What I, CHOOSE, to R-E-A-D, that’s got nothing to do with you, it’s my, personal choice, and, you will NEVER have a say, in WHAT I want to, select, for my own, reading pleasure.
Secondly, what the FUCK! What I choose to read, that’s, my, personal choice, my right to decide, and you ain’t gonna have a say, why? Because, you do not have control over what I am interested, or disinterested in, okay?
Third, what I choose to read, that’s entire, my choice, and, nobody’s gonna have a FUCKING (and your point being???) say, I mean, it’s not like I got that full stack of Playboy CENTERFOLDS, cut OUT, saved in my, “secret drawer” for my, “viewing pleasures” is it?
Then, there’s, yeah, you got ZERO right to tell me, what I can, or can not read, just like you got no right, to tell me what I can, or cannot say, it’s my personal choice, because I say so, okay?
Repeated in that vicious cycle of his own misbehaviors, led him down this path of, no return, and now finally, as he sits in his cell, he’d, realized what he’d done, and what he can do, to turn his own life, around, translated…
For Most, This is a Hopeless Sort of Life……………
My rebirth from the flames, started from owing two hundred million dollars, the ability to introspect, to admit to what I’d done was wrong, was from my twelve years’ sentence in prison. For most, this is a life without the chances, but to me, it’s, a brand new, beautiful, beginning, because, I’m now able to use my mindset of learning for life, to, turn the bottom half of my own life, around.
Walking on That, Right Path, Finally
Back when I was too young to know any better, I’d thought, that putting my fist out to help a friend, is the true meaning of giving them the support they were looking for, and yet, what I got were, the conflicts of the fights I’d gotten in, at age twenty, I’d, faced my very first, prison sentence, being taken into, custody. Everybody told, that the longer you get locked up in prison, the more badass you’d, become, that it’s the path, of becoming a gangster, so, the very first time I got stuck in a cage, I just wanted to, make more friends, to expand my connections. And surely, I’d not changed a bit after I’d made bail, and, I’d, hit the walls, soon enough, and only, stayed out of prison, for one short, year’s time.
The second time I got taken into custody, I’d met a white collar criminal, the worst step I’d, ever taken, and became, a con artist, got on that path of, no return. The second time I’d made bail, I went into business with a friend, and, wrote the scripts, used the cons, to get my very first bucket of gold in life, ever since, I’d, gotten lost in the nightlife, took up the habits of gambling, and, started, squandering everything away to soon, which was a proof of, traveling down the wrong road, it’ll, catch up to you eventually.
illustration from UDN.com
By age twenty-five, I’d faced my third, two years’ worth of prison sentence, being righteous toward my friends, I’d, taken all the blames, and in return, all my friends, they’d, deserted me. My wife went into labor when I was held in custody, and she was too distressed and had postpartum depression, and in the end, my only source of strength was my parents’ never giving up on me, which was, the start of, me, waking up, and turning my life, around. I’d started, making friends with books, started getting into the habits of reading, to change my own heart, and understood the meanings of, “helping others” and the meanings of “helping another is helping ourselves”. My own experiences made me reached out to my fellow inmates, hoping they don’t travel down this same wrong path I had, to improve themselves, for those around them.
The two years’ prison terms, I’d, come to understand, that the justice system is maxed out in giving me my second chances, that every time I returned back to the society, I’d, strayed, farther from I did before, that I may not have the opportunity to get out, on good behaviors again; and, maybe, it’s going to take me more years to finally appreciate being able to feel the love from my parents, to find the blessings of sharing a meal with my wife and children. And yet, in my time of serving prison, I was, blessed by heavens above, as I was told, that I was allowed to make bail a third time, I’d sworn, that in the time I’m serving, I shall, stay away from the bad, and, start walking out, a better path of life for myself.
The Encouragements to Myself, “It Takes Ten Years to Make a Perfectly Sharpened Sword”
After I’d made bail, I’d, still, gathered with those friends, but without, the bad influences, sharing only the ideals, and I’d, come to understand, how those friends’ not, deserting me was, too precious to, come by. As my case was still pending, I’d discussed with a friend on the future direction of my own life, “We’ll try it with you.” with their supports I’d, become, an entrepreneur. And, as I got totally immersed in what I was doing, I fell, in love, and in the process, I’d come to understand the meaning of “there’s a house of gold in every book”, the books I’d read in prison became quite useful in business, I’d started up from the fundamentals, and because of how my partners and I were on the same page, in only three short years, we’d, made a “good grade”. I’m more than grateful to my friends’ trusts in me, from the team of five originally, squatted inside that compressed, tiny office, and now, we’d, expanded to more than thirty employees.
During the time of our startup, I’d worked in the merchandising department, and, used the knowledge I’d read up on in the books from prison, to lower the costs and to barter with the providers, but, being a con artist myself, I got, conned, and, I’d originally wanted to, shoulder the money I’d lost for the firm, but, my partners denied my request to, and said, that the company will pay up the total. And in the end, the providers were touched by my story of turning my own life around, and, refunded the amount we’d lost back to us.
We all eventually, pay for our own, mistakes. My trial dragged out for three full years, as I’d gotten that serving sentence to prison, I’d felt upset, but I’d not, gone back on that promise I’d made three years ago when I’d made bail then, and my families saw how hard I’d, tried to work to turn my life around too.
And to this very day, whenever I get anxious, upset, or agitated, I’d still told myself, “it takes ten years to sharpen that sword”, we needed to trim the rough edges of our own character off, to better our own, abilities too, and I’d understood the true meaning of “only when you change for the better, the meanings of you becoming a man showed.”
still serving his time…
repenting for what he did…photo from online
I am, a textbook example, although I’d still caused myself to get stuck, but I hope, that the life experiences of this decade of life from my twenties to my thirties, can help light the way for all those who are currently lost at the crossroads of their own, lives.
And so, this is the man’s, tracing the wrong steps he’d taken in his own life thus far, and as he’s serving his current prison term (hopefully his very last one!), he’d, realized the wrong steps he’d taken thus far, and, decided to make the changes, to make sure he doesn’t, go down the wrong roads in his own life again, and hopefully, that will to change in him, will be enough, to keep him from straying again.
If I quit, will you, quit with me??? Uh, can I get back to you on that, I have to, think about it first…translated…
I was in the same class with J during our fifth and sixth grade years, although it was only two short years, but, our friendship lasted, long afterwards. We’d, talked over the phones over a ton of things, wrote to one another, shared our lives through the emails. Having a confidant in this life time, I’d, lived to the fullest!
J came back from his studies from abroad, couldn’t find work, so I’d, introduced him to my work. And, just as I’d thought after the interview, he was, on! Yes, I knew it was his integrity, his ability, his attitude, all of it is, excellent. And now, he’s not just a former classmate, but also, a coworker too.
Many months later, maybe, half a year, I’d heard the blames out of my superior’s office. Not long thereafter, several people came out of the office, and one of them was, J. J didn’t look well, to the point of, being, embarrassed to anger. I thought, I should let him, cool down a bit.
And yet, he’d, come over and asked, “if I were to quit, you will, quit with me, won’t you?” And, at that very moment in time, I fell, into, that state of, unspeakable, chaos. I’d, introduced him, and now, he’s, taking me away? Can I leave this job right now? Should I, be supportive on his side, use my actions in quitting, to show my support toward him?
If I say yes, that meant, that I would soon become, unemployed, and, my household economics would lose one paycheck, and, where’s, my next step? If I told him I won’t then, does that mean, that our years of friendship, ends, here?
I’m in chaos now, can’t find a word to say, can’t even, make a, sound.
Shortly thereafter, he’d quit, didn’t take a patch of painted skies with him, nor me either. And we’re, still, the best of friends to this very day!
And so, this, is getting trapped in between the considerations of being on your friend’s side, or, the practical, keeping that paycheck, and, you’d, chosen practically, because, you need the money from the paycheck you’re making, if you didn’t, I’m sure, you would’ve, left the job with your friend, but, he didn’t hold it against you, because he probably, empathized your situation, that’s why the two of you are able to stay good friends.
Which one will it be tonight, biography? Fiction? Essays? Mysteries? Romances? Let’s see! Translated…
The evenings are getting colder now, fitting for a mug of hot cocoa, and getting underneath the covers with, a good, book. And yet, I’d, eaten up, almost ALL the collections I have at home, in the fact that there’s nothing new for me to red, I’d had to, go out, in the chilly weather to the libraries to hunt for more.
Romance?
Nah! I’d had to get through the Christmas holidays from November 11th on my own, the covers for just one, too cold already, no need, to hit my self, even harder.
The exam study guide then?
something, to help me, ease into, sleep here!
photo from online
TOSS! What I’m looking for, are the bedtime readers, not the hypnotic reading materials that can, knock me out cold in an, instant.
The biographies that are encouraging then?
STOP! Monday through Friday, I’m already, keeping myself on that tight leash, forced myself, to push forward, go forth, faster, faster, faster I am in desperate need of rest now.
Cooking, the dessert recipes then?
Uh, the timing’s not quite right. Reading these will only make me feel more and more hungry, then, diet will be something saved for tomorrow, I’ll go on a binge, then, fall into, that state of, deep, regret.
Or maybe, I should, read the mysteries then? The dark night, the cold, with the scary cases, and the swiftly turned on brain, training my logic, as well as speed of thought.
And, now that I’d, set my genre, I shall have the classics then, Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express” it is!
And so, this showed, how much considerations one considered, in choosing a bedtime reader, this woman considered everything, before she’s finally, settled down to the mysteries, and sometimes, it’s too hard to choose, when there are, too many, options available for us out there, and sometimes, you just, gotta, make that second-decision, and see where it leads you.
And no, it’s NOT selfish, if we go for the self-preservation side, because we must first all, take good care of our, separate, selves, otherwise, how the HECK can we, care for, anyone else??? Taking from the tragedies of the society here, translated…
In the life of families, we are often trapped between the wills of our selves, or the benefits of the families, and started engaging in that, tug-of-war nonstop.
There was the news of how an elderly woman raised up her own two grandson, one of the children showed aggression, and symptoms of A.D.H.D., and, the elderly woman had been under too much stress in caretaking, and, lost it, and strangled the grandchild to death. Another, how a couple was married, and, in less than two months of their marriage, the husband was, paralyzed, and was in a vegetative state, and the wife filed for divorce, and the courts allowed it. These two seemingly unrelated events, shared one characteristic of concern: the matter of caretaking of one’s own families.
The two women in both cases, made totally different decisions, on caring for one’s own next-of-kin. The wife decided to divorce, and, although, she’d gained the reputations of being selfish, of not being moral enough, but her decision, ended the fact that her marriage is bound to, slide down that slippery slope. While the elderly woman’s persistence to the end, it’d, fulfilled the expectations of the traditional role of women, her sense of responsibilities, and her conscience too, but in reality, and the psychological aspects, the elderly woman, clearly, could NOT stand this kind of burden, and in the end, she’d, self-destruct, and the story ended, tragically.
And it made me wonder, as a part of the family, must we, give everything we have, for our, families, to sacrifice our own, happiness? Is this, the necessity, the forefront, of setting up a, perfect, and happy family? If at the end, there’s only, the suffocating burdens, that sense of, responsibilities that remained in it, enough to drown, cover up everything else, and, at this time, how can we still, keep the connections of the family intact?
In the families, when do we choose to preserve ourselves, when do we, sacrifice ourselves, and fulfill the needs of our, separate, families, from my past experience as a family courts judge, this, is from my observations: do take good care of your selves first, then, treat your loved ones the way you treat yourselves, kind too, then, as you feel, that you’d done, everything you possibly can, and still it’d not worked out, at this time, do be bolder, selfishly, embrace yourselves then, then, love your families, the way you love your selves. I believe, that there would be the regrets that came with this, but so long as you’re willing, this regret can still, be made up for, I hope that we are all, living happily.
And so, these are, tragic stories of how giving to the family, caused the caretaker, to fall apart, like for the grandmother, she didn’t have a choice, or at least she couldn’t see the other options, and eventually, the caretaking became, too burdensome, and she’d ended up, murdering her own grandchild, while the other woman, she may seem selfish, because, it seemed as though she was, abandoning her husband who became, paralyzed, but she didn’t want to become his caretaker for life, and so, she’d selected divorce, and surely, it got her the bad reputation of ill-fitting as a wife, but heck, at least, she’d made a decision, to save herself actively, instead of being driving to murder her own handicapped husband after she grew tired and weary of taking care of him long-term, like the elderly woman who felt that she didn’t have any other, choice! So, it’s NOT selfish, to look out for number one, and, W-H-O, is number one? Oh yeah, we, individually, ARE, number ONE in our lives, and if we don’t take good care of ourselves first, how the @#$% (maxed out!) can we, take care of, anybody else???
The decisions to stop treatment, or to, continue it, weighing the pros and cons of it, over, over, and over again, in our minds, and, we can only pray that in the end, we’d, made the, right choices by our loved ones.
Upon reading Marcie’s “Difficult Choice” on August 25th, I was moved, this hard-to-master lesson of life, is, harder to solve than the, mathematical, equations.
I was forty-two on the year, thought of how at age forty-two, my father caught me, who let out the very first cries of my life, and how time flew quickly by, turned all our hairs white, made him hunched in the back, and, eroded away, his aging, skins. I’d squatted down, helplessly, in the hallways of the hospital, with my arms around my knees, I’d, broken down and cried. The sun still radiant outside, while my world had, crumbled down, no longer, is it, a full-circle again.
this…
photo from online
After the marrow was extracted, the biopsies on his liver done, I’d, pushed him back to his ward. “Ouch!” that was the only word he’d, mumbled aloud after he came to, following that, he’d, drifted into that cycle of, never-ending, eternal, waking and sleeping.
The eyes behind the glasses, with that genuineness about it, said, “sir is too elderly and too weakened in physical strengths, I’m afraid, that he won’t able to get through the chemotherapy or the surgeries, you and your families must make up your minds, don’t leave the regrets for tomorrow, the patients are in pain, the families, in even more, pain.” The young resident stated these words, that, made my heart twisted up even tighter, can it, not be, a “multiple choice” question?
Three years ago, my eldest uncle fell seriously ill, my older cousins couldn’t let him go, his life was, spared, but, he was kept alive, with all those, tubes going in and out of his body, it’d, made the families, relatives, and friends wondered, can we, tie him down with love, to save his body, because we don’t want him to go? Then, two months later, he’d gone, and, my older cousin kneeled down in front of the altar, and cried like hell, and blamed himself for making the wrong decisions to save his own father then, that he shouldn’t have, put his own father through those two more months’ worth of, trials in the body.
AS my younger brother heard the surgeon’s statements, he’d exclaimed aloud, “of course, SAVE him!” “my father’s a military man, he would NOT want to live on like this, I want to save him too, but, as his daughter, I know I can’t be, so, selfish”, I’d, finally, got those, words out, and after that, my heart had a hole in it. My youngest sister cried, shook her head, and waved her hands no too, she was, my father’s, favorite, youngest child, it’s, simply, too difficult, for her, to voice her thought on the matter.
or this…
saying their, final, goodbyes…and letting go…photo from online
I’d, pushed that hospital bed, with all his belongings, took him to the hospice ward. It is, very hard to describe what it’s like in there, there are the hopes and expectations of getting out one day on all the other, floors, while here, the patients are, walking, a step closer to death by the day, but it’s, not just that.
As we entered into the hospice, my crying, stopped, the sorrows are, all over the places, but my father looked, more at peace, and, as he woke, he’d said, apologetically to me, “it’d been trying on you”. my foolish dad, can you, breathe, a bit longer, so, your children can, hold you in their arms, longer, so I can, be a daughter, with a father still?
After a full month in the hospice, I took dad home. In the company of his children and grandchildren, without those tubes going in and out of his body that made his life even harder, he’d gained, an, extra month, two days after Father’s Day, he’d selected to, fall, into, that eternal, sleep, and thus, our, scents of, missing him, started, rooting downward.
So this would be, one of the, hardest decisions that someone is forced to make, to save the loved ones or to just, let them go, I mean, there’s, a lot to, consider in the matter, are you, willing to, try your loved ones longer, just so you can have them with you longer, or, would you be willing to, say your, goodbyes to them, and, leaving, no love unsaid, and, just, let them go?
And I still have to apologize, for being, a bit, BLUNT, ‘cuz sometimes, that’s, the ONLY way to GET the point across, for those who just don’t get it, hello, hello, hello???
What’s the BEST way, to let someone know, that s/he is, making you uncomfortable??? Surely, you can, throw them stupid signals around, hoping that s/he picks up on it, but, chances are, the person is way too mother @#$%ING (maxed out!) retarded to pick that up!
But, I can’t, just say to the guy/woman: hey YO! BACK OFF! Can I? That’s just not, socially, “Acceptable” is it? Nope!
And yet, there’s, NO easy way, but to just, bluntly, state it ALOUD sometimes, so, stop worrying about how you will make the other person feel (I mean, WHO cares! And, isn’t how YOU feel more important than how the other person feels???)
That’s, just one of the harder things of being human, I suppose, for SOME of you out there, but not for the QUEEN for, the QUEEN, still SPEAKS her M-I-N-D here, out loud too!!!
Just like Murphy had done, I’d, TELL someone, STRAIGHT up, if s/he is, making ME, uncomfortable, and you should too, otherwise, there will, be those who are out, to take advantage, and by then, you got, NOBODY else to blame, ‘cuz, you’d, ENABLED, the other person’s, improper behaviors…
I’d, killed out of mercy, ‘cuz she’d been, suffering too long, losing control over her body, and, it hurt me, watching her die off slowly, little, by little, knowing that, time’s still nowhere NEAR, expiring, Y-E-T!
A merciful murder, I’d, committed, and, I don’t feel bad about what I’d done, because deep down I know, that I’d, murdered out of love, and care for that certain someone.
And maybe, I’ll, get sentenced as a heartless, coldblooded, murderer, but I don’t care, I got a cleared conscience here. If I’d not murdered the person, then, I will, forever BE gnawed by my own conscience, for NOT doing what’s right by that person I cared too much about.
A merciful murder, I’d, committed, and, I really couldn’t give a !#$%ING RAT’s ASS how everybody else out here in this god DAMN world sees me as: a cold-blooded murderer, an unfitting child, whatever, I KNOW I did it, out of, mercy, my conscience is, clear!!!
A merciful murder, it’s not right to kill someone, in the eyes of the law, but, think about it, if it were your own loved ones who became incapacitated, and their quality of life is dropping by each and every breath they take, wouldn’t you want them to suffer less?
Knowing this student’s heart condition, the instructor still made him run, that’s why the school is mandated to pay! Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…
Four years ago, a sixth grade boy with a heart condition, ran around the school track, fell down, he was rushed to the hospital, and became a vegetable, the families filed a suit toward the country, the Taichung District Court found that school needed to pay the boy’s families until he turned twenty, the amount of over $40,000N.T. per month for the medical fees, and over $20,000N.T. per month extra until he’s sixty, that the amount of over $4.36 million N.T. needed to be paid to the boy and his mother for emotional distress.
The parents told, that filing the suit against the country is to get justice for their son who’s “growing up but never waking up”, and they hoped that their son will be the last victim of the negligence of the school campuses, the school already filed for an appeal.
The verdict stated, that the boy had a congenital heart condition, isn’t fitted for hard exercises, and all his teachers knew this.
On the morning of October 20th, 2016, the homeroom instructor told the whole class to get on the track field to practice running, and the instructor stayed in the class, not gone out to keep an eye on the students, allowed the boy to run two laps, the boy started swaying left and right, limping, and started panting, turning pale, along with other symptoms that he was not will. The homeroom instructor saw, but didn’t call the ambulance immediately, the student was carried by another instructor to the nurse’s office, where the nurse performed CPR, until the paramedics arrived.
The judge believed, that the homeroom instructor wasn’t monitoring the boy when he was running, and not paid enough attention to how he was afterwards, and as the boy passed out, she’d not called the ambulance on time, that it all fitted into negligent in care, that the school should pay for the damages on behalf of the country.
And so, because you weren’t paying enough attention to this student with a HEART condition, and you made him run the laps, that’s why you’re, responsible, for his death, and the school got sued for it, because of the teacher’s not paying enough attention to the student’s health conditions.
So glad that it’s NOT my day to cook today!!! Translated…
Looking at the table’s worth of food he’d prepared, I was, moved, became, dumbfounded! The steamed crab, the pepper shrimps, the pan-seared tofu, the ginseng black-boned chicken…………all of which are, my favorites.
But three months ago before, from when my husband started, cooking the suppers on the weekends, it wasn’t, that wonderful scent of food that made my mouth watered that came out of the kitchen, and, what he’d made then, tasted, exactly like what I would take out to throw as trash, what’s worse was, he would NOT allow anybody, to criticize his, cooking skills.
To fight to my right to NOT cook on the weekends, I’d fought with him, for almost five years, him being, too macho, and no matter what, he just couldn’t accept the fact, that I do NOT want to cook on the weekends. Back then he’d stated it too clearly, that we can go out to eat every now and then, but not every weekend.
Being raised by the feminist era, I naturally could NOT accept the time that women are allowed to have off from being a wife and/or a mother. Taking care of the family during the week, I know I’m reasonable, for NOT wanting to make the meals on the weekends. Should the mothers shoulder everything?
illustration from UDN.com
And, we’d disagreed, more and more, and the meals on the weekends became, a war zone, the stresses was, building, I just, wanted to, get away from the warzone, and every time weekend rolled around, I’d, wanted to, not go home for supper, and not wanted my own families to worry, in the end, I can only, wander alone on the streets. Then, my husband got into a silent treatment war, and I felt, defeated, over my own marriage.
One day, at supper, my child asked me abruptly, what his grandma liked to eat from what I cooked? I was stumped, then, said, “tell the truth, I’d never cooked anything for your grandmother ever!”
My child was surprised, “What? Grandma had never had anything you cooked?”
My husband who was already finished, looked at me instantly, then, lowered his head back to his cell phone.
I told my son, “before I wed, I was my mother’s baby girl, she’d never made me cook, told me that cooking was hard and hot, and even as we go home to visit her, she still wouldn’t allow me to cook.”
“So, is that why you cook so much right now, because you love it?”, he continued asking. “I don’t like to cook, actually, I HATE it!”
“Then why are you cooking every day?”, my son actually hoped that he could have burgers every day.
“because nobody will cook for me, because I need to watch out for your health! That’s why I’d, grit my teeth, and no matter how I hated it, I still, cooked every single day!”
his turn to cook!
photo from online
At this time, my husband’s cell phone had, turned black and he’d, failed to notice, because he was too focused, “eavesdropping” on my son and I. And, this conversation may have, touched some part of him, and, he’d, turned that into the table’s worth of meal three months later, on this, very day.
And so, all it took, was for you, to LET your husband KNOW, that you got tired of having to make every single meal, but, he’d not understood, because you NEVER told him verbally, because you probably thought, that he should, already KNOW it, but he didn’t, NOT until he’d eavesdropped into that conversation you had with your son.
Mirroring the World 
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