Nobody Will Take You Seriously

Nobody will take you seriously.

Not in a suit,
or on a dock,
or pretending to be German when you're not

In leather boots,
Or drinking tea,
Explaining the Big Bang to your niece,

Flaunting your wallet,
or your lore,
or the things that you have "done before,"

Riding a Porsche,
Or a bike,
Camping near Walden on Saturday nights,
Teaching this and preaching that,
Posting blog posts about life hacks,
Counting all the books you write
Working deep into the night
Americano at day-break
Fifty candles on the birthday cake
Enough wisdom to compensate

Not in this complex day and age.
Who are you to dub yourself a sage
Take your wisdom, suitcase, go

Nobody will take you seriously, no.

Not Quite Rapunzel

BY JULIE CHEN

If eyes are windows to the soul
then mine must be 
ancient. Draped 
in vines woven through slits
in the weathered shutters. Rusty hinges, splintered 
oak, a rough ledge. 
Hung high upon a stone tower. (Marble, I would hope.)
Overlooking the moor, ruffled by
damp wind—
the kind that makes thoughts
slosh in the head.
I would throw my long braid out to you,
whoever you are.
It is quite lonely up here, and
I am confused. Silence
makes me melancholy. Whoever said
Solitude is bliss 
has clearly never been
stranded up a tower.
I would throw my braid out to you,
But I've cut it short a week ago at the barbers.

You probably couldn't climb
it anyway.

And who am I kidding
Princes do not look up at dusty windows.

Delusional Confidence?

What do we build our confidence upon?

I used to wonder if confidence is earned throughout one’s life, much like collecting boy scout badges. Theoretically, we would be born with none of this precious material, but with every achievement we accomplish we would earn a shining badge of approval. Over time, you’d be able to look down and see those badges and feel good about yourself. And that good feeling would be confidence. Hopefully, like a soldier with his honors pinned to his chest, people would learn to show you respect.

But now that I think of it, there's an immense amount of flaws present in this theory.

For one thing, you’re probably going to need to be perpetually proving yourself, since only certain people would witness you earning certain badgers. To strangers, your splendid collection would be invisible. Obviously, you are not going to be able to accomplish an applause-worthy achievement every time you meet someone new, as opportunities to shine come limited to everybody. That's an awful lot of stress to bear during human interaction.

People always say, “you’ve got to pick out the positive things about yourself and take pride in them,” but in a way that’s just like trying to elicit confidence from a badge. All the happiness that comes from material possessions is temporary. Think of eating a cupcake for comfort, or looking at a wad of bills for solace. In the same way, we can’t keep drawing strength from how we’ve performed in the past because it can never be interwoven with our spirit. It's also in human nature to degrade oneself. If you go ask a girl on a magazine cover whether she thinks she’s as pretty as a girl on a magazine cover, she's probably going to say no. Similarly, we'll never think our badges are shiny enough or that we've earned enough at all. That's the way we function – we think we are never good enough, and that’s why we stumble through life with all these insatiable desires. Just the same, you’re never going to feel confident enough if you’re always looking for a reason to justify it. 

Therefore, perhaps it is wrong to feel confident for a reason. I think the way to go is to believe in yourself even if, nicely put, there’s not much to believe in. As a society we tend to spurn individuals who have delusional confidence in their abilities, but the truth is, people like this live lives with so much more positivity. In fact, you could consider them blessed, because feeling confident for no reason is definitely not an easy thing to do. We might feel guilty or arrogant at first, but we simply have to stop thinking about it that way. I mean, just how inhumane does it sound to let somebody justify their belief in their own potential? Although over-achieving is definitely not a bad thing (and in fact, should be striven for), confidence should be a kind of self-love that does not need to rely on any type of fuel. It should be a conviction that cannot be put into words. And that's how you'll feel permanently empowered.

Periphery

—Is where space ends called death or infinity? 


Pablo Neruda, The Book of Questions

BY JULIE CHEN

Every person’s childhood seems to be marked with a peculiar fear. Whether it be snakes, or subways. Or the scary third grade math teacher who had crooked teeth. Mine was a fear of emptiness. Sometimes I would stand in the garden and cover my eyes, and imagine the endless, void universe. Expanding in perpetuity. No air, no emotion. Just miles and miles of darkness and I would be forever drifting, drifting and when I died, I imagined I would be lying in my coffin, but my mind would remain vigilant. And I would be forced to wander forevermore in the infinite vacuity of death. And there would be no stars because death does not permit any twinkling. The thought made my heart drop and I would picture my body collapsing until it was folded into a piffling speck of dust in an interminable vacuum of nil. The tears would fall. And I would run run run away from where the emptiness was, run into my mother’s arms where I could relish a comforting, tangible hug or run into the market where the throbbing presence of people assured me I was not a solitary asteroid — although the unfathomable concept of infinity would come back to haunt me whenever I shut my eyes. There was a period in time where sleep would seem terrifying. I could not lay my finger on the exact moment in time where I would transcend into a state of oblivion. For all I knew it was a secret I would be forbidden to comprehend. And was not death the same thing, I thought. One would gently slide away, and his being would be buried under the earth, where it would disintegrate and eventually become part of a flower, or a bee, or a sliver of wind. But his identity would be forever lost in the galactic anticenter of time.

On Being a Yes-Man

BY JULIE CHEN

I was quite the fearless kid. When I was five I parachuted off a cliff to the horror of my onlooking parents. I’ve also been known for diving off a 3 meter springboard merely a few hours after I learned how to swim and for attempting to approach an indiscriminate variety of animals, including guard dogs and and hippos (now that I think of it, I could have died many times). As I entered school I channeled my grit into public speaking, theatre and sports, where I was often seen shamelessly prancing around on stage and trying to wrench balls away from boys. I liked to talk and I liked to lead and if I sound like I was the annoying kid who was first in line for everything, I was.

But as I grew older society rubbed off on me. I learned to think before I leapt, and I learned to always double check - sometimes triple and quadruple check. I learned that sometimes silence spoke louder than words, and to ‘reflect and analyze’ every action - which I did, sometimes overly so. I learned that you could never be too careful, and to stop burning your bridges. I learned to color within the lines, and that sometimes it doesn’t hurt to say no.

In some ways or another we all grow up to be haunted by these maxims. They tell us to be careful, to find comfort through security, and to always be aware of potential disaster. And I wasn’t any different. As I grew older I became wearier of my surrounding and the opportunities I was receiving. I was more cautious of what I was saying ‘yes’ to and I became more self-conscious of my actions. Sometimes I would feel the urge to just say ‘no’ and resort to curling into a ball instead of putting myself in precarious positions of failure and humiliation. The truth was, I was no longer a young kid who had nothing to lose. I was trudging deeper and deeper into the swamps of doubts and anxieties that so often plague the minds of adolescents and adults alike.

That is, until I realized all this negativity was totally unnecessary.

As I’ve explained, I am by nature a relatively confident person. But it doesn’t matter whether you are somebody like me, or somebody completely different who suffers from anxiety disorder or depression. We all experience some degree of fear when it comes to stepping our of our comfort zone at sometime or other in our lives, and at this point what we have to do is to realize how ridiculous our fears can sometimes be.

Sometimes it’s not saying ‘no’ that doesn't hurt, its saying ‘yes’!

Too often we turn away potential opportunities for change because ‘no’ is the easier way out. And because of this we miss the adventures and the times of our lives. Of course, we never find out what could have been - and that’s precisely our loss. After all, it’s up to us whether we choose to live life to the max. Like Louise Hay once said, life says yes to those who give it the chance, and that’s why I'm putting it out there today that we should all try to be the yes-man as much as possible.

I’m not talking about the stereotypical yes man who agrees to every silly request. In that case you'd be becoming more of a simpleton instead of somebody who is embracing the opportunities of life. Being a yes-man means saying yes to the things that would normally catch you off-guard. Do the things that you thought were too challenging to handle and meet the people you thought were too scary to meet. It is aiming to not make excuses when it would deprive you of a potentially amazing experience - because what could potentially be awful leaves that extra 50% chance of being wonderful. And really, what’s the worst that could happen? No matter on what end of the spectrum your fresh experience turns out to be, if you’re lucky enough to have an extreme outcome at all it will definitely be something to remember (or something to laugh about) when you’re sitting in a rocking chair. And if it doesn’t end up extreme - then what’s to fear?

By becoming a yes man, you are opening yourself up to all things new and interesting. Ignore those little doubts in your head and make the most out of your life. Celebrate the spontaneity and changes that would normally make you groan. Challenge yourself to parachute off that cliff or run for class president or learn that new instrument and attend that festival. Be positive and say yes, because positivity attracts positivity.

I shudder to think of what memories I would have lost and how much less I would have learned had I given into my temptations of saying no at those critical times in my life. So challenge yourself to be a yes man for a day or a week, no matter how uncomfortable you are with it. If you’ve been hanging around the ‘no pole’ a lot lately, your decision could be a life changing one.

And don’t be afraid of failure. Our dignities sell for so little anyways.

Categorizing

BY JULIE CHEN

Why do we have such a strong desire to categorize ourselves?

The dreaded series of ‘what’s are you’ questions could presumably be the most universal icebreaker questions man has ever known - and no doubt the most irksome.

The fact is, humans are impulsive creatures with transient emotions. 

As individuals we are changing with every tick of the clock. Each second could potentially mark an expanding horizon or a moment of revelation. Even on a biological level, our cells are being created and destroyed at such magnificent paces that in a few minutes, we could quite literally have become a different person that needs to be categorized differently. 

Nevertheless, we retain a strong desire to categorize ourselves and people around us. Perhaps it stems from our innate desire to associate certain entities with familiar objects. Or perhaps, it's simply an interesting pastime for our brains. 

Whatever the case, society seems to be constantly pressuring us into thinking we must develop symbols for ourselves. Just like McDonalds is associated with the Golden Arches and Nike goes hand in hand with checkmarks, we too, feel the need to develop a personal branding and subsequently become known as the “cat-person” or the “raw vegan" or the “video game junkie”.

Why is this? I have a theory that it might originate from everybody's longing for a sense of belonging, no matter if its with a clan of people who share your interests, or a certain societal movement. We try to find a favorite band or a favorite style so we can be associated with particular characteristics or ambiences. We avoid liking certain things to avoid negative stereotypes and sometimes even fake our affection for other things simply to create positive impressions, when in reality we shouldn’t be allowing our little penchants to define us.

The thing is, in a way, categorizing ourselves potentially undermines amazing opportunities for us to make a change. We choose our favorite pizza topping to eat or our favorite sport to play or our favorite person to spend our time with because we've already put it out there that our best friend is whom and our favorite topping is pepperoni. And who am I to blame you? People announce their diets or relationship statuses all the time so they can stay more committed.

But what I'm saying is, don’t feel the need to constantly be searching for a category to place yourself in, in hopes of adding substance to your persona. Do not allow others to judge you based on your preferences. Nothing could possibly define you more than you as a person. Radiate positive vibes — smile, take chances, talk, and go outside and try new things. It’s perfectly fine to have experimented with so many things that you could not possibly be categorized. In fact, take that away and set it as your next goal. 

Do not be averse to change, whether it be a shift in your perspectives, your preferences, or your attitudes; I swear, change is eye-opening. And exciting, too.

Flashback

BY JULIE CHEN

I remember

Wee hands wrapped around ma’s belly

My dumpling cheeks pressed against her back as we

Laced our way between cars

Some honking there and a bus rumbles ahead

We pass tofu stands

Sweaty people mingling at bus stops and a woman in a yellow sunhat  

Our green bike pitches flakes of light onto passing windows and I

Young and unworried

Rambled on about confetti and winged baboons

Poppies and other half a thingummies that three year olds could possibly utter

And mum would smile, Doe-eyes crinkling in the warm sun

And the spokes would keep turning

Round-a-bout whirling

Until we got home.

A Vicarious Odyssey

Review of ‘Southern Cross the Dog,’ a debut novel by Bill Cheng

BY JULIE CHEN

Set in the ambience of the early 20^th century South, Southern Cross the Dog follows the life of Robert Chatham, a young African American boy whose family is crippled by the Great Flood of 1927. Scarred with the memory of his brother’s lynching and his mother’s subsequent descent into madness, Chatham is thrown into a world of violence and bigotry. He grows up earning a living as a washboy in a whorehouse, and it is there he encounters the uncanny Eli Cutter: a prodigious blues player who tells him his life is marked by the Devil.

Fast-forward and we see Chatham as a dynamiter attempting to drain a swamp. A pathetic suicide attempt later, he is taken half-prisoner by a clan of French fur trappers, and is almost tortured to death until he slits his captor’s throat and escapes. In a shoddy town nearby, Chatham is unexpectedly reunited with his childhood friends, but ultimately fails to elude the feeling of loss that permanently resides within him.

As theatrical as the plot sounds, Southern Cross the Dog is a novel that is surprisingly refreshing for a story revolving around the fear, racism and heartbreak. Perhaps it is the fact that Bill Cheng is, in fact, an Asian American New Yorker attempting to step into the shoes of a black man living in the turbulent old South. And perhaps it is this very change of perspective that gives Southern Cross the Dog its unique vibe.

Race aside, for a man who has never set foot in the Mississippi Delta, Cheng is exceptionally good at capturing the organic twang of Southern dialogue. Each character’s utterance proves unpretentiously homely yet exotically authentic. Cheng’s elegiac language further creates a profound aura of melancholy and poignancy from page one.

“When I was a baby child, they put the jinx on me. It was in my food and milk. And when I ran, it heavied in my bones and when I sang, it stopped in my throat and when I loved, it let from me, hot and poisonous.”

Under Cheng’s bold pen, ingenious expressions like “clouds doughed over”; “deep veins of light”; and, “ a long curtain of sky unraveling at its fringe” seem to brim at the pages, forming imagery only too picturesque.

If there’s anything that marks Southern Cross the Dog as unusual, it’s that it retains a kind of silent tension that brims but never quite overflows. Cheng instills in his writing just enough pathos to evoke honest emotion, but refrains from the tear-jerking sentimentalization that often makes novels of the same genre painful to endure. In essence, Southern Cross the Dog is much like a quiet action movie. If you are looking for a light read this summer that will leave a lasting impression, give Bill Cheng’s debut novel a shot — you will not be disappointed.