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Someone once told me that it's way too easy to give up and do nothing. He told me that most people are born with either a need to always keep trying 'til they reach the top, or no such compulsion at all. Either they are goal-orientated, or they're happy-go-lucky.
I was born as one of the competitive ones who thirsted for success. It mattered to me who won at Monopoly games, and what grades I got in primary school, and who could be the most fun to be around and have the most friends at school.
But somewhere along the way, I know I gave up on myself. I started giving in to time constraints, not caring about the grades, or the attendance, and openly accepting punishment from my family and my teachers. I was kicked out of the house one time, I slept past school way too often, I thought to myself that the education system is a joke, I squandered my pocket money, and I became this self-absorbed, antisocial prick because being a friend to everybody was just too troublesome.
Because being well-behaved, and 'fighting' for greater and better things was just too difficult. It took up my time and energy, and that was the reason I gave myself permission to give in.
I can't do that anymore, I have to stop. All the best opportunities that have slipped through my fingers have slipped because I gave up. And five years from now, I don't want to talk about going back in time and telling my current 18-year-old self not to give up on something just because it's hard.
If I'm going through Hell, I have to keep going. I guess the point I'm trying to tell you (i.e., myself), if we're not seeing any purpose in doing something, it's possible that we're just not seeing it in the right way.
As of right now, I am one of those people - the reason being that I feel that if I were to depend on someone, I will get let down by unmet expectations, or I will develop an overreliance on people, which would eventually lead me to a state where I feel alone, betrayed, and failed. I believe now that keeping everything about myself to myself is individual and strong, and demonstrates independence, maturity and confidence.
The reason I am like this is because I was exactly the opposite when I was a few years younger. I used to be over-dramatic, and I would tell everybody about the shit that was going on in my life because I thought getting people's sympathy and having the courage to 'trust' people with information was an attractive character in a person.
I used to be like that. It wasn't even about telling people I trusted. I rambled on and on in front of anyone that would listen, hoping that by telling just the recounts of my unfortunate life incidents, I could get people to like me. I stopped doing this because I realized I was just distracting myself from the emotions by telling the story again and again, to the point where I wore off my inner pain from telling it too many times.
So should I trust anybody, or do I trust nobody? From both experiences, where neither worked well for me, I think the answer is you have to find a balance. I'm never any good at balance. I like to be ultimate good (even though I'm not), I aim to be the best at school (even though I'm not), and in my conversations with people, I'm either really talkative about my personal life, or I'm not in the slightest. I don't know what to do, because I hate balance. But extreme people have no place in this society. Should you be an open book or a closed book?
My displays of affection are sometimes viewed as inappropriate, because I think overstepping boundaries shows the courage to be romantic. I am devious and gossipy because I think sharing secrets and meddling in other people's lives means caring about other people's secrets and other people's lives - even though it blatently is snaky and dishonest. The term 'arrogance' crops up occasionally with me, because in some sick, self-centered place in my mind, I think putting up an appearance of confidence attracts people who lack self-esteem and maybe want to get inspired. At times, I'm told that I am insensitive to other people's lives and feelings, and this can largely be attributed to my focus being geared towards romance, or confidence, or whatever I think is completely justified to do.
I've always known that if I kept to my own business throughout my entire life, people would always love me and appreciate me for who I am if I happen to be there sitting beside them in any number of circumstances, but the problem is I just cannot control my innate, human inclination towards social interaction. I have to talk to people. I have to find people to trust. I have to find people to share my life with. And this tendency makes me do crazy, mean things.
And then there are those few that see that I don't mean to mess up anything, that I am actually very accepting of differences, and embracing of common traits, that I am good company, with interesting opinions and a very generous heart. I am grateful to the gods that these people can see past my bullshit, and can forgive me if I wrong them, and can stick by me, even defend me sometimes, while I continue to screw up my relationship with the rest of the world.
Without them, I'd be gone by now, 'cause I really drive myself crazy.
Recently, I came to talking with someone about the way I was brought up and how that made me the person I am today. My mother's main desire with me was for me to always broaden my horizons. She would always take me to see all the movies, to all the different restaurants to try different cuisines, to the bookstore so that I could find books to read and learn from. And we also have shared a lot of vacation time together. We've probably been on holiday together around thirty times now, and we're in the midst of planning a trip to Scotland next February.
Often, I find that my conversations with her are always too serious. They always concern family, safety, time management, health, and the two biggest topics of all - money, and my future. And this is why it was good for us to go on holiday, or to go to the movies. It would give us the opportunity to spend time together, but there was distraction to keep our minds occupied, and ultimately, to help us avoid an overly serious mother-son relationship.
My dad on the other hand, he was always about teaching me to enjoy my life. Although he works a very serious job as a private investigator, engaging with the police and the big CEOs and the triads of Hong Kong, he still managed to teach me how to deal with a dichotomous reality where life can be complex and toilsome at times, but also calm, laid-back and enjoyable during other times.
To enjoy life didn't mean going out to bars, drinking and partying - that wasn't the only part of it, or even a major part of it. He knew how to find fun and beauty in doing simple things like playing chess, going out bike-riding, and playing catch with a baseball on the beach. Even though the modern world, with all its technology and education, is a major part in our societal advancement today, a simple pork chop, barbecued over a lit fire-pit in the backyard with some honey glazed on top, could be so much more marvelous compared to pretentious braising, caramelizing or sautéing.
And I find myself really blessed to have parents like these. They might not teach their children, me, the way the other may want to, but I think I've come to take all the good life-lessons they both had to offer. And I appreciate the fact that although going out drinking, or enjoying the great outdoors may not be my mother's cup of tea, she still likes the fact that I'm going out there, learning things about people, broadening my horizons in that sense. And with my dad, although education, books and traveling may not be what he's all about, he sees that I enjoy it, that I'm enjoying my life - which makes him proud, makes both of my parents proud.
They are divorced, but that isn't a concern for any of the three of us any longer - just a fact, just something that happened in the past. They may not agree on certain things - but they've both reinforced the same ideas in my head, collectively guiding me to be a person that appreciates my family on both sides, to stand up for myself when I feel I'm being wronged, to not be afraid of the world and the difficulties it brings, to be sincere, and honest, and kind to people generally, and to have a strong will if I want to do something passionately.
And finally, I'll end this here, with the two things they constantly remind me to keep in mind the most. It's almost annoying how many times it comes up in conversation. The first rule is to always use protection. They don't want me catching HIV, which I guess is reasonable. The second rule, of course, is to never, ever, ever, ever - get married.
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha...
I like this blog-everyday thing. I feel coerced, but I like it. I have had a few troubled thoughts today, and normally, I would take the time to reflect on it into the late hours of the night, but since I've told myself and you that I'm going to blog everyday, I am going to say something here and now. I feel like it's almost supposed to happen, and if not, I would be denying something. It feels right to blog about this, even though I usually wouldn't have. Here it goes:
There was a time in my life when I was having a fruity alcoholic beverage, while also eating spaghetti at a poolside bar. I had a book on biological anthropology next to me, but it could have easily been a crime novel, a factual book on Peruvian history, or something in the horror genre. The beach was about a minute's walk away, and the sun was beaming down on everything, from the bright red and white striped umbrellas, through the great expanse of water that formed the pool, to the couples kissing, the kids laughing, and the teenagers playing catch with a large, inflated beach ball, inside it. Thanks to said sunlit marvelousness, I was wearing sunglasses and Hawaiian-style shorts. It was pretty much paradise to me - and since that resort was aiming for that - I felt that the money I spent to go there was well worth it.
After I came back from that tropical island, I arrived back in my room in the apartment I lived in with my grandparents in Hong Kong, right in the middle of the city center, and I felt extremely heartbroken. The reason was because I was missing something, and only until today did I realize that that was taken from my heart was the warm sun, the gorgeous beach, and the relaxedness I experienced sitting by the pool with a drink in one hand, a book in the other, and delicious food laid out on a plate in front of me, with all the gorgeous sand, sea and sun nearby.
I have had an epiphany, and that is this: I want that for the rest of my life. That was my true happiness right there, and no amount of education, television, writing, clubbing, or any of the other things I've obsessed myself with in my whole life, will ever achieve that.
I want booze, books and beaches forever, and in thus realizing that, I need to do some serious thinking about what my next steps will be in achieving that, because obviously, that sort of life has to be earned.
I just find it's such a shame that the choices of made so far have led me down paths that I didn't want to go down. Getting rich and accomplished is good but it's materialistic. I want happiness from within, and that's it.
I will talk about this some more tomorrow. But for now, I think I feel better from releasing what was in my head. Until tomorrow, then, I suppose. Hooray for epiphanies. :)
Getting back into blogging is actually harder than I thought it would be, after I previously announced that I would take a break from it five weeks ago, when my exams began. My exams ended two weeks ago, and even then, I just felt uninspired to write anything much. I know in my heart that I do this to give others something to read. For me, I have friends to talk to, to express myself and my thoughts. I don't need a diary, but this is sort of like a diary. But writing, to me, is pointless, if it isn't for others to view. And that's precisely how you found these words.
I guess I felt that what I had to say, or what I could say, in the past two weeks, was not worth mentioning, and was not entertaining. But, tonight, I have a desperate, but composed, compulsion to type something in this white space (pale green on my blog) and publish it. Because I believe I've been delaying getting the ball rolling for this summer of blogging. I don't want to quit. I'm not a quitter.
So let me tell you about what's been going on lately.
I've been watching movies, the popular ones that everybody else has seen but I haven't. I've never watched Star Wars, I've never watched Terminator. I haven't even seen any James Bond films, and I'm going to England in the fall. I need to do this before university begins.
I've also been watching TV series. I've already seen all the episodes of my favorites - Lost, 24, Grey's Anatomy, Heroes, Survivor (these are only five titles, mind you)... but it's been a long time since I've started watching something new. And so I started watching Dexter, and I plan on watching Entourage and How I Met Your Mother, because other people love it and I haven't watched them yet. I also think an Alias and a Sex and the City marathon are much needed, as they are favorites that people are missing now, six, seven years later.
I've been reading, at the moment, The Selfish Gene, by Richard Dawkins. It's for my biological anthropology modules in university, and I've learned quite a bit about DNA and evolution so far (I'm on chapter 4). As for fiction, I'm reading Death at Intervals, by José Saramago, a fantastic Nobel Prize-winning Portugese writer if you haven't heard of him already.
On my list of things to read, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Analects, Through the Looking Glass, The Phantom of the Opera, Les Misérables, Crime and Punishment, Howard's End, The Origin of Species, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Beowulf, Moby Dick, The Awakening, and many more classics, are waiting for me. I need to read the Twilight saga, as well, because I just don't understand what the fuss is all about.
I also have more anthropology books to get through before I fly off to London. There's Barrett's Culture and Conduct, Edward T.Hall's Beyond Culture, The Silent Language, and the Dance of Life, and Steven Pinker's The Stuff of Thought.
There really isn't enough time in the universe. I would not say no to immortality, because if I lived forever, I could learn forever, I could experience new things forever. I love exposing myself to stuff, and I hope this part of my personality doesn't go away. My friends have told me that it can't go away, and even if I wanted to eradicate it because I might get too tired one day, I wouldn't be able to. It's inborn, it's innate, it's in me. For now, I don't have a problem with that - I love it.
Anyway, this has really made me think about how little time I actually have this summer to do all that I want to do. I'm going to have to stop here, but this is sufficiently long, right?
I've got a party to go to anyway. So, talk to you all later. I'll TRYYYY to stop by your blogs soon, really!
Toodle-loo!
(And in case you're wondering, or if you didn't catch it from what's written above, I'm very happy right now, in a calm and serene way. Summer is great.
Life is great.)
Saturday, 30th May, 2009 - I turned 18.
It's funny how I receive phones and iPods, books and DVD's, ties and T-shirts, game consoles, laptops and electric guitars for my birthdays and for Christmas. It's funny how my father treats me to $84 oysters, and how my mother has bought me a fortune worth of food over the years. It's funny how I don't have to pay my aunts any money when playing mahjong, even though I should at times when I play abysmally. It's funny how my uncles offer me a glass of wine, or a can of beer, at family reunions. And it's funny how my cousins always want me to join them in playing Halo or football.
Thus are the benefits of being young.
I love eating in excessive amounts without getting fat, and I love sleeping in on Saturday mornings without many commitments to attend to. I always feel so energetic, yet so relaxed. I want to learn things in an unbelievable number of fields. I have such a passion for everything, and I care so deeply about the people around me. I love you guys hard. And you guys are the best. Thus are the benefits of having a young mind, and of having a big, young heart.
Eighteen years in Hong Kong, and eighteen years of being alive, has had its amount of turmoil, but through it all, I have sustained an honest relationship with my mother, a friendship with my father, and have had a lot of good times with the rest of my family, and proud of that, I am. I have met a lot of different people along the way. I've shaken their hands, and I've learned their names, and I've found common, as well as disparate, ground with all of them. I may have held their hair back as they regurgitated their alcohol, I may have felt envious of their looks, or their fortune, or their love lives, and I may have seen something malicious within a select few of them, but altogether, the motto that applies here is "what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger".
What an experience it all has been. I remember having lunch near those tennis courts, and sunbathing in the sun, and running around on grass and astroturf, with my friends. I remember all the late-night talks on the phone and online, the many heart-to-heart conversations shared after dinners. I remember the fun we had in the rain, and in the ocean, on islands, and on boats, and on suspension from school. I remember the bus rides together, as well as the roller coaster rides, and dancing in the clubs, which always was a different sort of ride altogether. I remember all of your comments on my blogs, I remember your comments on my life, I remember your comments on my naturally modelesque walk, my 'nice arms', my erratic accent, my 'thing' where I say I know what you're talking about when I actually don't, my humor (or lack thereof), your comments on my weirdness, my selfishness, my honesty, and my infamous two moles - I really remember it all.
It has been eventful.
But when we move on, all activity aside, what I will miss the most are your memorable faces and your distinct voices, your ageless smiles and your recognizable laughter, your fascinating stories, your ever-changing feelings and your thought-provoking philosophies.
I hope the comedy and the conversation can both continue to exist in my adult life, as we move on together as friends and family. I say, let's make that effort, 'cause it would be a shame to throw away the bonds that we have made. It's what I have wished for my birthday.
And so to end, my lovely people, I'm quite impressed with myself.
It's incredible. I would think a person like me would have given up along the way by now.
But, it's really all happening.
I'm 18.
And I'm going to uni.
:)
Yesterday was a long day, but a good one. I had a maths exam, which was very difficult, and there were just some questions I knew I would never figure out how to solve in or for my life. What can I say - I gave it my best shot? Like I always say, I don't worry too much about my academics. I'm fine not being top of the class, so long as I manage to pass and move on to university. Uni's not even my goal, it's just another two or three years of education, around which I don't let my whole world revolve. I see the purpose of it, it's important. But all I'll ever be passionate about in the future is actually working, to help people via my future job. I don't want to take school so seriously, because this is only just the beginning.
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So after the maths exam, I went to McDonald's with some friends for brunch, then went to play football. It was crazy hot and sunny, and even though I felt like shit kicking a ball around in the blazing heat after downing a big McDonald's breakfast, I loved the sun - it just makes me happy looking at my skin and noticing I'm a little darker. :)
We then went up to a friend's place, and we played games on his PS3 and his Wii. We had KFC for dinner, and by my friend's mother's insistence, pizza. We were too full to finish the pizza. All in all, it was a lot of fun to just relax for a day, to do some exercise, to get some sun, to spend time with people, to play some games. It's needed for me during exam period.
Anyway, soon after dinner, it was time to go home.
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I got home, and talked to my best friend for over two hours. His phone ran out of battery, so I started watching my downloaded TV shows.
Ever watched Survivor?
It's a reality show, where sixteen to twenty, normal, everyday people, are sent to an isolated location (e.g., Brazilian highlands, Australian outback, Amazonian rainforest), to work with, and compete against, each other for cash and other prizes, most notably 1 million US dollars for the winner.
I've watched all 18 seasons of the American version, and it's the show I've been most dedicated to, one of my favorites. After thirty or so days of being outcasted, towards the end of every season, they like to reward the remaining four/five/six contestants, by bringing their loved ones into the game for just a day. It boosts their morale, it reminds the final four/fix/six of what they went to compete for, and most important of all, it creates some emotional reality TV.
I was watching this moment, when the outcasts reunited with their loved ones. One had his father emerge from the bushes, one had her husband, one had his brother... And I thought about what if I were there? Who would be there to emerge from behind the bushes to see me?
Hands down, my best friend, without a doubt. He knows every little thing about my life, he can handle all my different levels of character, there is nothing that means more to me than him. I paused Survivor, and as I sat there, I imagined not being able to talk to my best friend after thirty days in harsh conditions with nothing that reminds me home, and I just teared up at how emotional this hypothetical situation would be.
But then I realized that when I leave for university, when I leave Hong Kong, and he stays here, I won't have him to call up any time I want in London, and that this hypothetical situation bears some resemblance to a very real and near future for me. My best friend and I will have to start working out the time differences, while juggling my new life and his, our new schools, our new friends and love interests, everything, if we even still have time to and want to keep in touch with each other. It will never be the same, the same as it has been since I first met him.
I just cried at the idea, of losing the ability to do something that we've been doing for so long, losing the person I know now, the one I've had for so long. It's no tragedy, and I'm not sad. I wasn't feeling sad even as I was crying.
They're sort of like tears of joy, I'm very happy that I have him now, and I feel so fortunate. But leaving him is simply something that's going to be hard to do. Can you imagine having to leave the person that you are closest to... the person you speak with everyday... the person that knows you more than anyone, the person you know so well?
It's merely one of those things that will happen, and would've happened earlier or later anyway, and at least I have three or four months left. I'll just miss what I have now, you know? And he's just the first of things I'll miss when I leave.
I'm still on study leave at the moment, exams start on May 4th. Of course the occasional distraction is inevitable in this feels-like-forever time span, and so in the past week, a lot of exciting planning has been going on between me and my friends whenever we close our books for a break.
My real birthday is May 30th (mark it on your calendars folks!), but unfortunately, our graduation ball/prom takes place on May 29th. I'm sure we'll be too hungover to celebrate on the actual date... plus, I have two families that really want me to devote my real 18th birthday to their side. Between my mother and my father, I haven't decided which one yet, but I'm thinking I'll give it to my mother. She's been quite short-tempered lately... maybe she's newly menopausal, or exam time has taken a toll on her mind as well (because she's an English teacher).
So, instead, I'm having a party on May 22nd. In fact, I'm sharing it with two of my friends, who have their birthdays lie unfortunately on dates with exams. They're two of my closest friends in the class, and so this joint party for three is going to be really special, and highly anticipated.
I've already plans to do stuff on the 24th, 26th, 28th, 29th, 30th and 31st as well. Turning 18 is a lot busier and a lot less cool than I thought, 'cause it's like everyone knows how great it feels and wants me to have a good time, too. Honestly, I'd rather lie on the beach for the entire week in the sun... but I'll attend every buffet, every house party, every dinner, every gathering, and every night out, for them. Because they love me.
I just booked the table for our birthday party for three. Around twenty-five people should be attending, it's a nice Australian-style restaurant, with fabulous steak, called 'Outback Steakhouse'. You can check out the food menu and the drinks menu if you fancy a drooling session. I seriously can't wait to celebrate, not only my birthday, but my two close friends' birthdays. We will also rejoice in the conclusion of our exams, of high school, of everything we've been doing in the past eighteen years.
It's so great.
And afterward, I know, and they know, and God knows we'll go get really drunk.
I always love that ending.
Anyway, I must get back to my maths books (or fall asleep lying on top of and underneath them). I'll come back and tell you how the exams are going after I've done one or two or a few. :)
I really miss blogging, but I'm surviving. See you later, people!
I've done this quite a few times in my life, and by golly, it's weird, exciting and nerve-racking all at the same time. It's even more distressing when it's in public, when you're not actually single (tsk tsk), when it's a member of the same sex, when you have to go to school the next day and face that person, when your mother sees you doing this, when you didn't actually know the person you were kissing wasn't that good-looking...
That didn't all happen last Friday night, but you get the picture - you can regret a spontaneous make-out session with a stranger. And I'm feeling that regret right now. I mean, when I woke up on Saturday morning, I could not believe what I had done.
Ah, well. It's all sorts of horrible now, but I'll be laughing about it soon enough. But for now, in my mind, I'm thinking... really, truly, SERIOUSLY, I'm not going to drink for a while, not until the 20th or so of May, when my examinations have passed. I do not need to be getting drunk and doing crazy stuff at this point.
Kissing a stranger... what were you thinking, Mike?...
Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright, it's too sad, it's too sad to destroy this blog. I went back and read what I wrote in the past few months, and damn, that is a lot of writing, a lot of comments, a lot of readership, a lot of thoughts and memories and experiences to just delete at the quick click of the mouse's slick left button.
I was there, with my finger on my mouse, anticipating what I was about to do, like with my finger on the trigger of a gun to my own head (figuratively, of course, remember my thoughts and my memories?)... I couldn't do it, and I chickened out. It looks like I'm here to stay, with my horribly public displays of self-doubt, indecision, angst, hypocrisy and boastful arrogance. Woo~
I've just been really moody lately, you know? At times, I'm ecstatic, other times, downright dismal. Today, my feelings swung from guilt to gloom and from grief to glee. I don't know. I really don't know what's going on. Perhaps I'm just tired.
I have exams coming up soon, and so April is the month to focus. I need to work hard if I want to start a good new life in London. I can't wait to walk out of the examination room after each exam, knowing all my hard studying went toward some cause. I can't wait to pick out the suit I'll wear at my graduation ceremony and ball. I can't wait to party on the night we graduate, I can't wait to turn 18, I can't wait to finally have fun this summer, the only summer in which I just can't worry about the next year of high school.
I can't wait to immerse myself in time spent with my classmates, my friends, my loves. I can't wait to hug them with all the genuine good intent in my heart it will ever muster up for a long time to come.
I can't wait to move to London, to visit Soho, Camden Town, watch musicals, visit museums, eat at fancy restaurants, shop at flea markets, party at the coolest clubs, eat the most traditional scones and biscuits alongside a nice hot cup of cappuccino...
I can't wait to start my university course, and study what I want, what I flippin' give a damn about. I can't wait to grow up, I can't wait to be an adult, I can't wait to fall in love again, I can't wait to live a new life.
For personal reasons, I've decided to take this blog down. I wanted a blog where I could really be honest, but it turns out that there were too many people in my real-life prying into my thoughts and feelings. Through this blog, I have unexpectedly discovered that I actually want my private life to be more private than I first thought a couple of months ago.
I didn't really mean for this to be anyone's entertainment, but apparently, mine is a blog that manages to as a matter of course. I appreciate all the comments you've all given each of my posts, for the followship, for the support, care and ideas you've given me while I've been writing in this one. I have already closed my television one as well, since I wasn't writing too much in it. I'm really sorry for having to do this, but I must go back to my blogging beginnings where it was just Do you hate it too? I believe it would make me feel a whole lot better about blogging.
I'll take this down at the end of the month. Take care, everyone - my e-mail's always on my profile for you to write to if you'd like.
I’m now sitting in a cab, on my way home, after spending the night at my dad’s place. Yesterday marks the first time I’ve seen him since last July after I vowed never to speak to him ever again. I find it strange, and wonderful, but mostly strange, how relationships heal over time, how feelings can change so rapidly. Who knows? Maybe next time I’ll get pissed at him again and promise myself the same thing I did a year ago. I guess you (and by ‘you’, I mean ‘I’) just need to approach each meet-up with an open mind, or better yet, an optimistic attitude.
So, what did we do yesterday… after school, I journeyed to Pacific Place, a rich-bitch shopping arcade that features Lane Crawford, Gucci, Chanel, Dior, and the like. I met up with him at this small restaurant-bar thing, where he was having a beer in a beautifully sculpted glass. He ordered teriyaki beef with rice and salmon sashimi for me, because I was hungry and apparently, they were very good according to him. He also asked if I wanted a beer, and I ordered a Coke instead. First alcohol temptation test since deciding to quit drinking – I passed without hesitation.
We then went to Lan Kwai Fong, the drinking and clubbing venue in Hong Kong. We went to say hello to a good friend of his, who was playing pool with a girl named Belinda at a pool-restaurant place called ‘Racks’. I think I saw one or two Hongkonger celebrities there… I can’t say I wasn’t impressed... in fact, my dad has always known all the cool hangout venues. I am always impressed by where he brings me.
Next on the agenda was his favorite bar, La Dolce Vita ’97. I unfortunately broke my no-drinking rule right there and then, and sinfully downed a Malibu Coke while he had a second beer. I don’t really know what to make of my quitting drinking. I guess I’ll just aim to reduce the amount I drink, as opposed to stopping totally.
He then took me to his place, and I was pleasantly surprised.
He lives in a tiny metropolis sort of place in the middle of Hong Kong. There’s everything you would ever want to live close to: supermarkets, cinemas, concert hall, coffeehouses, delis, fast-food and fancy restaurants and sports grounds are just a few examples. Being a resident there also meant you had access to the club house where they had squash courts, swimming pools, a Laundromat, table-tennis tables, pool tables, a sauna, a spa, etc…
Dude, my dad was living in a rich man’s world. I have to say, everybody we passed by while walking toward his place from the bus stop either looked stylish, rich, sexy, or some combination of the three – that’s boys and girls, mind you.
The actual apartment was spacious, clean, very stylish, and an ocean view. There was a plasma TV, speakers surrounding the sofa area, his laptop computer, space for my notebook, and the music he played was good, too. I took a shower as well, and seriously, I don’t think the hot water runs out, like a five-star hotel. Lining the bathroom sink were bottles of Hugo Boss and Giorgio Armani fragrances for men. There was great shampoo and conditioner, great shaving cream, even great toothpaste, soap and mouthwash. And by ‘great’, I mean ‘expensive’.
When we got to his house, we had dinner while watching some TV… I taught him how to get good quality movie streams on the internet and he went to doing that while I did my own thing on my laptop.
But the thing that really made my night last night was his two pet cats. I don’t know if they have names, but they were two adorable Scottish Folds. When I first saw them, I went up to the black one and pet him and he was just drawn to me immediately, we clicked. The white-with-brown-spots Fold came over soon after, and in an hour or two, I found myself posting on Do you hate it too? with the two cats as my armrests while I typed.
I was originally going to head home once it got really late, but I simply liked it there too much to leave so soon. I fell asleep on the couch while my dad watched a horrible movie called ‘Dungeon Girl’.
At around 10:30am, I woke up to find both cats curling up beside me, clawing at my hair, gently punching my stomach, jumping over my head, over my legs and back again, meowing, licking my face and my fingers, like they were trying to tell me it was time to get up. I just opened my eyes at that point, saw them, and really genuinely smiled for the first time in a long time, like I didn’t have a worry in the world because I had these two cats with me.
They had seen me open my eyes, and I guess they decided it was their turn to go to sleep. They spread themselves on the sofa we were sharing, and used my stomach as their pillow for their heads. I just lay there, for twenty minutes, watching their heads go up and down, up and down, up and down as I breathed. And I couldn’t remember the last time I was so content, so comfortable, so happy.
My dad was alright. But it was those cats that were the main son-magnets. A good journey overall, can’t wait to see what happens today.
I realize I haven't been visiting anybody's blogs for two weeks now. I'll get back to it soon, I just don't have much of a mood these days. I'm really bored, and I wish I had more money to go out but it's costly. This holiday sucks...
When other people tell me they're bored, I tell them a story, ask them if they want to go see a movie, have dinner, or go to the library with me. I talk to them for hours on the phone, perhaps, and I manage to entertain them until they find something to occupy themselves with finally, or until they're tired and want to go to sleep.
The sad thing is that I don't get any satisfaction out of it. I've served my 'duty' as friend or family, but I guess making another person happy just isn't enough to make me happy.
I'm not altruistic at all. I'm a big egoist, and a big egotist, and I'm a selfish brat. What's an egomaniac to do when society demands politeness, sincerity and generosity from him?
He is to say, and do, all the right things for others. He is to tell others what they want to hear to reassure them, comfort them, to put across a message of 'someone really cares about you.' He is to tell others, based on his own knowledge and experience, what he thinks others can do to improve their lives, or their relationships with others, by tactfully injecting confidence, courage, and the like, into their heads. He is to ask others, for favors or the occasional question, to feed their egos, and make them feel knowledgeable, wanted and needed. He is to help others accomplish their dreams, and perform their errands, in order to make their lives go by more efficiently, happily, or in a more worthwhile way.
All of this is, of course, if the guy wants to be accepted within his community despite being egocentric.
Yes, I'm bored. I really want to go somewhere, but I don't want to ask for other people's money, and I don't want to have to ask for other people's time and company.
Oh, well. Maybe I'll go paint a self-portrait or write my autobiography or something... The ego is a funny thing, ain't it?
I went out drinking again.
I don't know what to say, because I don't know what happened. I just want to sleep my troubles away, like many people do, but I know I will have to face the consequences of my actions tonight.
However, I love the dancing, and some selected drinks.
I miss my best friend. I wish he was here right now.
He would know what to do.
I love him too much for my own good.
I've lost so much in the past few weeks. I want to look toward my parents and my class for some sort of light, some sort of guidance, because they are the people I'm obliged to be with.
On the other hand, they disappoint me, they hurt me, they piss me off.
Am I expecting too much? Am I too susceptible to insult? Am I too emotional?
Yes, yes and yes.
It doesn't matter.
It all doesn't matter because next year I won't even be here anymore.
I don't just mean in a physical sense.
My personality - I'm radically changing it when I go to university.
Even if you come back to me, even if you regret it, you won't find me there.
I'm gone.
It has been a long time since I have ever felt so lost. Everything is so unclear, including my relationship with my father, how I'm going to tackle all the homework for school, where I want to go for university (I'm reconsidering... maybe), my own aspirations, my moods, why my best friend decided to end our friendship, what my mother was telling me about the future, what I think I'll be doing for my birthday, the plots of various television shows, and where my conversations with her, and him, and her, and him, and her, and him, are going.
All in all, I'm confused.
I don't know what I'm doing.
And I hate it.
But I hear that's normal for a teenager?
Just for those of you who are unfamiliar, here's a little summary of my current situation: my parents are divorced and I live with just my maternal grandparents. My father was 'being difficult' last summer in a number of ways, and since July, I haven't seen or spoken to him. He was self-centered, and always moaned about his ex-wives and his boss. Consequently, he was insensitive to my problems. I got sick of him, and that side of my family. He was a waste of my time.
Tonight, on this homework-crammed night, I received a text message from my father that said: "I wanna see you this thursday".
I will see him on Thursday. And I am scared.
In the past year or so, I have gradually become more and more scared of depending on the people who are close to me. This is because, in the past year, I have been greatly disappointed by three people who are very special to me.
One was my best friend. One was a girl. And one was my father.
I think I am partially culpable for my own downfall, but I do hold expectations for certain people because I think giving, sharing and tolerating is what friends and family do for each other. I always take a leap of faith with people because I believe good hearts lie within each of us. Since last year, I've really learned the hard lesson: people aren't always reliable.
But I'm going to see my father with a open heart because I think it is the mature thing to do. I'm going because we are connected by blood. (I am always amazed by how well he and my mother know me so well without the formalities of actually learning about each other that exist with friends.) I'm going because I believe I got angry over something silly, because I reckon I lost my respect for him too quickly in a rush of emotion. And I'm going because shooting some snooker and downing shots of Jack Daniel's has always been fun. With him.
On the other hand, I am scared that he will still be irresponsible, and irrational, self-involved and arrogant. I am scared that by having him in my presence, the negative traits which he has passed on to me by blood will emanate out of me despite my constant internal repression. I am scared that I will have to go through losing him all over again if I get impatient with his cocky personality one night after a taxing day at school. And I am scared that he will distract me, have an impact on my grades, and affect my future.
My fellow bloggers, tell me the sun will shine, please.
Please tell me I don't have to be scared.
Please tell me I'll be fine.
Two years ago, I was suffering from my second-most serious case of depression (the first being the time I nearly commited suicide). During this second-most serious case, I constantly felt dizzy, nauseated and miserable. I lacked an appetite and the urge to sleep.
I don't just mean skipping breakfast. I don't just mean I pulled off an all-nighter. I did not eat or sleep for four days straight. All I did was crap, and cry at night in my room. I really didn't know if my mood affected my appetite, or if my loss of appetite led to my depression.
But it was horrible, and I knew I had a problem even by the second day. I refused to eat anything at meals... anything. I would walk past my all-time favorite fast-food chain, McDonald's, without even stopping. I was disgusted by all food, anything from chocolate cake to scrumptious Chinese delicacies, from pork chops to chicken wings, from pancakes with bananas to spaghetti bolognese. I would drink Coke, and puke it out later. Ordinary water seemed to be the only thing I could take in, even though I never drink any water and rely on juice, soft drinks, energy drinks, tea, coffee and soup for my fluids. And as for alcohol, well, you know what alcohol does to you: it makes you puke, but even I, with a tough threshold for holding my drink, puked, and that, my friends, is an astonishingly serious symptom. It's like everything, toxic to my body or healthful for my body, didn't appeal to me. I hated eating, I didn't want to consume anything.
Shit, it's probably the sickest I've ever been.
Right now, I have a virus lying within me that's similar. I woke up today frantically reaching around for my rubbish bin so that I could vomit.
I didn't get any satisfaction, though, because I haven't eaten since Wednesday afternoon, and there's nothing in my digestive system to regurgitate. I mean, it's Friday afternoon now, and I don't have the appetite to eat anything, not even a slice of bread, a small biscuit, or a bowl of congee - basically not even boring, bland rice in a bowl of water.
The one difference, between this time and that time two years ago, is that I'm not miserable. I think things with my family, especially my mother, are going fine. I have an active, lively Facebook, MSN and blogging life when I'm not out with my friends. And damn, my friends make me so happy and they mean so much to me. A romantic life is not in the equation because I'm not desperately looking for it. And I had a week of school that was actually looking up until I was feeling too ill to go yesterday, and now, today.
And it's making me think, am I actually miserable like the last time, but I've only been hiding it these past few days? Is there something I'm denying about how I feel? Am I withholding emotions that I don't want to let out?
I just gagged.
I'm heading to the doctor now to get some medication. I still don't want to eat anything. A big, fat steak would repulse me and make me puke up my stomach.
Shucks, I just gagged again. Talk to you all later.
---------------------------------------
Update @ 21:27: The doctor gave me five different pills to take. I have a really bad headache now in addition to the vomiting need. I just went to the bathroom, and basically let out whatever was left inside my body. I don't think there's any food matter inside me at all. I still don't have an appetite. I just feel tired. I'll be back later, I suppose, to give another update.
It's the weekend again, which means I can return to blogging with all the rest of you. I'm sure it's been a long week for all of you, but I hope you all have something to make you feel better this weekend, and something to look forward to this month.
How have I been doing? Well, I have a little something to share. It gets me a bit emotional, but in a good way, so here we go:
This blogging thing that I started three or four months ago has escalated to a point where the people in my real life are telling me I should publish books. They tell me they admire what I've done, that my writing is definitely very commercial and relevant.
I, with complete honesty, do not want to think about it. I think my skills are above average, but that is as far as I am willing to be proud of. It is not my humbleness that makes me think I'm not good enough, it is my practicality and my honesty that makes me doubt I am writer material. I am only seventeen. I am a student that achieves reasonably well in English class. But the reason people under twenty generally do not start publishing at that age is because you need many years of practice and experience in order to be great, to be truly fabulous, extraordinary and unique.
It's scary to have my mother dreaming of me succeeding as an author. Of course, an autobiography, novels and perhaps a 'Do You Hate It Too?' book have crossed my mind, but I am in disbelief. I understand that people in their youth can publish books. I get that I can do it if I worked at it.
But my heart isn't there right now. I want to publish books some day, but within the next three years seems a little soon and it scares me so much, I think I might pee a little. I'm damn frightened of that sort of fame.
Nonetheless, I still love the praise. In the blogging world, people care about me, and have found my writing and my life to be 'honest', 'beautiful', 'charming', 'humorous', 'mature beyond [my] years', 'excellent', 'interesting', 'thoughtful', 'thought-provoking' and 'emotional'. Someone two months ago said they respected me for being so honest, despite the fact that I don't believe I'm very respectable. I uncomfortably carry a high reputation on Blogger, when I don't reckon I am reputable.
This particular blog of mine urges me to be honest, and honestly, frankly, really, I believe I'm just a kid with familial, scholastic, romantic, and friend-related problems, with funny stories, with emotions, with a life like everybody else. I have always told people this piece of advice: you make your own life interesting. And that is what I've done, and what I hopefully will continue to do. I think anyone can do this and could write as well as I do.
Now, I actually get fanmail. Bloggers add me on Facebook. I actually have a social life that reaches further than it ever has before. People know my name, and think of my words and ideas while at work and school. People know me, and think I'm friggin' hilarious and wonderful. For most of the time, I don't believe I walk on the streets everyday, with people all over the world that expect me to write when I get home. I don't believe I've learned so much about so many mind-boggling things from being amongst such a talented, thoughtful cyberclique. I find it hard to believe in things that are this good.
And the rate at which all of this is growing is exponential.
Lately, I have frequently been stopping in the middle of my work to daydream.
And I find myself thinking, shit, what the Hell have I done to my life?
Is this really happening to me?
A particular friend of mine wrote a blog post about a special friend she had, and I'm inclined to think that special friend is me. Following her example, I shall not give her name, or call her to tell her that I wrote about her, but she knew I was going to read it, and I know she's reading this, too.
But she touched on something that really hit me hard, that made me swallow, that made me hold my breath, and that nearly made me cry as I was reading this one paragraph.
In her entry, she said that she found me by accident, and that our friendship should all be attributed to the efforts that I put in to the relationship. She said that I am the one who has encouraged her to partake in sexless hangouts, and that without my invitations, my texts and my calls, she would be at peace with being on her own. She said that she knew I had a lot of other close friends, and she viewed that as being quite depressing. If you look at it in a pessimistic, cynical way, she is just one of a bunch, a bunch of Michael's good friends. I can empathize with that, but read the following:
I know a lot of people. I cannot describe to you bloggers just how many people I know, but a lot of people have told me that I have touched their lives, changed their perspective deeply, been kind to them, appreciate me for my honesty, my scruffy, unique looks, my wit and humor, my sage advice, my hugs, my quirkiness, my words, my actions, my thoughts, my feelings (most notably, love), and my incredibly expansive insight regarding anything and everything.
I know a lot of people, and although I cannot express to you just how many that is, here's a taste:
- I was once suspended at school for collaborative and organized theft. I would go into the changing-rooms at school and scavange for spare cash in pants pockets and bags, while my British friend was the lookout and told me if someone was approaching. We've both moved on since being partners-in-crime, and he now lives in the UK. I love staying up late in Hong Kong, talking to him while it's only the early evening for him. I love him so much. He lives quite close to another friend:
- This other friend is Japanese and he's bisexual, just like me. He's been in England for a year and a half now, and likes it when bigger guys buy him drinks and escort him to their college dorms to spend the night. I fooled around with him many, many times when we went to school together five years ago, and I share all my intimate 'gay thoughts' with him because he knows what that's like. I love him, too, and can't wait to see him again some day.
- One thing that has been interesting for me being a bisexual, is how girls just love to be my friend, but don't want to be in a relationship with me. They like how thoughtful and good with the words I am, and they like that I don't indulge myself with guns, cars, sports, games or hair products. I have a dear friend, a girl, who I used to go to. I don't keep in touch with her much, but I had a crush on her once, and she had one on me, too. Whenever we do talk, she tells me her problems at school, in her family, that she would never tell anyone else about. And it moves me to know that she can find trust in me, a shoulder to lean on, a support system and an ear to listen. I love her, as well.
- I have a gay friend in Thailand, who works as a barista in Starbucks. He's 22, and wants to keep doing part-time temp. jobs like the one he has now. I have loving feelings for him, too.
- I have a friend, again, a girl, again, one that I had a crush on. She dances, she loves learning about physiology and anatomy. She always is determined to work hard, to be responsible, to be content, to be accepting, to be rational. She has a father that hits her in the face when he gets angry. It's sad. But unsurprisingly, I love her, too.
- I have similar feelings for twelve people in my class. There's the girl who achieves exceedingly well, and will go to Cambridge to study medicine, skipping the first year and moving straight on to the second. The sad part is that her parents will likely get divorced when she moves there.
- There's the short, unexercised girl who has had to follow her father's 'business' around the world for her whole life, never stopping long enough for her to make any 'real' friends.
- There's the boy who really wants to play the guitar for the rest of his life, but can't because his parents can't afford to send him to the US. There's the guy who smokes too much, the girl that fails her exams, the twins who struggle with keeping the peace and lessening the drama amongst all these other people with issues. And guess what? I love my class, too.
- I have seven old-fashioned, letter-writing pen-pals in the States, Canada, Australia and China,
- around two hundred people who I've talked to on Facebook in the past year,
- a handful of the LGBT community who I've met in forums and bars,
- teenagers and kids that live in my building,
- distant cousins and my three half-sisters,
- around five hundred schoolmates in three different schools,
- the late-shift Pizza Hut delivery guy, the McDonald's crew that know my face only too well and the 7-11 staff that have served me for years,
- and I have all of you Bloggers, all of you, even my list of 'Blogs I Follow' is very lengthy for following standards, but each of you have touched my life in so many different ways, and have reminded me that the world is much bigger than just your own city, a dot on the world map,
- and then I have my Best Friend, the one I trust with everything, the one that loves me unconditionally, the one that I care about the most, the one that has made me laugh more than anybody else, the one who was there to console me whenever I cried, the one that saved my life and talked me out of suicide, the one that stood by me with whatever was hurled at me, the one who knows all the rest, everybody, each individual I've encountered in my life.
The point that I wanted to express (and have strayed away from slightly with the whole dramatic, bullet-point thing) is that friendship is hard for me, too. Friendship is something that I don't know how to do well without relying on others. Friendship is something that I don't take credit for, and all I can see for myself is this long list, this incredibly long list that still doesn't convince me that I have a natural 'talent' with friends. I feel like giving up on friendship at times, I hate being friends with people when I get really angry at them. I am not confident in my ability to make and keep friends because I still get lonely, I still feel inadequate and inept, I still find it hard to simply define the bloody word itself.
What I am confident about is that you mean a lot to me, too. But, please, don't ever, ever feel unhappy with the fact that you are one of many. I treasure you, not more than them, or less than them, I just simply treasure you a lot. I've been maintaining friendships my whole life and I am sure that in my heart, I will cherish you after we graduate, and that we will keep in touch until the day we meet again, part ways again, and repeat the cycle over and over.
I hope you can find it in yourself to smile, despite being one of a bunch. You know that's the way I am. You know friendship makes me happiest. You know that I am here to live happily - not prosperously, not for the benefit of society, not for a long time. It says something about who I am in the left-sidebar, which is what I was trying to achieve by putting it there: 'I reckon that bonding with other people is all we humans are capable of doing well, and that the world has the capacity for each and every one of us to find people who we can share our lives with. I believe my purpose in life is to inspire, to share and to be one with the world.'
Like all the rest, I love you, too, my friend. I sure hope it ain't depressing.
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