Cry me a river

Three years ago, I told myself I would not look back and try to make it—

  • In Hollywood;
  • As a legit screenwriter;
  • Livin’ an American dream.

Then 2016 happened… To look beyond my personal low after I discovered my landlady’s scamming scheme—

  • Obama left.
  • Hilary lost.
  • Trump became the POTUS.
  • My former mentor, whom I’ve estranged since, once told me Trump doesn’t look crazy at all in person. That wise man, out of anybody, was considering taking a job on the Hill should the opportunity presented itself.

I witnessed the student potests on the UCLA campus. I bantered with a policeofficer and I shrugged off.

I was just an outsider. At least I thought I was. It was none of my business, just the way I was taught growing up how to react to the P word. [Translation: Politics.]

I didn’t know the impact of Trump’s shitshow to me, a total bystander, until I did.

What to do apart from screaming WTF?

I started to follow news commentators like Rachel Maddow. I realized that nobody is in anything alone. I would know how to talk about the P word more intensively next time after I’m back. And I’ll be back.

For now, let me just lie down on my back and cry some more.

 

Yours truly,
YZ

PS. Latest #RBYZ episode out now. I’m my own guest. This time, I talk about how I feel about leaving LA head-on.

WARNING: It’s pretty raw.

The Customs – Part 3

I can’t believe there is a third part to this saga!

I used USPS to deliver 15 boxes back to Shanghai. Now 13 of them got confirmed by the customs. Two are still MIA. One is duvet and pillow stuff. Another is clothes and dresses including a Vera Wang puffer overcoat…

I used DHL to send yet another box of paintings back to Shanghai a couple of days ago – as if I hadn’t had enough of the trade war crap.

My dad just got a call from the customes saying that they need invoice and will charge 30% of the receipt value.

I think I would have been really pissed off just a few months ago.

Okay, Trump is having fun trade-waring with China right now. And the customs lady told my dad that it’s nothing personal.

In short, it’s nothing but in response to Trump’s “very, very large a-brain.

My dad’s response is short and sweet, “Seems that only the not-rich folks got taxed.”

In the background, my mum’s voice screached in, “Return that package back to the US. It ain’t my duty to pay somebody else’s duty.”

“Ignore her.” My dad mouthed a response.

Since after mid-August, my threshold for pain and misery has gone up quite a bit. As long as I have my physical and mental health, I think I can live with two missing boxes, a few more bucks on the Trumpism taxation, Trump being the president and Kavanaugh being the Supreme Court judge.

This is not ideal, but it’s not fatal. And it’s certainly not final.

I’ll live.

And the world will live to see Trumps and the Kavanaughs crash and burn.

Oh what, Lindsey, you’ve got somethin’ to say?

 

Yours truly,
YZ