A lot of stuff has happened in the past month, but I can’t recall too many specifics. I think my primary concerns were for my ill uncle, my friends who are moving away from home for the first time, and my own future. That last one is something I’ve harped on pretty frequently, but it just kind of stays there. 

My uncle flew in from the Philippines and has been staying with family while he receives treatment. The last memory I have of him before his arrival was in the Philippines, where he laughed when he saw how much I’d grown. I’m not sure if this is universal, but my older relatives love to mention how small I used to be when they met me. He had a mustache like my dad’s, wore an under tank and light washed denim jeans, and was very hospitable. It doesn’t seem too extraordinary, but the more I think about it, the more I relate the memory to being American.

When I saw him again recently, he still had the same laugh and smile, but he was much skinnier. He didn’t stumble with his words too much, but he did seem to be in deep thought, his eyes always staring off. Each blink was just a tad longer than what a mechanical blink seemed like, as if it was always deliberate as he gathered the right words to say.

I mentioned to him that his English was really good. He has a bit of an accent, but there’s something about the way he talks. It’s probably a lot of technical stuff that’s outside of my understanding, like his emphasis on certain words, the way the words are spoken, or even the words that he chooses to use in certain contexts. But he spoke like someone who moved to the States when he was a young adult, not someone who grew up and had stayed in the Philippines for three quarters of his life. 

Then, he told me stories about how he had learned English. Most of it was basically to get ahead or to make sure no one looked down on him, because when he was growing up, the United States was beginning to grow industry in the Philippines. Obviously, this meant that a majority of more majorly funded businesses were owned and run by American citizens and because of the time, racism and stereotypes of races were more prevalent and likely to be believed. My uncle worked in one of these businesses, a manufacturing factory, as an assistant to the owner. In order to make a good impression, my uncle learned English, including casual mannerisms and sayings. His boss had an easier time communicating because of this.

My uncle followed this job with a career in the US military. He, like my father, was chosen among a large pool of candidates. From what they tell me, only about 20 out of 1000 people were chosen in these pools at a time. There, my uncle improved further upon his English, so that his colleagues wouldn’t think lowly of him, while at the same time using these improvements to promote up the ladder.

To be honest, there aren’t many details that I remember. But when he spoke about all of it, it was always with an immense amount of pride, which I think is well deserved. Anyone who’s able to master another language and move away from what’s familiar to them, like many of my older relatives did, has earned being proud, I think.

On another note, some friends of mine are moving away soon. I’ve spent most of my time in Northern California with them. Because of the pandemic, we adapted to hanging out online, so that’s a plus. But it’ll be a little strange not being able to hang out with them at random times. Now that I think about it, that’s probably one of the closest things that I’ve had to being a kid again - spontaneous hangouts rather than anything extremely planned. And when I say spontaneous, I mean days in advance, rather than weeks and no specific plans rather than full agendas. Nothing like how it was when you were a kid, knocking on someone’s door to see if they want to ride bikes for a few hours or anything like that. But, still, I stand by the fact that they’re one of the closest things that let me still be a kid.

On that note, I mentioned to my brother-in-law that I wouldn’t mind living on a small plot of land with some friends and my girlfriend, that it’d be neat. He respectfully said that he could never entertain the idea of a living situation with anyone other than my sister and a family of their own, that it was crazy that I could even think of anything other than that. Which I think makes sense to most people. But I relate my feelings about this to being a kid, because it was always a cool idea of having friends nearby and being able to hang out or look out for one another.

And on a similar note, my nephews and nieces mentioned recently that they don’t think of me as an adult. Kids are honest, right? So, I guess I’m just a big kid. 

I’ve also been thinking a lot about work. I’ve been on vacation for the past few weeks, not doing too much but relaxing and catching up on things that I like to do at home. But as the end of my time off creeps up, I realize more and more that writing and contemplating things are the only thing that I’m actually okay at doing and don’t absolutely dread. I won’t say that it’s the only thing I’m happy doing, because a lot of the stuff that I do write about takes a lot of energy out of me, as I tend to recall memories or dreams that can be painful or scary. But it’s the only thing that really makes sense to me. 

I just wish that I could churn out content that’s quality enough for being to feel like it’s worth paying for, as well as at a rate that people think is worth spending money on. But I’ve fallen off the horse a bit - my anxieties about working and the future, how I’ll be proceeding with the zine, and easy access to distractions have made it difficult for me to write. But I’m trying to get back on. Because whenever days go by that I don’t write, something feels wrong, like something is missing. That, or I look at the clock, bored of my distraction and think of all of the writing I can do in the time I have left in the day. But an anxiety about responsibility keeps pushing me away. 

But I do know that I want to do it. It’s an excuse, I’m sure, but life just keeps getting in the way and saps all of the energy from me.