My All Time Favorite Quotes Of Hardison And Elliot Showing Support For Parker (S02E13 - The Future Job)

How Masking has Affected Me

I don’t remember much about how I acted during my childhood. 

I do remember being asked a lot if I was sad when really I was just thinking. I stared into space a lot, imagining stories in my head. 

I remember a few times people took advantage of me because I didn’t realize they had ill intentions (like when I went to a sleepover once and one of the girls said I had the perfect skin for a desert princess look. When she finally finished, and I got a look in the mirror, it was only then that I realized why the other girls had been laughing - because she had made me look like a clown - literally clown like makeup).

I remember it was hard for me to make friends. Especially when we had to move a lot and my so-called friends never kept in touch. I was always the last one to make contact, and I would wonder what I had done wrong that they didn’t want to talk to me anymore.

Then high school came around and I got into singing. I remember being praised by my voice teacher for my skills, despite having almost no training. She encouraged me to enter a competition. And while I was one of the better singers there, I didn’t place. Because all I did was sing. During the entire performance I didn’t move. Because I thought the whole point of being a singer and listening to singers was about the voice (I always found it distracting when people moved while they sang). So my teacher recommended I get involved in the local youth theater group.

It was there that I learned how to ‘act’. I even took a workshop in it. My teacher spent most of the time getting me to stop smiling whenever I was portraying anger (I think I might have picked that up from an anime I was watching at the time because no one I knew did that).

Then I went to college and had to do presentations for classes. My mom advised me to pretend like I was playing a character - like I did during the theater productions (because I was a good actor). So I did. And soon, the acting bled out into the rest of my life.

I did it to make friends. I did it to get jobs. I did it with my family so I could finally feel included.

Since college, I’ve had the chance to start over three times. And each time, though I told myself this would be the time where I would let myself be myself, I kept falling back into the Act. 

All smiles, all politeness, all the time.

And it is exhausting. 

Even though I now work in a fairly low key environment, where I don’t have to interact with a lot of people, I always keep the Act up, I’ve always got the Mask On. Because I constantly have to be on guard.

Now I think the Masking is finally getting to me.

Several times during the first few months of my new job, there were very stressful and sometimes volatile meetings I had to attend. And while I was able to hold it together during those meetings, the stress would build up and I would have meltdowns at the office (once to the point where I locked myself in a bathroom stall for twenty minutes because I couldn’t stop crying).

When we were all sent home for 18 months, it was such a relief. For the most part. The constant Zoom meetings tired me out so easily, even when I had the luxury of turning off my camera (which was a huge help).

I actually didn’t learn about the term Masking until about a month ago. I can’t remember how I came across it, but I remember when I did, I felt something click in place. I realized that’s what I had been doing this whole time. And then I realized that since that is what I had been doing, I actually had no idea how I would actually react to anything. Because of the constant masking, I had lost my Sense of Self.

Sure, I know what I like and what I don’t like (if presented with options and choices). But it’s hard for me to know if I’m laughing at something someone said because I actually thought it was funny, or if that’s just the Mask. I don’t know if I’m actually sad when someone tells me about a tragedy in their lives, or if I’ve been trained so well on how to react. I don’t have solid opinions because I tend to side with whoever I’m talking with.

And if I don’t know how I’d react to any given emotional situation, how do I know who I am?

Worse, how do I know if people like me for me, or the Mask? And does that mean I will never be liked and loved for who I really am?

Personally, I find it funny that despite loving costume and fashion design, the most expensive and only top name brand piece I have in my wardrobe is: a Calvin Klein winter coat I bought for around $100, plus tax, but minus a random percentage coupon.

Finally, an argument I think people will listen to!

this is a very controversial hill i will die on...

Perks of Working at a University

Schedules are dictated by the school year - long holidays and summer hours are shorter

Lots of free/cheap events - because they’re catering to students who have little to no money

Get to commute through and work at a pretty campus - mine is, anyway

When school is canceled, work is canceled - yay snow days!

The Major Con of Working at a University (for me)

Encountering a man that checks off so many of my “Oh, no, he’s hot” boxes - Asian medical student who plays the violin with beautiful long fingers that is wearing glasses and a suit-!!!

Only to realize he’s probably ten years younger than me.

Good Changes?

So for the longest time, one of the main characters of my current writing project has kept the same coloring since the day I created her. And normally I don't tend to give any of my characters makeovers because I can see them so clearly in my head.

But when I was having my beta readers review my story, a lot of comments came up about the skin tone of my main girl, which I think normally wouldn't have been mentioned except I'm making a fantasy world based on Ancient Egyptian and Middle Eastern cultures so they thought it might be taken the wrong way that I've got the girl who is the chosen of the world's greatest goddess as having super pale skin.

And the reason I did that was that as a Latina who has caucasian pale skin, I've always felt out of place among my relatives. Growing up, people didn't believe me when I said I was a first-generation Mexican, and even more so when I showed them pictures of my Papi (I was even asked if I was adopted). Making my girl super pale among people who are tan and dark-skinned was something very near and dear to me, because I know I can't be the only pale-skinned minority who feels like an outcast among my own culture.

I can see how making a super pale person so powerful among darker-skinned people could be construed as white supremacy (which is not what I meant at all!), so I've been playing around with the idea of changing her.

But again, I don't want to change her because I'd be afraid of people making the wrong assumptions and missing the message I'm trying to convey. I don't want to be one of those creators who bows to the masses, makes everything PC, and makes characters who look more like stereotypical minorities just to check off some boxes.

Yes, getting more representation is important! I would love to see more Latinx characters in fiction!

But I think people forget about the minorities among the minorities, people like me who have trouble fitting into their own families simply because our genes decided to be atypical.

So should I stick to how she's always been? Change her appearence? Or is there a happy medium?

Of all the traits I share with my cat, the one I find the most hilarious, because it’s unnervingly close, is the fact that he and I don’t like drinking plain water.

We prefer our water to be flavored.

Yes, he prefers his to be flavored with salmon and other ocean fish while I go for a neon syrup that makes mine taste like a de-fizzed orange cream soda, but that’s merely a minor personal preference between sweet and savory.

Writer’s Block...

...and how to overcome it. Or at least, some of the methods I learned from a workshop I attended and now help me when I get stuck. Please note these are not my ideas, but I feel they really helped me get some longtime projects done so that’s why I felt the need to share it. (and to make sure there’s a place I can find these tips later in case something happens to my original notes)

Writer’s block isn’t a physical thing - one can always sit down to write. Writer’s block is more of a mindset than anything. You have to tell yourself that you can write. What it really actually boils down to is fear; fear that what you’re writing isn’t good enough - that you aren’t good enough. More accurately, writer’s block is writer’s doubt. It’s good to know what you write will never feel 100% perfect, because there will always be things that you felt you could have done better. But that’s okay; because that’s what art is about - improving one’s craft so the next piece is better than the last. Because perfection isn’t achievable. But finishing something is achievable, and it’s what your aim should be for the First Draft.

Writers are comprised of two jobs - drafters (the one responsible for getting ideas down and setting up where the project is going to go), and revisers (the one who goes back after the draft is done and fine tunes the completed project - adding lyrical sentences, fleshing out characters, etc.). You have to build the house before you can decorate it. Don’t try to do them both at once. Finishing a first draft is not the same as finishing a good draft.

Ways to help get over the problem of writer’s block:

Write a detailed letter to someone who has no familiarity with the project. Give them all the details and explain what the problem is and why you’re struggling with it. A lot of the time just defining the problem can help solve it.

Talk it out with someone. The human brain has different areas for writing and talking. So if you’re stuck writing, try talking it out to engage a different part of your brain.

Use bullet points to test out ideas - because your brain doesn’t see them as something that’s super complicated, or even final. They allow you to zoom out on the project and see the overall picture. You can do it with an entire section or even just a scene, or even move onto the next part to figure out how it is framed. And don’t feel like what you’ve written before has to stay that way. Also remember that outlining is still writing and counts.

Go to the backstory, behind the scenes - sometimes it’s a lack of knowledge that prevents you from writing. Take some time to go and figure out the motivations of the character or the things leading up to the story. Write it as if it were a prequel to the story. Write past or future scenes. Sometimes you need a break from where you are in the current plot. Write from a different character's point of view.

Try switching to writing things longhand instead of typing. The brain is more active and engaged in handwriting. Good for brain dumping - getting the creativity flowing. Handwriting eliminates distraction (from the internet) and the need to be perfect.

When you don’t feel like writing, just Write Five Words. And then you can walk away guilt free. More often than not, you’ll write more than five. But the point is not to encourage your doubt, guilt ridden mind (you have to get into the mindset that five words is enough for the day). It’s to help keep you on track to write everyday.

Look to the greats, the people you admire, when you get stuck. Immerse yourself in their great works and tell yourself they’ve been stuck as well. Let yourself be inspired by them. Take a look at what they’ve done and learn from them. Find something that is similar to your project to get inspired.

Sometimes it’s best to leave a scene for later. It’s better to move on and work on something else. Go ahead and write a candy bar scene (the ones you want to write).

You need to prioritize your writing. You need to shut out distractions. Writer’s block can also be writer’s distraction. Find ways to block out the distraction - remove everything that has notifications. Know that distractions can be addictive and there will be a withdrawal period. 

Meditation. Try to just sit down and calm your mind for five minutes before you write. Breathe and count your breaths while on a timer. 

Sometimes you get the best solutions from doing something else. Because your brain is working in the background. So get away from the writing space every now and then; get into the quiet space. Do mundane activities or draw, or just do something that makes your mind relax. Give your brain a break.

It’s possible to be plotting in circles when you are surrounded by the same scenery that you’ve been in during the struggle. Then it’s time for a literal change of scenery. Go somewhere else to write. New space physically to get a new space mentally. Because surroundings can contribute to your mental writing process. 

When you get super stuck, there are times when you just need to write something else. Find a prompt to work on. But don’t use this technique for too long. This is a mini break. Find something you can finish in one sitting. Don’t let it become a distraction to the main project. 

Inspiration is what gets you started, but discipline is what gets things done. Write anyway. Because inspiration can be fickle. So set up a consistent writing routine, because humans thrive on it. Have something you do that is unique to you that you do before you write, so that it helps set up your brain to get ready to write. Doing a physical movement is incredibly helpful to get your brain set up. Do it for 30 days (because habits take about 30 days).

My fictional crush types

While I was working on my writing, I suddenly realized my first crushes have colored all my other crushes over the years. To the point that each of my main writing projects features a love interest that is influenced by said first crushes.

So, naturally, I had to sort them out. For reference purposes.

On September 11, 2001, the day my young life tilted towards adulthood, I remember exactly what I was doing when the Twin Towers came down.

I was having a piano lesson.

I remember it starting out like any other Tuesday morning. I know it did because I can’t remember the details of the ‘before’ because I was just a kid, and such trivial things like what I was wearing and what I had for breakfast and whether I’d gotten into a fight with my sister yet wasn’t important enough to stay in my head for more than an hour.

My sister and I took piano lessons from the same sweet little old lady who lived a few streets down from us at the time. My mother homeschooled us, so we always had the morning lessons. It was my sister’s week to start first, and my mom and I were left to wait on the old fashioned chaise lounge.

And then my teacher’s husband, who never came in during lessons, appeared. He said something to the adults, I don’t remember what. But whatever it was, it was enough for my mom to leave with him to where they had their TV set.

I can’t remember if I got my turn on the piano. I honestly don’t even remember leaving. My memory jumps from my piano teacher’s parlor to my mother sitting in front of our TV, her eyes glazed over, her posture hunched and rigid.

Because my papi wasn’t there to tell her everything would be alright.

He was in law enforcement at the time, and by the time the second tower had come down, his work had put everyone in lockdown, underground, and unable to contact anyone until the danger had passed.

I can’t remember how long it lasted, until my papi was able to come home. I can only remember my mom, sitting on the couch, staring at the TV, praying for the victims, praying for the first responders, and praying that her husband would come home.

During that whole time, we didn’t have school, we didn’t have activities, we didn’t have anything. My sister and I didn’t take advantage of all the free time. Instead, we sat in our rooms, and every once in a while, went to see if mom had moved, the signal that papi was coming home.

I say that’s the day my life tilted towards adulthood, not because I understood what was going on, but because for the first time in my life, I realized adults could be afraid too. That the people I had always looked to for stability could be shaken too. And that one day, I was going to have to be one of them.

In the last twenty years since that day, I’ve grown up. I’ve completed school, got a job, got a home of my own and got a cat. By all accounts, I’ve become an adult.

And now that I am, the understanding of what happened that day has only become worse.

My papi did come home safe. But there were so many that didn’t, or didn’t come home at all. So many people whose lives become harder after what happened that day.

My heart goes out to the victims, the regular heroes, and the people who were negatively impacted by the events and still continue to be to this day.

I don’t have the elegant words to offer hope, or the phrases to convey my sympathy to its fullest.

But I couldn’t let this day, now 20 years later, pass without saying, “I remember…”

And perhaps, remembering what happened, how it affected people, and thinking about what we learned and can do in the future, is enough.