The Law of Healing

If you read the title of this blog post and thought you’re in this to get some scientific insight, you’re at the wrong place. Law is not healing. In fact, I got burned by a lawsuit re: the film, right after the previous post in November, over Thanksgiving weekend. A lot of time have passed between then and now—9 months to be exact. There’s so much to say, but I cannot share anything that happened, except for the fact that I’m forever changed as a person: my perception of justice, changed. I never thought I’d say this, but the justice system is fucked. In the end, only those with money, or those who play victim, win. I felt so helpless, so hopeless, that I didn’t know if I would ever dig myself out of that dark place. For the longest time, I haven’t been able to. Up until now, I still don’t know if I’m in that dark place. That dark feeling comes and goes. Now that it’s been 9 months, it comes back less often. My coping mechanism have subsided (slightly).

Because of all this, I thought about applying to law school for the past 3ish month or so. I spent my days looking through application components, watching YouTube videos on how someone got their LSAT from a 153 to a 174 (WHAT!) or what Law School Admissions Counselor look for in an applicant. I even bought a $56 LSAT Trainer book and paid for expedited shipping! I was all-in with the process. I wrote a draft of my personal statement, wrote that school’s 250 essay, and was in the process of sending it around for feedback. And then I started talking to people who have gone to law school—current students, students who just graduated within the past five or so years, and my boss (lawyer) who teaches at a law school. They all asked me why I wanted to go to law school and what I’m hoping to do with my law degree after I graduate. They also explained the debt… and what the job market looks like now. It all sounded dreadful and very, very, very, very, very depressing. I got even more depressed just listening to their perspectives.

As I was mulling over this process over the three month period, I also went out to more comedy shows (two Hack City Comedy shows, Ali Wong’s show at the Beacon Theatre, and AAIFF’s Comedy Night, to be specific). I saw the comics in flesh—not on Zoom, just like the old times. I slapped my thighs so hard to make noise for the comic, because I’m holding a drink in my other hand (LOL). I laughed until I cried. I felt reinvigorated, alive. It was in that moment, that I realized I am in love with comedy. Not law. Comedy.

During the entire pandemic, I have had a lot of moments where I wanted to give up the artistic path to go into something more stable, like law. But if I were to dig deeper into myself, I realized I love film and comedy infinitely more than law. In a way, I need to stop holding on to the false sense of security that comes with law. Law does not change the game, it merely upholds all the rules established a long time ago.

One other thing I’d say before I drop off … hopefully not for another 9 months, is that I’d rather be depressed doing something I love, than be depressed doing something I am not that interested in. I also have come to this point in my life where I show up for myself. I would rather die with Pikachu and the art I make, than to be with someone who doesn’t respect/appreciate what I’m trying to do. I love what I do.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m still not completely healed. I’m still healing. And healing takes time. I’m going to take some time to rediscover what it is I want to say + how I’m going to say it.

I’m glad I’m taking the steps to heal. :’)

So long 2016

2016 was one of the best and most painful year of my life.

It was the first year in my artistic career that I finally decided to do something about my dreams and put on a solo show, a story I've been writing for the past 2.5 years. It was the first time I experienced pain as an artist, where I was confronted with what it means to be an artist: making art isn't about just making art--it's a business, you have to be an adult and make a living if you want to be an artist. With the show, there was a lot of pleasure but also a lot, a lot of pain and loneliness. And to sum up what I've learned: being an artist means you can pursue your dreams that fulfills you on the inside; but being an adult also means you need to survive and make money to keep the dream alive.

There have been thoughts surrounding what it means to be an artist and be a grown up in the past, but it came to me face-to-face this year because I had to put on a solo show using my most of my savings through working at AALDEF, then spending the next three to four months crossing fingers hoping people will buy tickets and show up. In the end, people did. My gut feeling didn't lie to me.

In the beginning though, it was a sad and lonely journey. I found MC Jin (found = stalk) my director towards the end of January and started heavily rehearsing in front of my refrigerator. In February, I told my brother I'm putting on previews in early May and he told me I shouldn't do it. Why waste money on something that you don't know for sure would make you the money back? I did it anyway. Friends showed up, I got feedback (some great, some hurtful--but the hurtful ones made me reflect and think the most, and helped me during the rewriting process). I spent the next three months revising because I wanted to put on a few more shows for more people to come. In August, I did, and all the shows were sold out. This whole putting up the show was extremely stressful. If you easily crack under stress, which I was a lot of times, it will kill you (if not physically, then mentally). In the end, I learned that you have to believe in your project so much; and most importantly, believe in yourself so much that it fuels you to keep moving forward during the dark times.
The show also put a strain between my relationship with my mom. She came to the show, despite not being able to understand any of the show. A few days later towards the end of August, she asked me if this is something I'd like to do for the rest of my life, and when I answered yes, she told me to find a real 9-to-5. Why go on such a hard road and waste time and money? It was the first time I felt so much pain for pursuing something I greatly believed in, and it was also the first time I fought back. It was painful. It was so painful. But I can't imagine myself doing anything else, and so I will keep going. She can't stop me. No one can. Only I can stop myself. And I won't. I'm bringing the show to Los Angeles: heyjudylei.com/soloshowtour/losangeles in April (04.23.2017 to be exact). And P.S. long story short, I canceled the show in London. This opportunity did allow me to finally have the guts to travel on my own and to two places I've always dreamt of going to: London and Paris!!!)

2016 was the year I finally caved in to the typical actor stereotype of working at a restaurant. I work at Nom Wah Tea Parlor and it drives me insane being on my feet for so long and having to work with so many different personalities. The beauty of it all is the hustle. The nonstop hustle. It makes me feel alive and that's why I like it--even though I cry so hard sometimes in the bathroom or break room. But like my boss said, "you know what else is tough? Life is tough, so keep going." Seriously, keep going.

2016--looking back at all the pictures, a lot of great things happened, in which I accomplished everything I set out to do and more; but for some reason, I realized I spent the entire year being unhappy or indifferent (more like refusing to acknowledge all the good things that are happening and finally admitting how sad I am deep inside--thanks to Chris Gethard's solo show).

For 2017, I would like to practice being grateful and also acknowledge what I'm feeling and why I'm feeling the way I do. I also have a whole list of resolutions I've written down on my planner: worry less, kick ass during LA solo show, write another solo show, rewrite feature film / shoot feature film, be in more film projects, work out once a week, have treat-yoself time once a month, drink more water (I always fuck up on the last one :x).

I have a feeling I'll hit all of these goals in the upcoming year, so let's keep on keeping on, shall we? :-)

ALL THE RAGE | Martin Moran

Today, I had the pleasure to catch a rehearsal of ALL THE RAGE, a solo show performed by Martin Moran and directed by Seth Barrish (my TBG teacher).  At first when Seth invited the class to go watch the show, I hesitated a bit because I wasn't sure how well I'll hold up during the show.  I always have a tendency to fall asleep during plays (opps, please don't kill me), or I will end up super confused if characters talk too fast--or I just don't get what's coming out of their mouths.  But today, I understood everything. In short, Martin Moran's performance blew me away.  Not only did he work every part of the stage--the way he told the story, from beginning to end, adding in all the complexities of meeting different people to discover his own voice & confidence to confront his fear/secret, was empowering.  At some point, I felt tears rushing towards the tip of my eye, and then at another point, I mhmm'd in agreement.  As he went on the emotional journey/discovery, he reminded me what it means to be brave.  I am hardly moved by theatre pieces, but this one definitely made me feel something.

The show runs from January 19 through February 24 at The Peter Jay Sharp Theatre on 416 West 42 Street (between 9 + 10 Avenue).  Check out the Facebook page for more information, and let me know if you're going.  I hope to catch it again!