Category: People

Where Do Ideas Come From?

Alex Matsuo

Here we are almost half way done with August.  How is it that summer is almost over?  I haven’t posted in quite some time mainly due to the fact that I’ve gotten extremely busy in the last few months unexpectedly.  Busy is good.  Very good.

I’ve been pondering the idea of…well, ideas.  I’ve been thinking about the origin of ideas lately and wondering where the most brilliant ones come from.  I tend to find inspiration from brainstorming with my friends and colleagues.  I also find inspiration in nature and people watching.  People watching truly is fascinating if you want to learn about mankind.  There are so many different people, and each individual human being has their own expanded story waiting to be told.  There are so many dynamics and different levels of energy out there in the world.

I was also talking to a few other people and we discussed how drugs may have had a lot to do with some of the more brilliant ideas.  Can we only achieve genius with outside influences?  Do they unlock a part of our brain that is untapped when we’re sober?

This is a short blog, but I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions as to where ideas come from.

The Poetic Nature of Prayer

Alex Matsuo

I grew up very religious.  Prayer was a daily routine that happened several times a day.  I went to church multiple times a week, had my Bible glued to my hip, sang worship songs, and joined numerous ministries in the process.  But about three years ago, I stopped going to church.  I lost my faith in God.  I thought I had faith; I prayed, was in ministry, etc.  People talked about the love of God.  I never experienced that “power” or that thing that moved people to tears.  I experienced the love of friendship, love of family, the love of strangers.  But I didn’t feel that supernatural love of God that I watched people experience in church.  Perhaps at that time, my perspective was extremely limited and skewed because I was young and rather ignorant.  Then an event happened in my life where I had had it.  I was being dealt a lot of bad cards in the last few years, and watched people I love get persecuted, and then finally I threw my Bible down and said, “Screw it.”

Ironically, I’ve been much happier since I walked away from the church.  I’ve met more interesting people than I ever imagined meeting.  I’ve learned about different religions and the different beliefs in God really fascinate me.  While I consider myself a Christian, because I still believe in Jesus and His love, I’ve found myself wandering trying to find God.  Trying to find this higher power that people are so touched by.

But when was the last time I prayed to talk to God?  It’s been a while.  I have become someone who has decided to make things happen for herself because faith isn’t enough.  And I’ve been more productive since having that change of mindset.  I don’t want to say that I’ve been disappointed in the God that I’ve grown up with, but in truth, I really am.  And I’m specifying the God that I’ve grown up with.  It seemed that God blessed everyone else with these wonderful things but left me with disappointment.  And being told that there was something wrong with me being the reason why I wasn’t “blessed” this same way really hurt.  I was always told to pray when I needed something or when I needed help or guidance in a tough situation, but was always left with silence and finding myself going to actual people for advice and help.  I suppose the hardcore Christian will tell me that it was God’s way of getting me the help I needed.  But then how much does God depend on our personal responsibility?

But sometimes, there are problems and battles bigger than yourself.  I’ve had my run of personal issues, accidents, medical problems, etc. but I never prayed for my survival, nor did I pray to get through the time.  I surrounded myself with loved ones, kept myself busy, did things out of the ordinary.  But in the last six months, things have happened to people I care about.  And I’ve found myself helpless to do anything about it to fix it all and make go away or make it better.

A few weeks ago, I started praying for the first time in years.

It’s ironic.  I’m such a “do it myself” kind of person and I’ve taken some pride at the ability to get things done and to help others when needed.  I admit that.  Perhaps it’s because of the fact that I’ve almost died a few times that I want to “live life to the fullest.”  But with the situations that my loved ones are in, I’ve found myself praying because there’s nothing else I can do…I can’t bring out a magic wand and make things better, and I don’t have a time machine that will turn back time so I can prevent someone from going into another country that almost killed them.  It’s weird that after being so disappointed in faith and the idea of God, that’s what I’m turning to when I have nothing left to give.

It’s rather poetic really.

This is What Happens When I’m Tired

Alex Matsuo

I guess it’s time to admit that I’m tired.  I almost lost someone I love this weekend and I’m still trying to process and deal.  I haven’t gotten much sleep this weekend so it’s leaving me a lot of time to sit with my thoughts.

I’m tired not only physically but emotionally.  I suppose this was a bad time to decide to keep my personal life private because there is a lot going on.  A part of me feels that  if people knew what’s been going on in my life, they will understand why I’m being the way I am right now.  But I hate making excuses for myself.  I hate having to compromise my own work ethic.  Life gets in the way sometimes, or more importantly life needs to be a priority.  I hate the fact that I’ve let several of my friends down these last few years.  When it comes to friendships, I’m a huge flake; I’ve been missing many birthday parties, weddings, showers, etc.  I feel so guilty about it.  And I only have myself to blame.  I put so much on my plate that by the end of the day, I’m exhausted.  I fall asleep and slumber through my alarm.

I don’t really know where my head is at right now.  I was in a mode of transition but now it looks like the dust is settling.  The dust gets kicked up from time to time but I think where I’m at right now is going to be home for a while. I’m thrilled about where I am right now.  It’s just getting used to this life.  Last year was fairly lazy.  Working and roller derby dictated my life.  But now other elements have entered my life and I’m so happy and grateful for it.

But in this new place in life has meant that some people are starting to treat me differently than they used to.  They liked me before and were comfortable talking to me about anything and everything, but now they’re closed off.  Or, the more ironic one, they disliked me and now all of a sudden they want to be best friends.  People are funny.  It’s probably why I enjoy people watching.  And at this moment, I realize how much I miss my Grandma (don’t start crying in Starbucks, Alex).  My Grandma loved people watching.  She’s been gone for almost 12 years.

I’ve dealt with a lot of loss and disaster in my life.  Probably more than a person should.  I’ve lost many friends and loved ones over the course of my life to death.  Treasure the time you have with your loved ones because you never know when something might happen to them or…worse…they’re gone for good.

Buffy Film vs. Buffy TV

Alex Matsuo

After being an avid viewer of the television series in my high school days, I was excited to venture into this project of comparing “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” in it’s two very different elements of the television series and the film.  The show’s creator, Joss Whedon, wrote the film.  But Whedon was not pleased with television producers making changes to the movie.  Whedon originally wanted the film to have the darker and more dramatic element (that we see now in the series) and it was turned into a film with over the top acting and outrageous effects and comedy.  There are notable differences between the film and the series, such as costumes, the character of Buffy and overall theme and feel of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”.

In the film, the vampires are pale, have pointy ears and have fangs.  They still look human, and they don’t have a reflection.  They fit more into the stereotypical look of a vampire from a cartoon.  In the series, the vampires change their faces when they get ready to fight and/or feed and look very demonic.  In the film, Merrick (the Watcher) is dressed in a trench coat and hat and would stand out in a crowd based on his outfit.  It’s very detective looking.  In the series, besides being British, Giles would blend into a crowd and doesn’t make much of a stir among other people and playing the role of a school librarian.

The character of Buffy differs as well.  Movie Buffy has skills in gymnastics and has really corny catch phrases that she says throughout the film.  TV Buffy is shown to have extraordinary strength.  Also, in the series, Buffy’s identity is known throughout the vampire community and she is trying to hide from being discovered.  It is already a known fact of who Buffy is and thus, they tend to avoid her.  But in the film, Merrick warns Buffy to keep her identity a secret in order to protect herself because the vampires will track her down.  In the film, there is also a note of the “mark of the slayer”, where it is not mentioned in the series.  Movie Buffy also experiences pain, or something similar to cramps when there is a vampire around her.  In the series, Buffy seems to have an intuition of who is undead and who isn’t.  In the film, Buffy is a senior in high school and in the series, Buffy is a freshman in high school.  The series mention the burning down of the gym at Hemery High School, but in the actual film, the gym is not seen being burnt down but instead filled with vampires.

Overall, besides having the same writer, the film and the television series are two completely different entities.  Joss Whedon was disappointed with the film and the way it turned out.  His vision for Buffy was better seen in his development of the television series, which took off five years later after the film came out.  Whedon was able to bring his true vision of Buffy to the public and it became a huge success, while the original film still collects dust in our movie shelves.

The Creative World That Surrounds Me

Alex Matsuo

First of all, many apologies for not keeping up with this blog.  I’ve had lots of exciting things come my way the last few months and I’ve gotten wrapped up in the whirlwind of the awesomeness.  Is that a word?  If not, I don’t care.  I’m still using it.

Recently I’ve taken notice of all the wonderful and creative people in my life.  Being involved in theatre has meant that I’ve taken for granted the fantastic creativity that my friends exhibit to the world around them.  They inspire me.  Until now, I hadn’t stopped and smelled the roses.  I stopped and really thought about and took in the fact that I’m surrounded by artistic creativity.  It’s not exclusive to just my theatre friends.  Even my non-theatre friends have some amazing creative projects happening in their lives where I just kind of stand there with my jaw dropped in awe.

Sometimes, I feel like creativity is put into a category or a bubble of sorts.  Only reserved for the artists, actors, singers, musicians, etc.  But believe it or not, there is creativity happening all around us where we least expect it.  Creativity has led to technological and scientific breakthroughs.  Creativity has provided a form of catharsis for those who think they aren’t creative.  Accept it or not, but our lives revolve around either our own creativity, or the creativity of others.  When we listen to music, read a book, look at graffiti, go to the movies, watch TV…it’s all from someone’s creative (and sometime’s corporate-centric) mind.  I meet so many people who say, “Oh I’m not creative like you.”  Or, “It’s dangerous to have a career solely based on creativity.”  I disagree and yet, agree.

“It’s dangerous to have a career solely based on creativity.”

I agree with this statement.  It is dangerous.  It’s a shame to admit it, but it is dangerous to have a career that completely depends on the quality of your talent and creativity.  It’s easy to put your creativity aside to provide for yourself and a family.  It’s necessary at that point.  Unless you’re very talented, meaning that people will pay big bucks for your work, hear you talk, and see you perform…it’s a good idea to have a plan B career so that your job can supplement your passions.  It’s partly what I do.  But I manage to find work that is relevant to my degree in a world that perceives itself as not creative.  Schools are cutting the arts program first, and it’s sad because creativity is needed for human survival.  Otherwise, people would be walking around like robots following the status quo and unable to think for themselves, let alone think outside the box.  I try to find creativity in all aspects of life, even in the science and mathematics departments (even though I’m terrible at it).  It took someone thinking outside the box, especially to come up with the scientific name, “Ytu brutus“.  It makes you wonder…how much creativity is out there and we haven’t take a moment to notice it?

“Oh I’m not creative like you.”

Well, have you ever tried?  I truly believe that everyone has a creative side that they can tap into.  It’s all about having the bravery to give it a shot, and the sense of humor to laugh at yourself if you think you look totally ridiculous.  I’m not good at painting at all, but I do it anyway…for myself.  My paintings probably won’t ever be seen by others except myself, and I’m okay with that.  Tapping into my creative side is theraputic for me.  I work through stress and emotions by singing, writing, painting, and moving my body to music (I don’t call it dancing).  I can say that I’m not as good as others when it comes to certain artistic venues, but I do have my strengths.  But there’s always going to be someone out there better than me.  And whether they are famous for their work or not, there’s always someone out there whose put in more effort and work than I have.  And you know what?  That’s okay.  I know many white collars who work corporate life by day, but then by night they put on the torn-sleeve shirts, ripped jeans, and go to band practice and write music.  The secret agents of creativity are probably my favorites.  You wouldn’t think they had this creative side until you get to know them.  It’s like meeting a superhero…I’ll admit it.  I get excited when I find out people’s creative passions and I always want to talk more to them about it.

My advice to anyone reading this:  Take a moment right now.  Yes, right now.  And think about all the people in your life.  Got it?  Okay.  Now pick a person.  Think about their creative side.  Think about what they do.  Think about how their creative work has influenced and/or inspired you.  Now, move on to another person.  Before you stop, think about yourself.  Think about what you do that is creative.  What is your creative outlet?  What do you do that you are passionate about?  What helps you escape the stresses of life?  What helps your mind to get moving?

There is creativity all around us.  We just have to remind ourselves to take a moment and enjoy the fact that we are so lucky to have a left brain and a right brain to keep ourselves creatively logical.

Till next time…

Anton Chekhov and The Seagull

Alex Matsuo

Biography

“Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress” – Anton Chekhov

Anton Chekhov (1860-1904) is known as the father of modern theatre.  Anton was born in Taganrog in 1860.  Chekhov is best known for his works such as The Seagull, Uncle Vanya, The Cherry Orchard and The Three Sisters.  Taganrog is a seaport town, located south of Russia near the Black Sea, and was home to Chekhov and his five siblings.  His father, Pavel Yegorovich Chekhov, was a grocer, and a devout Orthodox Christian.  Pavel was physically abusive, and often terrorized his family during Chekhov’s childhood.  But his mother, Yevgeniya was a storyteller to her children.  It is said that Anton gained his gift of storytelling and creative inspiration from his mother.  While growing up, Chekhov was an average student and soon gained the reputation of being a prankster and having a wild imagination.  Pavel soon found himself in bankruptcy and left his family for Moscow to find work, leaving Chekhov to take care of his family and fend for himself.  After graduation from school, Chekhov soon began to study medicine at the University of Moscow and balanced his life between student, caretaker and writer.  He began writing for extra money to support his family.  He graduated from university and began his practice in medicine in 1892.  He often wrote about the street life of Russia in humorous ways and was becoming a success. He was soon approached to start writing plays, in which he became a huge success. Chekhov dramatically changed how the world saw the stage by writing by displaying fully developed characters, dramatic off-stage moments and the use of subtext.  In 1901, he married Russian actress, Olga Knipper.  In 1904, Chekhov was terminally ill with tuberculosis and later succumbed to the illness.  He was buried next to his father in Novodevichy Cemetery in Moscow.

 The Seagull

The Seagull was the first of four major plays that Anton Chekhov wrote in his writing career for the theatre.  The Seagull was seen as a truly innovative piece of work that set the stage for modern theatre as we see it today.  The Seagull spoke the mind of Chekhov through the character, Trigorin.  The play also addressed the inner workings of the human soul and its interaction with the emotion of love. In 1896, the premiere of The Seagull in St. Petersburg was a near failure and almost turned Chekhov away from theatre due to its poor reception.  The play was the first of its kind at the time that went against the social norms of drama by introducing complex plots, and complex characters and the audience did not receive it well.  But the play caught the attention of Vladimir Nemirovich-Danchenko, who was a friend and playwright himself.  He urged Chekhov to bring the play to Moscow Art Theatre and brought in Constantin Stanislavski to direct.  The play became an extraordinary success.  Had The Seagull not caught the attention of Nemirovich-Danchenko, it would not have been put back on the stage and become a huge success that it was.  It was the play’s newfound success that gave Chekhov motivation to give theatre another try, and the drive to continue to write plays.  If The Seagull had not been a success at Moscow Art Theatre, the world would have never been given the great pieces of work such as The Cherry Orchard, Uncle Vanya and The Three Sisters.

Clearly Beauty & Class Are Exterior…

Alex Matsuo

I was having a pretty good morning today.  I got to sleep in for the first time in a while and I was looking forward to my relaxing morning before trekking on my day’s journey.  Then I logged onto Facebook and saw a blog posted by someone I very much respect.  The title of this blog post stood out to me for personal reasons…

News Editor says Tattoos are Classless and Worthless

I clicked on the link to a blog and I was a bit shocked at what I was reading.  I didn’t believe someone could be that narrow-minded and judgmental to people (more specifically women) who have tattoos.  Suspecting exaggeration and embellishment, and being the dramaturg/researcher that I am, I looked up the original article.  Nope…The Hope Blog was dead on.  As I sit and wrap my head around this article, I thought about the times I’ve shared my tattoos with friends and family.  All my tattoos are located on my back.  They all have a very special meaning to me.  And for the first time (outside of limited profile on Facebook), I’m going to share my tattoos to the world wide web.

This was taken about 2 years ago after my “Faith, Hope, and Love” piece was completed (the bruise on the bottom is from roller derby). I got this piece to serve as a reminder to myself to never settle on people who treat me badly and to always have faith in myself, hope in myself, and most importantly, love myself.  It took me years to get to this place of loving myself enough to take care of myself and standing up for myself and this is what this tattoo symbolizes.  Moving on, the triquetra piece was my very first tattoo that my dad bought for me and I had it done in the Castro when I was 19 with my dad holding my hand.  He also got a matching piece.  I’m a Christian and my faith is important to me.  Now that I’m distant from my dad, it is one of my most treasured pieces of ink.  And finally, the heart clef represents my love for music.  Music holds so many emotions and can be joyful, funny, cathartic, relaxing, and the list goes on.  I have basic knowledge of playing the piano and guitar, and even in my simple skill level, I find a sanctuary sitting at my piano or playing a few chords on my guitar.  For those of you who are curious, yes, I plan on getting more ink in the future, but I’m waiting for the right piece to come along.

Tattoos are personal choices.  And frankly, tattoos are no one’s business but the tattoo bearer.  There are some who do get inappropriate tattoos that are more public than other, but do not classify tattooed people in the same category.  Yes, there are some who take ink too far.  Yes, there are people who get tattoos while under the influence.  Yes, there are people who regret their tattoos.  But allow me to emphasize that not all tattooed people belong in the same bubble.  Just like how other kinds of people don’t belong in the same bubble.

This article opens with, “I get it. It’s the 21st century. You’re cool, you’re rebellious, you’re cutting edge, you have a point to prove, and you’re a woman. Awesome.”  I’m not rebellious, maybe I’m cutting edge, I have many points to prove (I suppose) and I’m indeed a woman (last time I checked).  Were those the reasons why I got my tattoos?  Heck no.  Tattoos are more of personal choices and a process of self-expression involving several hours in a chair going through pain.  There is a level of commitment involved when getting a tattoo that is stronger than physical, it is an emotional journey.

Lisa Khoury manages to put every woman with a tattoo under the category of being classless and worthless.  While I can usually respect other opinions, especially those that I may disagree with, this one…I can not respect.  When it comes to displaying a judgment against a large group of people without even considering their stories and backgrounds or even showing some hard data to back themselves up, you got to be a bit…um…classy?  People are entitled to their opinions.  Unfortunately, that opinion may be ignorant and ill-informed.

And her antidote for wanting to get a tattoo?  Go to the mall, wear high heels, get a gym membership, improve your body…look pretty.  Um, excuse me?  Who even said one gets tattoos to improve their body?  I don’t see my tattoos as an improvement, but as a representation of a chapter in my life and there to remind myself of my own values.  And by the way Ms. Khoury, beauty and class are more than skin deep (pun intended).  You my dear, have managed to prove the definition of irony by writing a classless and worthless piece of writing that not only reflects the ugliness within but also how much you don’t value yourself within by attempting to degrade and lower a specific group of women who have tattoos.  Ms. Khoury, based on your definition of class, I qualify.  I have a Master’s degree, I have a well-paying job that helps the community, I strive to take care of myself (mostly with the exception of eating out too much), etc.  But I have tattoos.  So therefore, by your standards, I don’t have class.

Ms. Khoury’s article also puts much emphasis on the exterior, “An elegant woman does not vandalize the temple she has been blessed with as her body. She appreciates it. She flaunts it. She’s not happy with it? She goes to the gym. She dresses it up in lavish, fun, trendy clothes, enjoying trips to the mall with her girlfriends. She accentuates her legs with high heels. She gets her nails done. She enjoys the finer things in life, all with the body she was blessed with.”  So, women with tattoos are obviously unhappy with their body and a tattoo is an attempt to improve it.  So what about all the fit ladies with tattoos?  And also…high heels?  Really?  I’m clumsy in high heels and therefore I cannot wear them without breaking my ankles so that’s why I got a tattoo instead.  Obviously.  And enjoying the finer things in life?  Of course classy and elegant ladies sit at home in the kitchen enjoying the finer things in life.  Heaven forbid she goes out and tries to change the world with her sleeved arm.  It is indeed sad that in the 21st century, we still cannot get past the gender stereotypes.  The definition of class by Ms. Khoury’s standards are purely exterior and should only judged as that.  This goes farther than women with tattoos.  Based on Ms. Khoury’s definition of class, a woman who lives simply and doesn’t wear lavish clothing, doesn’t go to the mall, doesn’t constantly work to maintain her appearance is classless.  If you’re too poor to pay for makeup, high heels, gym memberships, etc.  I find her definition of class a rather selfish and superficial definition.

“I’m not here to say a girl should walk around flaunting her body like it’s her job – that’s just degrading.”  Okay, then what were you describing before?  What are your alternatives for shopping and getting your nails done?  You seemed to have forgotten to mention that.

“So what’s more attractive than a girl with a nice body?  I’ll tell you what: a girl with class. Looks may not last, but class does. And so do tattoos.”  You know what’s more attractive than a girl with a nice body?  A girl with class who is open-minded, strong, doesn’t judge, intelligent, and ready to take on the world in whatever capacity she can without attempting to degrade other people’s life choices.

Ms. Khoury also asks some questions at the end, which I shall answer:

“But at the end of the day, are you really a happier person?” 

Yes.  My tattoos are a part of me.  Who exactly are you to tell anyone what can and cannot make them happy?

“Has this tattoo, for instance, caused you to learn something new about yourself? Has it challenged you?” 

Yes.  My tattoos are there as reminders of how far I’ve come and I’ve yet to be defeated.

“Has it led you to self-growth?”

Yep.  

“Nothing comes out of getting a tattoo. You get a tattoo, and that’s it. You do something productive, though, and you see results. That’s a genuine, satisfying change in life. Not ink.”  I felt extremely empowered and productive after my tattoos were finished.  I felt complete and proud.  I’ve never felt anything like that after shopping with my girlfriends or getting my nails done.  You just look pretty like a doll, and you spend too much money.  Just a thought.  And why does Ms. Khoury only recommends buying a gym membership? You can work out outside for free.  I do feel proud after a workout, but comparing that feeling of pride with the feeling of pride after a completed tattoo is like comparing major surgery to a scraped knee, at least for me.

I find it funny how Ms. Khoury’s definition of elegance and class are solely based on maintaining your appearance.  Nothing about volunteering at the local soup kitchen, using money to give to charities instead, nothing about helping the community and those around you.  Nothing there about inner beauty.  Only help yourself and make sure you look nice.  And what is even more ironic is that even though painted nails, trips to the gym, shopping, etc. are temporary, they are permanent rituals that must be continued in order for maintenance.  Plus, Ms. Khoury compares the female body to a car in the title of her article.  All my tattooed female friends are possibly the coolest, and most giving people on this earth.  They think of others first before themselves.  They are strong women.  They are mothers, they are aunts, they are best friends, they are sisters, they are grandmothers, they are wives, they are preachers, they are volunteers, they are daughters, they are girlfriends, they are caregivers, they are teachers, they are nurses, they are rescuers, they are today’s women.  Passing judgment on a tattooed woman is just about as silly as judging a woman for not having tattoos. 

But I digress.  There are moments where not everyone will agree with each other.  This is one of those moments, and as much as I want to feel bad for The Spectrum and Ms. Khoury because they will receive an intense backlash from the tattoo world.  Actually, based on the reactions I’ve seen.  The backlash has already started, and it is indeed self-inflicted.  And I wonder, do any of Ms. Khoury’s friends have tattoos?  Are they hidden like mine?

Wouldn’t that be the ultimate kicker…if someone near and dear to Ms. Khoury were to have a tattoo and then read her article.  Food for thought.

Fin.

Staged Reading of “Japanese Eyes/American Heart” in San Diego

Alex Matsuo

You are invited to a staged reading of my play…

Japanese Eyes/American Heart by Alex Matsuo

An original play that centers around memory. It tells the story of a granddaughter’s journey to solve the mystery of unexplained war medals of her deceased grandfather who was a Japanese-American soldier in World War II. As she tries to find out what her grandfather faced between the time Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima, she realizes that the journey hits close to home emotionally when discovers the broken lives and the lost identities that resulted from those tragic events.

10th Avenue Theatre

930 10th Avenue

San Diego, CA 92101

Tuesday, January 17th, 2012

7:30pm

Admission: Free

Donations will be accepted

 *Run Time: 90 minutes with no intermission.

Comment cards and discussion will follow.

Trailer:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZUHKjl87hw]

Are We Sending Fat People Into Hiding?

Alex Matsuo

Today was a full day of errands for me.  I was driving down the main road by my house with my friend and her boyfriend.  We were at the stoplight and we see this large woman on her bike, donning shorts and a tank top, riding her bike across the street.  She wasn’t dressed immodestly at all, and it was hot out today (welcome to San Diego in January).  I saw her and I said, “Good for her.  I need to get my bike out and ride to places too.”  Then my friend’s boyfriend said,

“Yuck…she needs to stay in her lazy car so that no one else has to see that.”

It took every bone in my body to not tell him to get out of my car and walk the rest of the way to the grocery store.  Being overweight myself, I’m no stranger to the cruel comments made towards people like me.  Even though a lot of us seem to be okay, it does kind of sting.  Here, my friend’s boyfriend was saying this and it made me wonder if he had ever thought that about me when I run with his girlfriend.  Plus, I’m pretty active.  I play roller derby, I skate, I swim, surf, (try to) skateboard, I’ve ran two 5K’s and working on my third, take dance classes and I take a walk every day.  I’m a lot smaller than I used to be and I’m darn proud of myself for that.  I still have a long ways to go.  I’ve accomplished a lot in the last two years since I decided to live an active lifestyle and yet, I let comments like the one above, shame me into hiding on occasion.  Especially if I feel bloated.  The whole self-conscious issue bears it’s ugly head all over again.

We, as a society, have been taught to be prejudiced against overweight people.  Especially in the realms of finding a potential mate.  Now I have to preface that I am not “pro-being overweight”, I believe that each and every person needs to adapt to a healthy lifestyle and eat well in order to reach physical and mental harmony.  But think about how many times we have gawked at someone who is morbidly obese, especially if they aren’t wearing proper fitting clothes.  I’m just as guilty for laughing at the morbidly overweight on People of Walmart website.  We could excuse ourselves and say, “Well, they were out in public like that so they should be ready for that.”  I suppose this is an extreme scenario.  But how many times has a person looked at an overweight person riding a scooter and think, “They need to get up and take a walk around the block a few times” while having a look on their face?  And how many times has a girl been judged because she’s not a size 0?  Come on now!  It’s not just overweight people, it’s the issue of body image all over the place!  You really want to hurt someone?  Comment on their weight.

It’s the situations I have stated above that discourages some people to go into hiding and remain holed up in their homes while slowly gaining weight.  I let my weight hold me back for the longest time when finally I said, “F*ck it, if people are going to judge me…I just don’t care anymore.  It’s their problem.”  And since I stopped caring what people think of me (for 98% of the time), I’ve lost more weight than ever, I’m more active than I was in high school and I’m much happier.  Caring less about what other people think has taken care of my mind and soul and it seems as though the physical part is taking care of itself.  I will no longer go into hiding out of fear that people may comment on “the fat girl running” or “the fat girl skating on the street”.

To the people who are guilty of making those hurtful comments (like my friend’s boyfriend whose remaining anonymous), stop it.  What good are you doing by bullying and intentionally hurting people?  It’s an obvious reflection of how you feel about yourself and shows you have a world of other issues to deal with.  To those who have thought “the thoughts” but would never dare to say them out loud, start the process of changing the state of your mind.  If you see an overweight person and they’re giving it their all, smile at them.  If they are struggling and look like they could use a motivational ear, smile and say, “Keep going.  You got this.”  Who knows, your kindness could change that person’s life and help them to finally reach their goals of getting healthy.

My parting words to whoever is reading this and they’re trying to lose weight, it took me a long time to learn that weight loss starts from the inside out.  Take care of your mind and soul and the rest will follow suit.  I’m striving to be healthier in my every day life and losing weight is just an added bonus.  Mold your mind to become stronger against negativity on your journey to be healthier and not only will you feel good about yourself, you will also be empowered.

Not to mention, if the only “negative” thing people have to say about you is your weight, you’re already a pretty fabulous person and too cool to let comments like that get to you.

Stay healthy and stay strong, my friends.

The Six Years After: Love, Live, and Remember

Alex Matsuo

Six years ago today, I was in a car accident that almost killed me.  I was 19 at the time, just finished the fall semester of my sophomore year of college with horrible grades, and very emotional from an incident with my ex-boyfriend that evening.  Plans were made, he ditched the plans, and when I cried, he told me “Your tears don’t matter to me”.  I was crushed.  He was really the only reason why I was in that area in the first place (then come to find out he was wishing I would get hit by a car).  My friend Jenny invited me over to her place for New Year’s and with eyes full of tears and a broken heart, I got in my car and made my way toward her place.  I was driving onto the I-8 west from Montezuma Road in the rain.  My car hydroplaned, and I lost control.  I hit the railing and skidded into the railing over the road.  I got out of the car, a girl stopped and called my mom for me, and another man stopped and helped direct traffic.  I was in Jekyll & Hyde at the time, and we were in tech, so all my costumes, makeup, shoes, etc. were in the car.  I knew my car would have to be towed, so I opened the backseat (driver’s side) door and started to go through my things.  Then, I turned around and saw a car heading towards me.

The car headed towards me.  The car hit me.  I flew onto the hood of the car, rolled off the hood and I fell 25 feet down to the road below.  I landed on my hip and I laid there crying and screaming for help.  I remembered wiggling my toes to make sure I wasn’t paralyzed.  Toes moved.  Good.  I tasted blood in my mouth.  All my teeth there?  Yes.  Hair covering my face.  Arms around my head.  I couldn’t move.  My lower body burned.  Why couldn’t I move?  Why was I conscious this whole time?  I kept screaming and crying for help.  I heard a bunch of women rush to me.  Immediately, one of them asked if there was anyone that needed to be called and I said, “My mother” and I was able to give her my mother’s number.  The rest of the women laid their hands on me and started to pray for me.  The burning in my lower body eased a little.

I started to hear the ambulance sirens.  The wailing got louder and louder until finally, I heard the paramedics approach me.  They immediately asked me if I had been drinking.  I get it.  New Year’s Eve, girl falls off a freeway ramp.  I told them no.  Then I heard a spectator say that I was drunk.  Really?  Anyway.  The paramedic told me that they would have to turn me onto my back.  I said okay.  I didn’t anticipate the excruciating pain that followed.  I screamed.  I couldn’t take the pain.  Then, the paramedics used shears to cut my clothes off and another paramedic waited by with a blanket and covered me immediately.  As I was on my back, I saw the woman who hit me.  She was leaning over the guard rail, crying.  We locked eyes for a moment until I was carried onto the ambulance.  I heard my mother’s voice.  I couldn’t move my neck but I can’t forget the fear and pain in her voice as she told me she loved me.  I told her that I loved her too and to call my best friends at the time.  I needed support.

The trip to the hospital was a blur.  My blood pressure was so low that they couldn’t give me anything for the pain.  Every bump into the hospital hurt.  I remember the room.  It was so white.  The man laying next to me was covered in blood.  They had to put a shield between us and all I saw was red.  The doctors told me that they had to move me from the stretcher to the bed.  I started crying again because I knew of the pain that was to come.  I begged him to not move me.  My body was broken.  The doctor insisted that they would do the best they can to support the broken portion of my body.  As I cried and begged, a nurse put her hand on my head and held my hand with the other.  The crew counted to three.  I screamed again.  The pain was unbearable.  I saw my mother and Lizz, my best friend at the time, turn away as I screamed.  I remember everything was cloudy.  My blood pressure was so low, and the doctors were injecting things in me and telling me to stay with them.  Was I dying?  I looked over at the shield next to me and the man next to me was so still.  Was I in a room where people had died?  I looked back up to the ceiling.  Slowly, things became sharp again.  I heard muddled voices and eventually I closed my eyes.

I’m not sure if I died, but I saw things.  I saw things that I still can’t explain to this day.

I opened my eyes and I looked at the clock.  The neck brace was gone.  And there was a hospital volunteer cleaning the blood off my face.  I’ll never forget his name.  His name was Joe Apple.  As he was cleaning up the blood from my face, I looked at the clock again and it was 12:02am.  It was 2006 officially.  I looked at Joe and wished him a happy new year.  I was feeling much better, realizing that I was given pain medication finally.  Morphine is good stuff.  That evening, I had to get a catheter (not so fun), and I had to get compression socks put onto my legs.  I couldn’t walk.  I could feel my legs, but every attempt to move them was rewarded with awful pain.  The police came in and got a statement from me.  My nurse was wonderful.  She made me feel so safe and she sat and held my hand as I was crying.  I couldn’t be in my show anymore, I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t move in my bed.  Eventually, after being covered with numerous warm blankets, and being comforted by my nurse in the late hours, I fell asleep.  That night, I vertically sheared my pelvis, broke three vertebraes in my back, shattered my tailbone and lost a little chunk of my arm and gashed my forehead.  The next morning would being a six month road to recovery and transitioning back to normal life.  The road would include major surgery, living in a wheelchair, using a walker, months of physical therapy, and forming bonding friendships and relationships that would change my life forever.

As I look back on that night, six long years ago, I look at the person I am today.  While I was recovering at home, my friends came over every week to have movie night with me.  They didn’t mind taking me out and trekking my wheelchair in their trunk.  I truly believe that if my friends weren’t there, I probably wouldn’t have survived the road to recovery.  Every New Year’s Eve, I look back and think about how much worse this car accident could have been.  The traffic light on the street below where I landed, happen to be red at the time.  Otherwise, I could have been hit by another car after I landed, or worse, landed on a moving vehicle.  The angle I landed was weird.  I didn’t land on my head, even though I rolled off head first.  I didn’t land on my legs or my bottom.  I landed in a position that did the least amount of damage.  I’m grateful to be alive today and with all the “what-ifs” that continue to go through my head, I can only account for the fact that I’m alive, I can walk, run, skate, and dance.  I only experience residual hip pain on occasion, especially if it’s cold.  Besides a scar on my backside, if you met me today, you couldn’t tell what happened six years ago.

Then I think about the people I met that night; Joe Apple, the nurse, the girl who helped me in the first accident, the woman who called my mother for me, and the mysterious women who prayed over me.  I kept in brief touch with all but the mysterious women.  No one remembers their presence.  Not even the woman who called my mother.  But I know they were there.  I felt their hands on me.  I remember their voices and calming words.

As I close this reflection, I have to acknowledge the several people who were there for me through thick and thin while I was recovering; Amber, Lizz, Natasha, Lauren, Dante, Robby, Alex, Jenny, JJ, Dirk, Anneke, Shaun, Cory, Troy, Joe, Laura, Jordy, Leilani, Maria, John and if there was anyone I forgot, my sincerest apologies.  There were so many that helped me and were there for me.  I was overwhelmed by the support and I know God was watching over me not only the night of my accident, but also brought me wonderful people to be there for me during recovery.

And finally, my mother.  She was the biggest trooper in this whole situation.  She had to watch me, her daughter, suffer and nearly die while maintaining her own strength and her patience.  I wasn’t the easiest person to deal with.  I often got frustrated with my current state and took it out on her.  I cried daily, I felt so helpless and she was there for me.  I could never repay the commitment, love, and kindness she showed, as well as giving me a slap of reality when I got too dramatic and feeling sorry for myself.

The message I want to leave you with is to cherish your time and make the most out of your life and the most important of all…love.  Do everything with love and compassion.  Life is too short to focus on the negative and hatred.  Sometimes the most bitterest of people need love in their life and no one was brave enough to even attempt to show them love.  Also, if I have learned anything from the experience of my car accident, don’t wait to lose weight before you go to the spa, don’t wait until things “seem right” to take a chance.  Do it now.  You never know when life can change (or end) in an instant.  Live your life to the fullest.  Love the people around you and love the strangers in your life.  You never know what may happen in the future.  Be ready for anything to happen.  Bad things happen, but focus on your response and how you handle the bad times.

And finally, may the year 2012 be the year that all your dreams come true.