really don’t”

“Tell him you forgot.”

“Okay. If that is what you want. I will tell him that. Cause honestly, I would rather be on your side rather than his.”

I was relieved. I know she would be smart enough to figure it out, Girls have an intuition when it comes to boys liking them. There is a difference in the air. A difference in the way a boy acts towards you.

Anna and I are not extremely close, but we are still are on a good standing term. So I knew she would take it well, and I am glad she took it better than thought she would.

Later on I had to tell her that I hoped our relationship would not be awkward after that. But she was cool with it. She could kind of tell that he liked her…

I won’t see Phil until Thursday…

But honestly, I know I am a nice girl, but he kind of asked the wrong girl to do his dirty work…