Sometimes, life feels like you’re just getting by. Like poverty is a choice, and quitting isn’t an option. I have so many “ideas”–goals–that I’m running towards in so many different directions that I feel like I’m essentially running in circles and going nowhere. I’m flailing. Waving my hands in every which way and just trying to keep afloat. To keep my wits about me, I have to remind myself that I’m too stubborn for quitting. Too tough. Too passionate.

My Bucket List

What goals have I made for myself that I’m not accomplishing? Late last year, before I took my one-way flight to India and beyond, I made a bucket list. It was a reasonable proposal to 2010 and the adventures I’d hope to have. It was a reachable extension to the rest of my life and the things I hoped to accomplish before I die. Mostly adventurous things, like hiking to Macchu Picchu and trekking the Himalayas, but some implications of love and lifelong partnership; wherein I wrote that I’d like a Buddhist wedding ceremony, not because I’m Buddhist, but because it sounded cool.

I’m already achieving my bucket list. Scratch off “stop eating meat longterm”. Check. I’m a vegetarian now. Scratch off “join a Zen Buddhist monastery and practice meditation”. Check. For four long, and yet short months. Scratch off “learn Filipino martial arts”. I already bought my ticket to Palawan, where I’ll be joining a local skillfully trained in the arts and willing to teach me as we walk the island together.

It still absolutely amazes me, and floors me to know that the bucket list is already manifesting itself, and in the most unexpected ways! These experiences I find myself having are completely unplanned but come in the form of opportunity that life has somehow offered me, and I choose to take. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s almost as if, when setting the right intentions, the Universe will answer. Sometimes, it will say no, and you don’t get what you want, but other times, and lately in my life, it will say yes. Hell Yes.

This is the closest “proof” to “God” that I’ve ever experienced, and I intend to continue experiencing it as I prepare for my spiritual island walk journey; my own road to Zen.

Hell Yes

As far as all those other far reaching goals? Become location independent with my own business? I’m working on it… Trek the Himalayas and Macchu Picchu? That could happen if I win the trip to UK, by being in the top six fundraisers for Your Big Year charities. I’m currently in 4th place, if I researched and did the math correctly. I just need to keep it up until October 10th. I’m placing that amazing “opportunity” in the hands of everyone who chooses to donate (ahem, there is a donation widget bar at right), and in the hands of me, for how well I can promote my charity drive and think up ways to gain more funds (hello Etsy!).

I want the Universe to say Hell Yes. I want the opportunity to show up and then step up to the challenge. I want to be granted this amazing stepping stone in UK, so that me, myself, and I can do my personal best to win the grand prize round the world trip which will allow me to scratch off Macchu Picchu and Himalayas on my bucket list. Hell Yes.

Can you see this passion flowing through my veins? I’m too tough to quit. Too stubborn to throw my goals out the window and fail. I’m set for going to the UK and I’m thinking in terms of already winning a spot. But beyond that, beyond this good cause and this contest for social responsibility and global citizenship, is my passion to make a positive difference. I’m flailing.

Flailing but not Failing

I don’t care about material wealth. I don’t care about success in the typical Western sense. Marrying rich, winning the lottery, or having a six-figure income was never a desire, even when I was a kid. I have no job. I will run out of funds if I can’t find a way to make more money soon. Despite all that, I’m doing shit for free. I’m designing, coding, and writing with the good intention that I’m volunteering and making a positive difference with my skills, somehow. I’m doing it with the perhaps naive, but hopeful intention that everything will work out and life magically works in your favor if you “plant good seeds” and make positive connections. I’m doing it with the realization that if I can do this shit for free then I can most definitely do this with a passion that rivals the work-drone life and love my work!

I wear my “goals” not on my sleeve, but on my forehead and try to live my day-to-day with those goals in mind; guided as if by my third eye. First: “bootstrap my career”. Then: “change the world”. I’m still trying to figure out how; romantic, idealist that I am. I’m doing it on a smaller scale, by trying to make the daily choice to go vegetarian, an all around better lifestyle for eco-consciousness. But I’m struggling to find a larger scale. To be a part of something bigger than myself. I don’t want self delusions of grandeur, or worldly acclaim. This isn’t about me. It’s about trying to make a big difference that goes beyond my human existence and lifetime. Maybe that means raising a strong, independent, daughter adopted from China, or raising my own birth-child. Maybe that means traveling the world and building my web, creating a non-profit that impacts relevant global issues. Maybe that means winning the Your Big Year contest and taking part in conservation projects, teaching in Ecuador, and working with tribal communities. Maybe it means “settling down” in one location, community building, and making a difference in the local scene. Maybe it’s a combination of all these things, or maybe none. I don’t know. Whatever it is, I will not give up. I’m too stubborn to quit, and I will let my “third eye” guide me. My inner compass, my intuition. I have a feeling, as crazy as it sounds, that I am meant to do this. I just need to figure out what specifically “this” is… Even when it feels like I’m going nowhere, but going in circles I tell myself:

I may be flailing, but I’m not failing.

Because “failure” isn’t part of my vocabulary.

Flailing Isn’t Failing is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

[Buddha Statue on Etsy]

Speaking of being a slacker, after years of wanting to have an Etsy site up and freaking out if I could actually do it or not, I finally did. And the result is pretty anti-climatic. I spent all day fiddling with my pictures and trying to figure out which ones people might be interested in owning. I only came up with seven. Seven measly pictures! But they’re up. And I did it.

Solitary Panda on Etsy.

I’m not sure if I feel a sense of accomplishment or productivity or what. It feels a little shallow. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I have no idea if this will even make any money. And an unsteady business venture is pretty scary, I guess. This is just beer money charity. I don’t even like beer and I gave up my girly drinks lifestyle… the wine bitches were starting to feel oppressive. I don’t expect to make much money because I’m doing this to try to help raise money for charity.

Donate

There’s this really annoying widget on the right side of my blog that looks like an ad. It’s actually a call to donate for some charities I’m trying to fundraise for. See, I’m participating in a travel contest to try to win an amazing year-long round the world trip; meeting world leaders and entrepreneurs to try to make a positive difference in this world. The top 6 fundraisers win a trip to UK for semifinals to compete with 23 other hopefuls while participating in a week-long entrepreneurship/networking conference; two of which win the coveted grand prize. Think The Apprentice meets Amazing Race. I’m already in the top 6. If I can keep it up until October 10th, I’m going to UK! Even just getting there would be an amazing opportunity in itself! And it’s still +1 country I haven’t seen yet.

The Charities

I have chosen to fundraise for Oxfam, Children for Peace, and International Peace Parks Expedition. They help build friendship and reconciliation between Israel and Palestine (Children of Peace), eradicate poverty (Oxfam) and run experiential peacebuilding expeditions for youth impacted by conflict (International Peace Park Expeditions). Your donation, with a minimum amount of $5, could help these great causes as well as help me get to UK and keep my adventures going. Like Joel Runyon, I try to live a life worth writing about and if you like this blog, if you like me, if you like what I stand for, AND/OR if you like what these charities stand for, then consider donating. If you’re not into donating money on an online widget, and want to get a pretty picture instead, then buy some of my photograph prints! Either way, you are donating to charity (and to me, remember, I’m still funemployed).

Ethics

Now that I got that shameless plug out of the way, let me just tell you that I feel a bit sleazy. Even if it’s for charity and a “good cause”. Marketing, promoting, of any kind is hard for me. And I’m not sure if I’m good at it. And I’m not sure that I morally feel OK about it, either.

I’m not the most popular blogger with a big following or anything. I realize this post will probably result in not much. But I’m putting it out there. This trip would mean a lot to me…

But that’s just it. How fucking selfish is it to raise money for ME to win a trip? How genuine are my intentions? How genuine are anyone’s intentions who are trying to win? It’s like when people try to help others for the benefit of their own egos. To “make something of themselves”. To look good on their social media profiles (since resumes are dead). To gain merits via religion so that they can go to heaven or pureland or whatever they believe in. How genuine is it all, really? Is it OK to help others when the intentions are selfish?

I have a yearning to make a positive difference in this world. That’s a big reason why I decided to go vegetarian. By making positive choices in my day-to-day life, I am already helping “change the world” one small step at a time. I’d just like to do it on a bigger scale. Going to the UK, or dare I say, winning the round the world trip would be my gateway to this larger scale. I don’t care about material wealth. I don’t want to be successful, in the Western sense. I just want to make a difference. I’m still trying to figure out how.

The Panda on Etsy is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

Out of all the things I’m good at, I’m best at slacking. You know what I’m doing now? You guessed it. Slacking. Sure, I’m writing a blog post, which should be a sense of accomplishment since I’ve been slacking on that too, and I need to step it up on my blog again. But the reality is, I’m putting off something else. There’s always “something else” that I’m not doing and could/should be doing.

Slacking. It can be quite useful when you’re funemployed. But it might get you fired if you do have a job. In the hustle and bustle of the real world, I say, It’s good to be lazy every now and then! You need time to breathe, relax, and jerk slack off! Your body needs it. Your sanity needs it. And even your momma needs it. Not funny? Whatever.

I truly didn’t intend to make this a euphemism for masturbation but that’s kinda how I work, I guess. I just wanted this to be a cute, tongue-in-cheek entry and not necessarily in a pornographic way (Tongue-in-cheek…entry! Get it? Har. Har.). How to be a slacker is more than just porn, although that’s certainly a contributing factor! Here are my top ten ways to be a slacker.

1. More porn. Duh. I love porn. AND I’m a feminist! A sex-positive feminist who thinks more porn will do a body good. As opposed to milk. Although that could be hot. Ever seen a live cam girl pour milk all over her body? I have. For free. Suckas! (Note: Sucking is hot too. For free.)
2. Take a walk. Although this might seem like the complete opposite, most BORING thing ever as compared to porn, it actually works. It helps clear the mind, letting you refuel for more creative genius to rape your ego flow into your life in the form of: A-ha! (And not the 80s one-hit-wonder) I love this SO much that I’m going to take a 280km (that’s about 173 miles for you dumb Americans. It’s OK, I had to look it up too. Touché.) walk on the tropical island which inspired “The Beach” just to overdo myself and become an EPIC slacker.
3. Surf the internet. Surfing the internet (and NOT just porn sites because social media is now more popular than porn, thank you, but just as flagellating) is pretty much what I do all day. Is it unproductive? Maybe. But amidst this unproductivity is a sliver of information (through osmosis) that might be useful someday, stirring ideas and inspiration in a sort of brainstorming process.
4. Eat. Emotional eating is where it’s at. Just don’t get too fat. Especially if you want to look good naked. So you can fuck like a porn star. Wink.
5. Take yourself out. Dating yourself is the most awesome thing ever because it’s so liberating. Empowering. Do something fun to ease your mind off of stress. Try something new. Shake things up. Self-dates nurture your creativity.
6. Pull an all-nighter. Jack yourself up on caffeine and energy drinks and get ready to work on your last-minute project. The result of which could either be your most glorious work, if you’re into running on adrenaline and pulling an “A” out of your ass, OR a half-assed “E” for effort.
7. Sleep. I’ve covered eating, so now lets take a nap! Isn’t it funny how two most basic needs can go hand in hand with being a slacker? What does that say about society? Who always wants to do more, bigger, better, faster? Or religion? Who teaches us that things like gluttony and laziness are bad? Should I feel guilty for taking the time to rest my body? It’s a basic need for crying out loud! Thus concludes: religion is silly.
8. Daydream. Daydreaming is what you get in trouble for doing at school. But my mind always wanders off. Half the time I’m living life in my own little daydream. And you know what? I love it. I love being a space-cadette because I’m Interplanet Janet! Daydreaming is one of the keys to creativity. You can’t go wrong.
9. Meditate. I just came out of a four month Buddhist monastery program where we meditated every day for half an hour. It’s good shit. So good that I really miss it and need it back in my life. Meditation helps you calm, balance and face the day. I solve problems in my head, brainstorm, and think of old forgotten memories that surprise me all while meditating. If you’ve ever seen I Heart Huckabees and how random images fragment and defragment, it’s kind of like that.
10. Live on a tropical island. Every day is a vacation on a tropical island paradise! Things are slower-paced here and laziness is part of the culture. Soak in the sun and live, laugh, love.

Being a slacker doesn’t have to mean being unproductive. The western world puts a lot of emphasis and value on productivity but there needs to be a balance between work and stasis too. Rest can be just as productive as work, as your body, mind, and spirit need to recharge. Empty the cup before you can fill it.

How To Be a Slacker is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

So, the fact that I admit to the entire internet (HI!) that I’m a closet freak is pretty much an oxymoron.

It’s like these two superheroes dueling it out, IN ME. I am the superhero. I wear a cape and call myself SuperJanet! This is what I’d tell myself when I was in highschool stressing out about stupid highschool shit. And then I’d make stuff happen and get things done.

SuperJanet.

Anyway. I’m a closet freak. Not to be confused by SUPER freak (*sing* Superfreak!)! I don’t think I’m there yet. I appear sweet and innocent on the exterior. And I am, I guess. I’m pretty prude and puritanical. There’s that side of me. More conservative than most. And I know her quite well. She doesn’t want to have sex unless she’s in a relationship. She thinks anything less is meaningless and unfulfilling. She thinks sex can become needy, unhealthy, suffering. And I get that. I do. This is the side of me that rules… But, there’s this other side of me too. And I don’t know why my writing is becoming so schizo lately. Between Buddha Nature and perfectly at peace with myself there’s this other side…

There’s layers to me. Maybe I’m not willing to give up my walls because I like my layers. I’m complex. You can’t figure me out. I like it that way. I don’t want to be with some dumb little shit. You gotta have at least some intelligence to figure me out.

Beneath my sweet exterior is a bit of a masochist. A girl who likes it rough and tumble. A girl who can take some pain. Who likes girth (and her vibrator collection). Forwards and backwards. Thinks tantric sex is the best spiritual practice ever. Abhors abstinence education. Looks both ways. Loves to give (and swallow). Writes raw, sexual thoughts in her journals that could be starts to erotica stories… Is willing to explore… And is more open to open relationships than she used to think possible.

The conservative in her thinks deep down she’s a monogamous girl… But the masochist in her thinks threesomes could be great as the “third”.

I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m not sure why I’m so confused. With powerful sexual prowess just waiting to explode and shy, timid, submissive Asian ready to live as a spinster. Maybe it has something to do with my unexplored bisexuality. Keeping this side of me so dormant, hidden, for years is strangling my sense of self. Maybe I just need to let loose. Open the floodgates. But, I’m scared. I admit I’m scared.

I’m scared of a lot of things. I’m scared of committing. I’m scared of taking leaps of faith. I’m scared that no matter how “open” I say I am with my sexuality, the actuality is that I’m not. Because I’m all talk and no action. I’ve never had a threesome. I’ve never had casual sex. I’ve never been with a woman. And the thought of that seems wrong. Like it’s OK, even beautiful, for others to be gay, but it’s not OK for me? I don’t know. I talk about it so openly sometimes… But when it comes down to it, I’m scared to be with a woman.

I had a crush on a girl once who rejected me. She said she doesn’t like bisexuals. I got over her and wrote her off as an elitist lesbian, but she had a point. I probably wouldn’t want to go out with anyone who admits they want to “experiment” either, least of all not anyone who admits they’re confused… But it’s not just that. I’m not a casual girl… It scares me to think that I could fall in love with a woman. I’m not sure if I could, but maybe. Is it wrong for me because I’m not actually gay? I feel more straight than gay but with this undiscovered piece of the puzzle, how can I really be so sure? I check out women more than I do men, but I emotionally attach to men more than I do with women… The way that I crush on men is completely different than the way I crush on women, and the way my attraction sticks with men makes me feel I am definitely more hetero inclined.

Sexuality is fluid to me but I am not fluid when it comes to sexuality. Why else would I feel so confused? It’s not just gender. It’s the way I express things. It’s open vs. monogamous. It’s casual vs. serious. It’s friends with benefits vs. coupled. It’s kinky vs. …not kinky. It’s trying to decide where I fit in all of this. It’s being so damn wary to figure any of it out. Thinking maybe the spinster life isn’t so bad after all. It’s easy. Safe. But ultimately less rewarding.

I need to take leaps of faith. I need to go crazy. And I need to come out of the closet.

It’s the only way I can figure myself out.

I’m a (Closet) Freak is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

I’m a solo traveler, but I’m never alone. Let me explain.

I flew to India by myself with a one-way ticket to the Philippines. I’m in this adventure myself. I don’t have a travel partner to worry about or have to compromise my plans for. The things I do and the places I see are completely up to me to decide and plan.

Travel Groups

Despite all that, I have chosen to travel with travel groups, or organized tours so that I wouldn’t have to experience a country by myself. India was my first country outside of the Philippines and USA–where I was born and where I grew up, respectively–that I’ve traveled to, and I chose to do it solo. I joined a volunteer group which is to say that I had to pay for my volunteer experience. There are much cheaper ways to volunteer for free, but you won’t get them in groups! Think of volunteer groups as an alternative tourist package. I met a lot of interesting and new friends that I can come home to (“home” is subjective but in this case, the states) and hope to see again. Deciphering India by myself seemed way too overwhelming to me as a newbie traveler so I joined a group. There’s no shame in travel groups and tours! I like to experience something different than the usual tourist, and I tend to think of “tourist” as an insult, but when it comes down to it, travel groups can be useful ways to see a country. The advantage of groups is that you don’t have to worry about planning the trip; the trip is planned for you! This is a huge plus for someone like me, who is a horrible planner that it’s a wonder I even got this far and made it to the other side (of the world). With groups, you can sit back and relax and trust that things are taken care of. No stress!

During my experience, we had host families so that we could experience cultural immersion rather than a cold, westernized hotel room. I shared the home-living experience with three other volunteers and I will never forget the warm hospitality of drinking masala tea served every morning by our host dad. We were allowed to go out after our volunteer hours and explore the city by ourselves. Again, with the volunteers that I learned to love, I was never alone in the whirlwind of busy streets and chaotic traffic.

Expat Life

I don’t know whether I should call myself a traveler or an ex-pat. I’m stuck between the concept of “traveling” and the concept of “moving” to another place. But one thing is clear: I am a nomad. With my one-way ticket to the Philippines, I showed up in the airport with my signature dirty feet leftover from India’s dust and met my extended family. I must have looked like a total bum but I’m used to it now. How to travel in style is definitely not my forte and I’m left to throwing my previous work/consumption lifestyle completely away and sometimes wishing I had it all back just so that I could feel a bit more “put together”. For two months, I was at constant attention around my family when I found a Chinese Buddhist retreat (Ch’an style, which is the same as Japanese Zen) to whisk me away for four months at the temple in the world’s 3rd largest Catholic country. The journey there was accompanied by another girl who had joined the retreat and who I met prior during our interview. I always try to find ways to travel with others despite being a “solo” traveler, and my aunts make sure I’m being properly chaperoned in their overprotective way that makes me feel I am 17 again, and not 27.

Based in a temple, I was constantly around people 24/7 and living with 8–12 others in the program. We started in Bacolod City, Philippines and ended up in Manila. Six of us decided to take the opportunity to go to Taiwan for more temple hopping as we stayed in the headquarter monastery and then took an organized tour. I am now based in Manila, back in the temple, and volunteering while I figure out my next moves financially. I’m setting up a bit of a home-base here while I figure out dual-citizenship so I can be more of a global citizen. International and all that.

Friendships and Affinities

As I make friends along my journey, being alone is never an issue. Whenever I go out, I am always in the company of other people and the rare times that I am not, I take my own cab or walk the city streets as if it were my home. And it is, for now. The key to traveling solo and never being alone is creating friendships and affinities with people, both locals and travelers. I think of my current life as akin to moving to a new place on my own. Do you make new friends? Find local events and groups? I’m comfortable alone just as much as I’m comfortable with people. Sometimes, I’m even more comfortable alone than with people due to my introverted tendencies. Traveling gives you a bigger playing field but to me it’s just the same as moving to a new place and making new friends. The trick is being on the move, and finding opportunities with others that involve new places and adventures.

How To Travel Solo and Never Be Alone is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

I’m taking a long fucking stroll to nowhere. It’s been over 6 months of funemployment and I’m still surviving. Thriving. But how do you move across the world with no money, no job, and survive? I know my circumstances are unique. Not everyone can just up and move across the world. Quit their jobs, sell their possessions. I flew to Asia with less than $1,000 to my name and no plans on when to return. Is it clueless? Is it stupid? Is it crazy? I got more funds since then but the need for funds to keep me afloat is daunting my sense of time and space. With November looming ahead, my student loans which are currently frozen, will begin again.

I can’t speak for others, but I can only provide my own experience. With no formal plans on my travel adventures, I found myself in situations that provided me the most optimal ways of living and traveling on the cheap.

Traveling on the Cheap

For four months, I’ve been living in Buddhist temples to study Mandarin Chinese, Buddhism, and practice meditation. This zen retreat program has been entirely free of charge and I’m grateful for the experience. It has been life changing and I can honestly say that I feel like a new woman. More on that later. Living under the monastery walls has kept me well fed, a budding vegetarian, and my basic needs taken care of, and then some. For four months, my spending has been next to none. Small monthly allowances were given, and I felt a sense of productivity, responsibility and minor volunteering that could carry over as skills in the “real world”.

On August 6th, having been associated with the temple, I got an opportunity to fly to Taiwan where I’m currently at, and attend an International Youth Seminar Buddhist conference at the headquarter monastery for the Buddhist organization that sponsored the zen retreat. The cost of the plane ticket was the only expense I needed to worry about which is a lot cheaper since I’m already in SE Asia. Some spending money for Taiwan was provided by the temple, as well as a scholarship grant of $300 from the conference (an unexpected surprise) that covered the cost of my plane ticket and then some. Yes, I’m bragging, but this experience has been entirely FREE.

Couchsurfing

For those who are unenlightened, couchsurfing is a website network that links travelers together for free accommodations and newfound friends. The idea of sleeping at a stranger’s home might sound weary to some, but the site is set up like a Facebook page for travelers. People can add comments about each other to review their experience and rate you as “positive” or “negative”. The more positive reviews you get, the more trustworthy you seem to others. The network also has an optional system for validating your identities. The opportunity to meet new people–strangers–means the opportunity for making friends.

While I have little personal experience with couchsurfing, I have met many avid couchsurfers who travel solely using this network and live by it as a valid nomad lifestyle. It is a great way to share cultures, make new friends, and travel cheaply.

Freelancing

Freelancing keeps me afloat and gives me enough funds to survive, though not enough to live on should I decide to go back to the decadent American lifestyle. My skills are already set and primed for a travel/nomad lifestyle. Everything I can do is online-based. From web design, social media, graphic design and writing, the myriad of options that I have are optimal for all sorts of projects. Now I just have to implement them, start working, build up my funds to travel sufficiently, and start moving again.

A Long Stroll to Nowhere

The longer I’m in Asia, the more the nomadic lifestyle appeals to me as a longer-term way of life. No permanent address, but “homebases” in the Philippines and Oregon, where my family lives, respectively. It’s a dynamic way to live. Where complacency and being static and “settling down” are scary concepts for me, the exact opposite is where my heart is. Home isn’t a place for me now, but a sense of contentedness in people and my changing surroundings.

I prefer slower travel. Staying in one place from six months to one year at a time. Hopping around and exploring each countries’ surroundings while finding a temporary base to live. Sometimes, I feel like a loser at life because I don’t have anything that I could call a “career” at this point, and my state of confusion over what to do with my life is constantly on my mind. But what I’m doing now is perfect, and at the end of the day, I still have a roof over my head and food to eat. I don’t aspire for material wealth, and poverty is a choice. My life is new and exciting every day, filled with good people and lots of laughter. I’m rarely alone, and rarely lonely. I can’t say I have much to complain about.

A Long Stroll To Nowhere is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

OK. So I feel constipated again. Emotionally. Or whatever. And my blog sucks with that kind of thing because blog articles are just different. They can’t be mind dumps. I mean, maybe they can be. But not the kind of blog I have. Ugh. I almost wish it was web 1.0 again when blogs WERE just mind dumps and no one cared. But now, it has to be something polished and nice. It has to be engaging. You have to think about your audience. Whatever. I wasn’t even going to talk about bloggging. So I should stop now. On to the next topic…

What was I going to write about? I want to write about so much I don’t even know where to start. This is one of those FUCK ME IN THE ASS WITH A SPOON moments. It’s my own phrase I made up. I like it. You can’t steal it. You can’t steal the spoon, either. There is no spoon.

Fuck. See this isn’t what I was going to write about either. Matrix. WTF? Drivel. Just useless drivel. I’m being a dumbass. I’m just prolonging and avoiding what I want to write about. Because that’s what I do. OK. So lets cut through this bullshit. I need a therapist. Lets just get that straight. I miss having a therapist and I fucking need another therapist. That’s the one thing that sucks about third world countries. There are NO therapists! And despite how HAPPY I proclaim to be at this point of my life, and I am. I’m fucking happy. I really am. No joke. Despite all that though, I STILL feel like I need a therapist. Why? Needing a therapist isn’t admitting that you’re fucking messed up. But, maybe I am. Needing a therapist just means you’ve got some shit that you’d like sorted out in your head.

I’ve got some shit that I’d like sorted out in my head. I guess that’s the point of this entry. What shit?

If we go deep deep deep, I’ve always been an introvert. Maybe partly by personality and partly because I’m an only child. It’s been hard. I always wanted a brother or sister for Christmas, not one of those cool, fancy new toys. Yeah, I admit I wanted a playmate in the form of sibling. But it’s not like I didn’t have any friends. There were neighbor boys. Or girls. I became friends with one kid named Brent because he shared my last name, and wasn’t that something? We’d play dominoes together. He’d visit his grandma or maybe it was his babysitter that was my neighbor. I don’t know. He was around a lot.

I don’t really want to drivel on about my childhood. But suffice it to say, I was shy. Painfully shy. The kind of shy where I was basically mute. Even in highschool, despite how hard I tried to “grow out of my shell” and become a “social butterfly”, the thought of speaking to boys made my hands sweat, my heart pump louder, and my mouth dry. And that was EVEN if I found them fucking horrible to look at. Meaning, it could be ANY male species and not just someone I thought was hot or had a crush on at the moment. Anyway, that fucking sucked.

I’ve tried all my life basically to “grow out of my shell”. I’m an adult now. I’m almost 30. All of a sudden, I’m in my “late twenties”. That kind of shit just creeps up on you. It’s not that I’m dreading 30. I’m actually looking forward to the 30s. Two words. SEXUAL PEAK! There will be a lot of “making love” in my 30s. I can guarantee you that. Fuck yeah!

But, the thing about 30 is, I’m an ADULT now. And the farther away I am from my 20s, the more “adult” life just seems to get. You have no excuses anymore. You can’t act like a dumb little shit because you’re 20. That may have been cool when you were 20, and the 20s afford you those little mistakes and “lessons”. And it’s not like you have to be PERFECT in your 30s. I’m not saying that. There are still a lot of dumb people in their 30s, 40s, 50s, and beyond. I don’t know. I guess I’m just saying you have to own yourself a bit more though. And my entire childhood was spent in depression and angst and being a “victim” which is entirely immature pre-fabricated mind shit. A change of perspective would do me good and NOW. Now I don’t even sweat when I talk to guys. I’m not nervous. And I know how to carry on a conversation, for the most part (I won’t lie that I can still seem socially awkward). I LIKE meeting new people. Life is peachy and I’m no longer a victim, but the master of my own destiny. No, I haven’t been reading self-help books. OK, maybe I’ve been reading new-agey books. Which is probably even worst.

Fuck being a victim. Being in the temple, I feel like a new woman. One of the monks pulled me aside one day and said I needed to “talk more”. That I needed to spread my joy and friendliness. That I’m a nice girl, a good girl. But I just needed to share. Quit hiding behind my walls. Because essentially, there’s nothing to hide. It got to me a bit. It reminded me of those mute days. And how far I still need to go, I guess. How much I still need to just LET GO. All that emotional baggage. I need to stop carrying it now. But whatever. I’ll take that not as a downer, but as something positive. I’ve got a lot to give, and YES, I want to share. I’m reborn now. It’s so cliche, but it’s true. I’ve come a long way.

Mute is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

Look at me. I’m all holy and shit. Instead of masturbating at night, I rub my Buddhist prayer beads and silently chant “Omituofo” in my head. As if that’s somehow going to rub me more pure. This religion stuff is seriously making me feel a bit crazy. And not even in a bad way. Or a good way. It’s just… way. Like, totally tubular! No way! Way! Crazy. I don’t know.

I was a bad Catholic. I mean, I’m not particularly Catholic and lets face it. I never was… When mom forced me to go to church as a kid, I would sing the hymns loudly. Only instead of singing the words in the book, if I was feeling particularly ornery, I would sing the words on the plaques against the wall instead.

In dedication to… blahblahblah. In memory of…!

When she asked me to pray the rosary (or whatever you call the ritual) with her, I begrudgingly obliged. The rosary is friggen LONG. Each bead represents one Hail Mary or Our Father or I don’t even know. I would rush through my prayers and talk like one of those speedy infomercial guys that would read through all the disclaimers.

I don’t know about you, but that’s way more effort than saying “Omituofo!” for every bead I rub.

I like the word rub. But every time I type it it’s making me feel a little bit hornier. Rub. Rub. Rub-a-dub-dub. I’m a genie in a bottle, baby. Gotta rub me the right way, honey. Actually, rub-a-dub-dub makes me think of Bert and Ernie. Way to go word association and wandering minds mixed with stream of consciousness writing! But I bet Bert and Ernie were gay, weren’t they? That’s some nice rub-a-dub-dub action. Showers are immaculate. Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Wink, wink.

I used to live with a gay couple. I’d hear them having sex sometimes and then I’d smile like Amelie and think about how many other people were getting it on and having orgasms at this exact moment. I like it when I hear other people having sex. Like in hotel rooms on the other side of a very thin wall. It makes me smile and laugh and maybe even rub myself. Ha. This entry is pretty much filth and I love it. I could use a little more filth in my life. All this purity shit is making feel unbalanced. Instability in too much stability. Something like that.

Before I came here, I vowed I’d be completely celibate. As in, no masturbation. You know how celibate (as in, no dick in vagina) I’ve been? Long enough for me to go crazy. But not as long as one of my exes (five years!!), who is waiting for that special someone and super picky and trying to woo a super Christian Nepali girl who doesn’t want to have sex until she gets married. I only mention she’s Nepali because I don’t think many Nepalese are Christian. Way to go, proselytizing Christians! That’s +1 for the Christ team!

Anyway, good luck with that, buddy. We still talk online, sometimes, and it’s this weird relationship of whose “breasts looked so hot I wanna suck them” and “you don’t even have a chance with him/her!” and fuck no I’m not giving you a second chance, don’t even think about it. We talk about stupid shit a lot.

I guess I’m super picky too, but I don’t want to wait. As in, I don’t want to wait for Romeo or Knight in Shining Armour dude or whatever ridiculous fairy tale I’m supposed to buy into. I ain’t no damsel here! I’m living my own life. I don’t want to wait to have sex, either. I’m trying to transcend. Except, I’m not even sure of what. Dicks in vaginas? Masturbation? Romance? Relationships? Love? Sex? Desire?

They feed me desire. Desire is the cause of all suffering. Second Noble Truth. I guess that’s true. Sure. But why can’t I have desire? What’s so wrong about suffering? Sometimes I enjoy it. Men are worth a little suffering. I want to shake the boat a little. The waters are too calm. I need some drama in my life. That’s what I think. But there’s a part of me that also thinks I want to transcend all this drama. That I don’t need any one and that relationships are futile and full of suffering and why even bother?

How do I merge my two extremes? Converge them into something healthy. How can I be so sexual and yet so born-again virgin? I don’t even get myself sometimes.

I’m All Holy and Shit is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

Why am I single? Well, there’s the fact that I live in a monastery which is kind of inappropriate for macking (not that I know how to appropriately “mack”). And there’s also the fact that I left a five year long relationship that defined my early 20s and I’m maybe too tired, afraid, or unable to see how going through all that bullshit is worth it again. It’s been almost two years since I broke up with my last boyfriend. He had just flown back to the US after a work trip to Romania and had been awake for 36 hours straight. Imagine the exhaustion and finally coming home to your girlfriend who gives you the cold shoulder when talking about his experiences to his immediate family gathered in the kitchen table; girlfriend silently walking out of the room. Imagine finally getting time alone together when girlfriend suddenly yells “I can’t take this anymore! I want out! I want to BREAK UP!!!” and starts crying in an uncontrollable mess. How would you handle that?

While that probably wasn’t the most compassionate way to break-up, that’s what I did. Whoops. Better luck next time. I tried to take it back. I tried to explain I was only crying wolf, that I just wanted to fix our relationship and make it better. But how do you fix something after an emotional trauma like that? I should have known better than to interrogate his deprived senses and yell at him like I did. Looking back, I see how completely immature and selfish I was.

I didn’t like my life and I knew it had to change. I didn’t like myself. I wasn’t strong. I was self-depreciating. Self-destructive. And ultimately self-centered. I was in a rut; spiritually, emotionally and mentally and knew that there has to be something more than this. I was operating out of the basis of fear and I knew that I wanted to operate on the basis of love. So, I changed.

We both wanted change, but I was convinced that change had to happen on our own separate paths. It’s too hard balancing a relationship, participating, when your goals transcend the relationship. Nearly two years later, I am still trying to transcend. It’s been a spiritual journey from the moment I “cried wolf”. It’s lead me half-way across the world, from North America, to Asia (when I asked myself “What the hell should I do next!?” in a crying stupor, intuition told me to move to the Philippines, where I was born). And through an unplanned form of events, its lead me to a four-month long Zen monastery retreat.

One of my friends at the retreat has a shirt with nuns standing side by side and “All the Single Ladies” captioned underneath. It’s funny. And it’s maybe not entirely untrue with my life at the moment. When I say “transcend” I mean transcending the life of impermanence and illusion that we are all living. Suddenly, relationships aren’t even on my plane of existence and I could seemingly care less, except that I do. I still do. Something in me still wants to believe in that healthy communion between man and woman, or woman and woman, or even man to man. Something in me still wants to believe that life, suffering and men are worth it. I don’t want to become a nun, I’m ready for another round. I want to face my fears and be vulnerable again. I want to bring my walls down, my fucking fortresses. But see. I don’t exactly need sex or love to break them down, I just need to interact more with people. Learn how to love fully and break out of my shell.

I’m telling myself I’m having an Eat, Pray, Love adventure, but I’m still at “pray”. I’m a monogamous girl. I’m either in a relationship, or I’m not. There’s no stage of in between with me because I hate dating, and flings, ultimately aren’t fulfilling. Emotionally, I know I’m ready for another relationship but I may not be in the right location for one. A life of impermanence, made obvious by a travel lifestyle, isn’t exactly the best way to start relationships, but ex-pats, and fellow travelers seem tempting… At this point, I’m still commitmentphobic, but I think I can revise my idea of “friends with benefits” as OK and even healthy. How’s that for transcendence?

All the Single Ladies is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA

[ enjoy this aural backdrop for your reading pleasure. or not. ]

Seriously. What the hell do you DO with a philosophy degree!? I love philosophy. And some days I dream about going back to school and majoring in some random subject that has absolutely no pertinence to my “field” (as if my funemployed ass has a field… but if it did it would be arts/design) like Anthropology! Or Philosophy! Or maybe even Psychology! Something holds me back, though. For one thing, student loans are a big pain in my ass and I don’t want to go through that again. Something’s gotta be REALLY good to sacrifice my time and money (debt) on and there’s this thing in the West called Being Practical that rears its ugly head on my (highly Western) rational mind.

Being Practical

Common Western thought thinks for anything regarding learning to have any value at all, it has to be applicable to your career. Career building! What can you get out of the course, the workshop, the conference? How can this help you as a professional? This is how we get ahead in life, in society, in our social ladder. This is how we build Egos and a sense of self. The whole thing kind of makes me sick because I hate the so-called “rat race” yet here I am, still bound by conventional thinking when I think in “practical” terms and hesitate taking college classes for the sheer notion of being genuinely interested in it, regardless of the fact that it has nothing to do with my “career”.

Despite my resistance to the “status-quo”, I still have constructs built by conventional society! On one hand, being practical is a valid concern when paying for courses which may not pay back, in the long run. The good thing about learning things applicable to your career is that you can consider it an investment in your work/business/etc. that will have practical benefits that should ultimately help you pay back the load. Taking a course or deciding to major in something that may not have monetary value in terms of your career is like having to pay for something recreational, with no guarantee that you’ll be able to pay it back. I don’t know about you, but it’s hard for me to spend anything over $1,000 for recreation. Just thinking about my Macbook Pro, which technically was supposed to be this career-building Potential(!) but ultimately just an excuse to buy a really good computer, is hard enough.

The practical antidote to this problem is to simply forgo conventional (brick and mortar) education and start hitting the books yourself. Who says classroom lectures, essays and collecting fancy pieces of paper with the seal of approval that you graduated have to be the only way to learn a subject you’re passionate about? As children, we are guided through school and life by teachers, parents, pastors and other authority figures. This is needed in our mental and emotional growth in order to shape us into healthy, contributing citizens, but as adults, we can be our own authority figures. Learning a subject on your own time shows you’re a self-starter, diligent, and passionate about your topic. It’s also a lot easier on your wallet.

What good is a major in philosophy, other than the self-important prestige of knowing you’re technically more educated? College often seems like an Ego’s food for thought; stroking the intellect’s mindgasm. The proverbial pat on the back that no one really cares about except for yourself. That self-centered sense of entitlement to add on your resume. These do nothing compared to life experience.

What the hell do you do with a philosophy major, really? How does that translate into the work field? For something which has no guarantee for job relevancy, you might as well skip academia and do-it-yourself DIY style. Going against convention might mean skipping the university and opting for an alternative.

Existentialism

My alternative came in the form of Eros, or lover. For me, a lot of my philosophy “intro” had to do in large part by a cohabiting relationship. Existentialism was the main course. Through him, I learned all about Sarte and Camus and their friendship and fall. I learned about Sarte’s relationship with Simone de Beauvoir and her groundbreaking book for Feminism, The Second Sex. I learned about Sisyphus and his rock and that life is absurd. I learned that everything is meaningless and that existence comes before essence. Through this modern standpoint, we would offshoot into postmodernism and simulacra. He showed me such films like Waking Life, an animated dream within a dream existentialist trip, and classics that delved into Life and Death like The Seventh Seal. We laughed the loudest in the indie theater while viewing I Heart Huckabees for the first time, and made out to the aural ambiance of Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance. He encouraged me to read Camus’ The Fall, and The Stranger and Dostoevsky’s Notes From the Underground; some of which have now become my favorite books. I like Existentialism like I like Buddhism. Free-will and master of our own destinies! What a big, but empowering burden to impart. The philosophy works as an “intro”, but for me, that’s as far as it goes.

Hardcore Existentialists, like my boyfriend at the time who believed himself to be Sisyphus, are just too myopic in scale to make me a believer in Existentialism as a proper framework for living my life. For one, the philosophy is modern–a baby in the timeline of human thinking born from a culture of war–that it fails to provide a broader scope of reasoning. To put it in laymen terms, existentialists are annoying, whiny and fucking sticks in the mud! All this talk about Absurdity! Despair! Meaninglessness! Abandonment! It’s enough to make a girl feel incredibly alienated and Alone. Especially when placed with a boyfriend who focused on meaninglessness, detachment and alienation (the desert wanderer). I had had enough and while I am grateful for my philosophical education, shall we say, I’m glad I’ve graduated from that particular school of life. As my friend, and Philo major says regarding Existentialism, “It’s a fun run!”

Indeed.

I’m a thinker by nature, so philosophy is right up my alley. I love critical and creative thinking* and feel that these tools give you the basic life arsenal to live a meaningful life and carve out your own path. As Plato said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.”

*This was a course I actually did take in college, which was philosophy, particularly Kant (if you want to know Stick in the Mud then fucking go read Kant and then go fuck a cunt; you’ll feel better) and Nietzsche, in disguise. I got an A.

What Do You Do With a Philosophy Degree is a post from: THE SOLITARY PANDA