I've Got a Lot of Red In My Ledger

Cliche title, I know.

If I could go back, I would. If I could go back and tell that little girl I used to be, that innocent and pure little girl, that none of it was worth it, I would. Drugs and gangs aren't fun, they aren't things to play with, and they will catch you. Once you are in, you don't come out. Ever.

They look like dangerous fun from the outside, a world to flirt with and go back to the normal world, smiling at your dangerous little secret, your little secret that makes you untouchable. That secret may protect you from most, but it's a grenade, and you don't even realize it until it goes off. That world has bear trap jaws and they snap on everyone that comes through them, whether they know it or not.

I know things. There's things I've seen, things I stood by and let happen, that I hate. While I haven't done any criminal activity myself, I am not innocent. I've covered for people. Lied for them. Protected them. Hid them. And I shouldn't have. I did it because I was told to. I did it because I chose to.

I thought that world would protect me. I thought I was smarter than it. If I didn't do anything myself, I was safe. If I didn't do the drugs, I was safe. If I was just an information passer, I was safe. I wasn't part of it. I wasn't a member. I was okay. I wasn't.

When I put on that bandanna, when I put on those colors, I became a bad person. When I started trusting those colors, I was part of it. I was furthering the cause. When I learned the secret code, the hand signals, the written ones, the unspoken ones, I was part of it.

I want to not be a part of it. I want to be able to walk through a city and not immediately know what deals are going on, just by looking around. I want to erase every fact, every thing I ever learned from them and be innocent. I want to be the very person I fought against. I want to be "empty-headed," a "waste of space." I want to be the kind of person they called, "targets," "pawns."

Especially now, that a family has taken me in, shown me the life I should have had, I want to be free from all of that knowledge. I feel like I am dirty compared to them. A slug on a white bed sheet. They are so innocent, so clean, so unknowing of certain dangers, that I envy them. I want to not be forever associated and lumped in with drug addicts and gang members. I got out of that world, so untie my connections to it!

I want to not immediately tense and form an alibi when I see police; I want to feel safe and relieved they are there. I want to not pull at my sleeves and have my mouth go dry when I see a needle; I want to feel slightly light headed, like everyone else. I want to be a part of society. A clean, normal person, the kind I never got to be, the kind that I could have been before I was dragged in, before I was brainwashed into thinking that was my only fate, that that was the only world that would protect me, love me, take care of me. Every word they told me was a lie and I became just another victim.

I have physical scars, yes, from that world. But the mental ones and emotional ones are so many in number, they run so deep, that I fear I will never find a place in normal society, in everyday life that doesn't include illicit activities. I've been out of that world for over a year now. What do I have to do to cleanse myself of that world, to shake off the shackles that bind me better and more effectively than prison ones ever could?

Group Gush: Deathstars

Uuhhhhh, this group. I love them so much! I've had an obsession with them for about six or seven years, much to the consternation of my mother. She cannot stand them, and it honestly just makes me like them more, because I fully subscribe to the cliche that if you forbid me to do something, I will do it twice and laugh in your face when you find out.

I've always said, my opinion on bands hinges on two things: if you can scare me or make me squeal in delight, you've got yourself a new fan. And Deathstars does both. They're vaguely Satanic (though not nearly as much as they used to be) and controversial and it just makes me love them even more.

Their first album, Synthetic Generation, was a thing of genius. It was so dark, so scary, that I had it taken away from me at school for "spreading the words of Satan," and I went to public school. It was a mixture of mostly gothic industrial metal with a little bit of glam, and a dash of the early 2000's millenium futuristic look that was so rampant then. Their video for the title track, "Synthetic Generation," still makes me a bit creeped out today. That creepy little baby thing that crawls over that woman's prone body is just bleehhhh! But it worked.

Second album, Termination Bliss, remains my favorite of theirs. It's definitely more metal than the previous, which is always a good thing in my book. The picture above is from this era, which means it's a bit out of date, but look at them! Aren't they just so....uuunnfff here? Okay, they're always sexy, but whatever. This era was all about militaristic looks paired with evil sounds. "Cyanide," is their best video to date, hands down. "Tongues," is basically a crash course in everything that is great about this band. It's blasphemous, and controversial because the lyric "Speak the little girl's name," sounds curiously like, "Speak evil in God's name," and it's sexy in a dark and creepy way.

And here is where Deathstars hit a wall. Their third album, "Night Electric Night," was the first of theirs to be widely available in North America (I found my copy in a freaking FYE in Indiana for crying out loud) and I think the success went to their heads a little. They had ramped up the electronic on this album, but not enough to capture the hardcore industrial fans and too much for their glam and goth fans. It was a bit of a lost sounding album, like they were trying to keep their familiar genius but also trying to sound more accessible. People feared that they had completely sold out and weren't the Goth devil darlings we all knew and loved. Follow up single "Metal," saw them trying desperately to find a sound to stick with by putting the dirty glam into overdrive and fighting to prove they were still the best at what they do. It failed. I haven't seen a Deathstars album in an American store anywhere in the country for about four years.

I'm one of those Deathstars fans that would follow them anywhere, but a lot of fans had abandoned them. When word was released that they had a new album called, "The Perfect Cult," coming out, it wasn't met with much enthusiasm. The public figured we'd have either another "Night Electric Night," or worst case scenario, a mess of electronic and dubstep. It was not. "The Perfect Cult," sounds like a continuation of "Termination Bliss," and should have been the sound they had on their third album. They are definitely back and firing on all cylinders. I'm more in love with them than ever, because they got their egos in check, humbled themselves, and wisely went back to their familiar sound, but modernized it so that it never feels stale or like they're retreading old stuff.

Something about Deathstars just draws you in and you never quite feel safe with them, but you definitely don't want to leave them. And the way lead singer Whiplasher Bernadotte speaks and sings, I call it the "Marilyn Manson," tone, where no matter what he's saying, it sounds like he's inviting you to bed with him, all the while with a sexy, secret smirk, like he knows something you don't. It's dangerous and devastatingly attractive, much like everything about Deathstars.

Reading in Korean - from a disabled standpoint and Why My Grand Master Is Awesome

I am learning Korean, because 1) I go to a Korean taekwondo academy so it would help with my terminology 2) I really like Korean culture 3) It makes my Grand Master happy.

I'm severely dyslexic, and it makes it hard to read in English a lot of the time. I love to read, but sometimes it's just easier if I read graphic novels or manga or manhwa and save me the headache. I hate being dyslexic because it makes me feel stupid. And when I feel stupid, it triggers the selective mutism and so then I can't talk. So it feels a bit like I'm locked in my own brain. I can't read and then I can't tell anyone that I'm struggling so I just sit and stare out the window until my voice feels like coming back or my brain decides to make sense of the letters on the page.

For some reason, orally and auditory, I'm extremely gifted at foreign languages. Play me a Korean song and after about two listens, I can sing the chorus and most of the verse back to you word for word. Same with Japanese, Chinese, Thai, German, Finnish, and Spanish. Also, anyone with an accent I have no problem understanding. Maybe it's because Grand Master has a very thick Cheju Korean accent and I'm used to hearing broken English, but whatever the case, I know I'm not stupid. If I was, I wouldn't be able to understand foreign languages with the ease I am able to.

Every person, especially disabled people, has/have a gift. Mine is foreign languages and the fact I can hear a guitar tone and know who's playing it, like each guitar player's sound is like a finger print. Find your gift. And no one will ever be able to take it away from you, because it's unique to you. One of my gifts is great for a career and what I'm minoring in. The other is just cool and a good trick at parties.

Sometimes when I've been studying Korean for a long time, it's easier to write in Korean than English, because in Korean there aren't any silent letters, different meanings for the same sounding word, and other nonsense. My Grand Master helps me study sometimes, and he'll dig a pen into the paper so it leaves indents, so I can run my fingers over the paper and it reinforces what the letters mean and are more than just reading and remembering, which is hard for me on it's own.

(I like Grand Master's chart he made of the alphabet for me better, but I left it at the dojang in his office.) I pretty much like anything better than everything else if it has something to do with Grand Master; I'm a little spoiled. I never had a dad and he's never had a daughter so it's just fun to be around each other. When I want to play Kpop or other music on the loud speakers before class and Gwan Jang Nim says no, I give him the big eyes with the 'buing buing' hands and say, "B-but why, Sir?" He melts and lets me do whatever I want. I don't abuse it though! I can read his emotions from a mile away and know when to be seen and not heard if he's having a bad day. He never yells though. Not at me. That's what's the best part about him, I think. He never yells or calls me names or hits me and it's such a nice change of pace that I could almost cry just thinking about it. He always speaks in this soft voice with a small smile on his face and when he's excited he puts his fist in the air and cries, "Hwaiting!" and I laugh so hard because he's just perfect.

Lana Del Rey and the Poseur Patrol

I have no problem with Lana's music, in fact I like two of her songs. "Young and Beautiful," "Blue Jeans," they're great songs. It's her image I have a problem with. She's the epitome of the Forever 21 style "rebel" that's running rampant these days.

Oh, you've seen them. They wear Ramones, Run-DMC, Ice-T, Rolling Stones, various Norwegian black metal band shirts with not a single clue of any of the aforementioned bands' songs or members. They wear fake flower crowns and smoke joints while loudly proclaiming that they are, in fact, smoking a joint. They wear thin flannel-style screen printed shirts and then complain that they're cold despite their "flannel". They used to be the Ugg-boot wearers, the yoga pants devotees, only now they've been reborn into "adults".

As someone who was born to a reformed groupie, who was nicknamed after Joey Ramone at a young age, and who was raised on Aerosmith, Nirvana, Marilyn Manson, the Rolling Stones, and Rob Zombie, I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to see these girls worship pop singers while looking like they fell out of the early nineties. It doesn't match up and I hate inauthentic people.

Lana likes to take pictures smoking a joint and it comes off as 'so mysterious,' 'so cooooool,' 'so rebellious.' Smoking weed is not a new thing and it boggles the mind as to why mainstream media continues to sensationalize it. How can you be rebellious while doing something the majority is already doing?

She made wearing the American flag as clothes popular again. Yup, flag desecration, super cool to me! I totally want to see my country's flag stretched beyond recognition over some basic girl's ass, the frayed hem barely covering her hoo-ha. I'm glad my grandfathers and sister protected it so you could wear the flag as a fashion statement.

Lana's videos, her with the stickers on her cheek to look like teardrops because playing as a convict is apparently cool. I'm not sure where she lives, but in all the cities I've been in, faking those tattoos gets you a one-way ticket to a curb stomp. Also, her comments that she wishes she were 'already dead' because her idols Amy Winehouse and Kurt Cobain died at 27 and she is apparently upset she made it to 28 without tragically dying.

Bitch, are you fucking stupid? This is where I lose my temper completely, because she obviously overlooks the fact that these two were people with families and lives and friends and only cares about the legacy they left behind. She wants that? She wants to be memorialized as a junkie who left millions heartbroken in their wake? Is she so afraid that her music is so mediocre that she wants to die young to ensure she'll be remembered forever? And then, when she's called out by Kurt's own daughter, Frances (who I adore because she takes literally 0 shit from anyone and calls out poseurs from a mile away), Lana quickly backtracks and says it was misconstrued. At least stand by your mistake. People would have more respect for you, if you had just come out and said, "Yeah, what I said was really dumb, and I'm sorry for saying it, because it was really disrespectful." Where's her cool, vintage gang member look now? It just crumbles when someone calls her on it. Hilarious, you've just proved my point.

And the people who follow people like her are the exact same ones who come down to the punk club where I live and stand around with this clueless look on their face because they have no idea what they've gotten themselves into, or they're running through the crowd mindlessly punching people and screaming that they want to start a circle pit. There's a reason we have a sign that says, "POSEURS PAY DOUBLE," on the door. We don't want your kind. Go back to Coachella and ferment there where rich people get to slum and pretend they're real rock fans despite the fact they're at a few hundred dollar a ticket festival that plays dubstep and whatever the hell American pop is called nowadays to people dressed like folksy old people.

Why is it all so fake? The flowers on their heads, the "flannels" on their backs, the Indian headdresses on their heads, the auto-tuned vocals coming out of their idols' mouths, the metal bands they wear on their shirts that they wouldn't recognize in the street if they ran them over with their cars, their "combat boots" with zippers on the side and pvc "leather" all around.  Is it just because it's easier to do all of this than really feel or really discover who you are? Or are they all fake as people? Is that all they truly are, amalgams of what the media tells them is cool? Has it always been this way? If I go back ten years, will I find other punks, Goths, and metal heads complaining about the mainstream appropriating our culture to shock and piss off people for ten seconds? And why can't they just find happiness on their own instead of faking everything? Is it their home lives? Is it their personal lives? Is it the public schools? Is it social media? Whose fault is it that our culture has become so saturated with quick fixes and short cuts that our kids have now become shallow empty holes of nothingness? And how can we change it?

Slayer in December! And looking back on my addiction

My Umma (mom) was talking to me about how my one year anniversary of being clean is coming up, and what I wanted to do for it. I couldn't think of anything because literally all I do is work, school, and taekwondo. She then pulled out........wait for it......DUNDUNDUN Slayer tickets!!!! AAH! I've wanted to see Slayer for SOOOO long! They're probably my favorite thrash band, and definitely my favorite of the Big Three (Megadeth doesn't count, sorry, my disdain for Dave Mustaine is too high).

I used to be addicted to Narcotics and self harming, so a year clean is pretty big. And, no one can take it away, because I did it. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't had an addiction, but being able to say I haven't done something in 365 days that I used to not be able to function without will be a really big accomplishment. It's weird to think that last year at this time, I was completely obliterated ALL the time. I don't really remember a lot of it, actually. I remember rehab though. Very clearly. Every. Single. Second. Because when you want drugs and they lock you in an empty room by yourself to make sure you're sober before you're allowed to be around other patients, it tends to stick out in your mind.

I don't have cravings much anymore. In fact, I have more cravings for self harming than I do the drugs. I'm not sure why. I think it's because the drugs were a physical dependence, mental too a little, but most definitely physical. Whereas self-harming is more of an emotional addiction. Drugs you sweat out, throw up, shake all over, cry, scream, bash your head into a wall, do all that for a few days, you're good to go for a little while. Emotional addictions are inside your head completely, and you can't exactly take your brain out and shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch to get all the bad stuff out. (It'd be great if you could, would have saved me a lot of therapy.)

Am I always going to be an addict? Yes, because I know my limits. I have an addictive personality. Look at my consumption of Diet Pepsi, I drink about 60 oz a day. When I was 9, I lost a hundred and fifty dollars (all I had saved up) in online poker before the school called and said I hadn't been at school for a few days. I'd been hiding in the bushes and sneaking back in to gamble. I know my limits. If someone shot up in front of me or pulled out a bottle of pills, or had a bottle of cough syrup on them, I don't think I'd be strong enough to say no, or even be strong enough not to knock them down and steal it. But that doesn't make me an active addict, it makes me a recovering addict. Props to those who can be recovered from alcoholism and be in a bar, or a recovered drug addict and be at a party. I cannot. Maybe someday I'll be able to be around my drug of choice and politely say no and not partake. Right now, I don't see it happening and it scares me to even think about, but maybe in another year or two. But I hope that I won't be in the position where I have to be around my drug of choice. I hope in another year I'll still have no contact with the people I was around when I was an addict regularly, because my friends I have now are all sober and clean people. And I like that. I like that I can be considered one of them. I like that they don't see "Recovered Addict" when they see me, they see just another teenager, just another college student. A year ago I would have given everything to not be an addict. A year later, I've achieved it. Clean living is taken for granted, and it's something I cherish every single day.

New life

To be honest, I forgot I had this blog. I got it confused with my Tumblr (which I also forgot I had) and in my head, they were the same thing. I realized I had one when I went to comment on UhhSandy's blog and I didn't have to be anonymous! Ha!

Well, three years is a long time. I got kicked out, lived on the streets, came back home, my dad left for good, my parents divorced after being separated for fifteen years, enrolled in a Korean taekwondo academy, graduated high school, went to college, was kicked out of college, went to rehab, was accepted to another college, and am now trying to navigate life after all of that.

If I didn't have taekwondo, I'd have killed myself a LONG time ago. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I've got a family now. Isn't that weird? I'm an actual adult and I just NOW have a solidified family instead of an obscure one that's spread out. It's a bunch of really wonderful people, no one hates each other, and I feel wanted. Yeah, I've still got a long way to go, but the dojang (taekwondo academy, I refer to it as this and will always refer to it as this from here on out) is the heart at the center of my life. It's my home base, it's the place I go to when nothing seems alright, it's the place that fixes everything that's going wrong.

My family is: my mom, my mom's niece, my mom's sister, my mom's brother, my mom's sister's son and daughter, my Grand Master, my Grand Master's son (Master K), my other Master (Master H), my assistant taekwondo instructor (Captain N), two black belts (A and H), and my Grand Master's wife. If I forgot anyone, I'll tell you about them later.

My Grand Master. He's the most wonderful person you'll ever meet. Everyone finds him intimidating, but he's just quiet and doesn't speak very good English. I'm one of the only people who can understand him totally, and that's only because he's the person I spend the most time around. He's the father figure I always wanted, and always deserved.

I'm not a strict Goth anymore. There's other facets of my personalities. I'm also a punk, a poet, a Kpopper (you will hear SO MUCH about Kpop from me), an activist, so much more, and as always, a non-conformist with a penchant for protesting.

This is my life. Watch if you want, but I'll make noise either way.