Comedy hurts, get over it.

               So a recent controversial aspect has arisen since my latest YouTube posting. Basically some of my narrations might have been considered "racist" if the viewers are narrow minded while lacking any sense of outer world perceptions. So many people have praised me for my efforts to shed light on just how ridiculous stereotypes are by confessing such an adherence to them. The point is, I'm not here to personally offend anyone. But I am here to raise your awareness on just how skewed and complicated cultural and racial trends can be. First and foremost by making fun of myself. I'm roasting myself constantly. I'm pointing out what's wrong with me and my culture and how I can improve. If I can proudly sit here and type or even record with my own voice that Vietnamese people are a certain way which mirrors stereotypes, then why can't other people realize that comedy and life in general doesn't always have to appease them. People are entitled to their own opinions, even if they're shitty. This is definitely not an apology. This is more like a "GTFO trolls" type of a posting.
            I'm very sensitive even though it doesn't seem like it on film. I'm picking my words carefully- yet I had to remove my latest upload and was forced to re-edit some scenes. I promise that this will never ever happen again. I will never ever let a few ignorant individuals dictate my art and my passion. Sadly, this decision was not entirely mine to make without considering people I care about. In order to protect my friend(s) from further scrutiny from associating with such a "hater" like Khronicling Kyle, I was forced to withdraw what I had put so much time and effort into. Sure, the re-edited version is still very funny and a classic, but the first one had more flavor in it. Too bad not everyone could take such strong spices. If people don't like what they see or hear, then they should just not watch my videos or watch it with the audio off- it's that simple. Hearing my video through my friend's phone while an echo of laughter burst out in her room as her friends gathered to watch confirmed that this craft must continue. I did it for them and I'll continue to do it for you. All forms of comedy must have some truths in them and sometimes the truth can hurt. So comedy can hurt, but we must learn to get over it, laugh at each other and ourselves. If we can all just lighten up and not take things too serious then wouldn't the world be a better place? Never take anything personal, starting with yourself and your beliefs. And do watch my videos harder next time, maybe then you'll realize that my respect for your culture makes me want to shed a funny light on it. Funny lights are miraculous.

Enjoy the new version.
   

Frisky in Frisco'

            I never thought I would return to San Francisco so soon, especially not upon the eve of my departure to Vietnam. I figured that I'd never get a chance to see it again anytime soon, so with my friend Karan interning up there and two other friends Kristina (whom I met in Vietnam) and Tiffani now with stable jobs and weekends off, this would be the perfect time to embark. Traveling there via Xe Do Hoang aka the cheap Vietnamese bus that departs daily from Westminster to San Jose for 40 dollars or 45 dollars to Oakland or San Francisco. Return trips are also available for the same amount. Despite what the website claims, luggage is unlimited and sandwiches and waters are provided for free. Remember to get there early to ensure a seat. The reservations system is a complete joke. The trip takes roughly seven hours one way and has a quick stop in Buttonwillow. It's a rather pleasant trip, aside from the Eagle Brand medicated oil stench or the blasting Paris by Night "entertainment" or the nonstop Jackie Chan movie. On my return home they played Jackie Chan's Around the World in 80 Days twice. One thing I noticed during the bus rides is that the divide between first and second generation Vietnamese are spreading farther and farther apart. The old people are still landlocked towards their old customs and cultures while the young people are too Americanized, forgetting about their ancestral roots. I noted the fear and anxiety that some older solo travelers had and how disconnected the younger riders were. One young person, with a heavy fob accent spoke his broken English instead of speaking Vietnamese to the bus operators, as if he was ashamed to speak his natural tongue. The younger girl travelers in their early 20s appeared too fixated on social roles and adhering to western values. One girl touted her nursing achievements, while another claimed her intellects by stating that she was an accountant. Many girls flaunted their iPhones and and "designer" sunglasses as if they were some big shot. Yet the fobby girls who didn't seem too marred by westernization retained too much of their traditional and reserved Vietnameseness. I'm sure there were all sorts of beauty hiding behind those thick rimmed eye glasses and I'm sure they would make some white guy nerd very happy. Yet, I realized that I despise Vietnamese girls who are too American and at the same time I resent Vietnamese girls who behave like their traditional mothers. This is why I'll likely be single forever. I haven't been able to find someone like myself- transitioning between both cultures and assimilating without completely adapting. It's a struggle and it's not easy.

              As far as the rest of the trip, I'm fairly certain now that I hate big cities. San Jose was massive and tough. The phrase, "mean streets," sums it up quite well. The suburbs bay side mirrored Orange County a lot with more trees and gloom, except there were plenty of Indian guys in interracial relationships. I even saw an Indian guy on a Chinese woman- talk about superior mental capacity children. San Francisco itself can only be appreciated with one understands its rich and diverse history. It's amazing how this city grew and continue to set trends. The liberalism didn't bother me, but the tall landscapes, loud cars, and the sheer amount of pedestrians made me nervous, not to mention too many Chinese bus drivers!!. Most of the time spent in SF was spent riding public transportation. The city itself is not that big, yet public transportation simply took a long time. Of course, getting lost and the inability to read maps made the hours longer. The highlight was definitely visiting AT&T Park and seeing a Giants game while wearing an Orioles hat. Thank god, they are not even in the same league- so most people didn't seem to care. Though, I was very self conscious when the entire train was full of people dressed in orange and black in Giants gear and here I was with a bird on my hat. Now if I had worn a blue Dodgers hat, the story might have turned out violently different. However, Bay area people didn't seem as nice though. The commotions of the big city might have caused this trend or perhaps I'm simply too "gangster" to make friends with strangers.
                I'll let the video do the rest of the illustration and do watch in HD if your internet is fast enough.

 

STFU, Bo.

          Don't you hate it when people refer to their fathers as bo? Vietnamese for father is ba or sometimes cha, but unfortunately some people, mostly northerners, refer to their father as bo. Is there anything more annoying than that? Whats up with that right? Bo sounds like bao bo, like a big bag or something. Perhaps I've been spending too much time around Little Saigon lately as I've attempted to surround myself with a lot of Vietnamese people to ease my transition. The hairs on my arms just stand and my neck just protrudes out whenever I hear someone call their father bo, especially daughters. Bo is such a taboo word for me that it sounds erotic and incestrial when daughters utilize that term. Don't get me wrong, I love the norther dialect, however bo just aint right. The equivalent would be referring to dad as dod or father as fother. It's wrong- it's off - it should be burnt at the stake and then some.
          Don't get me started on people who refer to female others as vu or breast. How nasty is it for a grandson to call his grandmother breast. WHY!! Why is that even a part of the language? Let's cut off tongues!!! Damn it, the Vietnamese language is so perverse. Little kids are sometimes nicknamed cu or penis. It's kind of ironic how small kids are referred as cu... perhaps the myths are true... small things are named after small things. To conclude, I implore you all to PLEASE stop calling using bo to define your father unless you hate him. It's a social travesty that needs to be rid of, comparable to manslaughter and small animal abuse.
Btw, stay tuned for an awesome update on my recent trip to Nor Cal.

Celebrities in Hollywood and then sum.

If you haven't already, do make it a point to watch my latest travelogue. I explored the Chinese age old tradition of rowdy dim sum eating and then found myself in the heart of Hollywood: in some white girl's belly button.

   

Damn you chocolate.

I've never been a heavy chocolate eater. I've favored sour sweets like those sour worms or sour Skittles growing up and I haven't had a real taste of quality chocolate in about four years or so. I always thought of chocolate to be kind of bitter and never appealing enough to be a big fan of it... until quite recently... I attended and documented a Godiva chocolate party. I didn't even eat much chocolate there. I might have had one or two small pieces. Then while babysitting at Aaron's house, I ate a couple of pieces of Sees chocolates out of absolute hunger. Each time recounting that epic scene in Forest Gump - you know the one with the box of chocolate and  life analogy. Then for whatever reason my mother decided to buy some Hersheys Cookies N Cream and I've been sneaking two or three pieces a day!!! I hadn't eaten sweets for a long time as I struggled through a relatively low carb diet for the past couple of years, but this recent candy eating binge has made me quite ashamed. I've touted healthier food options and natural products like a stoic politician, yet I haven't been tooting my own horn. This is seriously a chocolate addiction. I'm so obsessed about that bitter feeling melting in my mouth. Do I even dare bite into it? No. I must be patient so I can get the maximum sensation. Maybe my taste buds are changing? I never liked onions or mustard before and now I enjoy both throughly. Throwing away a perfectly good bag of chocolate doesn't make sense. But I know I have to fight myself not to munch. I need to go out and buy a bunch of berries. The good news is that the chocolate in Vietnam tastes like crap and the imported stuff will be far too expensive for my meager salaries. Damn you chocolate- why are you so good all of a sudden? And damn you Jamie Oliver for making me care about what I put into my body.

                

Everything must go.

Spring cleaning.

This is the healthiest thing I've done in years. I've always considered myself a highly sentimental person. Sometimes I've yearned to reconnect with moments so frankly that I forgot to enjoy those moments. My looming departure has provided the much need in cleansing my self of such collected worldly processions. I am getting rid of all of my school work prior to a few things from college and those crass theatre days. I've religiously preserved all advertisements, scripts, and newspapers relating to my involvement with theatre, especially during high school, but keeping past memories doesn't make sense for me. I want to progress forward and not recollect about the past, whether they may be wonderful memories or memories I have purposely tried to suppress. Either way, thinking about the past is living in the past and that is something I want to avoid. I really can't stand people who continue to cherish past memories when the present and the future are more meaningful. I really am a terrible history major. Elementary school awards and works are admiringly fun to take a gander back at times, but do I really have time to keep reminding myself of past glory? People who do, clearly lack substance in their lives, especially those who keep reminiscing about high school. It's over, move on with your life, stop watching Glee to evoke such "fond" high school thoughts... especially when most of you weren't even in choir.

Everything must go, even gold foil shaped like a whale.

                I don't even listen to my voice mail. I don't live in the past. I'm also getting rid of all of my artwork, from the vast array of fighting game characters I've created over the years to sketches as an inspiring young and delusional artist. Space issues aren't the issue. I just want to live without needing or being surrounded by material sentiments so much. I want to live simply and not be worried about whether or not I'll need something down the road or in the future. It feels so great to fill bags upon bags of paperwork and objects I once depended on. How refreshing was it to throw away my extra two staplers because I constantly worried about stapler jams. Or how about throwing away thick dictionaries that I thought made me look smarter because of their thickness. Or even all the receipts and records that my car hobby has generated- why do I need to keep paperwork pertaining to the exact specs of my alignment 18th months ago? Perhaps I'm resenting collecting things because I've been an avid collector of things since birth? Rocks, LEGO, Beast Wars Transformers, animals, fish, plants, car crap, Japanese indie albums, bird hats, and more recently, lucky bamboo. I'd be so rich if I hadn't started to obsessively collect things. It's no use to regret though and I don't regret anything- though the important thing is that I'm able to learn from past tribulations and hopefully will never make the same mistakes again. Hopefully, I won't be collecting HIVs in Vietnam. Throwing away shit feels sooooo good. I am free. I am free.

Flowers type of a guy.

My thumb was awfully green not too long ago. I grew everything from wild grasses to spider plants. I recall transplanting wild species into pots in an attempt to "cultivate" and "domesticate" the wilderness of such a suburbia. Despite such suburbias, plants and flowers gently dominate the local landscape and here are some examples that I've been fortunate enough to notice and to ultimately capture. Upon my looming departure date, I've been more aware of my surroundings and just how beautiful America, California, Southern California can be. Flowers are a mere representation of a shifting season's grace. Too bad they don't last all year round. Oh well. Next time you're out and about, do take a quick moment to appreciate flowers  and their boldness and message. Shiizzz. I'm beginning to sound more and more like an emo tree hugger...

Just admiring some flora.