Happy New Year everybody! It's 2009!
In Hong Kong, we say, "新年快樂!" (Pronounced: sun leen figh lok!)
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
26 - Reflections on 2008.
It's been a very, very long year, to say the least. This is the first time I'm doing one of these reflections, so I hope it helps in bringing me closure, so that the new year can be approached with another year of life experience to support me. How should I format this?... Hmm... Oh, I know! I'll just make a list of all the major events and talk a bit about each of them. (The last one is the most relevant to you guys. :D)
(Jun) Father got divorced again: He tells me my stepmother cheated on him with another man. Not just any man. A 63-year-old man. And I believe him, but I think that if Dominique and their other two girls appear to be fine, then my stepmother and the old guy are fine. Why does my father have to exaggerate everything, I don't know. I agree with him and sympathize for him to an extent, but the fact is: he was the less committed one. I'm a lot like him to be honest... especially in relationships. Over-confident when we really don't have a damn clue. I think I'm working at it. I don't see that in him. All in all, he's an ex-husband twice for good reason.
(Jul) Stopped talking to my dad: Nobody else will understand my perspective of things, that's a given. But let me just tell you: if there's anybody I hate more, it's people that are narrow-minded, unforgiving, who fail to look at things in other people's perspective, who don't even try for a second to walk in another person's shoes. That is all I ever do with my life, every, single, fucking, second, of, every, single, fucking, day. My father is radically different in this aspect and I hate the way he is so arrogant about everything. I look at him and I see the smoking, the drinking, the two divorces, the negligence toward his three other children, the prostitutes in Shenzhen, the lousy dead-end job of a private investigator, his knucklehead friends, especially her (who he's exploiting at the moment), the pervy uncle, the grandmother who always fed him what he wanted, the spoiled brat inside of him that never grew up from over thirty years ago, and at the time, before July, I didn't give a shit about any of that. And it's a testament to how much I know about him, the dreadful, honest truth about him. What does he know about me? Nothing.
Next year, all he will know is that I went to holiday this winter, because he needs to give my mother permission to bring me out of Hong Kong. He will also know which country I'm going to next year for university, only because my mother will tell him. When I grow up, he will know what I do for a living, but only vaguely, only a little bit, only because my mother will tell him. That is all he will know because he never cared to get to know me or the details of my personal and academic life, that as a student and a teenager, are very, very, very important to me.
I am not going to be all melodramatic and say I won't visit his deathbed, go to his funeral or visit his grave. But when those occasions come to pass, all father-and-son sentiments will be lost. There's no space available for me to forgive. My mind does not have the capacity to and my heart is not functioned to forgive a father who does not care to hear about his son's 'lifeless' day. I have been through more than any of my family really knows. This isn't a contest to see who's been through the most, but he should stop boasting and pretending to know everything that I don't. Piece of shit father.
(Jul) The last outing I had with Dad: I went to the beach I grew up on with my father, my grandmother, my uncle, my cousin, my two stepsisters (all on my dad's side, of course) and one of their friends. We had this killer mashed potatoes with tuna and raisins that serves as one of my grandmother's signature dishes. Filipinos know how to make the best comfort food in Asia... We were at the infamous Pui O beach, the word Pui (貝), meaning 'shellfish'. Buried under the sand are hundreds of clams. I had a fun time swimming with my stepsisters. I had a fun time barbecuing with my dad like we used to when I was a kid. When I was out there in the ocean, I dived down and managed to find a clam the size of my hand (around 15cm in diameter). My dad soaked it in beer to wash out the sand and placed it on the fire. I ate it and let me tell you, big doesn't necessarily mean tasty. ;)
It was a good trip, a good final trip before I vowed to ignore him and avoid him at all costs. Why he had to ruin that week is beyond me. His impatience got the better of him and will serve him well.
(Feb) Fell in love for five days: I fell so deep and so fast. I was so darn lonely, to the point where I just didn't care about anything else. They were like another family, to add on to my list containing six or seven other families. I took a leap there, and they caught me, they let me know that life was okay, is okay and will always be okay. Sisters, brothers, father and uncle. Oh, Michael, you're so pathetic.
'Cause the shame in these five days is that they came all the way from Oman. They were only here for a week but I was totally immersed into their group of friends. I will always have a special place in my heart for them but I think that's very useless now. It was there for five days, and now it's gone.
(Dec) Came to a decision: I have found a solution to the problem at school I've been having for a year now. It's time for a change and the new year will bring on a good one. It's been a long, treacherous journey with these people. They've pissed me off more times than I can count and I'm sure I have gotten on their nerve many times as well. I will never forget any of the good times, but hey, there weren't that many to begin with, and they weren't that good at all.
(May) Birthday: My birthday always happens when other things are happening. It was quite a lot of fun going out that night after the Graduation Ball, but again, I drank alone, I danced alone, I went home alone. Why is it so hard to find somebody? Why is it that the four of them stuck together? Why is it that they were a couple? Why do they go home? Where does it ever leave me?
No, that's not the right way to think about it. It's precisely about me on my birthday if I am willing to believe it to be. Besides, I have made a decision to stop caring about them. I had fun on my birthday, and it was a considerably good one when compared to my birthdays in previous years. I won't forget it and next year will be even better.
(Sep) Mid-Autumn Festival: I've never been to the beach on that night. I had no idea that loads of people actually did that. It was good, though. And I got the chance to see her, so it was nice. The moon created this mysteriousness amongst us. I wonder if we would ever find ourselves in that same spot again.
God, why do I always think I'm alone? People will always tell me, no, you're not alone, but heyheyhey. I really am by the end of the night. I think I have to make peace with the fact that I will be more alone in the next few months. Yikes.
(July) Family trip to Toronto: Now, this was a really good time. A time that I pretty much forgot about until I looked at a calender to remind myself about what I was doing in those blank two weeks in my head. I went to Toronto with my whole family (save my mother and my aunt). We went to eat crazy-good steak, and to see all the attractions that I could now look at in another, more mature, light. I love Toronto. I will live there at some point in my life. And although I can't say I love time with my family, at least they never, ever make me feel alone.
(Jun) Last week of school: I had to stage manage a concert, as well as perform in a lead role of the senior play. To be honest, I stage managed better the previous time. This time, I was breaking down, I didn't care about these people and I couldn't do my job because I let these people get to me. Not all of them were bad. I don't want to say it goes to show how tired I've gotten of them. I think it's just me again. Pathetic, emotional me.
For the school play, these people were cool. Actors are nice people. Never really bothered me much. Oh, how could I forget about him though. He was a pain up my ass. Oh, but at least the lot of them were sitting in the audience, far, far away. The show went quite well and everybody clapped for Andrew, Bea and Chas. I want to do more professional stuff, though. The stuff I had in my old school, as opposed to this mini-production. Oh, the life I could've led... It's my own fault for bringing that upon myself.
(Aug) Cheung Chau: Here in Hong Kong (I start an awful lot of my paragraphs like this, don't I?), during the holidays, a lot of young people like to rent a house on one of the outlying islands for a few days to enjoy life outside the city for a change. We can go biking, go to the beach, eat lots of junk food and even bring our laptops, our Playstations and even our electric guitars to the house to just relax and be lazy (or in my social group's case, work and study :P).
This year, five people came to my house thing that I rented. Last year, twelve people came, so I was a little let down. I was happy that the four 'right' people came to accompany me. Especially the couple. Both of them lightened up my time there... It wasn't all smiles, but I was content. However...
(Aug) Loneliest I've ever felt: It was a strange night that night. They were asleep in the room and I didn't want to wake them (well, I did. And I texted them). I stepped outside, went biking for a while, bought a drink at the store at two in the morning, but gosh, the emptiness inside of me felt so strong, it was unbelievable. I sat on the beach, frantically, desperately trying to call everyone I could. Nobody would pick up their phones. I had no computer to go online. I was overwhelmingly sad and it was cold and it was dark and the beach was empty.
The beach is a place I usually go to sit and think about life. Beaches have always been comfortable for me. I find it nice when there is sand in my shoe, caught between my toes. I like the feel of my jeans drenched in seawater. I can have a good night's sleep on the sand, falling asleep and waking up to the sound of the waves. For some reason, that night just did not work for me. I was restless, lonely and miserable. I cried that night very, very hard. It brought back thoughts of my suicidal incident four years ago. It brought back memories of all the pain I ever experienced with either parent, with my friends, with my heart that's fallen in love so many times, so deeply and so wrongly. I just wished that someone was there so badly.
But I was considerate enough not to bother the couple. They had enough on their minds at the time. It came at the cost. How big of a cost am I, really?
(Oct) Started blogging: I didn't believe that blogging was therapeutic. I didn't think that I could entertain people, or that I could touch people's hearts with my writing. I just thought it was a leisure activity, where angry, depressed and/or talkative people would bail their hearts out and talk about the most insignificant things. I don't know why I felt this way, because normally, I'm usually a person that's very open to new experiences. But, in a rush of emotion one night, just because I was bored, I created Do you hate it too? and wow, I had no idea that people from the States, from Brazil, from the UK, from everywhere, could be so welcoming, and could give a damn about what I had to say.
I used to be mightily unhappy around my friends and family. They would piss me off to no ends. But if there's something I must thank them for, it's for doing exactly that. Driving the living Hell out of me with their annoyances so that I could start my blog and enter a whole new realm of socialization. I cannot express how grateful I am to all my followers and all the people who have such fantastic, inspirational, equally and differently opinionated blogs for me to read. Blogging is still not therapeutic (in fact, it gets stressful at times trying to come up with topics), but I think I can be confident in saying that it has brightened up my mood and cheered me up after a year that has been so eventful, stressful, troublesome, miserable and lonely. You are all like family, and I cannot wait to grow up, travel the world and meet all of you in person perhaps, visit the places you mention in your blogs, meet the people you talk about in your entries. Blogging is the biggest and the best part of my 2008.
*update: I forgot about the Presidential Elections,the Olympics and other big news. Goes to show how self-centred Iam...*
(Jun) Father got divorced again: He tells me my stepmother cheated on him with another man. Not just any man. A 63-year-old man. And I believe him, but I think that if Dominique and their other two girls appear to be fine, then my stepmother and the old guy are fine. Why does my father have to exaggerate everything, I don't know. I agree with him and sympathize for him to an extent, but the fact is: he was the less committed one. I'm a lot like him to be honest... especially in relationships. Over-confident when we really don't have a damn clue. I think I'm working at it. I don't see that in him. All in all, he's an ex-husband twice for good reason.
(Jul) Stopped talking to my dad: Nobody else will understand my perspective of things, that's a given. But let me just tell you: if there's anybody I hate more, it's people that are narrow-minded, unforgiving, who fail to look at things in other people's perspective, who don't even try for a second to walk in another person's shoes. That is all I ever do with my life, every, single, fucking, second, of, every, single, fucking, day. My father is radically different in this aspect and I hate the way he is so arrogant about everything. I look at him and I see the smoking, the drinking, the two divorces, the negligence toward his three other children, the prostitutes in Shenzhen, the lousy dead-end job of a private investigator, his knucklehead friends, especially her (who he's exploiting at the moment), the pervy uncle, the grandmother who always fed him what he wanted, the spoiled brat inside of him that never grew up from over thirty years ago, and at the time, before July, I didn't give a shit about any of that. And it's a testament to how much I know about him, the dreadful, honest truth about him. What does he know about me? Nothing.
Next year, all he will know is that I went to holiday this winter, because he needs to give my mother permission to bring me out of Hong Kong. He will also know which country I'm going to next year for university, only because my mother will tell him. When I grow up, he will know what I do for a living, but only vaguely, only a little bit, only because my mother will tell him. That is all he will know because he never cared to get to know me or the details of my personal and academic life, that as a student and a teenager, are very, very, very important to me.
I am not going to be all melodramatic and say I won't visit his deathbed, go to his funeral or visit his grave. But when those occasions come to pass, all father-and-son sentiments will be lost. There's no space available for me to forgive. My mind does not have the capacity to and my heart is not functioned to forgive a father who does not care to hear about his son's 'lifeless' day. I have been through more than any of my family really knows. This isn't a contest to see who's been through the most, but he should stop boasting and pretending to know everything that I don't. Piece of shit father.
(Jul) The last outing I had with Dad: I went to the beach I grew up on with my father, my grandmother, my uncle, my cousin, my two stepsisters (all on my dad's side, of course) and one of their friends. We had this killer mashed potatoes with tuna and raisins that serves as one of my grandmother's signature dishes. Filipinos know how to make the best comfort food in Asia... We were at the infamous Pui O beach, the word Pui (貝), meaning 'shellfish'. Buried under the sand are hundreds of clams. I had a fun time swimming with my stepsisters. I had a fun time barbecuing with my dad like we used to when I was a kid. When I was out there in the ocean, I dived down and managed to find a clam the size of my hand (around 15cm in diameter). My dad soaked it in beer to wash out the sand and placed it on the fire. I ate it and let me tell you, big doesn't necessarily mean tasty. ;)
It was a good trip, a good final trip before I vowed to ignore him and avoid him at all costs. Why he had to ruin that week is beyond me. His impatience got the better of him and will serve him well.
(Feb) Fell in love for five days: I fell so deep and so fast. I was so darn lonely, to the point where I just didn't care about anything else. They were like another family, to add on to my list containing six or seven other families. I took a leap there, and they caught me, they let me know that life was okay, is okay and will always be okay. Sisters, brothers, father and uncle. Oh, Michael, you're so pathetic.
'Cause the shame in these five days is that they came all the way from Oman. They were only here for a week but I was totally immersed into their group of friends. I will always have a special place in my heart for them but I think that's very useless now. It was there for five days, and now it's gone.
(Dec) Came to a decision: I have found a solution to the problem at school I've been having for a year now. It's time for a change and the new year will bring on a good one. It's been a long, treacherous journey with these people. They've pissed me off more times than I can count and I'm sure I have gotten on their nerve many times as well. I will never forget any of the good times, but hey, there weren't that many to begin with, and they weren't that good at all.
(May) Birthday: My birthday always happens when other things are happening. It was quite a lot of fun going out that night after the Graduation Ball, but again, I drank alone, I danced alone, I went home alone. Why is it so hard to find somebody? Why is it that the four of them stuck together? Why is it that they were a couple? Why do they go home? Where does it ever leave me?
No, that's not the right way to think about it. It's precisely about me on my birthday if I am willing to believe it to be. Besides, I have made a decision to stop caring about them. I had fun on my birthday, and it was a considerably good one when compared to my birthdays in previous years. I won't forget it and next year will be even better.
(Sep) Mid-Autumn Festival: I've never been to the beach on that night. I had no idea that loads of people actually did that. It was good, though. And I got the chance to see her, so it was nice. The moon created this mysteriousness amongst us. I wonder if we would ever find ourselves in that same spot again.
God, why do I always think I'm alone? People will always tell me, no, you're not alone, but heyheyhey. I really am by the end of the night. I think I have to make peace with the fact that I will be more alone in the next few months. Yikes.
(July) Family trip to Toronto: Now, this was a really good time. A time that I pretty much forgot about until I looked at a calender to remind myself about what I was doing in those blank two weeks in my head. I went to Toronto with my whole family (save my mother and my aunt). We went to eat crazy-good steak, and to see all the attractions that I could now look at in another, more mature, light. I love Toronto. I will live there at some point in my life. And although I can't say I love time with my family, at least they never, ever make me feel alone.
(Jun) Last week of school: I had to stage manage a concert, as well as perform in a lead role of the senior play. To be honest, I stage managed better the previous time. This time, I was breaking down, I didn't care about these people and I couldn't do my job because I let these people get to me. Not all of them were bad. I don't want to say it goes to show how tired I've gotten of them. I think it's just me again. Pathetic, emotional me.
For the school play, these people were cool. Actors are nice people. Never really bothered me much. Oh, how could I forget about him though. He was a pain up my ass. Oh, but at least the lot of them were sitting in the audience, far, far away. The show went quite well and everybody clapped for Andrew, Bea and Chas. I want to do more professional stuff, though. The stuff I had in my old school, as opposed to this mini-production. Oh, the life I could've led... It's my own fault for bringing that upon myself.
(Aug) Cheung Chau: Here in Hong Kong (I start an awful lot of my paragraphs like this, don't I?), during the holidays, a lot of young people like to rent a house on one of the outlying islands for a few days to enjoy life outside the city for a change. We can go biking, go to the beach, eat lots of junk food and even bring our laptops, our Playstations and even our electric guitars to the house to just relax and be lazy (or in my social group's case, work and study :P).
This year, five people came to my house thing that I rented. Last year, twelve people came, so I was a little let down. I was happy that the four 'right' people came to accompany me. Especially the couple. Both of them lightened up my time there... It wasn't all smiles, but I was content. However...
(Aug) Loneliest I've ever felt: It was a strange night that night. They were asleep in the room and I didn't want to wake them (well, I did. And I texted them). I stepped outside, went biking for a while, bought a drink at the store at two in the morning, but gosh, the emptiness inside of me felt so strong, it was unbelievable. I sat on the beach, frantically, desperately trying to call everyone I could. Nobody would pick up their phones. I had no computer to go online. I was overwhelmingly sad and it was cold and it was dark and the beach was empty.
The beach is a place I usually go to sit and think about life. Beaches have always been comfortable for me. I find it nice when there is sand in my shoe, caught between my toes. I like the feel of my jeans drenched in seawater. I can have a good night's sleep on the sand, falling asleep and waking up to the sound of the waves. For some reason, that night just did not work for me. I was restless, lonely and miserable. I cried that night very, very hard. It brought back thoughts of my suicidal incident four years ago. It brought back memories of all the pain I ever experienced with either parent, with my friends, with my heart that's fallen in love so many times, so deeply and so wrongly. I just wished that someone was there so badly.
But I was considerate enough not to bother the couple. They had enough on their minds at the time. It came at the cost. How big of a cost am I, really?
(Oct) Started blogging: I didn't believe that blogging was therapeutic. I didn't think that I could entertain people, or that I could touch people's hearts with my writing. I just thought it was a leisure activity, where angry, depressed and/or talkative people would bail their hearts out and talk about the most insignificant things. I don't know why I felt this way, because normally, I'm usually a person that's very open to new experiences. But, in a rush of emotion one night, just because I was bored, I created Do you hate it too? and wow, I had no idea that people from the States, from Brazil, from the UK, from everywhere, could be so welcoming, and could give a damn about what I had to say.
I used to be mightily unhappy around my friends and family. They would piss me off to no ends. But if there's something I must thank them for, it's for doing exactly that. Driving the living Hell out of me with their annoyances so that I could start my blog and enter a whole new realm of socialization. I cannot express how grateful I am to all my followers and all the people who have such fantastic, inspirational, equally and differently opinionated blogs for me to read. Blogging is still not therapeutic (in fact, it gets stressful at times trying to come up with topics), but I think I can be confident in saying that it has brightened up my mood and cheered me up after a year that has been so eventful, stressful, troublesome, miserable and lonely. You are all like family, and I cannot wait to grow up, travel the world and meet all of you in person perhaps, visit the places you mention in your blogs, meet the people you talk about in your entries. Blogging is the biggest and the best part of my 2008.
*update: I forgot about the Presidential Elections,the Olympics and other big news. Goes to show how self-centred Iam...*
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
25 - Merry Christmas!
Coincidentally, this is my 25th post.
To all my readers, have a great Christmas!
Here in Hong Kong, we say, "聖誕節快樂!" (Pronounced: sing dahn jeet fy lock!)
To all my readers, have a great Christmas!
Here in Hong Kong, we say, "聖誕節快樂!" (Pronounced: sing dahn jeet fy lock!)
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
24 - Going on holiday! But, what about the blog?
Yipes, I've literally spent a whole day blogging. I have to go to dinner too.So, where is the Hatred King going this winter? Any Hong Konger would start off with just "China", without going into further detail to specify where in China exactly. Why that is, I don't know, but anyway, I am going to Sichuan, the red-colored province in the map. Anyone who watches the news will know there was an earthquake that hit Sichuan in May, killing nearly 70,000 people.
All quakes aside, Sichuan is also known for its many scenic attractions, a few of which I have pictured below. I hope that I can take photos that are even more overwhelming than these. The exact dates of my travel will be from December 26th to December 31st, meaning I just make it for Christmas and New Year celebrations here in Hong Kong.
Chengdu Research Base of Giant Panda Breeding (More like a zoo, it isn't as creepy as it sounds.)
Jiuzhaigou Valley
Jiuzhaigou Waterfall
Leshan Giant Buddha, stands at 71m tall.
Mount Emei. Clouds, literally, conceal the temples sometimes.-----------------------------------------
So, what happens to the blog while I'm gone?
On the 26th, I will be posting a sort of reflection on 2008 right before I leave (which will be fairly personal). Other than that, there won't be anything major. Any posts to be posted while I'm gone will be published automatically so we'll see if I can dig up anything to blog about.
As for Do you hate it too?, the plan is entirely different. I will include that plan in tomorrow's post for that blog. For now, hope you're enjoying your holiday. I won't be back 'til Christmas, but that will only be for a short Merry Christmas greeting. Eat well, sleep well, make your last week of 2008 worth remembering!
Monday, December 22, 2008
23 - Charma International Limited.
My aunt has just opened up her own online boutique called Charma International Limited. She told me about it yesterday afternoon. The business is two weeks old, and she has made around ten to twenty sales so far. In my honest opinion, her website is very decent and user-friendly. The items, themselves, when seen up close, are pretty, even for me, and I believe my aunt deserves to have a wider market. Thus, I'm helping her advertise here.
She sells a variety of high-quality accessories, all of which are very appropriate to purchase as Christmas, birthday, New Year's or wedding gifts. She has even made some of her products by hand; good examples include the Birthday Cake, pictured left, and the Angel photo frame, pictured directly below. Pictured at the top of this post is the Red Rose Crystal Ring Box Set. Pictured at the very bottom is a Crystal Glass Penchant.
She checks and updates her website to the hour to make sure her customers are happy. She also welcomes advice or comments on her newly-launched website. All payments are done through PayPal and both local and overseas delivery can be made through FedEx, the price of which depends on how far away you are, of course. Information on deliveries can be found here.Please pay a visit, at least, and bookmark the webpage if you are the kind of blogger that procrastinates when it comes to buying gifts for special occasions. These make very good gifts and I would love for my aunt's new online boutique to be a success. Even if you are not one to buy gifts, recommend them to friends who go mad for these types of accessories, ones that like to shop online or anybody who you feel will support this new business.
Last of all, when you come to contact her (should you wish to purchase an item), you will get discounts just for mentioning my name (which is Michael Rivera, by the way, if I haven't impressed that upon you enough already).
Thank you all for your dedicated readership and for giving this your attention today.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
22 - I fell to my death again.
I've been having a recurring dream for about three years running now. The exact details of the dream always change but the thing that never changes is: I die.
In my dreams, I get my head chopped off, I dehydrate in a desert, I drown, I burn, I fall off buildings, bridges and cliffs, I get struck by lightning, I starve on an isolated island, I get a plastic bag thrown over my head and asphyxiated, I get consumed by thousands of scarabs, I'm predated by wild African animals, I get run over by a train, I sit in a car that explodes or a plane that crashes, I'm in hospital and my heart rate monitor just beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps.
If that's not enough, in my dreams, I've fallen into a deep hole in the floor, I've been eaten by water snakes while I was swimming in a pool, I've died in the electric chair, I'm unconscious but the pathologist opens up my chest cavity.
I get shot, I get stabbed, I get hung, I get beaten up, I fall off a roller coaster, I get a heart attack, I get hit on the back of the head, I get surgery but the doctor's scalpel slips and pierces my beating heart (probably the most graphic one)... aaaaaand I think that's all of them.
Last night, I fell to my death again. The setting was so eerie that normally it would've been scary. I was sitting in a dark room and I was seated a table. I was being interrogated by a faceless man on the opposite side. I ran out of the dark room when the interrogator was distracted, only to escape into a darker, smoky corridor. I run. And reach the top of a staircase. The person interrogating me was chasing me and instead of choosing to run down many, many stairs, I must have figured that it wasn't worth giving up whatever information I had to that guy, even if it cost me my life. So, I grabbed the handrail of the stairs and jumped over the side to fall to my death again.
In all of these death dreams, I see myself in the third-person. I always wake up before I hit the ground, right when the bullet is fired, the moment I breathe in my last breath. I never see the end of it. I get these dreams so often that it's all I remember dreaming about. They're not even nightmares to me, just dreams. I'm too used to them.
According to dream interpretations, dreaming of death symbolizes that I am ready to change, to have my old lifestyle, environment or personality 'die' so I can be 'reborn' to form a new one. I dream of death so often because I always want a change. It's change I can't get right now. I haven't been able to get it for three years.
That will change soon, though. I can already feel it. The day that happens will be a good day.
In my dreams, I get my head chopped off, I dehydrate in a desert, I drown, I burn, I fall off buildings, bridges and cliffs, I get struck by lightning, I starve on an isolated island, I get a plastic bag thrown over my head and asphyxiated, I get consumed by thousands of scarabs, I'm predated by wild African animals, I get run over by a train, I sit in a car that explodes or a plane that crashes, I'm in hospital and my heart rate monitor just beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeps.
If that's not enough, in my dreams, I've fallen into a deep hole in the floor, I've been eaten by water snakes while I was swimming in a pool, I've died in the electric chair, I'm unconscious but the pathologist opens up my chest cavity.
I get shot, I get stabbed, I get hung, I get beaten up, I fall off a roller coaster, I get a heart attack, I get hit on the back of the head, I get surgery but the doctor's scalpel slips and pierces my beating heart (probably the most graphic one)... aaaaaand I think that's all of them.
Last night, I fell to my death again. The setting was so eerie that normally it would've been scary. I was sitting in a dark room and I was seated a table. I was being interrogated by a faceless man on the opposite side. I ran out of the dark room when the interrogator was distracted, only to escape into a darker, smoky corridor. I run. And reach the top of a staircase. The person interrogating me was chasing me and instead of choosing to run down many, many stairs, I must have figured that it wasn't worth giving up whatever information I had to that guy, even if it cost me my life. So, I grabbed the handrail of the stairs and jumped over the side to fall to my death again.
In all of these death dreams, I see myself in the third-person. I always wake up before I hit the ground, right when the bullet is fired, the moment I breathe in my last breath. I never see the end of it. I get these dreams so often that it's all I remember dreaming about. They're not even nightmares to me, just dreams. I'm too used to them.
According to dream interpretations, dreaming of death symbolizes that I am ready to change, to have my old lifestyle, environment or personality 'die' so I can be 'reborn' to form a new one. I dream of death so often because I always want a change. It's change I can't get right now. I haven't been able to get it for three years.
That will change soon, though. I can already feel it. The day that happens will be a good day.
Friday, December 19, 2008
21 - Giving up and swallowing the emotions.
You are bound to experience the ever-changing and complex nature of emotions whenever you’re betrayed, hurt, taken by surprise, provoked, abused, or perhaps by a stroke of luck, when someone loves you. People can make you feel all sorts of feelings, whether it be glad or depressed, outraged or frightened, comfortable or highly neurotic. It doesn’t matter whether we’re black or white or yellow, whether we’re in a low, an average or a high social class, whether we were just born into this world, about to leave it, or we're somewhere in between, whether we like to eat nothing but expensive caviar or whether we like to slit our wrists, whether we're personable and likable or rude and rebellious, no matter what our political standpoints, backgrounds, thoughts, morals, dreams and goals or our personality are. We all feel emotions. It's a given.
A lesson we all have to learn is how, when and with whom you need to swallow these emotions. You have to withstand the temptation to express your feelings at some points, even when it annoys you, even when it hurts you deep inside.
We have to learn to swallow them for the benefit of everyone, to save ourselves from embarrassment, to withhold a reputation or an appearance, to avoid argument, to calm ourselves down, to spare someone’s feelings, or to perhaps prevent further sad reminiscence or grief. We keep them in because not everybody can handle the honest truth. We keep them in because it’s not necessarily 'healthy' for you, or for anybody else. We keep them in to protect ourselves from all the people that will abuse you, betray you or deceive you. We keep them in for many different reasons. Sometimes, we almost need to keep them in just as much as we need to, in other times, express them.
I hold them in because I know it’s pointless to express them. I feel hopeless wherever I sit, with whomever I see and whenever I hear the selfish, unripe thoughts of those that are close to me. It’s hopeless asking for more. It’s futile wanting something more than nothing. Expressing yourself seems overrated to me.
It’s over, my heart is broken and I give up. I'm giving up on revealing to you honestly why I care for you, what I truly want from you, and how I'm hurt by you. I give up asking for what I want. I’m done with being disappointed, underwhelmed and feeling unappreciated and lonely. I’m going to keep them in until we leave. I know I need to learn how to control them with you. I know I need to learn whenever I’m around you. All I need to learn is how to withstand the temptation to be drawn to you, to give you second chances, to let you share with me the reasons why I should continue trusting you with my heart. I'm giving up the whole sharing thing now, because you don't make me feel wanted. Conversely, that's all I ever try to convey to you, that I want you by my side, that I need you. I've given up doing all that now. I'm sick of being a relationship tutor. I've given up and I'm never going back, even when it annoys me...
...even when it hurts me deep inside.
A lesson we all have to learn is how, when and with whom you need to swallow these emotions. You have to withstand the temptation to express your feelings at some points, even when it annoys you, even when it hurts you deep inside.
We have to learn to swallow them for the benefit of everyone, to save ourselves from embarrassment, to withhold a reputation or an appearance, to avoid argument, to calm ourselves down, to spare someone’s feelings, or to perhaps prevent further sad reminiscence or grief. We keep them in because not everybody can handle the honest truth. We keep them in because it’s not necessarily 'healthy' for you, or for anybody else. We keep them in to protect ourselves from all the people that will abuse you, betray you or deceive you. We keep them in for many different reasons. Sometimes, we almost need to keep them in just as much as we need to, in other times, express them.
I hold them in because I know it’s pointless to express them. I feel hopeless wherever I sit, with whomever I see and whenever I hear the selfish, unripe thoughts of those that are close to me. It’s hopeless asking for more. It’s futile wanting something more than nothing. Expressing yourself seems overrated to me.
It’s over, my heart is broken and I give up. I'm giving up on revealing to you honestly why I care for you, what I truly want from you, and how I'm hurt by you. I give up asking for what I want. I’m done with being disappointed, underwhelmed and feeling unappreciated and lonely. I’m going to keep them in until we leave. I know I need to learn how to control them with you. I know I need to learn whenever I’m around you. All I need to learn is how to withstand the temptation to be drawn to you, to give you second chances, to let you share with me the reasons why I should continue trusting you with my heart. I'm giving up the whole sharing thing now, because you don't make me feel wanted. Conversely, that's all I ever try to convey to you, that I want you by my side, that I need you. I've given up doing all that now. I'm sick of being a relationship tutor. I've given up and I'm never going back, even when it annoys me...
...even when it hurts me deep inside.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
20 - Rant.
So, it's always healthy to have a good rant. That's always been my belief. Forgetting about paragraphing and the proper structure of introduction-body-conclusion can be quite a relief, although, for me, keeping the spelling, grammar and punctuation will have to remain just for the sake of it. I have a lot of work to do over the winter holidays. I have around five pieces of work to do already and I probably will get three more. I have to go on holiday soon and I don't know what to do about my blogs, especially 'Do you hate it too?" I guess I'll ponder that some other time, but right now, it's about the rant. It's about raving on and on about everything that you just want to say but wouldn't say on a regular basis because nobody would actually care. Yesterday, I rearranged the furniture in my room. I made it more convenient for me to do everything on my bed. I like having my laptop beside me everyday as I fall asleep. I don't want to have two more days of school. It's quite taxing having to be at school. You know what I really want to rant about? I don't want my classmates reading my stupid blog. I should never have made it public to them because they actually know me but not well enough as some of my out-of-school friends. They know things about me through my blogs but they shouldn't because I really don't trust them. It speaks volumes that I trust a potentially worldwide online community more than the people I go to school with every single day. What they do is they read my blog, they go to school, they see me, think about what I said in my blog, judge me, discuss about me, go home and read my blog again. That's what they do and I'm so fucking paranoid about it and I hate thinking that way but that's the truth. I dislike the way my best friend treats me too. My alleged best friend. He seems to think that he can treat me however he wants to treat me but that's the case with all of them, all these darn people that I call my close friends. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know what to do. I don't know why it is that I'm continually drawn towards them even though I despise being around them and talking to them so much. I hate the way he thinks he's high and mighty and thinks that I'm nothing but a lonely asshole that has no other friends. He has to stop thinking that way, he has to stop it because i'm SICK AND TIRED OF IT AFTER HAVING IT BE THAT WAY FOR SEVEN YEARS NOW. Why can't he ever just be a little kinder towards me? Damn. Nothing good can come of ranting here. Classmates: hope you've enjoyed it. Especially you, He Who Trust Me The Most. You really are better off being with the others. You fit in that 'circle' and I find you despicable sometimes thanks to your low EQ. You never try to be closer to me. You never try to push me away either. Give anything a try and shock me before the day we leave each other. Best friend: you know, this is a term I've never thrown around. I call you 'best friend' because you literally are the one that's stuck by me the longest, but I've figured out that you only do that because you're the lonely asshole. I don't know what it is you plan on doing when I leave Hong Kong but damn it, I don't just throw those two words around. I mean it, and you should mean it too. Perhaps reading these blogs every now and then would serve you good and give you a true indication of what I really feel about you. You say you don't care about me so openly. I believe you. Bloggers: That's me, I'm an angry Asian teenager. Go on, give me your words of advice, whether it be I need to change or whether it be I don't need to change. Compliment me, critique me, call me names, whatever. The truth is, I may do either. You're all much wiser than me. But the moment I see any bit of goddamn patronizing adult-to-child crap... well, I won't do anything. I just won't take your advice to heart.
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(update after realizing I got too angry the first time)
Alright, alright, something happy, something happy. I like blogging, really. I think that some of the stuff people come up with educates me greatly and will benefit me in the long-run as I not only practice my writing on a regular basis, but I also will be able to consider other people's thoughts and philosophies more easily in the future. It's a good thing and I appreciate all the comments and I comment on all of your blogs too because it shows that we're all sharing this blogging experience together. I like a lot of things an I'm not just all hatehatehate. Even though I hate their behavior, I can honestly say that I love them. I love them to the bitter ends of the Earth. I just hate what they do and say sometimes and there are many good things about them that make me drawn to them (answering myself with regards to what I said above). I love television and food and genuinely long walks on the beach, although, it's the beach I like, whether I'm running, swimming, wading, digging or diving, whether they be long, medium or short walks, runs, swims, wades, digs or dives. I listen to any music that's mainstream and I prefer it to be hot and sunny rather than cold and damp. I have to go do something. I'll be elaborating on my winter plans in the next post.
----------------------------------------------------------
(update after realizing I got too angry the first time)
Alright, alright, something happy, something happy. I like blogging, really. I think that some of the stuff people come up with educates me greatly and will benefit me in the long-run as I not only practice my writing on a regular basis, but I also will be able to consider other people's thoughts and philosophies more easily in the future. It's a good thing and I appreciate all the comments and I comment on all of your blogs too because it shows that we're all sharing this blogging experience together. I like a lot of things an I'm not just all hatehatehate. Even though I hate their behavior, I can honestly say that I love them. I love them to the bitter ends of the Earth. I just hate what they do and say sometimes and there are many good things about them that make me drawn to them (answering myself with regards to what I said above). I love television and food and genuinely long walks on the beach, although, it's the beach I like, whether I'm running, swimming, wading, digging or diving, whether they be long, medium or short walks, runs, swims, wades, digs or dives. I listen to any music that's mainstream and I prefer it to be hot and sunny rather than cold and damp. I have to go do something. I'll be elaborating on my winter plans in the next post.
Friday, December 12, 2008
19 - Leave me alone.
What is it about getting other people to understand how we feel that is so important? Why does every single person find themselves, every now and then, in a position where somebody just doesn't understand how we can see things differently to them? What is it about pushing our views on to others that is so satisfying, gratifying, amazingly pleasing?
This is something that I've been thinking about lately because it seems like no matter what I try to do, I can't seem to be able to step in another person's shoes, per se, and make them feel assured because I'm there - to listen, to comprehend and to care. All I can do is try to give them what they want to hear, or show them what they want to see, but do I really know what it's like to be them?
No.
And it's not possible to do so ever. And I feel so damn useless when someone gets disappointed by me, when they think that I'm wrong about the way I see things and when they think that I'm the one that's not accustomed to thinking the way they think, the way it's 'right' to think.
It pains me because I don't go around telling people that they should change the way they are. I don't see why people want me to listen and want my sound advice, if they're not willing to do the same. It seems like no matter how many times I tell people to try and understand me, they go off telling me that I live in my own little world, that I'm self-centered and my views are just so different from the norm as if that's a bad thing. It's my uniqueness that carries me through life. I don't want to be another sheep. How dare somebody tell me that I need to change when it's essentially this character, my judgment and personality, that attracts them to me to ask for advice in the first place.
Why do I always have to be the one that understands you? Why do I always have to be the one that has to change? Is it really so hard for you to accept my quirks and my habits? Is it really so hard for you to understand? Is it really so hard for you to change?
I never ask these questions. You are who you are and you get to be whoever you want to be. Leave me alone. I like living in my own little world. It is what makes me independent, it is what makes me interesting and it is what makes me special.
Leave me the Hell alone.
This is something that I've been thinking about lately because it seems like no matter what I try to do, I can't seem to be able to step in another person's shoes, per se, and make them feel assured because I'm there - to listen, to comprehend and to care. All I can do is try to give them what they want to hear, or show them what they want to see, but do I really know what it's like to be them?
No.
And it's not possible to do so ever. And I feel so damn useless when someone gets disappointed by me, when they think that I'm wrong about the way I see things and when they think that I'm the one that's not accustomed to thinking the way they think, the way it's 'right' to think.
It pains me because I don't go around telling people that they should change the way they are. I don't see why people want me to listen and want my sound advice, if they're not willing to do the same. It seems like no matter how many times I tell people to try and understand me, they go off telling me that I live in my own little world, that I'm self-centered and my views are just so different from the norm as if that's a bad thing. It's my uniqueness that carries me through life. I don't want to be another sheep. How dare somebody tell me that I need to change when it's essentially this character, my judgment and personality, that attracts them to me to ask for advice in the first place.
Why do I always have to be the one that understands you? Why do I always have to be the one that has to change? Is it really so hard for you to accept my quirks and my habits? Is it really so hard for you to understand? Is it really so hard for you to change?
I never ask these questions. You are who you are and you get to be whoever you want to be. Leave me alone. I like living in my own little world. It is what makes me independent, it is what makes me interesting and it is what makes me special.
Leave me the Hell alone.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
18 - New scanner/printer.
Behold the Canon PIXMA MP545:
Here's the first photo I could find that I thought I might use in this post to celebrate my very first personal printer and scanner. The image is of me and my mother when I was a very inquisitive kid.
Boy, I was fat...
Here's the first photo I could find that I thought I might use in this post to celebrate my very first personal printer and scanner. The image is of me and my mother when I was a very inquisitive kid.
Boy, I was fat...
17 - Words of wisdom.
Dietary fiber is an important (if not the most important) component of one's nutrition because if one doesn't have enough of it in their diet, the consequences can be dreadfully painful and that's all I'm going to share with you lest I might disgust you...
Have a nice day.
Have a nice day.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
16 - Where did all my best friends go?
One doesn't care about me because of how my feelings have affected the situation. He looks down on me and thinks I'm pathetic He thinks I take things too seriously and that I should learn to let loose, yet at the same time, he prides himself in having a mindset on deep philosophical ponderings and having more mature thoughts than the rest of us. He thinks he sees it all when he seems to miss the most important observation - a self-reflection.
One hasn't known me for very long but I've sort of gotten to like her since we began getting to know each other last year. She knows about me but I despise the way she finds it hard to express herself. I'm a very good listener so she may as well make use of it. I hate being the one talking and she doesn't make me feel treasured. Soon enough, I'll leave but I'm always here for now. Oh, but she'll never approach me. I'm worthless to her. It makes me so angry. Who is she to judge?
One knows when I'm being serious and knows when I'm being fun as well. In fact, he knows everything about me, from the scar I have on my abdomen to the list of Christmas gifts I've received over the past six years, from the people I love and care about to the people that I've just passed by on any given day, from the color of my pillows to the books I've read, from the stories of my childhood to the story of my life on a daily basis now. He knows everything, yet he doesn't know that he uses humor too much. He laughs because he's insecure with the fact that he trusts me, needs and and loves me. He jokes because he doesn't know how to share sensitive words, yet he has what is seemingly the most profound opinion regarding my own ethics and life. He deems himself high and mighty. He looks down on me and thinks that a one-way trust can work between us. How is he different from the other guy? How can he really expect me to want to keep him any longer?
One has always been quiet and timid with a twist of fun, cute energy. She's been her best friend for years and trusts him too and that's how we've come to trust each other's advice and judgment. It's the distance that has separated us. It's the fundamental problem of having our schedules consume our personal lives. What a pity.
One, I found quite surprisingly out of nowhere. I guess great minds think alike and are eventually drawn together and I'm so glad that they are. Out of all of these, we have the least problems, I reckon. Oh, but she's too caught up in her own life. She's still not trusting enough and it's too bad that her and I never discussed anything more. I've always wondered, but I guess a friendship that's safe and content is better than one that's surprising and loaded with variables.
One, I used to love with all my heart. She was perfect but I messed it up. I thought we could continue to bond despite the fact we went to different schools but it turns out that the incident has changed everything, most notably her feelings towards me and her desire to want to be with me. I thought we could lie on the bare trust that we had established by our childish liking for each other but the late-night chats, the kind words of advice and encouragement and the times of watching television simultaneously are long gone now. I was ready to hold her in my arms. I was ready to kiss her on the forehead in the morning, the cheek as she had her lunch and on the lips before we parted ways. I was so ready but really, what's the use if this distance was all that it would result in?
One has always been sort of distant from me but through my four years in knowing him, a compulsion to care for and love him has developed. I wish he could learn to be happy with what he's got but he complains too much. He's hypocritical but I love the sense of surety and confidence he has in his tone of voice sometimes. I love that he can be romantic too. I love that he can be who he is and not fear the world. It's a shame that he admits to being scared when he's alone. It's a shame his romanticism isn't shared with her. It's a shame his dreams and goals are not appropriate for this time. It's a shame he doesn't trust me. I would listen.
One never knows what to say when I'm talking to him. I know he'll know this is about him the moment he reads this. He has good observational skills. He has good judgment, I believe. His problems with expressing himself have frustrated me several hundred times, though. He will find himself alone one day and that's the sole reason I keep his hopes/spirits up. The truth is, all my care for him will only be legitimate if it's mutual. I will not stand for it much longer and when it comes down to it, it's really because he's boring and doesn't have anything to express.
One, I've hated in the past but have loved to talked to because he knows the importance of keeping things to himself and keeping a healthy relationship. I have grown to like him and for once, he was one to forgive me. I guess I talk to him for his sake but he tells me that all he wants is a simple life. Good-natured people are too rare in this world and it's such a big, big shame that he doesn't want the same things I do. We would've done well but that simple difference is what will drive us apart in years to come.
One loves me in the same way I love her, however, it's not allowed to go any further than that. That has put a strain on our relationship since the day I met her but I've always known we'll be great. She and I have very few problems because we both know that honesty is the best policy. It's a shame that we each find flaws in each other. It's a shame we don't learn from each other. It's a shame we don't improve each other. We just love but what use is love if it doesn't do any good?
One has completely turned her life around and replaced the book in her hand with the bottle of vodka. I never really cared much for her but she has been my close friend on occasion. We're too distant now and it will most probably stay that way.
One has ignored me since he found out a special secret about my sexuality. He also blames it on my immaturity, my total disregard for other people's feelings and my racism. I've grown up since then and it's him that's the childish one if he thinks a grudge is worth carrying for more time to come. There will come a day where he will regret all these lost years. There will come a day when he'll realize he was wrong. He can continue ignoring me for now. Good for him.
One, I have shared a relationship with that has gone up and down like a roller coaster. That's exactly the point. She loves roller coasters and very good television in the drama and reality genres. She loves the ice-cream, she loves the beach, she loves to gossip and she loves the people even though she may not always show it all the time. She's just like me. Oh, but we're both shallow and I firmly believe that's what it's come down to. We can't always be good friends because she's pretty and I'm ugly.
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Do people not understand the importance of letting your friends feel treasured? If you never show gratitude and desire to be with one another, what is the point?
Why must you hide yourself behind your laughter, or you behind your stoic demeanor? Why aren't you willing to bring our love to an even higher level and why aren't you willing to let go of past hatred? The fact that you're incapable of expressing yourself shows me you don't care. The fact that you're actually capable but choose not to is even worse than the other one. Why do you want to live a simple life? Why do you expect me to give a damn about the amount of alcohol you've consumed? Why won't you trust me? Why won't you trust me more? Why won't you give me a chance? Are you really that busy? And does nothing from the past matter to you anymore?
God, I feel so cheated of my time and effort. What was the point of me trying so hard to build these relationships if they appear to establish nothing now? I mean, me going to university without my high school friends... Is that really what you all want for me?
One hasn't known me for very long but I've sort of gotten to like her since we began getting to know each other last year. She knows about me but I despise the way she finds it hard to express herself. I'm a very good listener so she may as well make use of it. I hate being the one talking and she doesn't make me feel treasured. Soon enough, I'll leave but I'm always here for now. Oh, but she'll never approach me. I'm worthless to her. It makes me so angry. Who is she to judge?
One knows when I'm being serious and knows when I'm being fun as well. In fact, he knows everything about me, from the scar I have on my abdomen to the list of Christmas gifts I've received over the past six years, from the people I love and care about to the people that I've just passed by on any given day, from the color of my pillows to the books I've read, from the stories of my childhood to the story of my life on a daily basis now. He knows everything, yet he doesn't know that he uses humor too much. He laughs because he's insecure with the fact that he trusts me, needs and and loves me. He jokes because he doesn't know how to share sensitive words, yet he has what is seemingly the most profound opinion regarding my own ethics and life. He deems himself high and mighty. He looks down on me and thinks that a one-way trust can work between us. How is he different from the other guy? How can he really expect me to want to keep him any longer?
One has always been quiet and timid with a twist of fun, cute energy. She's been her best friend for years and trusts him too and that's how we've come to trust each other's advice and judgment. It's the distance that has separated us. It's the fundamental problem of having our schedules consume our personal lives. What a pity.
One, I found quite surprisingly out of nowhere. I guess great minds think alike and are eventually drawn together and I'm so glad that they are. Out of all of these, we have the least problems, I reckon. Oh, but she's too caught up in her own life. She's still not trusting enough and it's too bad that her and I never discussed anything more. I've always wondered, but I guess a friendship that's safe and content is better than one that's surprising and loaded with variables.
One, I used to love with all my heart. She was perfect but I messed it up. I thought we could continue to bond despite the fact we went to different schools but it turns out that the incident has changed everything, most notably her feelings towards me and her desire to want to be with me. I thought we could lie on the bare trust that we had established by our childish liking for each other but the late-night chats, the kind words of advice and encouragement and the times of watching television simultaneously are long gone now. I was ready to hold her in my arms. I was ready to kiss her on the forehead in the morning, the cheek as she had her lunch and on the lips before we parted ways. I was so ready but really, what's the use if this distance was all that it would result in?
One has always been sort of distant from me but through my four years in knowing him, a compulsion to care for and love him has developed. I wish he could learn to be happy with what he's got but he complains too much. He's hypocritical but I love the sense of surety and confidence he has in his tone of voice sometimes. I love that he can be romantic too. I love that he can be who he is and not fear the world. It's a shame that he admits to being scared when he's alone. It's a shame his romanticism isn't shared with her. It's a shame his dreams and goals are not appropriate for this time. It's a shame he doesn't trust me. I would listen.
One never knows what to say when I'm talking to him. I know he'll know this is about him the moment he reads this. He has good observational skills. He has good judgment, I believe. His problems with expressing himself have frustrated me several hundred times, though. He will find himself alone one day and that's the sole reason I keep his hopes/spirits up. The truth is, all my care for him will only be legitimate if it's mutual. I will not stand for it much longer and when it comes down to it, it's really because he's boring and doesn't have anything to express.
One, I've hated in the past but have loved to talked to because he knows the importance of keeping things to himself and keeping a healthy relationship. I have grown to like him and for once, he was one to forgive me. I guess I talk to him for his sake but he tells me that all he wants is a simple life. Good-natured people are too rare in this world and it's such a big, big shame that he doesn't want the same things I do. We would've done well but that simple difference is what will drive us apart in years to come.
One loves me in the same way I love her, however, it's not allowed to go any further than that. That has put a strain on our relationship since the day I met her but I've always known we'll be great. She and I have very few problems because we both know that honesty is the best policy. It's a shame that we each find flaws in each other. It's a shame we don't learn from each other. It's a shame we don't improve each other. We just love but what use is love if it doesn't do any good?
One has completely turned her life around and replaced the book in her hand with the bottle of vodka. I never really cared much for her but she has been my close friend on occasion. We're too distant now and it will most probably stay that way.
One has ignored me since he found out a special secret about my sexuality. He also blames it on my immaturity, my total disregard for other people's feelings and my racism. I've grown up since then and it's him that's the childish one if he thinks a grudge is worth carrying for more time to come. There will come a day where he will regret all these lost years. There will come a day when he'll realize he was wrong. He can continue ignoring me for now. Good for him.
One, I have shared a relationship with that has gone up and down like a roller coaster. That's exactly the point. She loves roller coasters and very good television in the drama and reality genres. She loves the ice-cream, she loves the beach, she loves to gossip and she loves the people even though she may not always show it all the time. She's just like me. Oh, but we're both shallow and I firmly believe that's what it's come down to. We can't always be good friends because she's pretty and I'm ugly.
-------------------------------
Do people not understand the importance of letting your friends feel treasured? If you never show gratitude and desire to be with one another, what is the point?
Why must you hide yourself behind your laughter, or you behind your stoic demeanor? Why aren't you willing to bring our love to an even higher level and why aren't you willing to let go of past hatred? The fact that you're incapable of expressing yourself shows me you don't care. The fact that you're actually capable but choose not to is even worse than the other one. Why do you want to live a simple life? Why do you expect me to give a damn about the amount of alcohol you've consumed? Why won't you trust me? Why won't you trust me more? Why won't you give me a chance? Are you really that busy? And does nothing from the past matter to you anymore?
God, I feel so cheated of my time and effort. What was the point of me trying so hard to build these relationships if they appear to establish nothing now? I mean, me going to university without my high school friends... Is that really what you all want for me?
Friday, December 5, 2008
15 - All the best cowboys have daddy issues.
Dear Dad,
You don't know me very well but if there's one thing you should know, it's that I have a tendency to deny that I'm a young talented writer, one with the natural gift for finding the right words to say at the right time but this... this is undoubtedly one of the hardest things I've ever had to write.
If you're reading this, it probably means that I worked up the courage to link you to this blog or send this to you in the form of a written letter. It could also mean that you've used your 'brilliant' skills of private investigation to dig up this particular aspect of your big boy's life, which, in turn, would mean you've become slightly more obsessive since I last spoke to you five months ago. Either way, you're reading this, so good for me, and good for you, for I hold a strong belief in the sanctity of honesty between family members. Everybody deserves truth.
I get the feeling that you've been served truth throughout the seventeen years that I've known you. You don't handle it very well. I look at your alcoholism, your addiction to the cigarettes, your money problems and your concupiscent engagement with prostitutes in God Knows Where and I have listened to you explain to me time and time again why you're not an asshole. I don't mind any of those bad habits. I don't mind at all. I don't even mind your two divorces and I don't mind your negligence toward your three other children.
But the thing I just can't help but take issue with is how you treat me and how you see me. You know, you have tried to teach me how to be a man and often I feel like I have failed you. I feel useless in your eyes because you seem to think that I don't know what life is about, that I am naive and I don't know how to life a successful happy life. I have to ask, who are you to judge me? What have you ever truly wanted and desired in your life besides a good fuck? I know you remember the night where you cried to me about your failures in life and you asking me not to be another failure in the Rivera family. Don't you know your son tries so hard to be better? Don't you know he tries so hard to grow up beyond his years?
I have very few friends because of you. I'm always serious and I never know how to take things lightly. I'm not a child. That's all because of you but I'm fine with it. You don't seem to be fine with yourself after your forty-five years of experience and you don't have the right, not even the parental right, to judge me and think that I'm not living my life in the 'right' or 'wrong' way.
There's no easy way to say this so I'll just say it. I hate you and I don't have the slightest iota of love in my heart that belongs to you. I was an accident. I was a mistake. Even though you and Mom both regarded me as some sort of a perfect storm, she was the one that has always treated me like I was. Perhaps it comes with her job of being a teacher but either way, I know you would agree that she's been a great mother to me, one full of devotion and care and one that always carried the ability to accept me, be my friend and teach me how to find love in this world but what have you ever given me - besides the booze, the money and the time of day where nobody else wanted to be with you?
You know you had me and my mother back in the day. You know you had your second wife and your three children before you got divorced the second time. This isn't about when she cheated on you. I'm talking about your cheating on her and your lack of effort to keep a marriage together when you first got married. It wasn't the children that screwed you over. It wasn't your wives that screwed you over either. Blaming your failures on anything other than yourself is such a sore loser thing to do. It was you.
You are the part of me that makes me think I am unfit to be a father. You are the one that's passed on your anger and arrogance to me. I used to think that I was stubborn just like you but the truth is that I am capable of change and have done so. You are the one that's always been stubborn. You are the one that nobody wants to forgive because it's futile. I'm very happy with who I am. You are the one that will always be the way you are and I don't know if you're happy with it but because of who you are, that's it.
I'm leaving you behind.
Michael.
You don't know me very well but if there's one thing you should know, it's that I have a tendency to deny that I'm a young talented writer, one with the natural gift for finding the right words to say at the right time but this... this is undoubtedly one of the hardest things I've ever had to write.
If you're reading this, it probably means that I worked up the courage to link you to this blog or send this to you in the form of a written letter. It could also mean that you've used your 'brilliant' skills of private investigation to dig up this particular aspect of your big boy's life, which, in turn, would mean you've become slightly more obsessive since I last spoke to you five months ago. Either way, you're reading this, so good for me, and good for you, for I hold a strong belief in the sanctity of honesty between family members. Everybody deserves truth.
I get the feeling that you've been served truth throughout the seventeen years that I've known you. You don't handle it very well. I look at your alcoholism, your addiction to the cigarettes, your money problems and your concupiscent engagement with prostitutes in God Knows Where and I have listened to you explain to me time and time again why you're not an asshole. I don't mind any of those bad habits. I don't mind at all. I don't even mind your two divorces and I don't mind your negligence toward your three other children.
But the thing I just can't help but take issue with is how you treat me and how you see me. You know, you have tried to teach me how to be a man and often I feel like I have failed you. I feel useless in your eyes because you seem to think that I don't know what life is about, that I am naive and I don't know how to life a successful happy life. I have to ask, who are you to judge me? What have you ever truly wanted and desired in your life besides a good fuck? I know you remember the night where you cried to me about your failures in life and you asking me not to be another failure in the Rivera family. Don't you know your son tries so hard to be better? Don't you know he tries so hard to grow up beyond his years?
I have very few friends because of you. I'm always serious and I never know how to take things lightly. I'm not a child. That's all because of you but I'm fine with it. You don't seem to be fine with yourself after your forty-five years of experience and you don't have the right, not even the parental right, to judge me and think that I'm not living my life in the 'right' or 'wrong' way.
There's no easy way to say this so I'll just say it. I hate you and I don't have the slightest iota of love in my heart that belongs to you. I was an accident. I was a mistake. Even though you and Mom both regarded me as some sort of a perfect storm, she was the one that has always treated me like I was. Perhaps it comes with her job of being a teacher but either way, I know you would agree that she's been a great mother to me, one full of devotion and care and one that always carried the ability to accept me, be my friend and teach me how to find love in this world but what have you ever given me - besides the booze, the money and the time of day where nobody else wanted to be with you?
You know you had me and my mother back in the day. You know you had your second wife and your three children before you got divorced the second time. This isn't about when she cheated on you. I'm talking about your cheating on her and your lack of effort to keep a marriage together when you first got married. It wasn't the children that screwed you over. It wasn't your wives that screwed you over either. Blaming your failures on anything other than yourself is such a sore loser thing to do. It was you.
You are the part of me that makes me think I am unfit to be a father. You are the one that's passed on your anger and arrogance to me. I used to think that I was stubborn just like you but the truth is that I am capable of change and have done so. You are the one that's always been stubborn. You are the one that nobody wants to forgive because it's futile. I'm very happy with who I am. You are the one that will always be the way you are and I don't know if you're happy with it but because of who you are, that's it.
I'm leaving you behind.
Michael.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
14 - My favorite food.
Food is always a great subject to talk about. Everyone can relate to it and it's guaranteed that everyone has a strong opinion when it comes to this or that food. My friend asked me an interesting question the other day and it went along the lines of something like this: If all the different dishes in the world were reduced to just five, which five of your favorite dishes would you want them to be?
Here are mine (I'm drooling already):
1. Caesar salad with salmon.
2. Macaroni and cheese.
3. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes.
4. A full English breakfast.
5. Cookie dough-flavored ice cream.
Here are mine (I'm drooling already):
1. Caesar salad with salmon.
2. Macaroni and cheese.
3. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes.
4. A full English breakfast.
5. Cookie dough-flavored ice cream.
Friday, November 28, 2008
13 - Single worded meme.
I've been nominated by The Jules on his blog, The Gravel Farm, to do a meme. This idea was (of course) endorsed by our everybody's favorite meme sponsor, Argentum Vulgaris, on his blog, Nether Region of the Earth II. The Jules' meme is here, and AV's meme is here.
This time, it's one that will certainly test my ability to control my thoughts and limit my words as all of my answers must only comprise one word. I will be honest.
1. Where is your cell phone? Bed.
2. Where is your significant other? Non-existent.
3. Your hair color? Black.
4. Your mother? Happy.
5. Your father? Hell.
6. Your favorite thing? Friend.
7. Your dream last night? Stabbed.
8. Your dream/goal? Fatherhood.
9. The room you’re in? Bedroom.
11. Your fear? Isolation.
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Unimaginable.
13. Where were you last night? Nod.
14. What you’re not? Loved.
15. One of your wish-list items? Trenchcoat.
16. Where you grew up? Here.
17. The last thing you did? Reminisce.
18. What are you wearing? Jeans.
19. Your TV? Off.
20. Your pet? Non-existent.
21. Your computer? Two-month-old.
22. Your mood? Lonely.
23. Missing someone? Unceasingly.
24. Your car? Motorcycle!
25. Something you’re not wearing? Smile.
26. Favorite store? Aeropostale.
27. Your summer? Toronto.
28. Love someone? Hopelessly.
29. Your favorite color? Navy.
30. When is the last time you laughed? Hmm...
31. Last time you cried? Yesterday...
As this is quite difficult to do with just one word, I shall pick five of the more linguistic-themed blogs that I follow:
Carrie Amie at My thoughts, poems and short stories.
Brian at The New Author.
Tonya at Storytime With Tonya and Friends.
Madame DeFarge at bateau de banane.
E. Michelle at Navigation Through Education.
And one more just for good fun and measure:
J.J. at The World According To J.J. in L.A.
Wonderful. My job here is done!
This time, it's one that will certainly test my ability to control my thoughts and limit my words as all of my answers must only comprise one word. I will be honest.
1. Where is your cell phone? Bed.
2. Where is your significant other? Non-existent.
3. Your hair color? Black.
4. Your mother? Happy.
5. Your father? Hell.
6. Your favorite thing? Friend.
7. Your dream last night? Stabbed.
8. Your dream/goal? Fatherhood.
9. The room you’re in? Bedroom.
11. Your fear? Isolation.
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Unimaginable.
13. Where were you last night? Nod.
14. What you’re not? Loved.
15. One of your wish-list items? Trenchcoat.
16. Where you grew up? Here.
17. The last thing you did? Reminisce.
18. What are you wearing? Jeans.
19. Your TV? Off.
20. Your pet? Non-existent.
21. Your computer? Two-month-old.
22. Your mood? Lonely.
23. Missing someone? Unceasingly.
24. Your car? Motorcycle!
25. Something you’re not wearing? Smile.
26. Favorite store? Aeropostale.
27. Your summer? Toronto.
28. Love someone? Hopelessly.
29. Your favorite color? Navy.
30. When is the last time you laughed? Hmm...
31. Last time you cried? Yesterday...
As this is quite difficult to do with just one word, I shall pick five of the more linguistic-themed blogs that I follow:
Carrie Amie at My thoughts, poems and short stories.
Brian at The New Author.
Tonya at Storytime With Tonya and Friends.
Madame DeFarge at bateau de banane.
E. Michelle at Navigation Through Education.
And one more just for good fun and measure:
J.J. at The World According To J.J. in L.A.
Wonderful. My job here is done!
12 - In the end, that's death.
This is not my view on death! I wrote this as I was starting a novel (which I didn't continue writing due to writer's block) and it was part of a character's thoughts. I wrote it spontaneously in one of my creative moods. I thought it was worth sharing and that's all. 'Tis not my personal perspective.
-------------------------
In the end, your eyes might tear from the very idea of leaving your life and this world. You might stay there absorbing the last minutes of your personal environment, whether it be inhaling the smells or listening attentively to the surrounding sound, or perhaps observing things in your proximity, like taking a mental picture of everything around you, or focusing on using your sense of touch as you take in your last breaths, for you might lose that particular sensation altogether once you enter another world.
In the end, you may be lying in your bed, or perhaps a hospital bed, but wherever you are: you will be weak. From the gray hairs on your balding head to the stiff callus on the soles of your feet, the state of every joint, every muscle and every organ in between will all be indications of your body's degradation.
In the end, your lungs will be loose, your kidneys will have shriveled and the cells of your liver will be wrinkled. The surfaces of your eyes and the inner walls of your nasal cavity will be drier than they ever have been in your lifetime. Your eyes will shut from the tiredness and you will remain immobile from now onwards, apart from maybe a slight twitch of the finger or a shrivel of the nose. As you lay there recalling the memories from your past, the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the good and the bad, a few tears may seep through your closed eyelids and trickle down your cheeks from all that reminiscing. As the fabric underneath you dampens, you may suddenly feel it, that moment where your life flashes before your eyes, where you feel every emotion in the book all at the same time while remaining apathetic too, where you feel a final jolt of energy coming from the last pump of your heart and there, you will have experienced your very last experience.
In the end, your heart will stop beating. The combined effect of your lungs and your brain running out of oxygen will render all other organs useless. Your front will go pale. Your back will go dark. Your blood will have trickled downwards to the lower regions of your anatomy. At this point, your thought and your feeling are long gone, which is why you will not feel tense as your muscles stiffen due to the absence of minerals being transported around. Your white cells will have died and your body will lose its capacity to fight off bacteria. For that reason, your body will begin to decompose. Your muscles can relax again, but not in a good way.
In the end, you will die.
In the end, you are dead.
In the end, the people you knew, the people you met and the people you love will come to know that you are dead. Your grandchildren will lose their memory of you sooner than your children, while your children will carry that saddening sense of loss with them everyday. Your friends and your siblings will have died already or they will soon. It is only a matter of time before they no longer think of you on a daily basis and very slowly, you will be forgotten, unless you have done something extraordinary in your lifetime to influence the world. To attain a personal identity like such is rare and the chances are: you do not matter.
In the end, you may be sitting in a heap at the bottom of a vase, or laying in a coffin six feet underground, or scattered in the ocean underneath a cliff. Burned, buried or blown away: wherever you are in the end, that's it.
In the end, that's death.
-------------------------
In the end, your eyes might tear from the very idea of leaving your life and this world. You might stay there absorbing the last minutes of your personal environment, whether it be inhaling the smells or listening attentively to the surrounding sound, or perhaps observing things in your proximity, like taking a mental picture of everything around you, or focusing on using your sense of touch as you take in your last breaths, for you might lose that particular sensation altogether once you enter another world.
In the end, you may be lying in your bed, or perhaps a hospital bed, but wherever you are: you will be weak. From the gray hairs on your balding head to the stiff callus on the soles of your feet, the state of every joint, every muscle and every organ in between will all be indications of your body's degradation.
In the end, your lungs will be loose, your kidneys will have shriveled and the cells of your liver will be wrinkled. The surfaces of your eyes and the inner walls of your nasal cavity will be drier than they ever have been in your lifetime. Your eyes will shut from the tiredness and you will remain immobile from now onwards, apart from maybe a slight twitch of the finger or a shrivel of the nose. As you lay there recalling the memories from your past, the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the good and the bad, a few tears may seep through your closed eyelids and trickle down your cheeks from all that reminiscing. As the fabric underneath you dampens, you may suddenly feel it, that moment where your life flashes before your eyes, where you feel every emotion in the book all at the same time while remaining apathetic too, where you feel a final jolt of energy coming from the last pump of your heart and there, you will have experienced your very last experience.
In the end, your heart will stop beating. The combined effect of your lungs and your brain running out of oxygen will render all other organs useless. Your front will go pale. Your back will go dark. Your blood will have trickled downwards to the lower regions of your anatomy. At this point, your thought and your feeling are long gone, which is why you will not feel tense as your muscles stiffen due to the absence of minerals being transported around. Your white cells will have died and your body will lose its capacity to fight off bacteria. For that reason, your body will begin to decompose. Your muscles can relax again, but not in a good way.
In the end, you will die.
In the end, you are dead.
In the end, the people you knew, the people you met and the people you love will come to know that you are dead. Your grandchildren will lose their memory of you sooner than your children, while your children will carry that saddening sense of loss with them everyday. Your friends and your siblings will have died already or they will soon. It is only a matter of time before they no longer think of you on a daily basis and very slowly, you will be forgotten, unless you have done something extraordinary in your lifetime to influence the world. To attain a personal identity like such is rare and the chances are: you do not matter.
In the end, you may be sitting in a heap at the bottom of a vase, or laying in a coffin six feet underground, or scattered in the ocean underneath a cliff. Burned, buried or blown away: wherever you are in the end, that's it.
In the end, that's death.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
10 - Why being an A- or B-grade student is alright to me.
Here's a collective record of all the grades I've gotten from Primary 1 to Primary 6, and from Secondary 1 to Secondary 7. I've received two or three grades a year, but I'll just include the end-of-year results, i.e. the ones that matter, except, of course, for Secondary 7 which I'm still studying. For that year, I'll post the half-year grades I received last month instead:
P1 - AB
P2 - AA
P3 - AAAAAAAAB
P4 - AAAAAABBBB
P5 - AAAAAAAABB
P6 - AAAAABBBBBB
S1 - **AAAAABBBBBBC
S2 - ***AAAAABBBBE
S3 - **AAAAAAAABB
S4 - AAAAABBBBBC
S5 - *AAAAAABBBC
S6 - AAABBBBC
S7 - AAAABBBB
Not to say I'm unfit, but the Cs I get are usually from Physical Education. I don't excel in most of the common sports such as basketball, tennis and hockey. I'm happy sticking with my pseudosports, bowling, snooker and golf. I say pseudosports because you don't run around in any of them, and you don't sweat as much (although, there are some exhilarating games where you will require some sort of energy drink.)
The E that I received in Secondary 2 was from Music class. At the time, I didn't know how to play any musical instruments. The music teacher was a pedantic one and disapproved of my rendition of Chopsticks, claiming it wasn't a 'valid' solo performance. I got 2 out of 25 possible marks for my performance and that equated to an E.
As you can clearly see, I've always been an A- and B-grade student. For those of you who are unsure of what the asterisk represents, it's a 'star', which is even better than an A. I don't really know how it is in any other school, but in our school, standing out academically is difficult. You would think a bunch of As and Bs is impressive, but not when compared to my classmates who receive grades not unsimilar to say, this one: **AAAAAA, or this one: *****AAA or even this one: *******A.
Seven stars and one A. That is insane. And extremely admirable. The fact that they have the capability to actually obtain close to the maximum standard of education in an official educational program is a fact that blows my mind.
Here's the thing. I know that I'm capable of that too. We all are if we study hard enough, pay attention in class, ask the teacher a million insightful questions, yadda, yadda, yadda... but even though I have a habit of procrastinating and cramming my head with revision material at the very last minute, I am fine with the As and Bs that I get, because I believe in the concept of no regrets. I don't and won't regret being just an A- and B-grade student, because in my heart, an A always stand for Amazing Achievement and B will stand for Brilliant. I don't need a star to make me feel good. I feel okay getting As and Bs because I know I tried my best the way I felt was best. I'm alright with it because I won't regret it.
A lot of my friends often feel like shit whenever they receive a bad mark for a poorly done piece of homework, or when they come out of an examination knowing that they haven't done as well as they could have. If we're being objective, most of the time, the reason they feel like shit is because they actually receive bad grades. There is also, of course, the pressure on one's shoulders that comes from parents that want to raise highly scholastic sons and daughters. And there is the feeling of inadequacy that people experience while living and learning amongst geniuses.
But, my advice is this: If you feel alright with yourself, that's all you need to do well in life. If you know you're lacking in some areas, then you really need to work, but if you truly feel comfortable with what you're rewarded with, that's okay. If you spend your time feeling worried, stupid or insecure, you will truly have more to regret in due time. I have been taught this lesson (and still get taught this lesson) many times, and this message doesn't only apply to school, but work, friendship, love and life as well. I don't regret missing the opportunity to get all those stars in the past few years. My strengths are for me to define for myself. You can define them too.
What are your strengths? What sort of As and Bs have you received that you see as stars?
P1 - ABP2 - AA
P3 - AAAAAAAAB
P4 - AAAAAABBBB
P5 - AAAAAAAABB
P6 - AAAAABBBBBB
S1 - **AAAAABBBBBBC
S2 - ***AAAAABBBBE
S3 - **AAAAAAAABB
S4 - AAAAABBBBBC
S5 - *AAAAAABBBC
S6 - AAABBBBC
S7 - AAAABBBB
Not to say I'm unfit, but the Cs I get are usually from Physical Education. I don't excel in most of the common sports such as basketball, tennis and hockey. I'm happy sticking with my pseudosports, bowling, snooker and golf. I say pseudosports because you don't run around in any of them, and you don't sweat as much (although, there are some exhilarating games where you will require some sort of energy drink.)
The E that I received in Secondary 2 was from Music class. At the time, I didn't know how to play any musical instruments. The music teacher was a pedantic one and disapproved of my rendition of Chopsticks, claiming it wasn't a 'valid' solo performance. I got 2 out of 25 possible marks for my performance and that equated to an E.
As you can clearly see, I've always been an A- and B-grade student. For those of you who are unsure of what the asterisk represents, it's a 'star', which is even better than an A. I don't really know how it is in any other school, but in our school, standing out academically is difficult. You would think a bunch of As and Bs is impressive, but not when compared to my classmates who receive grades not unsimilar to say, this one: **AAAAAA, or this one: *****AAA or even this one: *******A.
Seven stars and one A. That is insane. And extremely admirable. The fact that they have the capability to actually obtain close to the maximum standard of education in an official educational program is a fact that blows my mind.
Here's the thing. I know that I'm capable of that too. We all are if we study hard enough, pay attention in class, ask the teacher a million insightful questions, yadda, yadda, yadda... but even though I have a habit of procrastinating and cramming my head with revision material at the very last minute, I am fine with the As and Bs that I get, because I believe in the concept of no regrets. I don't and won't regret being just an A- and B-grade student, because in my heart, an A always stand for Amazing Achievement and B will stand for Brilliant. I don't need a star to make me feel good. I feel okay getting As and Bs because I know I tried my best the way I felt was best. I'm alright with it because I won't regret it.
A lot of my friends often feel like shit whenever they receive a bad mark for a poorly done piece of homework, or when they come out of an examination knowing that they haven't done as well as they could have. If we're being objective, most of the time, the reason they feel like shit is because they actually receive bad grades. There is also, of course, the pressure on one's shoulders that comes from parents that want to raise highly scholastic sons and daughters. And there is the feeling of inadequacy that people experience while living and learning amongst geniuses.
But, my advice is this: If you feel alright with yourself, that's all you need to do well in life. If you know you're lacking in some areas, then you really need to work, but if you truly feel comfortable with what you're rewarded with, that's okay. If you spend your time feeling worried, stupid or insecure, you will truly have more to regret in due time. I have been taught this lesson (and still get taught this lesson) many times, and this message doesn't only apply to school, but work, friendship, love and life as well. I don't regret missing the opportunity to get all those stars in the past few years. My strengths are for me to define for myself. You can define them too.
What are your strengths? What sort of As and Bs have you received that you see as stars?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
9 - Drawing cartoon breasts.
Came across this video here that teaches one how to draw cartoon breasts. Thought I might give it a shot:
*** I originally used the word 'boobs' instead of 'breasts' in this post. I forgot I was totally against using the term, 'boob', because a 'boob', of course, refers to a stupid person. 'Breasts', Michael, use 'breasts'.
*** I originally used the word 'boobs' instead of 'breasts' in this post. I forgot I was totally against using the term, 'boob', because a 'boob', of course, refers to a stupid person. 'Breasts', Michael, use 'breasts'.
7 - Books and television.
I want to start two more blogs.
One about English literature. One about television. Here's why:
English literature - I'll confess: it's been a long time since I've actually read a book for pleasure (we're looking at around two or three months). I feel that I know how to appreciate the sanctity of the written word and reading is something that I can do for hours and actually enjoy. And as I go around day by day, I come across these quotes that I really like, or I read a poem that I want to share with more people, but I can't find anybody in my real life that actually wants to listen. Posts about English text don't seem to fit in either of the two blogs that I currently have... I want to start a new one because I want literature to be a 'part' of my character here on Blogger, unlike my friends who indulge themselves with other media such as games, sports, film, music and television...
Television - Now, I want to start a new blog about movies and television. I watch a lot of movies, but I watch even more television series. You think you're a television nut? Here's a list of shows that I watch that air in the US and the UK (some of them don't air anymore, but hey, I still know the shows):
Friends. 24. Lost. Nip/Tuck. Survivor. Grey's Anatomy. Big Brother US. Big Brother UK. Skins. The OC. American Idol. Men In Trees. Desperate Housewives. The Big Bang Theory. Dancing With the Stars. Top Chef. Without A Trace. CSI. Ugly Betty. America's Next Top Model. Family Guy. Prison Break. Bones. American Dad! CSI:NY. The Simpsons. Merlin 2008. The Office US. House. South Park. Torchwood. The Apprentice US. Alias. America's Got Talent. 'Til Death. Project Runway. Veronica Mars. Saturday Night Live. The Office UK. Monk. Six Feet Under. The Amazing Race. 30 Rock. The 4400. Chuck. The Bachelor. Ghost Whisperer. Gossip Girl. The Knights of Prosperity. The Ex List. Pushing Daisies. Doctor Who. Scrubs. Medium. The Life and Times of Tim. Worst Week. Sex and the City. Little Britain UK. Phenomenon. Kid Nation. Teachers. Everybody Hates Chris. Studio 60 On the Sunset Strip. Windfall. Tell Me You Love Me. Fonejacker. Two and a Half Men. Dexter. ER. Privileged. Little Britain USA. My Name Is Earl. The Amazing Race: Asia. Robot Chicken. Hidden Palms. Kitchen Nightmares. On the Lot. Beauty and the Geek. Californication. Cashmere Mafia. The Apprentice UK. Curb Your Enthusiasm. Fringe. The Bachelorette. American Gladiators. The Secret Life of an American Teenager. The X-Files.
I'm not kidding around here. My list is dead serious.
I want to write about all the movies and TV I watch, but is there anyone in the blogging world that cares? I know that a large percentage of bloggers are English teachers, established writers, journalists and students who really love English. I know I'll be able to share my thoughts in that regard. But are there people that watch TV as well? Will people read my reviews on movies, on TV?
Or are they all satisfied with the digital media provided to them by the World Wide Web?
One about English literature. One about television. Here's why:
English literature - I'll confess: it's been a long time since I've actually read a book for pleasure (we're looking at around two or three months). I feel that I know how to appreciate the sanctity of the written word and reading is something that I can do for hours and actually enjoy. And as I go around day by day, I come across these quotes that I really like, or I read a poem that I want to share with more people, but I can't find anybody in my real life that actually wants to listen. Posts about English text don't seem to fit in either of the two blogs that I currently have... I want to start a new one because I want literature to be a 'part' of my character here on Blogger, unlike my friends who indulge themselves with other media such as games, sports, film, music and television...
Television - Now, I want to start a new blog about movies and television. I watch a lot of movies, but I watch even more television series. You think you're a television nut? Here's a list of shows that I watch that air in the US and the UK (some of them don't air anymore, but hey, I still know the shows):
Friends. 24. Lost. Nip/Tuck. Survivor. Grey's Anatomy. Big Brother US. Big Brother UK. Skins. The OC. American Idol. Men In Trees. Desperate Housewives. The Big Bang Theory. Dancing With the Stars. Top Chef. Without A Trace. CSI. Ugly Betty. America's Next Top Model. Family Guy. Prison Break. Bones. American Dad! CSI:NY. The Simpsons. Merlin 2008. The Office US. House. South Park. Torchwood. The Apprentice US. Alias. America's Got Talent. 'Til Death. Project Runway. Veronica Mars. Saturday Night Live. The Office UK. Monk. Six Feet Under. The Amazing Race. 30 Rock. The 4400. Chuck. The Bachelor. Ghost Whisperer. Gossip Girl. The Knights of Prosperity. The Ex List. Pushing Daisies. Doctor Who. Scrubs. Medium. The Life and Times of Tim. Worst Week. Sex and the City. Little Britain UK. Phenomenon. Kid Nation. Teachers. Everybody Hates Chris. Studio 60 On the Sunset Strip. Windfall. Tell Me You Love Me. Fonejacker. Two and a Half Men. Dexter. ER. Privileged. Little Britain USA. My Name Is Earl. The Amazing Race: Asia. Robot Chicken. Hidden Palms. Kitchen Nightmares. On the Lot. Beauty and the Geek. Californication. Cashmere Mafia. The Apprentice UK. Curb Your Enthusiasm. Fringe. The Bachelorette. American Gladiators. The Secret Life of an American Teenager. The X-Files.
I'm not kidding around here. My list is dead serious.
I want to write about all the movies and TV I watch, but is there anyone in the blogging world that cares? I know that a large percentage of bloggers are English teachers, established writers, journalists and students who really love English. I know I'll be able to share my thoughts in that regard. But are there people that watch TV as well? Will people read my reviews on movies, on TV?
Or are they all satisfied with the digital media provided to them by the World Wide Web?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
6 - My early life.
"I was born and raised in Hong Kong."
That's the simple version of my early life. The simple sentence that I'll share with people that probably don't have much interest in learning more, the people who don't care, the people who consider their lives to be big and interesting enough. But, to me, the past seventeen-and-a-half years have been remarkable, and scary, and every living second of my time now is spent not knowing what I'm doing or why I do it. I certainly like to pretend that I do know what I'm doing, though. I've always tried to be independent, confident in my own ability and self-reliant. I believe I've inherited that quality from my parents who constantly don't know what they're doing at all either, but they pretend. They try.
I was born conventionally (not by C-section) in a hospital. She was 23 at the time while he was 27. They met while working at a hotel. She was the voice that you hear on the room service hotline and he was the bellboy that would conveniently carry your luggage to your room. They were both naive and they fell in love. They got married. I was an accident.
My father was unfaithful to my mother, sleeping with other women while I was in the womb. That wasn't too big of an issue... My mother always aspired to be a teacher and as soon as she was relieved of the burden that is me, she went out to find work and pursue her goals. My father ended up being the househusband, feeding me baby food, amusing me with toys and wiping my ass. For two years, the family dynamic was this way and it frustrated my father greatly because he firmly believed that the man should be the one working and earning the dough. He would take me to countless part-time jobs with me lying in a crib under the office desk. He would get fired because of me. He just couldn't find stable work and he felt emasculated as my caretaker. One day, while my mother was at work, he moved out and took me with him.
For three painful months, my mother searched desperately for me and my father. My dad would hang up on her whenever she called and my paternal grandparents wouldn't let her know a thing, always staying on my father's side. They would tell my mother that Michael was okay, but for three months, all that would satisfy her maternal instincts was to hear my tiny voice innocently whisper the words, Michael loves Mommy.
They were still married when my father had 'kidnapped' me. My mother could take it no longer and she filed for divorce. My father was forced to let my mother see me again. In court, it was clear that my mother deserved full custody since she had the stable income, and the large family to back her up, while my father had nothing. In addition, my mother had cunningly tape-recorded all the phone conversations with my dad during the three months she was separated from me. It proved that my father had purposefully separated us and that my paternal grandparents had encouraged it to happen. I belonged to my mother from that point onwards.
I went to Toronto, Canada, and lived there from the ages of two to four. I don't remember much honestly, but I know I was happy. I know this by watching numerous video tapes that my mother had recorded with the excitement and enthusiasm that all typical mothers have when their kids are that young and cute and when technology had begun to enable parents to capture their children on digital media. Parenting me on her own was something that she was so proud of, and nowadays, everyone on both sides of my family would agree that she deserved to be proud.
I remember I was watching one of these videos and we were going to a cherry farm. One segment of the video exhibited me on the very top step of a ladder, picking off cherries with my tiny, plump hands. My mother asked me, "Are you scared?" and I replied with, "no." When we had finished our day in the cherry farm, we sat down around a wooden table and she asked me, "Would you like some of my cherries?" and I said, "no." And then on the car ride home, she asked me, "Michael, are you happy today?" and I continued staring out the window without answering her. Seeing myself at that age reacting to my mother in such a way really touches me and as I watch the tape, I cry. I cry because even at that age, I knew I was independent, I knew I didn't need my mother's help, I knew I wasn't scared to face the world. The one thing that's always been difficult for me though is finding happiness. More than ten years ago, this was already the case...
I've had some good times in my childhood, though, obviously. My mother decided that my father could have me for my kindergarten year as long as my mother could see me once every weekend. I have to say that my kindergarten year was probably my happiest, my favorite, it was my best.
My father was a manager at a restaurant at the time. The restaurant served fries, burgers, garden salads, club sandwiches, hot dogs, ice-cold Coca Cola, onion rings, ribs, potato skins, and all the traditional comfort food that any kid would love to eat everyday - for free. While he was at work, I had a baby-sitter. My father was paying for diapers at a convenience store one day and my father asked the nineteen-year-old cashier lady if she would like to take care of me instead. Each day, she would ride her bike to kindergarten with me sitting in the backseat, and after school, she would bring me to the playground, or McDonald's or the beach. The baby-sitter lived with us, so it was pretty much just me and her all the time.
When my dad was free on his days off, he spent his time teaching me how to ride a bike and how to swim. He brought me fishing and hiking too. We also had a lot of barbecues in the backyard where I picked up a few fire-making and steak-perfecting skills. We were very outdoorsy, something that I really miss from my life now where it's all books, exams, essays and university applications. I don't just miss being a kid like everybody else does. I miss being that kid, the kid that I was at the time, diving to the depths of incredibly salty water without my goggles. I miss hiking to the top of a mountain that appeared to be a million metres high just for the sake of it, just because I could at my age. I miss biking in the middle of the night, being a little daredevil that wasn't scared of the dark.
Speaking of which, there was one night when I couldn't fall asleep. I was five years old. I went out to see if my dad was watching television, but I found that my father and my baby-sitter were both not present in the house. I decided to go out for some fresh air on my bike, perhaps stop by McDonald's for an apple pie. I did go to McDonald's and surprisingly found my father and my baby-sitter seated at one of the tables. My father gave me some money for three apple pies and when I returned with the food, my father gave me some big news.
It was there and then that I found out that my baby-sitter and my father had fallen in love, and that she was pregnant. I remember smiling ever-so-widely at the thought of me becoming a big brother, and I was so happy for these adults whom I loved so dearly. Despite the fact that I was still young, I knew that family is important and that love is great. Unfortunately, when she was just four months into the pregnancy, it was time for me to be returned to my mother for primary school. My best year had ended there.
I had little contact with my father for the next six years. I didn't know that I was a big brother to a beautiful baby sister. I didn't know my baby-sitter got pregnant again, and gave birth to another girl. I didn't know that the restaurant my father worked in got shut down and that he lost his job. I didn't know that he started an internship working as a private investigator. Most of all, I didn't know they weren't married. I always assumed that they were, but they weren't. I didn't know anything.
After I turned six and left my dad, my mother began to provide the childhood experience that she deemed to be the best, filled with books, travels and (of course) many good times with her. I can't say I hated it entirely. I enjoyed learning at school and I loved to read. She would always bring me out to have dinner, or to go see the latest movie, or to the bookstore. Every summer holiday, she would take me somewhere foreign and this engrained in me this passion to travel all the time, a passion that I reckon will exist within in me for my whole life. She took me skiing in Korea, and diving in Thailand, and shopping in Japan. I saw Niagara Falls, the White House and the Statue of Liberty. It was truly unbelievable as I think about it now. My time with my dad allowed me to learn a lot about the great outdoors, while my time with my mother was something a whole lot different. It was about building academic learning, about travel, about broadening my perspective.
Both of them have shaped my early life into one that I am very proud of, one that has been enriching, fulfilling, joyous, incredible and one that I sometimes miss so badly. I'm crying as I type this, not because I'm unhappy that I cannot relive the past, but because I'm impressed by my upbringing, I'm happy that I had one like such. The second half of my life has been a lot harder, and I'm glad that at least the first half was lived truly happy. It's the sort of childhood that I wish my future kids will have. I wish they will learn the important lessons in life the way I learnt them. There's a lot that goes on in my life right now, but everything that I'm doing now is to achieve that one goal, to parent children that will grow up happy and proud to have me as a dad.
I'm far from being a good father now. I'm only seventeen. I'm only a student. But one day, I will know what I'm doing. I'm sick of pretending to know what I'm doing. I'm tired of trying to do the right thing. I will be a good dad.
That's the simple version of my early life. The simple sentence that I'll share with people that probably don't have much interest in learning more, the people who don't care, the people who consider their lives to be big and interesting enough. But, to me, the past seventeen-and-a-half years have been remarkable, and scary, and every living second of my time now is spent not knowing what I'm doing or why I do it. I certainly like to pretend that I do know what I'm doing, though. I've always tried to be independent, confident in my own ability and self-reliant. I believe I've inherited that quality from my parents who constantly don't know what they're doing at all either, but they pretend. They try.
I was born conventionally (not by C-section) in a hospital. She was 23 at the time while he was 27. They met while working at a hotel. She was the voice that you hear on the room service hotline and he was the bellboy that would conveniently carry your luggage to your room. They were both naive and they fell in love. They got married. I was an accident.
My father was unfaithful to my mother, sleeping with other women while I was in the womb. That wasn't too big of an issue... My mother always aspired to be a teacher and as soon as she was relieved of the burden that is me, she went out to find work and pursue her goals. My father ended up being the househusband, feeding me baby food, amusing me with toys and wiping my ass. For two years, the family dynamic was this way and it frustrated my father greatly because he firmly believed that the man should be the one working and earning the dough. He would take me to countless part-time jobs with me lying in a crib under the office desk. He would get fired because of me. He just couldn't find stable work and he felt emasculated as my caretaker. One day, while my mother was at work, he moved out and took me with him.
For three painful months, my mother searched desperately for me and my father. My dad would hang up on her whenever she called and my paternal grandparents wouldn't let her know a thing, always staying on my father's side. They would tell my mother that Michael was okay, but for three months, all that would satisfy her maternal instincts was to hear my tiny voice innocently whisper the words, Michael loves Mommy.
They were still married when my father had 'kidnapped' me. My mother could take it no longer and she filed for divorce. My father was forced to let my mother see me again. In court, it was clear that my mother deserved full custody since she had the stable income, and the large family to back her up, while my father had nothing. In addition, my mother had cunningly tape-recorded all the phone conversations with my dad during the three months she was separated from me. It proved that my father had purposefully separated us and that my paternal grandparents had encouraged it to happen. I belonged to my mother from that point onwards.
I went to Toronto, Canada, and lived there from the ages of two to four. I don't remember much honestly, but I know I was happy. I know this by watching numerous video tapes that my mother had recorded with the excitement and enthusiasm that all typical mothers have when their kids are that young and cute and when technology had begun to enable parents to capture their children on digital media. Parenting me on her own was something that she was so proud of, and nowadays, everyone on both sides of my family would agree that she deserved to be proud.
I remember I was watching one of these videos and we were going to a cherry farm. One segment of the video exhibited me on the very top step of a ladder, picking off cherries with my tiny, plump hands. My mother asked me, "Are you scared?" and I replied with, "no." When we had finished our day in the cherry farm, we sat down around a wooden table and she asked me, "Would you like some of my cherries?" and I said, "no." And then on the car ride home, she asked me, "Michael, are you happy today?" and I continued staring out the window without answering her. Seeing myself at that age reacting to my mother in such a way really touches me and as I watch the tape, I cry. I cry because even at that age, I knew I was independent, I knew I didn't need my mother's help, I knew I wasn't scared to face the world. The one thing that's always been difficult for me though is finding happiness. More than ten years ago, this was already the case...
I've had some good times in my childhood, though, obviously. My mother decided that my father could have me for my kindergarten year as long as my mother could see me once every weekend. I have to say that my kindergarten year was probably my happiest, my favorite, it was my best.
My father was a manager at a restaurant at the time. The restaurant served fries, burgers, garden salads, club sandwiches, hot dogs, ice-cold Coca Cola, onion rings, ribs, potato skins, and all the traditional comfort food that any kid would love to eat everyday - for free. While he was at work, I had a baby-sitter. My father was paying for diapers at a convenience store one day and my father asked the nineteen-year-old cashier lady if she would like to take care of me instead. Each day, she would ride her bike to kindergarten with me sitting in the backseat, and after school, she would bring me to the playground, or McDonald's or the beach. The baby-sitter lived with us, so it was pretty much just me and her all the time.
When my dad was free on his days off, he spent his time teaching me how to ride a bike and how to swim. He brought me fishing and hiking too. We also had a lot of barbecues in the backyard where I picked up a few fire-making and steak-perfecting skills. We were very outdoorsy, something that I really miss from my life now where it's all books, exams, essays and university applications. I don't just miss being a kid like everybody else does. I miss being that kid, the kid that I was at the time, diving to the depths of incredibly salty water without my goggles. I miss hiking to the top of a mountain that appeared to be a million metres high just for the sake of it, just because I could at my age. I miss biking in the middle of the night, being a little daredevil that wasn't scared of the dark.
Speaking of which, there was one night when I couldn't fall asleep. I was five years old. I went out to see if my dad was watching television, but I found that my father and my baby-sitter were both not present in the house. I decided to go out for some fresh air on my bike, perhaps stop by McDonald's for an apple pie. I did go to McDonald's and surprisingly found my father and my baby-sitter seated at one of the tables. My father gave me some money for three apple pies and when I returned with the food, my father gave me some big news.
It was there and then that I found out that my baby-sitter and my father had fallen in love, and that she was pregnant. I remember smiling ever-so-widely at the thought of me becoming a big brother, and I was so happy for these adults whom I loved so dearly. Despite the fact that I was still young, I knew that family is important and that love is great. Unfortunately, when she was just four months into the pregnancy, it was time for me to be returned to my mother for primary school. My best year had ended there.
I had little contact with my father for the next six years. I didn't know that I was a big brother to a beautiful baby sister. I didn't know my baby-sitter got pregnant again, and gave birth to another girl. I didn't know that the restaurant my father worked in got shut down and that he lost his job. I didn't know that he started an internship working as a private investigator. Most of all, I didn't know they weren't married. I always assumed that they were, but they weren't. I didn't know anything.
After I turned six and left my dad, my mother began to provide the childhood experience that she deemed to be the best, filled with books, travels and (of course) many good times with her. I can't say I hated it entirely. I enjoyed learning at school and I loved to read. She would always bring me out to have dinner, or to go see the latest movie, or to the bookstore. Every summer holiday, she would take me somewhere foreign and this engrained in me this passion to travel all the time, a passion that I reckon will exist within in me for my whole life. She took me skiing in Korea, and diving in Thailand, and shopping in Japan. I saw Niagara Falls, the White House and the Statue of Liberty. It was truly unbelievable as I think about it now. My time with my dad allowed me to learn a lot about the great outdoors, while my time with my mother was something a whole lot different. It was about building academic learning, about travel, about broadening my perspective.
Both of them have shaped my early life into one that I am very proud of, one that has been enriching, fulfilling, joyous, incredible and one that I sometimes miss so badly. I'm crying as I type this, not because I'm unhappy that I cannot relive the past, but because I'm impressed by my upbringing, I'm happy that I had one like such. The second half of my life has been a lot harder, and I'm glad that at least the first half was lived truly happy. It's the sort of childhood that I wish my future kids will have. I wish they will learn the important lessons in life the way I learnt them. There's a lot that goes on in my life right now, but everything that I'm doing now is to achieve that one goal, to parent children that will grow up happy and proud to have me as a dad.
I'm far from being a good father now. I'm only seventeen. I'm only a student. But one day, I will know what I'm doing. I'm sick of pretending to know what I'm doing. I'm tired of trying to do the right thing. I will be a good dad.
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