Blender Pizza

Last night, as I was doing my usual doomscrolling of social media before bed, a cousin on my dad’s side reached out to me. “Hey is your dad all right? We’ve been trying to reach him. Tell him to call Uncle in California.” At first I thought maybe something had happened to Uncle, and then realized that my relatives were worried about my dad! A bit alarmed, I called him and got this weird robot message: “the number you have dialed has calling restrictions.”

I messaged him and emailed, texted my stepmom – nothing. I figured it was late, so I probably wouldn’t hear from him till morning; I told my cousin this and tried my best to go to sleep. I really don’t talk to my dad that often, though I had just texted him last Wednesday. He’d sent me a truly cheesy heart necklace for my birthday, in the style of one of those Facebook t-shirts, with every cheesy and generic dad sentiment crammed into wavy font lines, and it was simultaneously sweet and cringe. I stashed the heart pendant into one of my many cluttered drawers, next to random USB cables. I had texted him a thank you, but was too busy arguing with people on the Internet to give him a proper call back.

Of course, 2020 being the WORST YEAR EVER, the worst case scenarios kept cycling through my mind. Could I send one of my cousins or aunties to go check on him in Wichita? What if both he and my stepmom had COVID, and then exposed my aunt? What if a serial axe murderer had gotten to them? It’s not like that sort of thing is totally unheard of in Wichita. I kicked myself for not ever taking a photo of the list of emergency contacts in my dad’s cupboard, which included his neighbors’ names and phone numbers.

I made a hasty, not-thought-through plan to drop off Oliver at my sister’s and drive cross country. A bit of a rough solo trip prior to COVID, but in these times? I don’t love the idea of being Asian and having to stop at truck stops in redneck areas to get gas or use the bathroom. (Silver lining, gas is cheap?)

In the morning, I tried to do yoga and not feel immense daughter-guilt at not having called him. I was trying to do downward dog and holding back tears, when suddenly the Facetime call came in. It was my dad, and he was fine – he had just done a very him thing and had blocked ALL incoming calls because he was getting tired of robocalls about the upcoming election. “Okay, Dad, but you had us all worried there.” 😂

We then caught up – he’s doing fine, except his face is still a bit swollen from some tooth extraction he had the last time I’d talked to him. Again, given that we don’t chat that often, I found this a little alarming. He’s been understandably wary of going in for procedures in COVID-times, but he does have a check-up scheduled at least. He complained about eating nothing but soup and Ensure for the past few months. “I miss meat,” he said. (He can’t have fresh veggies very easily either, but doesn’t miss those).

“I tried to eat pizza,” he said, and when I quizzed him about how, he mentioned that he had blended a pizza in the blender. Pepperoni and grease and all. “How in the world did that taste?” He said “it all right, not too bad,” which can’t be at all true. He is also thinking about trying the same experiment, but with a banh mi sandwich, which he also misses.

Despite being third-party witness to this food crime, I’m ever grateful to have my dad here on Earth – still being, you know, my dad. 🍕

“Ask, and ye shall receive”

Two things in my head this a.m.:

  1. When I go to blog, my fingers retain the memory of my old defunct and dead badmetaphor, and still type that in. I wish I had done a more responsible job of backing that data up…
  2. This amazing breakdown between “Ask” and “Guess” culture. It describes two types of communication styles – “Ask” being the more direct, straightforward, ask for what you want; “Guess” being the more indirect. I grew up in “Guess” culture for sure, and that’s the communication style I’m most comfortable with. But communicating that way has caused me so many issues in my relationships throughout my life. Lately I’ve been pushing myself to be more of an “Ask” person, but it definitely feels psychically draining, like an introvert trying to be an extrovert. Having this vocabulary and perspective would have been supremely helpful ten years ago, if not even earlier.


Michelle Obama, our First Lady Forever and Queen, mentioned recently that she is suffering from a low-grade depression.

Off and on since the start of the pandemic really hitting here, I’ve felt waves / phases of just overwhelming fatigue. At first I was convinced it was a COVID-19 symptom that hadn’t been discovered yet, but a friend of mine pointed out that it was probably depression, and yeah, he’s probably right?

It feels like being trapped in very dense cotton. I have things to do but my body and my mind won’t cooperate. It’s frustrating, or really should be, but instead of the feeling of frustration, there’s just a big ol’ void of nothing.

I feel extra empathetic towards anyone I’ve ever collaborated with or worked with who has gone through this, and still pushed through. This is…not great! These waves usually pass, though, and that’s something to hold onto.


I miss blogging! It’s kind of nice to have a safe space to vent and curate my thoughts, and/or vomit them into the aether, for passersby to read or not (most likely, not). Anything tagged “detritus” will be just stuff that’s brain vomit, a demon I had to let seep out via jabbing a tamping iron in my head. Anything that’s “longform” will be things I thought about over and over again, and will probably have a minimum of 1,265 post edits. You can maybe guess which one this is before looking at the tags.

On the Blog Again

I’ve been making some changes to the layout of this site, mainly to get it portfolio ready. I’ve only been dragging my heels about this, for a year? To document all the art and things I’ve been doing. The biggest hurdle being the feeling that this site must be fully formed, sprung from my forehead a la Athena; meanwhile I’ll put any damn thought that flits across my mind on Zuckerbook. Instead of my own site, which I pay to maintain? Because of course that makes sense.

Look for more content in this space! (And please don’t be mad at me if it’s not here, and I fall through again. It’s…a challenging time.)