Sabaitide
September 2021
Contents
Introduction
A Bipolar mood Swing
Playlist
Low Tide Flow
Creative
Message in a Bottle
Personal
A Word of Encouragement For
the creative and culturally depressed
Chapter Four
The Science Fiction I Didn't Write
CREATIVE
Magic Conch
SCREENPLAY
It Begins in THE GARDEN
Gratitude
To end on a happy note
Introduction
A Bipolar Mood Swing
Is it really an unexpected plot twist to flat out say that I'm experiencing a bipolar mood swing? For God's sake, my name is Sabaitide not Sabai Sabai.
When I started to draft this month's blog, this was going to be dedicated to the sea turtles in Sri Lanka and all of the marine life in the ocean that is suffering due to careless chemical and plastic pollution. It seems bold to say, but I was so stunned when I found out nearly three months after the disaster occurred. The backstory is that there was a huge cargo ship fire that caused serious pollution off the coast of Sri Lanka at the end of May 2021 that I did not learn about until August, but what was more upsetting was that all of the big news outlets and social media activists and influencers brought little to no awareness to this all summer! That was a huge disaster that got little coverage, and worse, that's three months of irreversible environmental damage that has gotten little to no updates! (And remember the under water fire that occurred as result of a deadly oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico that went viral in early July.. Have there been any updates?)
More importantly, right now, my heart goes out to the women in Afghanistan who are faced with a terrifying and uncertain future that will not only undo the progress in women's rights, but will violate their basic human rights in unthinkable ways. Their voices, stories, and pleas for help need to be amplified! I was also upset at mainstream and social media for not covering this better, and to all the celebrities and influencers who still posted make up tutorials and bikini photos that got so much attention without mentioning a thing... That doesn't set a good representation of how normal girls are in contrast to the urgent humanitarian crisis that is unfolding. It's almost too glaring to ignore, and speaking up for women's rights will not ruin your personal brand or your Instagram aesthetic.
I don't necessarily want to hate on anyone for having a great summer, but it made me really wonder what women rights and feminism are right now. Who benefits from it and who really needs it? The epitome of not caring about real girls goes out to Teen Vogue for posting a Kylie Jenner bikini photo on Instagram that will wreck your ideas about body image on the day that they should have covered the breaking events in Afghanistan like every other news and media outlet, and because they are a young women's magazine, they could have been the first ones to take a strong stance for Afghan women. But sadly, no. What do we really pay our attention to? Most girls can't look or dress like Kylie. One of the biggest obstacles for a lot of girls around the world is getting an education or having their mental and emotional needs met, and they would be appalled at how culture shocking the reality of social media is.
Social media is full of influencers who could bring awareness to environmental activism and humanitarian issues, but a lot of the affiliate marketers just don't. I mean social media and the internet are fascinating tools that can be utilized by ordinary people to share independent content that's outside of the mainstream sphere of influence, but it's a big mess of all sorts of things. All of that's hard for me to say because my concentration is in Writing and Media. I don't want enemies in the industry I am about to enter, especially because I think I've been shadow banned for a while now, but someone had to mention it. I think it was Toni Morrison who once said, "the function of freedom is to free someone else." So what are you really doing with your freedom?
As I've said several times before on my blog, it's better if I don't enter journalism, or write opinions, or give anyone advice. This introduction was just a bipolar mood swing. Imagine coming back to social media after camping and being culture shocked by the reality you live in. Then imagine if the reality you live in was American society in August 2021. There are concerning environmental disasters all over the world and women's rights in Afghanistan are at stake, and if that's how the mainstream and social media seem to be, I might as well say something about the sea turtles. No one reads my blog yet anyway. The plot line of my blog is seriously that I want to write a science fiction novel and unknowingly started an epic writer's journey of my own, and this was not the call to action that I expected!
In this fourth edition of Sabaitide, I will start your September with another playlist and open up with a poem. Then I wrote a piece for Project Yellow Dress, a platform for Asian American stories, called "A Word of Advice for the Creative and Culturally Depressed," but this piece is very personal. I wrote the rough draft at the beginning of summer around the time Sexual Assault Awareness, #StopAsianHate, and Asian American Heritage Month triggered some sad thoughts for me, but I sat on this piece for a while. I hope that you will find some encouragement in your own life from hearing my story, regardless of your craft or ethnicity. Then I will continue forth on my mental health saga, share a song, and a screenplay that shines some light on climate change that I'd like to reformat into a short story. Besides all of that, my personal life is fine. This was just a lot to process.
And I'm usually too polite to ask, but if my blog has been of good influence to you, I would greatly appreciate it if you supported my channel by following me on Instagram and actually press the follow button. The silence is deafening.
Tough crowd, but let's begin.
When I started to draft this month's blog, this was going to be dedicated to the sea turtles in Sri Lanka and all of the marine life in the ocean that is suffering due to careless chemical and plastic pollution. It seems bold to say, but I was so stunned when I found out nearly three months after the disaster occurred. The backstory is that there was a huge cargo ship fire that caused serious pollution off the coast of Sri Lanka at the end of May 2021 that I did not learn about until August, but what was more upsetting was that all of the big news outlets and social media activists and influencers brought little to no awareness to this all summer! That was a huge disaster that got little coverage, and worse, that's three months of irreversible environmental damage that has gotten little to no updates! (And remember the under water fire that occurred as result of a deadly oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico that went viral in early July.. Have there been any updates?)
More importantly, right now, my heart goes out to the women in Afghanistan who are faced with a terrifying and uncertain future that will not only undo the progress in women's rights, but will violate their basic human rights in unthinkable ways. Their voices, stories, and pleas for help need to be amplified! I was also upset at mainstream and social media for not covering this better, and to all the celebrities and influencers who still posted make up tutorials and bikini photos that got so much attention without mentioning a thing... That doesn't set a good representation of how normal girls are in contrast to the urgent humanitarian crisis that is unfolding. It's almost too glaring to ignore, and speaking up for women's rights will not ruin your personal brand or your Instagram aesthetic.
I don't necessarily want to hate on anyone for having a great summer, but it made me really wonder what women rights and feminism are right now. Who benefits from it and who really needs it? The epitome of not caring about real girls goes out to Teen Vogue for posting a Kylie Jenner bikini photo on Instagram that will wreck your ideas about body image on the day that they should have covered the breaking events in Afghanistan like every other news and media outlet, and because they are a young women's magazine, they could have been the first ones to take a strong stance for Afghan women. But sadly, no. What do we really pay our attention to? Most girls can't look or dress like Kylie. One of the biggest obstacles for a lot of girls around the world is getting an education or having their mental and emotional needs met, and they would be appalled at how culture shocking the reality of social media is.
Social media is full of influencers who could bring awareness to environmental activism and humanitarian issues, but a lot of the affiliate marketers just don't. I mean social media and the internet are fascinating tools that can be utilized by ordinary people to share independent content that's outside of the mainstream sphere of influence, but it's a big mess of all sorts of things. All of that's hard for me to say because my concentration is in Writing and Media. I don't want enemies in the industry I am about to enter, especially because I think I've been shadow banned for a while now, but someone had to mention it. I think it was Toni Morrison who once said, "the function of freedom is to free someone else." So what are you really doing with your freedom?
As I've said several times before on my blog, it's better if I don't enter journalism, or write opinions, or give anyone advice. This introduction was just a bipolar mood swing. Imagine coming back to social media after camping and being culture shocked by the reality you live in. Then imagine if the reality you live in was American society in August 2021. There are concerning environmental disasters all over the world and women's rights in Afghanistan are at stake, and if that's how the mainstream and social media seem to be, I might as well say something about the sea turtles. No one reads my blog yet anyway. The plot line of my blog is seriously that I want to write a science fiction novel and unknowingly started an epic writer's journey of my own, and this was not the call to action that I expected!
In this fourth edition of Sabaitide, I will start your September with another playlist and open up with a poem. Then I wrote a piece for Project Yellow Dress, a platform for Asian American stories, called "A Word of Advice for the Creative and Culturally Depressed," but this piece is very personal. I wrote the rough draft at the beginning of summer around the time Sexual Assault Awareness, #StopAsianHate, and Asian American Heritage Month triggered some sad thoughts for me, but I sat on this piece for a while. I hope that you will find some encouragement in your own life from hearing my story, regardless of your craft or ethnicity. Then I will continue forth on my mental health saga, share a song, and a screenplay that shines some light on climate change that I'd like to reformat into a short story. Besides all of that, my personal life is fine. This was just a lot to process.
And I'm usually too polite to ask, but if my blog has been of good influence to you, I would greatly appreciate it if you supported my channel by following me on Instagram and actually press the follow button. The silence is deafening.
Tough crowd, but let's begin.
Playlist
Low Tide Flow
|
You can listen to the full Low Tide Flow playlist on Spotify.
|
September | Earth, Wind & Fire
All Night Long | Lionel Richie Give Me One Reason | Tracy Chapman Follow Me | Uncle Kracker The Wire | Haim Lovefool | The Cardigans Hey, Hey, What Can I Do | Led Zeppelin What's Love Got to Do With It | Tina Turner Hold On | Wilson Phillips Escapade | Janet Jackson Everywhere | Fleetwood Mac Take It Easy | Eagles I Can't Go For That | Hall & Oates That's All | Genesis Miss You | The Rolling Stones Say You Love Me | Fleetwood Mac What a Fool Believes | The Doobie Brothers |
Creative
Message in a Bottle
Sound of waves crashing
But I’m crash landed
Stranded on an island
Gonna make it my land
Taking back my mind and
Gonna rewrite it ‘cause I
Lost a few years when
Expression was my fear
Now it kinda feels weird
To say how I used to feel
In words that I can hear
So that I can finally heal
From the pain I concealed
And forgot about until
I appeared way over here
On an island by myself
Nothing went as planned
Over back on main land
Lost it all and got it back
Not the same life that I had
But I started over again
No specific goal or plan
I lost hope in what I can
Achieve or accomplish
When I ended right back
Where all of this began
Living with my parents
Who can’t even pretend
To be a little interested in
My life unless it’s to tell
Me to get a job with insurance
Then back to silent treatment
Imagine how hard it was
To really express yourself
Feeling stuck like this
And can’t even admit
The hurt from the years
And can't pinpoint it yet
Without words to say it
‘Cause if you bring it up
You’ll just get shut down
And if you deal with it
Now it’s all your fault
That’s how I felt for years
Emotionally impaired
How can I write or paint
Or really grow in any way
While maintaining face
I was done feeling like this
Hiding my emotions and
Going through the motions
I’m meant to do something
much more than this
Stuck here wanting to be
Part of your world, I guess
So one day I just left and
I took a little swim
Drifting on a whim
Through my hopes and fears
And emotions from the years
Bottled up to find here
Like hey, remember this?
Oh, how could I forget?
Well actually, I did for a bit
SOS please send help
But I’m crash landed
Stranded on an island
Gonna make it my land
Taking back my mind and
Gonna rewrite it ‘cause I
Lost a few years when
Expression was my fear
Now it kinda feels weird
To say how I used to feel
In words that I can hear
So that I can finally heal
From the pain I concealed
And forgot about until
I appeared way over here
On an island by myself
Nothing went as planned
Over back on main land
Lost it all and got it back
Not the same life that I had
But I started over again
No specific goal or plan
I lost hope in what I can
Achieve or accomplish
When I ended right back
Where all of this began
Living with my parents
Who can’t even pretend
To be a little interested in
My life unless it’s to tell
Me to get a job with insurance
Then back to silent treatment
Imagine how hard it was
To really express yourself
Feeling stuck like this
And can’t even admit
The hurt from the years
And can't pinpoint it yet
Without words to say it
‘Cause if you bring it up
You’ll just get shut down
And if you deal with it
Now it’s all your fault
That’s how I felt for years
Emotionally impaired
How can I write or paint
Or really grow in any way
While maintaining face
I was done feeling like this
Hiding my emotions and
Going through the motions
I’m meant to do something
much more than this
Stuck here wanting to be
Part of your world, I guess
So one day I just left and
I took a little swim
Drifting on a whim
Through my hopes and fears
And emotions from the years
Bottled up to find here
Like hey, remember this?
Oh, how could I forget?
Well actually, I did for a bit
SOS please send help
Personal
A Word of Encouragement for
the Creative and Culturally Depressed
Author’s Note
I reached out to Julia at Project Yellow Dress months ago and I’ve been meaning to submit a written piece ever since the time of #StopAsianHate and Asian American Heritage Month, but then I got shy. A few difficult things crossed my mind during that season, but I didn’t want to necessarily bring too much attention to myself. Since then, I’ve gotten into graduate school to pursue writing at a higher level and I’ve been finding my voice through creative writing on my personal blog, but it is now August and I still owe Julia a good story. Thank you so much for your patience and today I’d like to open up about my story as an emerging Asian American writer in hopes that you will find some encouragement in your own craft.
A Word of Encouragement for the Creative and Culturally Depressed
My family came to California from Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam. My mom’s side is from the northernmost part of Thailand in the Golden Triangle, where the Mekong River separates the countries of Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar. My mom’s family travelled across the river from Laos to seek refuge in Thailand as my uncle continued his travels and immigrated to the United States first. After several years, my uncle was able to help the rest of the family come to America. My family initially arrived in San Francisco and soon came down the coast to the Santa Barbara area.
On the other side, my dad’s family is from Bac Lieu in South Vietnam and the whole family was displaced from the war. They had to leave everything behind and fled the country on a boat with all six children. They spent years at refugee camps, and with the help of a church sponsorship, they were eventually able to start a new life in the Ojai valley. Both sides of my family eventually relocated to the south side of Oxnard. My parents met and fell in love when they were teenagers and they became high school sweethearts. My family’s immigration and love story is so touching and everything seems fine and dandy, except I’m not my dad’s kid.
I wasn’t told my complete family history when I was younger, but I have been able to put most of it together over time. My mom told me that my Ying, or my grandma, had arranged her marriage to another man. That’s how she had my older sister and I, who are both Thai and Laotian. Then something bad must have happened for my parents to divorce when I was a baby. Years later, my mom married her high school sweetheart, my step dad, and then they had my little sister, who is half Vietnamese.
My mom also told me that I was hospitalized when my parents separated and my biological dad didn’t even visit me. I don’t know why I wasn’t wanted or if I was the reason why my parents divorced, but I finally met my dad twenty years later and I was the last one to know that he’s gay. Someone could have kindly mentioned that to me because my dad was the biggest mystery to me and putting this all into words now has been A LOT to process, but it’s not like my dad leaving impacted my life at all because my mom worked hard to give me the life that she didn’t have. My step dad was also present throughout my life, but there was definitely some confusion growing up.
Another thing that confused me was that I was really dark while my older sister had light skin. So many people made comments about my skin color. My mom told me that I’m lucky to be dark, but my skin color made me even more self conscious about being different. Not only were we some of the few Asians in the area, but I also didn’t look like other Asians, especially my own sister. Like was I adopted? Because there was no visual resemblance between my sister and I. I didn’t know if it was my birth order or my skin color or some other reason, but over time, those small comments and subtle ways I was treated dierently made me feel unliked. My older sister was more favored and she had three more years of schooling on me because she got to go to preschool while I had to stay home with Ying and watch Sesame Street until I could start Kindergarten.
I love my family, but what I mentioned so far with my family and being the odd one was kind of the foundation of my depression. I wasn’t a negative person, but the sadness hit me later in life when my personal relationships weren’t that great. My childhood is also when I developed my creative personality. I spent a lot of time with Ying. She lived with our family and she used to watch me while my mom was busy or when my older sister was at school. I was pretty random. I used to draw on the walls, tried to read, played in the yard, or something like that. I also got to watch Ying. My grandma was a female monk who shaved her head and dressed in white. She lived simply, didn’t eat meat, I think she ate once a day, her room smelled like Tiger Balm, and she spent a lot of time in meditation.
I had a language barrier with my grandma and my understanding of religion. Buddhism is a big part of my Thai culture, and even though my grandma was a monk, I wasn’t too religious and I got to grow up as a normal Asian American 90’s kid. I used to watch anime, I played piano, I had the coolest avatar on GaiaOnline, and I thought Nigahiga was the funniest person on YouTube. I got to grow into my creative personality and be myself, but I became really self conscious about how I looked in high school because now I finally went to the same school as my older sister and no one was expecting her little sister to be brown. I was already teased in school for being the only Asian girl from the avenue and it took me like another year to make friends in high school across town. I also had to stop liking anime because then it would’ve been even harder to make friends.
I found ways to stay busy and I thrived in the arts. I explored painting, photography, writing, magazines, and fashion, but that’s when I still seemed like a really bright kid. When it was time to apply to college, I got into a few fashion schools and merchandising programs because that’s what I thought I wanted to do at first, but then I felt like fashion was too glamorous for me. I liked the creative side of it, but fashion and social media could have led me towards a superficial path where I would have to care about what I wore or how I looked or how many people liked me. That’s why I went the art route and chose to suffer (I’m kidding, sort of). I enjoyed painting and making things, so whatever path I ended up going on, I figured that I would have to create that path myself even when all the naysayers told me I would end up working at Burger King.
I got into a few art and design related programs, so I was going to have to pick one and change my major later. I could not even consider community college because my social life and home life made me so depressed that I could burst into tears. On top of every painfully awkward thing that I had to deal with in high school, my family relationships weren’t that great at the time. I really should have been on antidepressants or checked in, but I didn’t know I could seek help. I didn’t know enough about depression or think of it as a medical condition that I had because I didn’t cut myself or romanticize death. My depression affected my ability to sleep and function due to my emotional distress. My eyes got swollen from crying regularly, so I had monolids for a while. It became so noticeable that an old friend got me tape for my eyes as a bad Asian joke. That’s not even the worst thing that happened in high school and I just had to leave.
So I still had to choose between fashion school or art, and what a privilege it was to even have the option (I ended up going to a state university and discovered my passion for plants). I got into those programs because I’m good at my craft, but I was just so underwhelmed with myself because I didn’t feel like I had anyone to be excited or happy with me. I felt bad because I knew how lucky I was to go to college or to pursue something creative while my parents didn’t get the chance to. That’s also a reason why I downplayed my depression because what reason did I have to be sad when my parents were refugees and lived through difficult uncertainties? Why didn’t I become a nurse? Or study astrophysics? What a disappointment. You all need to calm down.
Even now, nearly ten years later, I feel like my intellect and sense of humor is so underrated because I’m an artist. I’ve seriously gone through the mental breakdowns and spiritual path to self actualization to come to the strokes of creativity I have now in both my art and writing, so I’m not going to fight my artistic calling anymore. I was ecstatic to get into my program so that I can write at the graduate level because it’s what I’m called to do and I’m finally bold enough to write, but getting into graduate school hasn’t changed much and my parents still can’t even pretend to care.
There is a downside to being an artist or a writer, and it is that you won’t be fully satisfied in life unless you are doing what you are meant to do, which is making art and writing regardless of the naysay. I still love my parents, but ow. And I see it too. What’s the point of going to graduate school to read sad books that will drive me mad enough to write a book of my own only to be rejected by the status quo of today and a near future society that will burn books anyway? Sure, I don’t have to go to college for that, but gosh darn it, I’m still working on a plot twist and some moral support would be nice. There are anxieties that come with feeling like no one cares about what I write, including my own parents. It doesn’t matter if I am good at painting and writing or if I pour my heart into my work. I don’t feel like I’m good enough but I keep at it anyway. What’s worse than being a middle child? Being an artist, and a vegan.
I guess I would like to be the voice of encouragement for any creative person, regardless of your craft or ethnicity, who also struggles with pursuing their artistic calling and getting their parents’ support. It’s a cultural and generational thing, but I’m sure that your family still loves you even if they don’t know how to show support for doing what makes you happy. It might be art, or music, or something else. So many people are incredibly gifted, and talented, and naturally inclined to do a specific craft. You likely have a special reason to be here, something you need to do, and something valuable to say. I understand how creative expression is necessary to cope with mental health as a 90’s Asian American who has also experienced similar cultural and generational challenges as many of you.
Having that said, I’m not mad at my folks and I guess they’re sort of supportive at this point, but don’t show it. As I said before, I’ve been processing a lot and I’m just grateful to be where I am now. I have my parents to thank for their courage to start anew in America, and I understand that there have been cultural and emotional challenges for both of our generations. The way that I can show courage right now is to write like no one has before despite knowing what to be fearful or anxious about. I appreciate everything and do want to say that every single blessing that I’ve received in my life, I pray that the same blessings will be given to other children of refugees, like being able to go to school and explore their artistic calling. I also pray that anyone who needed encouragement will be nudged in the right direction and make a breakthrough with their craft.
Below is a curated list of mental health resources as well as links to help the refugees of today. My heart goes out to you all, thanks.
Afghanistan Relief
Asian Mental Health Collective
Asian Mental Health Project
Brown Girl Therapy
Brown Therapist Network
Crisis Text Line (Text HOME to 741-741)
Know the Signs
OK2Talk
National Alliance on Mental Illness (1-800-950-6264)
National Sexual Assault Hotline (1-800-656-4673)
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255)
Painted Brain
South Asian Therapists
UNICEF
USA for UNHCR
320 Changes Direction
7 Cups of Tea
On an endnote, I would like to recommend listening to Yeonmi Park’s interview on Joe Rogan’s podcast about her incredibly heartbreaking story defecting from North Korea. Her story has changed my life and will also make you reflect on human rights, women’s rights, and life as a refugee. The full podcast is available on Spotify.
I reached out to Julia at Project Yellow Dress months ago and I’ve been meaning to submit a written piece ever since the time of #StopAsianHate and Asian American Heritage Month, but then I got shy. A few difficult things crossed my mind during that season, but I didn’t want to necessarily bring too much attention to myself. Since then, I’ve gotten into graduate school to pursue writing at a higher level and I’ve been finding my voice through creative writing on my personal blog, but it is now August and I still owe Julia a good story. Thank you so much for your patience and today I’d like to open up about my story as an emerging Asian American writer in hopes that you will find some encouragement in your own craft.
A Word of Encouragement for the Creative and Culturally Depressed
My family came to California from Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam. My mom’s side is from the northernmost part of Thailand in the Golden Triangle, where the Mekong River separates the countries of Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar. My mom’s family travelled across the river from Laos to seek refuge in Thailand as my uncle continued his travels and immigrated to the United States first. After several years, my uncle was able to help the rest of the family come to America. My family initially arrived in San Francisco and soon came down the coast to the Santa Barbara area.
On the other side, my dad’s family is from Bac Lieu in South Vietnam and the whole family was displaced from the war. They had to leave everything behind and fled the country on a boat with all six children. They spent years at refugee camps, and with the help of a church sponsorship, they were eventually able to start a new life in the Ojai valley. Both sides of my family eventually relocated to the south side of Oxnard. My parents met and fell in love when they were teenagers and they became high school sweethearts. My family’s immigration and love story is so touching and everything seems fine and dandy, except I’m not my dad’s kid.
I wasn’t told my complete family history when I was younger, but I have been able to put most of it together over time. My mom told me that my Ying, or my grandma, had arranged her marriage to another man. That’s how she had my older sister and I, who are both Thai and Laotian. Then something bad must have happened for my parents to divorce when I was a baby. Years later, my mom married her high school sweetheart, my step dad, and then they had my little sister, who is half Vietnamese.
My mom also told me that I was hospitalized when my parents separated and my biological dad didn’t even visit me. I don’t know why I wasn’t wanted or if I was the reason why my parents divorced, but I finally met my dad twenty years later and I was the last one to know that he’s gay. Someone could have kindly mentioned that to me because my dad was the biggest mystery to me and putting this all into words now has been A LOT to process, but it’s not like my dad leaving impacted my life at all because my mom worked hard to give me the life that she didn’t have. My step dad was also present throughout my life, but there was definitely some confusion growing up.
Another thing that confused me was that I was really dark while my older sister had light skin. So many people made comments about my skin color. My mom told me that I’m lucky to be dark, but my skin color made me even more self conscious about being different. Not only were we some of the few Asians in the area, but I also didn’t look like other Asians, especially my own sister. Like was I adopted? Because there was no visual resemblance between my sister and I. I didn’t know if it was my birth order or my skin color or some other reason, but over time, those small comments and subtle ways I was treated dierently made me feel unliked. My older sister was more favored and she had three more years of schooling on me because she got to go to preschool while I had to stay home with Ying and watch Sesame Street until I could start Kindergarten.
I love my family, but what I mentioned so far with my family and being the odd one was kind of the foundation of my depression. I wasn’t a negative person, but the sadness hit me later in life when my personal relationships weren’t that great. My childhood is also when I developed my creative personality. I spent a lot of time with Ying. She lived with our family and she used to watch me while my mom was busy or when my older sister was at school. I was pretty random. I used to draw on the walls, tried to read, played in the yard, or something like that. I also got to watch Ying. My grandma was a female monk who shaved her head and dressed in white. She lived simply, didn’t eat meat, I think she ate once a day, her room smelled like Tiger Balm, and she spent a lot of time in meditation.
I had a language barrier with my grandma and my understanding of religion. Buddhism is a big part of my Thai culture, and even though my grandma was a monk, I wasn’t too religious and I got to grow up as a normal Asian American 90’s kid. I used to watch anime, I played piano, I had the coolest avatar on GaiaOnline, and I thought Nigahiga was the funniest person on YouTube. I got to grow into my creative personality and be myself, but I became really self conscious about how I looked in high school because now I finally went to the same school as my older sister and no one was expecting her little sister to be brown. I was already teased in school for being the only Asian girl from the avenue and it took me like another year to make friends in high school across town. I also had to stop liking anime because then it would’ve been even harder to make friends.
I found ways to stay busy and I thrived in the arts. I explored painting, photography, writing, magazines, and fashion, but that’s when I still seemed like a really bright kid. When it was time to apply to college, I got into a few fashion schools and merchandising programs because that’s what I thought I wanted to do at first, but then I felt like fashion was too glamorous for me. I liked the creative side of it, but fashion and social media could have led me towards a superficial path where I would have to care about what I wore or how I looked or how many people liked me. That’s why I went the art route and chose to suffer (I’m kidding, sort of). I enjoyed painting and making things, so whatever path I ended up going on, I figured that I would have to create that path myself even when all the naysayers told me I would end up working at Burger King.
I got into a few art and design related programs, so I was going to have to pick one and change my major later. I could not even consider community college because my social life and home life made me so depressed that I could burst into tears. On top of every painfully awkward thing that I had to deal with in high school, my family relationships weren’t that great at the time. I really should have been on antidepressants or checked in, but I didn’t know I could seek help. I didn’t know enough about depression or think of it as a medical condition that I had because I didn’t cut myself or romanticize death. My depression affected my ability to sleep and function due to my emotional distress. My eyes got swollen from crying regularly, so I had monolids for a while. It became so noticeable that an old friend got me tape for my eyes as a bad Asian joke. That’s not even the worst thing that happened in high school and I just had to leave.
So I still had to choose between fashion school or art, and what a privilege it was to even have the option (I ended up going to a state university and discovered my passion for plants). I got into those programs because I’m good at my craft, but I was just so underwhelmed with myself because I didn’t feel like I had anyone to be excited or happy with me. I felt bad because I knew how lucky I was to go to college or to pursue something creative while my parents didn’t get the chance to. That’s also a reason why I downplayed my depression because what reason did I have to be sad when my parents were refugees and lived through difficult uncertainties? Why didn’t I become a nurse? Or study astrophysics? What a disappointment. You all need to calm down.
Even now, nearly ten years later, I feel like my intellect and sense of humor is so underrated because I’m an artist. I’ve seriously gone through the mental breakdowns and spiritual path to self actualization to come to the strokes of creativity I have now in both my art and writing, so I’m not going to fight my artistic calling anymore. I was ecstatic to get into my program so that I can write at the graduate level because it’s what I’m called to do and I’m finally bold enough to write, but getting into graduate school hasn’t changed much and my parents still can’t even pretend to care.
There is a downside to being an artist or a writer, and it is that you won’t be fully satisfied in life unless you are doing what you are meant to do, which is making art and writing regardless of the naysay. I still love my parents, but ow. And I see it too. What’s the point of going to graduate school to read sad books that will drive me mad enough to write a book of my own only to be rejected by the status quo of today and a near future society that will burn books anyway? Sure, I don’t have to go to college for that, but gosh darn it, I’m still working on a plot twist and some moral support would be nice. There are anxieties that come with feeling like no one cares about what I write, including my own parents. It doesn’t matter if I am good at painting and writing or if I pour my heart into my work. I don’t feel like I’m good enough but I keep at it anyway. What’s worse than being a middle child? Being an artist, and a vegan.
I guess I would like to be the voice of encouragement for any creative person, regardless of your craft or ethnicity, who also struggles with pursuing their artistic calling and getting their parents’ support. It’s a cultural and generational thing, but I’m sure that your family still loves you even if they don’t know how to show support for doing what makes you happy. It might be art, or music, or something else. So many people are incredibly gifted, and talented, and naturally inclined to do a specific craft. You likely have a special reason to be here, something you need to do, and something valuable to say. I understand how creative expression is necessary to cope with mental health as a 90’s Asian American who has also experienced similar cultural and generational challenges as many of you.
Having that said, I’m not mad at my folks and I guess they’re sort of supportive at this point, but don’t show it. As I said before, I’ve been processing a lot and I’m just grateful to be where I am now. I have my parents to thank for their courage to start anew in America, and I understand that there have been cultural and emotional challenges for both of our generations. The way that I can show courage right now is to write like no one has before despite knowing what to be fearful or anxious about. I appreciate everything and do want to say that every single blessing that I’ve received in my life, I pray that the same blessings will be given to other children of refugees, like being able to go to school and explore their artistic calling. I also pray that anyone who needed encouragement will be nudged in the right direction and make a breakthrough with their craft.
Below is a curated list of mental health resources as well as links to help the refugees of today. My heart goes out to you all, thanks.
Afghanistan Relief
Asian Mental Health Collective
Asian Mental Health Project
Brown Girl Therapy
Brown Therapist Network
Crisis Text Line (Text HOME to 741-741)
Know the Signs
OK2Talk
National Alliance on Mental Illness (1-800-950-6264)
National Sexual Assault Hotline (1-800-656-4673)
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255)
Painted Brain
South Asian Therapists
UNICEF
USA for UNHCR
320 Changes Direction
7 Cups of Tea
On an endnote, I would like to recommend listening to Yeonmi Park’s interview on Joe Rogan’s podcast about her incredibly heartbreaking story defecting from North Korea. Her story has changed my life and will also make you reflect on human rights, women’s rights, and life as a refugee. The full podcast is available on Spotify.
Update: I would not have been able to be born in America if it weren’t for my parent’s courage and I would not have been able to go to college if it weren’t for women’s rights. The refugees of today and the next generation are faced with difficult challenges and I’d like to share some videos that can begin your online search for what is currently unfolding for Afghans and women around the world. If you know of more resources or videos, please share. (Updated)
1st Female Afghan Air Force Pilot: ‘Taliban’s War is Against Women’ (ABC News)
Afghanistan: The Future of Young Women Under Taliban Rule (Bloomberg QuickTake: Now)
Afghans Tell Us What It’s Like.. (Vice News)
Attack on Afghan Reporter Tests Taliban’s Media Freedom Pledge (Al Jazeera)
Did Liberals Use Feminism to Justify Afghan Cluster F*ck? (Russell Brand)
Inside the Chaotic End of “Enduring Freedom” in Afghanistan (Vice News)
Taliban Replaces Ministry for Women with ‘Guidance’ Ministry (Al Jazeera)
VP Kamala Harris Asked About At-Risk Afghan Women.. (Forbes)
Why the UN Has a Sexual Abuse Problem (Vice News)
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CHAPTER FOUR
THE SCIENCE FICTION I DIDN'T WRITE
Let me tell you about the epiphany I had. My basil was one day away from spoiling and I had an important choice to make. Do I ignore the sogginess and hope it'll still be good tomorrow or do I take action in attempt to preserve it? Well it was when I was using my chopsticks to carefully pick up every single piece of burnt basil out of the oven when it suddenly occurred to me--I think I have adhd.
I have seriously put off writing for as long as I can to avoid confronting the thoughts I am writing about. In the meantime, I've been reading a lot of 20th century dystopian classics and killing time with very important low priority tasks, like baking basil and upcycling my plastics with Mod Podge. I've also been trying to keep up with the news to a certain extent, but then there's social media. It's been a really long month and why do I feel sort of culture shocked whenever I return to ordinary life from camping?
It’s so nice to take breaks from the internet, but when I logged back in this last time, it’s like I tuned into the science fiction I didn’t write and it's called current events. I am so concerned about the environment and the future that is unfolding. This is the reality we live in and it’s becoming the backstory to a near future dystopia.
Here are a few highlights from the environmental news:
1. Cargo ship fire on the Sri Lankan coast
2. Gulf of Mexico fiery oil disaster
3. BC wildfires and the Dixie Fire in California
4. Algerian fires across Italy, Greece, and Turkey
5. Deadly flooding in China and Germany
6. Fuel tank explosion in Lebanon
7. Deadly 7.2 earthquake in Haiti
That’s just a glimpse of this last summer.
Those sea turtles didn’t do anything wrong and so much of our marine life is suffering as a result of deadly oil spills and other forms of chemical and plastic pollution over the summer that the media has not really followed up on and it is now September. What’s just as upsetting as this happening in the first place is that a lot of media outlets and social media activists have brought little to no attention to this. There has been so much news and media and influence this summer, and I seriously would have hoped that someone else with more social media influence would have said something about the sea turtles in Sri Lanka by now.
I want to help, but I don’t know if what I have to say will make or miss the point or help at all. Writing this probably won’t resolve much, but I want to stand up for those baby sea turtles if no one else will say anything about it. Still, as a writer, it's for the best if I don't enter journalism or write opinions or give anyone advice right now. Perhaps I've already said too much. What I can do for now is express this through my art and creative writing. I’m not necessarily going to write a book to tell you what to think or how you should live your life, but the theme for my work will certainly mention something about the environment in either my plot, setting, or characters that can encourage my readers to reflect on the environment around them.
I still have much to research on my own time, but this ongoing problem persists today and isn’t waiting on anyone to finish college in order to be resolved. Rather than Googling environmental writing jobs or searching for the next thing, I need to just write, but in the meantime I’ve been putting it off. Then I remembered that I have this blog no one reads. I can forget about it too and then I’ll be in the middle of doing something random when it crosses my mind that, I feel like someone just read my blog... I’m not sure if I can find a real writing job with a blog where the plot line of my life is seriously that I want to write a science fiction novel, but I'm giving it a shot.
I knocked out a lot of summer reading. Most of this wasn’t required for school, but just because I was curious, and now fifteen books later I am checking back in. The book I took with me on my most recent camping trip was the Perennial Philosophy by Aldous Huxley and, you don’t need to read that book. It’s not for everyone, but as an aspiring writer who is curious about eastern and western religious philosophy, Huxley was essential reading for me. I don’t agree with him on everything, but he did a lot of the extensive research for me and brought up interesting points. Aldous Huxley famously wrote Brave New World and has a great standing reputation in literature, but when I reread Brave New World, I couldn’t believe how messed up it was and that I actually had to read that book in high school. Now that was culture shocking to me.
I reread a lot of classic 20th century dystopian literature that made warning predictions of the near distant future, which could be the world of today or tomorrow. Huxley’s Brave New World and Orwell’s 1984 are the big kahunas of this genre, and I’m double shocked to reread these books and then reenter the reality I live in now. Just think, we’re the ancestors of the future and we’re not exactly that bright as a mass. My favorites were written by Ray Bradbury who famously wrote Fahrenheit 451, a book about the futuristic burning of books to preserve human happiness. Burning books? That’s simply unimaginable. But then I reread Brave New World and honestly, I wouldn’t mind burning that. It’s pretty messed up.
I'm not skeptical of the world because of those books in particular, but if you’ve read Darkness at Noon and Animal Farm, it would also make you speculate how the inner workings of the government really are despite the contemporary media portrayal of politics in the news today. Like this summer, the government flat out admitted that they are working with social media companies to combat misinformation, but who really knows what’s going on. You can look into that yourself, but I’m not here to write an opinion on it. Do you know how peculiar it is to be someone who likes books and flowers? That’s so not status quo and they don’t like people like me (A reference to both Brave New World and Fahrenheit 451).
These books were part of my summer studies, but are by no means my field guide to writing. All of these dystopian classics take an aspect of society in the 20th century and project a dark future which could be the world of today or tomorrow that I cannot explain without coming off as if I were losing my mind yet again. Those writers lived through some very dark historical times, but there’s something important that those men missed, and it is that government skepticism and oversimplifying mass society is not the only way to predict or warn us of the near future. From my summer reading, recent camping travels, and how I feel about the environment, I’ve come to firmly believe that learning about clean water and oil are the way into understanding the future and I will now attempt to take on science fiction writing as a strong independent 21st century woman of color. This is not a conspiracy, just creative therapy.
Between burning books and burning out, I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of sanity in order to write my science fiction novel, but there are anxieties that come with feeling like no one cares about what I write including my own parents who cannot even pretend to be interested in what I do with my life. Do you understand what I am trying to process into words? What’s the point of going to graduate school to read sad books that will drive me mad enough to write a book of my own only to be rejected by the status quo of today and the near future society that will burn books anyway? I don't just see it, I feel it, and it is painfully awkward. Sure, you don’t have to go to college for that, but gosh darn it, I’m still working on a plot twist to the science fiction I didn’t write and some moral support would be nice.
Besides regularly occurring environmental disasters happening all over the world, women's rights being at stake despite social media silence, and bi-partisan mainstream media narratives that challenge how I actually feel about life as an awkward twenty-something year old writer, everything just seems to be fine. Checking back into reality after reading a 20th century dystopian classic is culture shocking enough, and if the mass psychology of society in my 21st century reality has become desensitized to the urgency of taking environmental action, standing up for women's rights, and are oblivious to what is actually happening to our personal liberties through this year-long social conditioning (that we learned about in high school literature), then that's not the kind of socially engineered and media constructed reality that I would fit into anyway. Who am I trying to impress? Absolutely no one. This one is for the BABY SEA TURTLES.
I have seriously put off writing for as long as I can to avoid confronting the thoughts I am writing about. In the meantime, I've been reading a lot of 20th century dystopian classics and killing time with very important low priority tasks, like baking basil and upcycling my plastics with Mod Podge. I've also been trying to keep up with the news to a certain extent, but then there's social media. It's been a really long month and why do I feel sort of culture shocked whenever I return to ordinary life from camping?
It’s so nice to take breaks from the internet, but when I logged back in this last time, it’s like I tuned into the science fiction I didn’t write and it's called current events. I am so concerned about the environment and the future that is unfolding. This is the reality we live in and it’s becoming the backstory to a near future dystopia.
Here are a few highlights from the environmental news:
1. Cargo ship fire on the Sri Lankan coast
2. Gulf of Mexico fiery oil disaster
3. BC wildfires and the Dixie Fire in California
4. Algerian fires across Italy, Greece, and Turkey
5. Deadly flooding in China and Germany
6. Fuel tank explosion in Lebanon
7. Deadly 7.2 earthquake in Haiti
That’s just a glimpse of this last summer.
Those sea turtles didn’t do anything wrong and so much of our marine life is suffering as a result of deadly oil spills and other forms of chemical and plastic pollution over the summer that the media has not really followed up on and it is now September. What’s just as upsetting as this happening in the first place is that a lot of media outlets and social media activists have brought little to no attention to this. There has been so much news and media and influence this summer, and I seriously would have hoped that someone else with more social media influence would have said something about the sea turtles in Sri Lanka by now.
I want to help, but I don’t know if what I have to say will make or miss the point or help at all. Writing this probably won’t resolve much, but I want to stand up for those baby sea turtles if no one else will say anything about it. Still, as a writer, it's for the best if I don't enter journalism or write opinions or give anyone advice right now. Perhaps I've already said too much. What I can do for now is express this through my art and creative writing. I’m not necessarily going to write a book to tell you what to think or how you should live your life, but the theme for my work will certainly mention something about the environment in either my plot, setting, or characters that can encourage my readers to reflect on the environment around them.
I still have much to research on my own time, but this ongoing problem persists today and isn’t waiting on anyone to finish college in order to be resolved. Rather than Googling environmental writing jobs or searching for the next thing, I need to just write, but in the meantime I’ve been putting it off. Then I remembered that I have this blog no one reads. I can forget about it too and then I’ll be in the middle of doing something random when it crosses my mind that, I feel like someone just read my blog... I’m not sure if I can find a real writing job with a blog where the plot line of my life is seriously that I want to write a science fiction novel, but I'm giving it a shot.
I knocked out a lot of summer reading. Most of this wasn’t required for school, but just because I was curious, and now fifteen books later I am checking back in. The book I took with me on my most recent camping trip was the Perennial Philosophy by Aldous Huxley and, you don’t need to read that book. It’s not for everyone, but as an aspiring writer who is curious about eastern and western religious philosophy, Huxley was essential reading for me. I don’t agree with him on everything, but he did a lot of the extensive research for me and brought up interesting points. Aldous Huxley famously wrote Brave New World and has a great standing reputation in literature, but when I reread Brave New World, I couldn’t believe how messed up it was and that I actually had to read that book in high school. Now that was culture shocking to me.
I reread a lot of classic 20th century dystopian literature that made warning predictions of the near distant future, which could be the world of today or tomorrow. Huxley’s Brave New World and Orwell’s 1984 are the big kahunas of this genre, and I’m double shocked to reread these books and then reenter the reality I live in now. Just think, we’re the ancestors of the future and we’re not exactly that bright as a mass. My favorites were written by Ray Bradbury who famously wrote Fahrenheit 451, a book about the futuristic burning of books to preserve human happiness. Burning books? That’s simply unimaginable. But then I reread Brave New World and honestly, I wouldn’t mind burning that. It’s pretty messed up.
I'm not skeptical of the world because of those books in particular, but if you’ve read Darkness at Noon and Animal Farm, it would also make you speculate how the inner workings of the government really are despite the contemporary media portrayal of politics in the news today. Like this summer, the government flat out admitted that they are working with social media companies to combat misinformation, but who really knows what’s going on. You can look into that yourself, but I’m not here to write an opinion on it. Do you know how peculiar it is to be someone who likes books and flowers? That’s so not status quo and they don’t like people like me (A reference to both Brave New World and Fahrenheit 451).
These books were part of my summer studies, but are by no means my field guide to writing. All of these dystopian classics take an aspect of society in the 20th century and project a dark future which could be the world of today or tomorrow that I cannot explain without coming off as if I were losing my mind yet again. Those writers lived through some very dark historical times, but there’s something important that those men missed, and it is that government skepticism and oversimplifying mass society is not the only way to predict or warn us of the near future. From my summer reading, recent camping travels, and how I feel about the environment, I’ve come to firmly believe that learning about clean water and oil are the way into understanding the future and I will now attempt to take on science fiction writing as a strong independent 21st century woman of color. This is not a conspiracy, just creative therapy.
Between burning books and burning out, I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of sanity in order to write my science fiction novel, but there are anxieties that come with feeling like no one cares about what I write including my own parents who cannot even pretend to be interested in what I do with my life. Do you understand what I am trying to process into words? What’s the point of going to graduate school to read sad books that will drive me mad enough to write a book of my own only to be rejected by the status quo of today and the near future society that will burn books anyway? I don't just see it, I feel it, and it is painfully awkward. Sure, you don’t have to go to college for that, but gosh darn it, I’m still working on a plot twist to the science fiction I didn’t write and some moral support would be nice.
Besides regularly occurring environmental disasters happening all over the world, women's rights being at stake despite social media silence, and bi-partisan mainstream media narratives that challenge how I actually feel about life as an awkward twenty-something year old writer, everything just seems to be fine. Checking back into reality after reading a 20th century dystopian classic is culture shocking enough, and if the mass psychology of society in my 21st century reality has become desensitized to the urgency of taking environmental action, standing up for women's rights, and are oblivious to what is actually happening to our personal liberties through this year-long social conditioning (that we learned about in high school literature), then that's not the kind of socially engineered and media constructed reality that I would fit into anyway. Who am I trying to impress? Absolutely no one. This one is for the BABY SEA TURTLES.
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crEATIVE
MAGIC CONCH
Chorus
Call me up on my Magic Conch
And save me from this spell
Selling shells ain’t enough
To get me out of..
Hello Operator?
Please give me number 9
I’m tired of this bullshit
And pretending that I’m fine
Verse
Travelling through time and space
Please take me to a world aways
I’m drowning in the seas below
And dreaming of the skies above
Calling in on my Magic Conch
Hoping that I can talk to God
To ask for help here on earth
Please be the voice of reason
But the line’s busy, I gotta hold
Just have faith is what I’m told
Chorus
Call me up on my Magic Conch
And save me from this spell
Selling shells ain’t enough
To get me out of..
Hello Operator?
Please give me number 9
I’m tired of this bullshit
And pretending that I’m fine
Verse
Hold it up, Hold it up
Please don’t hang up
I’m not giving up just yet
Magic Conch, just say it
There’s more to this than meets the eye
And I hope to know before my time
‘Cause life’s a trap it’s a big bad dream
And we’re stuck calling this reality
So what do I do? Where do I go?
Just have faith is what I’m told
Chorus
Call me up on my Magic Conch
And save me from this spell
Selling shells ain’t enough
To get me out of..
Hello Operator?
Please give me number 9
I’m tired of this bullshit
And pretending that I’m fine
Call me up on my Magic Conch
And save me from this spell
Selling shells ain’t enough
To get me out of..
Hello Operator?
Please give me number 9
I’m tired of this bullshit
And pretending that I’m fine
Verse
Travelling through time and space
Please take me to a world aways
I’m drowning in the seas below
And dreaming of the skies above
Calling in on my Magic Conch
Hoping that I can talk to God
To ask for help here on earth
Please be the voice of reason
But the line’s busy, I gotta hold
Just have faith is what I’m told
Chorus
Call me up on my Magic Conch
And save me from this spell
Selling shells ain’t enough
To get me out of..
Hello Operator?
Please give me number 9
I’m tired of this bullshit
And pretending that I’m fine
Verse
Hold it up, Hold it up
Please don’t hang up
I’m not giving up just yet
Magic Conch, just say it
There’s more to this than meets the eye
And I hope to know before my time
‘Cause life’s a trap it’s a big bad dream
And we’re stuck calling this reality
So what do I do? Where do I go?
Just have faith is what I’m told
Chorus
Call me up on my Magic Conch
And save me from this spell
Selling shells ain’t enough
To get me out of..
Hello Operator?
Please give me number 9
I’m tired of this bullshit
And pretending that I’m fine
ScreenPlay
It Begins in The Garden
BLACK
FADE IN:
A starry night covers the valley in a slow motion time lapse. The daylight draws near, but the stars are still clearly visible.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
When God created the universe, He
separated the waters above from the
waters below and He called the
expanse heaven. Our story begins
when one of the stars dropped from
heaven and touched the earth.
When God created the universe, He
separated the waters above from the
waters below and He called the
expanse heaven. Our story begins
when one of the stars dropped from
heaven and touched the earth.
As the darkness begins to fade, the brightest star in the sky DROPS to the earth.
EXT. THE VALLEY - SUNRISE
The stars of night fade into a colorful sunrise while the sun is still hidden behind the rocky mountains. The sky is hues of pink, rainbow, and blue.
There is not a cloud in sight as the red sun rises over the mountains. The stars and colors fade as the sky becomes a pale shade of light blue.
The valley soon fills with light and the shade disappears, exposing the dried and rocky terrain.
The daylight reveals the legs of a young man sitting under an apple tree with dried leaves and barely any fruit.
DAHL, a lean man in his late 20's, wears torn denim jeans and an old shirt that's worn thin. We do not see his face yet and he is motionless.
His toe twitches.
EXT. THE VALLEY - SUNRISE
The stars of night fade into a colorful sunrise while the sun is still hidden behind the rocky mountains. The sky is hues of pink, rainbow, and blue.
There is not a cloud in sight as the red sun rises over the mountains. The stars and colors fade as the sky becomes a pale shade of light blue.
The valley soon fills with light and the shade disappears, exposing the dried and rocky terrain.
The daylight reveals the legs of a young man sitting under an apple tree with dried leaves and barely any fruit.
DAHL, a lean man in his late 20's, wears torn denim jeans and an old shirt that's worn thin. We do not see his face yet and he is motionless.
His toe twitches.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE GARDEN - MORNING
A small, shanty blue house is surrounded by an abundance of dying trees and shrubs that was once a thriving garden.
Brown and crisp foliage, flowers, and fruits cover nearly every square foot.
The voice of a young woman starts the day in prayer.
A small, shanty blue house is surrounded by an abundance of dying trees and shrubs that was once a thriving garden.
Brown and crisp foliage, flowers, and fruits cover nearly every square foot.
The voice of a young woman starts the day in prayer.
DAZE (V.O.)
Father in heaven, the waters below
are dangerously low and I pray that
you will provide clean water. . .
Father in heaven, the waters below
are dangerously low and I pray that
you will provide clean water. . .
MONTAGE - A series of shots reveal hints of a drought:
-The leaves become brown
-The flowers shrivel
-The dog's bowl is dry
-The dirt has cracks in it
-Even the succulents are dead
-The leaves become brown
-The flowers shrivel
-The dog's bowl is dry
-The dirt has cracks in it
-Even the succulents are dead
FADE TO:
INT. BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
DAZE, petite 20's woman of color, sits with her back turned at the foot of her bed in a simple, naturally lit room. The light from the window shines upon her.
She wears a loose fitting shirt and her long dark hair is in a single braid. Her eyes are closed and her hands press together in prayer.
DAZE, petite 20's woman of color, sits with her back turned at the foot of her bed in a simple, naturally lit room. The light from the window shines upon her.
She wears a loose fitting shirt and her long dark hair is in a single braid. Her eyes are closed and her hands press together in prayer.
DAZE (CONT'D)
. . . Lord, I pray for a sure sign of
hope that this drought will end
soon. Please send help, AMEN.
. . . Lord, I pray for a sure sign of
hope that this drought will end
soon. Please send help, AMEN.
Daze bows her head and she hears a small pair of footsteps. HERMES, a friendly brown cattle dog, trots into the room and sits beside Daze. They both smile with their eyes.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
The Lord listened to the girl's
prayer and help was already
on its way.
The Lord listened to the girl's
prayer and help was already
on its way.
INT. THE KITCHEN - LATE MORNING
Hermes happily trots into a minimally decorated kitchen and Daze follows behind with barefeet. She now wears a blue tank, denim shorts, and fashions a straw hat around her neck.
Daze walks to the sink and picks up her toothbrush from the rack full of mix matched dishes. She begins to brush her teeth, but when she turns the faucet, there is no running water.
In sudden and awkward shock, she SPITS.
She tries the faucet a few more times just to be certain that it's not broken, but knows that she may be out of water.
A quick scan of the counter draws her eyes to a small glass jar placed by the window. There was a single white DAISY in it, but more importantly, there was an inch of water left.
Daze removes the Daisy and uses the water to rinse and spit. Then she places the flower behind her right ear and turns to the back door.
She turns her head to the right so that the Daisy is visible and motions for her dog to come as she opens the back door.
EXT. THE GARDEN - CONTINUOUS
A SIZZLING heat wave reveals a garden that is close to dead. Hermes sniffs a dying succulent near Daze's bare feet and cries.
Daze frowns and circles the house in effort to find some clean water to drink. Hermes follows behind her as Daze approaches and inspects a round water tank.
It appears hollow inside. The lid of the tank also appears to be broken, as if something crashed through. Daze stands on her tippy toes and opens the lid of the water tank to peer inside.
Hermes happily trots into a minimally decorated kitchen and Daze follows behind with barefeet. She now wears a blue tank, denim shorts, and fashions a straw hat around her neck.
Daze walks to the sink and picks up her toothbrush from the rack full of mix matched dishes. She begins to brush her teeth, but when she turns the faucet, there is no running water.
In sudden and awkward shock, she SPITS.
She tries the faucet a few more times just to be certain that it's not broken, but knows that she may be out of water.
A quick scan of the counter draws her eyes to a small glass jar placed by the window. There was a single white DAISY in it, but more importantly, there was an inch of water left.
Daze removes the Daisy and uses the water to rinse and spit. Then she places the flower behind her right ear and turns to the back door.
She turns her head to the right so that the Daisy is visible and motions for her dog to come as she opens the back door.
EXT. THE GARDEN - CONTINUOUS
A SIZZLING heat wave reveals a garden that is close to dead. Hermes sniffs a dying succulent near Daze's bare feet and cries.
Daze frowns and circles the house in effort to find some clean water to drink. Hermes follows behind her as Daze approaches and inspects a round water tank.
It appears hollow inside. The lid of the tank also appears to be broken, as if something crashed through. Daze stands on her tippy toes and opens the lid of the water tank to peer inside.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
Just as she thought, but far worse.
This is the day they completely
ran out of water. . .
Just as she thought, but far worse.
This is the day they completely
ran out of water. . .
There is no water left inside the water tank, but Daze is amazed to find a FALLEN STAR.
DAZE
What's this?
What's this?
Daze reaches inside to retrieve a small orb of light, the size of an apple, and it does not shine bright and looks as if it were injured.
Her face lights when she realizes what it is.
Her face lights when she realizes what it is.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
. . . Fortunately on this day, the girl
also caught a Fallen Star from heaven.
. . . Fortunately on this day, the girl
also caught a Fallen Star from heaven.
With a cartoon nature, the Fallen Star becomes animated with facial expressions and conscious thoughts as it wakes up to find itself in Daze's hands.
Hermes BARKS at it and the Fallen Star SNAPS awake.
Hermes BARKS at it and the Fallen Star SNAPS awake.
FALLEN STAR
I'm late!
I'm late!
Daze is taken aback, but stays calm.
DAZE
I beg your pardon?
FALLEN STAR
I'm late! Late!
DAZE
Late for what?
I beg your pardon?
FALLEN STAR
I'm late! Late!
DAZE
Late for what?
Hermes jumps and SNATCHES the Fallen Star from Daze's hands.
DAZE (CONT'D)
Hey!
Hey!
By the teeth, Hermes holds the Fallen Star and begins to run and Daze chases after them.
MONTAGE - A series of shots to follow the grand chase:
-Around the small house
-Through the dying garden
-Down an unpaved trail
-Towards the valley
Daze chases, barely keeping pace.
MONTAGE - A series of shots to follow the grand chase:
-Around the small house
-Through the dying garden
-Down an unpaved trail
-Towards the valley
Daze chases, barely keeping pace.
FADE TO:
EXT. THE BROOK - AFTERNOON
A rocky river bed at the mouth of the valley is nearly dry, except for small pockets of polluted and undrinkable water.
Lost and exhausted, Daze slows down when she approaches the edge and catches her breath in the thin and partial shade of a tree. She has lost sight of her dog and the Fallen Star.
She calls out towards the valley.
A rocky river bed at the mouth of the valley is nearly dry, except for small pockets of polluted and undrinkable water.
Lost and exhausted, Daze slows down when she approaches the edge and catches her breath in the thin and partial shade of a tree. She has lost sight of her dog and the Fallen Star.
She calls out towards the valley.
DAZE
Hermes!
(Beat.)
Here, boy!
Hermes!
(Beat.)
Here, boy!
Nothing.
DAZE (CONT'D)
Help.
Help.
Daze slumps against the tree and looks down.
A BARK comes from up the brook and is followed by panting. Daze looks up to see Hermes running towards her.
Not too far behind, the strange man from earlier follows the dog with the Fallen Star in his hand. Dahl's face is finally revealed and he is sun kissed gorgeous.
Daze gets up and walks to meet them halfway. She kneels to pet Hermes as the man approaches them.
A BARK comes from up the brook and is followed by panting. Daze looks up to see Hermes running towards her.
Not too far behind, the strange man from earlier follows the dog with the Fallen Star in his hand. Dahl's face is finally revealed and he is sun kissed gorgeous.
Daze gets up and walks to meet them halfway. She kneels to pet Hermes as the man approaches them.
DAZE
Who are you?
Who are you?
Silence.
Daze stands up.
Daze stands up.
DAZE (CONT'D)
Where you from?
Where you from?
DAHL
Daisy.
Daisy.
He takes notice of the white Daisy still behind her ear. Daze remembers and blushes.
DAZE
Yes, I'm Daisy. And you must be?
Yes, I'm Daisy. And you must be?
The man doesn't say anything and extends his hand out to reveal the Fallen Star in critical condition.
DAHL
Late.
FALLEN STAR
I'm late! Late!
DAZE
Late for what?
FALLEN STAR
You see the sky?
Late.
FALLEN STAR
I'm late! Late!
DAZE
Late for what?
FALLEN STAR
You see the sky?
Daze looks up.
FALLEN STAR (CONT'D)
Day.
(Beat.)
And you see what I am?
Day.
(Beat.)
And you see what I am?
Daze looks down.
FALLEN STAR (CONT'D)
I'm a star. Needa get back to the
night, but I'm so late!
DAZE
Aw. Maybe you're not late for
yesterday, but just a little early
for tomorrow's all.
I'm a star. Needa get back to the
night, but I'm so late!
DAZE
Aw. Maybe you're not late for
yesterday, but just a little early
for tomorrow's all.
Upset, the Fallen Star suddenly becomes brighter and hotter. Dahl FLINCHES and the Star falls to the side of the brook.
The Fallen Star ignites a patch of dried shrubs and grasses, and the fire grows rapidly. The flames soon tower over Daze and she steps back in caution. Hermes curls behind her leg.
Dahl finds the Fallen Star through the flames and reaches in to pick it back up. The Fallen Star looks directly at him.
The Fallen Star ignites a patch of dried shrubs and grasses, and the fire grows rapidly. The flames soon tower over Daze and she steps back in caution. Hermes curls behind her leg.
Dahl finds the Fallen Star through the flames and reaches in to pick it back up. The Fallen Star looks directly at him.
FALLEN STAR
. . . Please get me back before it's
too late.
. . . Please get me back before it's
too late.
He turns and locks eyes with Daze. Then he motions his head to come follow him. They all begin to run up the brook as the fire follows behind.
The fire rapidly burns the banks, the hillside, and engulfs the entire inner valley. The dark smoke builds, and builds. Then it trails up, and up, and in circles, spiraling up.
The fire rapidly burns the banks, the hillside, and engulfs the entire inner valley. The dark smoke builds, and builds. Then it trails up, and up, and in circles, spiraling up.
FADE TO:
EXT. MOUNTAIN TOP - LATE AFTERNOON
The Fallen Star has led Dahl, Daze and Hermes to the top of the burning valley which is now completely in flames and embers.
From their view, the dark smoke has accumulated into an ominous, low hanging cloud and the sky above has darkened.
Daze looks at Dahl and Dahl looks at the Fallen Star.
The Fallen Star has led Dahl, Daze and Hermes to the top of the burning valley which is now completely in flames and embers.
From their view, the dark smoke has accumulated into an ominous, low hanging cloud and the sky above has darkened.
Daze looks at Dahl and Dahl looks at the Fallen Star.
FALLEN STAR
. . . Before it's too late.
. . . Before it's too late.
He nods and holds the Star tighter before throwing it far into the distance. Over the valley, through the clouds, and back into the sky where it came from.
The Star is now visible in the sky and TWINKLES in place.
The smoke below soon transforms into a rain cloud that suddenly showers the valley with WATER.
The water pours and pours, just enough to put out the fire and restore the brook with clean running water.
The Star is now visible in the sky and TWINKLES in place.
The smoke below soon transforms into a rain cloud that suddenly showers the valley with WATER.
The water pours and pours, just enough to put out the fire and restore the brook with clean running water.
NARRATOR (V.O.)
With the Fallen Star returned to
heaven, the waters above now had a
path to flow to the earth below.
(Beat.)
But we should not wait until it's too late.
With the Fallen Star returned to
heaven, the waters above now had a
path to flow to the earth below.
(Beat.)
But we should not wait until it's too late.
The charred hillside immediately turns to vegetation and the valley is soon restored to green and fertile land.
Dahl and Daze stand side by side on the green grass and they overlook the beautiful view of the valley in the rain as Hermes trots around the field.
He then puts an apple in her hand and they stand together in the garden.
Dahl and Daze stand side by side on the green grass and they overlook the beautiful view of the valley in the rain as Hermes trots around the field.
He then puts an apple in her hand and they stand together in the garden.
FADE TO BLACK
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GRATITUDE
TO END ON A HAPPY NOTE
There's no happy fairy tale ending to climate change. This is just creative therapy, but I hope you got something out of reading my screenplay that will make you reflect on the environment around you. I don't necessarily want to explain every detail or lesson in the poetry in-between the lines because I want you to think for yourself. I think it's incredibly valuable for people to interpret art and stories for themselves because one person might have focused on the water while another might have learned from the fire.
Above, I shared a few notable organizations that are doing great work to take environmental and humanitarian action. First is the Dixie Fire Relief Fund where you can donate or request assistance if you have been impacted by this fire. Second is 4Ocean, an environmental organization that is committed to cleaning up our ocean one pound of trash at a time. Next is UNICEF which is working diligently to provide aide and relief all over the world, like to the people of Haiti and Afghanistan. Lastly, Surfrider Foundation is a great organization for environmental advocacy, action, and community when it comes to keeping our oceans clean.
If you've actually read this far, thanks for being part of my epic writer's journey. I shared some mental health resources and environmental organizations this month, but would like to learn about more if you'd like to share some with me. I just updated my Contact page with a form where you can now send me questions, comments, collaboration pitches, resources, etc ect. I don't know how this adventure will end, where it will go, or what I will make, but I guess my parting thought is to not wait until it's too late--too late to act, too late to say something, too late to tell your story.
Thanks and we'll see what happens next month. Peace!
Above, I shared a few notable organizations that are doing great work to take environmental and humanitarian action. First is the Dixie Fire Relief Fund where you can donate or request assistance if you have been impacted by this fire. Second is 4Ocean, an environmental organization that is committed to cleaning up our ocean one pound of trash at a time. Next is UNICEF which is working diligently to provide aide and relief all over the world, like to the people of Haiti and Afghanistan. Lastly, Surfrider Foundation is a great organization for environmental advocacy, action, and community when it comes to keeping our oceans clean.
If you've actually read this far, thanks for being part of my epic writer's journey. I shared some mental health resources and environmental organizations this month, but would like to learn about more if you'd like to share some with me. I just updated my Contact page with a form where you can now send me questions, comments, collaboration pitches, resources, etc ect. I don't know how this adventure will end, where it will go, or what I will make, but I guess my parting thought is to not wait until it's too late--too late to act, too late to say something, too late to tell your story.
Thanks and we'll see what happens next month. Peace!
On Another Wavelength
Sabaitide is an emerging Asian American artist and writer from Santa Barbara, CA. She seeks to understand both her eastern culture rooted in Buddhism and her western views as a Christian while going through the motions of an extra ordinary life.
She is currently challenging herself to write at the graduate level as she explores difficult ideas to put into words. She would like to write a beautiful sci-fi book someday, but in the meantime, she is working on her portfolio and she has a vegan food blog called @partyinmyrice.
www.sabaitide.com
IG: @sabaitide @partyinmyrice
She is currently challenging herself to write at the graduate level as she explores difficult ideas to put into words. She would like to write a beautiful sci-fi book someday, but in the meantime, she is working on her portfolio and she has a vegan food blog called @partyinmyrice.
www.sabaitide.com
IG: @sabaitide @partyinmyrice