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As I was saying, getting all of that university stuff out of the way is such a relief. There's a certain lovely feeling you get with relief, the relief of being able to eat after hours food-deprived, when you finally conclude your conclusion of your essay or report, as you're reaching the end of that final downhill rollercoaster ride, and when the buzzer goes off and you win the basketball game by just one point. Relief is that satisfying, calming feeling you get right after you find out that the sky isn't actually falling.
I find that one thing for me that distinguishes a good friend from a great number of acquaintances, or a loving family member from a large number of relatives, is the number of times they provide me with that feeling of relief. Everytime I feel like I'm about to breakdown and submit to the pressures in life, my parents, my family, and my best friends are there to not just tell me that everything's going to be okay, but also explain why and how it will be okay.
It's impossible to be one-hundred percent independent, co-dependency is crucial for anyone who wants to survive. Since the New Year, I've noticed that I have gradually become less reflective and less mindful of myself as I've become more and more entrenched into my studies and the things I have to do. It's mostly because I just have a lot of things to do, that's all. It's simply a matter of not having enough hours in the day to find time to sit back and relax.
Ah, but now I get to do just that for a couple of weeks.
Boy, what a relief it really is.
#10
What you really feel about violence, famine, death, disease, mental disorder, blood and gore.
#9
You don't actually brush your teeth, clean your ears, use any soap in the shower, use any shampoo in the shower, use the water in the shower, wash the family dishes properly, separate your raw from your cooked in the kitchen, wash your hands after every time you go to the bathroom, and/or wipe your ass every time after doing a poo.
#8
If you have a tattoo or piercing in 'special places' on your body.
#7
Whether you really go to school every single day.
#6
What causes that kind-of-like-weed smell in your bedroom.
#5
What you're doing in the bathroom that takes so long.
#4
Where all that money she gives you really goes.
#3
Whether you've lost your virginity yet, and if so, with who?
#2
Whether you've ever hidden a pregnancy or an STD from her.
And the #1 thing a guy's mom should never know:
If it looks exactly the same as your dad's.
In some other cases, I fail to recognize the crime I am being charged with, however, I have also expressed how sorry I am to those involved, for I never meant to hurt anyone's feelings. Sometimes, people see flaws in you that you're just completely unaware of.
Some of these debacles are still ongoing, and the effects of some are still being felt. However, after taking six or seven blows in the past two weeks or so, I am now numbed by the number of indictments that have been earnestly bestowed upon my conscience. All I can do is apologize, express the guilt that I feel, and assert that I will try my best not to commit the same crimes again. I cannot afford to buy anyone a new boat, or car, or even delivered flowers. Saying sorry is all I've got.
I have only ever expressed my anger at someone once in the past four months, and I assure you that this is honest truth. It was resolved the next day, they said sorry to me. And I moved on. That's all that's needed with me. I don't get angry easily, and if I do, I can forgive quite quickly. Believe it or not, even as the author of Do you hate it too?, I don't like being judgmental, I don't like making people feel bad about themselves. I tolerate the idiosyncrasies, then have a little rant on my blogs, and then get over it. This accomplishes patience.
We are all people here, imperfect, flawed, and capable of error... all I can ask for is forgiveness. If time or distance is needed, then a simple request for it would do. I don't like to dwell on things. I don't want to experience any hard feelings. I may still do so every now and then... but even so, I still wouldn't like feeling that way, obviously.
I'm done with apologizing. I've done all I can to attempt to rectify what's gone wrong. I'm tired. I'm numb. I need to spend some time now with a few people that acknowledge and appreciate my patience. I'm too tired of sitting here, bottling up everything wrong with the people around me, and letting them pour all of their hurt on me. Take your scrutinous microscope, and examine yourselves. Sometimes, it's just too darn easy to blame it on me. It really is. And that's your weakness, not mine.
I hate to admit defeat. I am a competitive person. I want to reach the top.
And I don't ever want to ask for people to support me on my way. It would take away from my personal glory, my own accomplishments in life.
However, people like my mother and a few good buddies of mine have helped me throughout my entire life. They've stuck by me through thick and thin, in both times when I was very sure of who I was, and times when I was lost and confused. At this stage in my life, they only know all too well to simply wait for me to ask them for help if I need it. I manage to find trust in them somewhere inside me because they've proven for years that they can help me. I ask them because I'm not afraid of being disappointed by them. They live up to their roles as my closest family and friends.
At university, let's just say that there are a group of people that I have been trying to work with for the past four months to bring together something really fun, really educational, and really good. I put my heart and soul into this little project, and on my return to university from my winter holidays, I was extremely, extremely disappointed to find out that the other people in this group just didn't want to do it anymore. They gave up. And they don't give a rat's ass about what I feel.
And that is exactly why it is so hard for me to trust and depend on people I've just met. I cannot tell you how many times I've been disappointed by the people around me. Too often in my life, different people have done things to demonstrate how they are just so flawed and unworthy of my trust. I wish people kept the same personalities throughout your entire time of knowing them. But the real world makes it work differently. Friends become enemies, and enemies become friends. A social life filled with good friendships is a slippery slope on the summit of a mountain, and although reaching the highest point on that mountaintop gives you a great sense of pride, the natural inclination is to go downwards, because hiking up to the peak requires too much hard work.
One of these days, I'm going to stop giving new people I meet a chance. One of these days, I won't trust anyone new ever to help me with certain matters, because I feel like nobody can get things done right besides me. I'll ponder this a bit more - and I'm sure I'll come to some conclusion as to why I should give people chances.
But for now, for just these next few minutes, I want to be mad - mad at the people who let me down, mad at the inconsiderate, self-indulgent, power-hungry people that don't even care. It's not fair. It's not right.
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.
A few people I've asked this question to told me that the whole dating scene is a quest for stability. They want the undivided attention and commitment, and they want to feel the longevity of a mutual loyalty towards one another. But I still find myself asking why? Why not be loyal to a friend, instead? What is it about a wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend that is different from, say, your best and oldest friends? Are they not as loyal?
To which the people I asked replied by stating that with your friends, they come and go. Whereas with a partner, you will never feel alone and you always know that they're there for you. You're not meant to be that codependent with friends, who have their own lives to lead. I mean, we imagine ourselves spending the later parts of our life with a wife and kids - not a group of five same-sex chums, right? So, I ask them, what about your relatives? Aren't your parents and siblings just as 'constant' as a partner is? Your family are also always there for you. So what makes a wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend any different from, say, your sister, your uncle, or your mother?
Someone answered me by saying that they want to feel be proud of 'working on a relationship'. Establishing a relationship with someone means that you both make suggestions, criticisms, sacrifices, and changes in personality and lifestyle, so as to create something impressive to others, and impressive to ourselves - confirmation of the fact that you can do something in this world, live in a house together and have children, contribute to the national consumerism in your purchases, to the real estate and education industries - while continually helping someone in particular better their life and, in turn, have your own life changed for the better by them. A very good argument, I must say, but I must ask, is that not what we do at school and at work? When we work on individual projects, we make suggestions and criticisms to steer a project in the right direction, we work just as hard, to improve business, and to give back to society. A lot of people can say they love their job. A lot of people can say they feel important in the line of work they do. Just like in a relationship. So what makes a wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend different from your co-worker or your company then?
One of my friends responded by saying that they want erraticity. They want to feel that thrill of a roller-coaster-like experience when dating another person. They want to fall for someone, and they want to 'feel', mutually, 'in love', to feel that rush, that sense of having no boundaries. Sometimes it's not about commitment and stability, it's about surprises, a pair of earrings on the pillow, an unexpected candlelight dinner at home, a new car parked outside with a bow tied on top of it.
I'll admit it - my best friend and my mother would never surprise me with a car, but a future wife might. I cannot think of a logical explanation for why this 'rush' is not really why we go into relationships, other than pointing out the reality that predictability often trumps unpredictability in this world. Those tacky surprises are only seen in romantic comedies and sitcoms and unrealistic. A majority of couples that exist around us are definitely not that exciting - teenage couples just go to the movies and fuck, middle-aged couples just have dinner dates and then they might fuck afterward, and the elderly, well, they just... read the newspaper.
Sure, she may be cute, but why not just get a dog?
He certainly is very, very smart, but why aren't you making a move on your professor?
She 'gets' you, you say? Get a shrink, who can psychoanalyze and understand you better than any girl will.
Yeah, yeah, he's really funny indeed - but, are you saying I'm not funny?
These reasons are superficial, all of the ones I've listed so far. Love is something felt, and not thought about. It's hard to explain why people bother with relationships.
One of my friends suggested that it was animal instinct, an uncontrollable compulsion that ultimately is meant to provide you with a mate with whom you can reproduce and propagate your genes with. Can you imagine using that as your answer when people ask you what makes your partner so great?
"Because I want my genetic material to be passed down to the next generation."
Eighteen years and seven months ago, I was born in Hong Kong. My aunt accompanied my mother back to my grandparent's apartment, the 4th flat on the 7th floor. Our family has had 704 for over forty years. That place is not just home to them, but is home to all eight of their daughters too. After my parents got divorced, it became my home.
Somewhere along the way, I had the opportunity, or experience, of living with my father, which turned out to be rather awesome. While he was at work, I spent time with his personable wife and his three fun-loving, laid-back daughters. Dad's house (or Dad's houses as he always moved a lot) was home to me too.
Somewhere along the way, I attained, as lame as it sounds, what you could only describe as a 'best friend'. His parents know me, and trust me, his younger brother knows he can call me in times of trouble. I call their humble Filipino family my home as well.
Somewhere along the line, my mother moved out of my grandparents' apartment, in an act of great motherly sacrifice, to give me my own room - her room - as I was finally becoming a very demanding teenage boy. I've stayed at the place she now owns, and I also call it one of my homes.
Although I had all of these places for my choosing, the one place I always went back to at the end of the night, the home I yearned for when I had other obligations throughout the night, was always my grandparents' apartment. The sense of familiarity and familial attachment, I feel, was mutual. My grandparents wanted me at their place every night as well.
In the weeks leading up to my departure from Hong Kong, I could feel a general sense of internal struggle and hardship every time I was around them. I was working a bartending job too, that often meant I had to leave before lunch time and not return until late in the night. I barely even spoke to them for eighty percent of the summer holiday.
In the final two weeks I was in Hong Kong, I was often waiting for the moment when I would start crying like a baby, missing everything, wanting to stay, suddenly hating the idea of coming to England. I guess I built it up too much in my head that I had tired the emotions out. I remember I cried about leaving my mother's side, and as I sit here typing this, I actually cry. All the emotions that I had when I was alone in my room as I was still going to high school all come back to me the minute I think about it. I cried about my dad. I cried about leaving my 4-year-old cousin. I cried about leaving my job. I cried about leaving my best friend.
But when it finally came to the moment I had to take one last look at my room in 704, I didn't cry at all. I had already shared my final conversations with all of classmates, all of my friends, all of my coworkers, and pretty much all of my family.
And then as I was heading out the door, my grandparents were standing there in the corridor, waiting to send me off. And I could see the bittersweetness that rested in their eyes. I'm crying at the moment, because the love I get from them is so surreal to me, it's so incredible, it's so unbelievable. You would typically think there was a generation gap, and quite frankly there is, and we did not share anything much in terms of conversation or material gifts, but the one thing we did share was that apartment, and our time living together.
In the thirteen weeks I was having my summer break, I had not wept at all. But it was in that moment when my grandmother looked at me with teary eyes, telling me to study hard, make sure to eat healthy, and most important of all, be good, I finally found what what would strike my heart. My grandfather, at the door, told me to put in my best effort at university, and also, to be good.
The simplest lessons you learn in life are the least eloquently expressed, but are said by the wisest people. The words they share are like dying words to me, and it's so sad to think of it like that, but that's the truth. Both are over seventy years old, both have medical issues of their own.
And to hear them say things like that really touches my heart in a uniquely confusing way.
I took the elevator down from the 7th floor.
I put my luggage in the boot of the car and then got in.
I opened the window, and stuck my head out the window to get my last look at them. I waved goodbye until the car went round the bend and a building blocked them from view.
Today, I just received a box with Christmas presents from my 1st aunt, 4th aunt, 8th aunt, and my mother. I was grateful for the gifts, and I loved seeing my mother's handwriting on the cards explaining what everything was and who it was from.
At the bottom of the box, I found a jumper and a card next to it, and it turns out it was from my grandmother. She wrote 'Merry Christmas' in Chinese, and her traditional style of calligraphy was always so distinctive, and it made me picture her writing the card. That's what triggered the idea to talk about this here... I miss my home, so much. I miss my grandparents so much. I can talk to my parents and my friends whenever I want, but I can't talk to them because they don't know how, and it drives me crazy...
Ohh... let me get myself together...
Ahem. Well, my aunts are going to set up a webcam chat thing with them on Christmas Day, so I'll see my beloved grandparents then. It's just been a very hectic final week of university, and I reckon I'm a little stressed out. Good thing I get to sleep tonight without worrying about handing in any assignments.
Crying's good for the soul, it really is. When was the last time you cried?
Wow, it's been eleven days since I last blogged. I think I'm going to use my day off today to prepare some more blog posts to be published throughout next week. I've been really thoughtful lately, but just hate that I haven't expressed those thoughts on Blogger.
So, since I last spoke to you all, I was heading off to Singapore. My mother wanted to see an Air Supply concert, and she had correctly assumed that I would be the only one who would agree to go with her all that way just to see a show. Singapore was, to me, a good place to visit. They had nice food, and a beautiful combination of sand and sea called Santosa beach. It seemed like a very pleasant place to live. And everywhere, I could see people who enjoyed living there, the expression on their faces revealing a feeling a lot like mine in how I love residing in Hong Kong.
We were only there for four days and three nights, and my mother and I had both taken three days off work just to be there. On the first night, my mother permitted me to go out clubbing and bar-hopping. The nightlife in Singapore was fantastic. It's a place called Clarke Quay, and it consists of a whole line of restaurants, bars, clubs and pubs, that line the banks of a river. It seemed a lot cleaner than Hong Kong's partying districts, and a lot less crowded, even though there was still a lot of people.
After scouting the area for an hour or so, asking various bouncers for the entrance fees and the availability of an open bar, I routinely bought some breath mints from 7-11, and paid twenty Singaporean dollars to enter a nightclub called Zirca. It was quiet at around 9pm, but I waited 'til the party started, as it usually does on a Thursday night. Three young-looking people seated a table seemed sociable and welcoming, so I joined them. We ended up dancing to pretty much the same boring tunes they play in Hong Kong. Singaporeans certainly have a lot of energy on the dancefloor, but by 2am, I just couldn't keep up with them, I wasn't feeling up for it, the alcohol started making me miss home, and so I went back to the place where my mother and I were staying in.
When I got home, my mother bade me go to the bedroom. I went, and as soon as I stepped in, she gave me a big, heartful hug, and said in Chinese, "You worried me to death!"
My mother has a keener interest in health and safety than I do. She always hears stories of the malicious things people do in different places. There are innocent, Indonesian girls that get raped in the middle of the night when they're alone. There are love interests who you think you can trust, who may tell you they have nothing wrong with them, but in actual fact, have a sexually transmitted disease like AIDS. And then there are young guys like me, thirsty for alcohol, who might get served a drink that contains some sort of sedative, so that the strangers behind the bar may carry me off into a world of crime, and teach me how to deal drugs illegally (and God knows what else), and transform me into a monster that will also, sneakily and heavily, sedate other young boys for generations to come, to keep the future of drug trade alive.
While I was having fun in Singapore's clubbing district, my mother was alone, creating an untrue image, of which I will never know the exact nature of, in her mind, of what might have happened to me, in the most unfortunate sense. I actually regretted going out that night, and I did not go out for the next two nights we were there, because of what transpired on the first night. I felt sorry to her, for worrying her. It's understandable because she hardly approves of me going out at all, even here in Hong Kong. She doesn't know that Singaporeans are friendlier than Hongkongers. She has no idea that Singapore and Hong Kong have two of the lowest crime rates in the world, Singapore's being even less than Hong Kong's. And, she doesn't know just how often I go out.
It's logical for her to worry, with what she doesn't know.
I have no doubt that I will return to Singapore some day, to properly experience the nightlife there without anybody worrying me. I guess when you go on holiday with your mother to a foreign country, some things will never change and you still can't go out drinking, whether you're finally 18 years old or not, because it worries her. It always will.
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.
:)
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.
I've been interviewed by Argentum Vulgaris, creator of 'Nether Region of the Earth II', 'Tomus Arcanum' and 'Things that Fizz and Stuff'. If you want me to interview you, well, just take a look at the instructions at the end of this post to find out how.
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1. Your blog is actually very interesting, why did you choose to tell the world about personal dislikes as opposed to likes?
One day I felt the compulsion to create something where I could write everyday, and my friend suggested that I start a blog. Before I started Do you hate it too?, I used to rant about everything to my friends exceedingly and it annoyed them, and stressed me out a lot. It just seemed like a good idea for a blog and I knew I could carry on writing about my dislikes for such a long time. I could never write about my likes on a daily basis. I've thought about making a Do you love it too? blog, but generally, I lack the ideas for it and I don't have the time to manage both.
2. During you recent blogging career you have disclosed some pretty personal stuff. Stuff that many of us prefer to keep as skeletons in our familial closets. Why do you feel that you can trust the blogging community given that most of us remain anonymous to a degree?
I don't trust the blogging community. (ouch, right?) I trust my best friend and myself and that's about it. Disclosing my secrets isn't and never has been an indication of trust for me. The past is just the past, my sexuality is just a preference and radical thoughts are simply thoughts. I have no problem talking about the truth, nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to stuff that others would otherwise keep secret. To be blunt, what can the anonymous blogging community do to me if they know stuff about me? Who would dare to do something anyway?
3. You have said that you are half-Filipino. Which half and why do you live in Hong Kong?
My dad is Filipino and my mom is Hong Kong Chinese. My paternal grandfather brought my dad and his siblings to Hong Kong to get into the thriving shipping business, while my maternal grandfather brought my mom and her seven sisters from mainland China to Hong Kong for a better life under the British occupation. My parents met while working in a hotel and I was born here. In the divorce, my mother got custody and I guess since she likes stability, I have always stayed in Hong Kong with her.
4. Are you guilty of any of the things that you hate too?
Clinginess, gluttony, talking too much, forgetfulness, losing my temper, being rude in the morning, being disorganized, and Christmas greed.
5. For a young person, you spend a lot of time on your blog, what do you gain from this experience?
I get to write on a daily basis, so that (hopefully) improves my writing skills and helps me with sticking to a routine. The people in my life are already very enjoyable to be around, but here, I get to meet a far greater number of interesting and unique individuals. I've always been intrigued by humans and human behavior (which is why I want to study anthropology next year) and blogging is perfect for that.
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If you’d like to play along, just follow these instructions:
* Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
* I will respond by giving you five questions in a comment on your blog. I get to pick the questions.
* You will update your blog with the answers to the questions. Be sure you link back to the original post.
* You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
* When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.
I am always disheartened by the fact that nobody ever calls me or texts me except my mother. Sure, people will reply to my text messages or pick up my call but they will never initiate interaction between me and them. It's like nobody cares that I'm here.
But every now and then, I receive a phone call from someone that actually wants me because I've somehow been with them and gotten along with them enough to be the person they call in times of trouble. This is a good thing, but these phone calls never come easy.
You answer the call and if you have Caller ID, you will know if it's someone close to you. Seeing their names on the Caller ID of my phone makes me so happy because I look forward to communicating with my good friend or my close family.
Oh, but the first thing you hear from your loved one is the sniffling, the sobbing, the cold, hard facts of the situation, distorted by the inability to speak properly while crying, and in most cases, the audible outdoor noises, such as the wind blowing, the cars beeping, the dogs barking and the chirping birds.
I've called people like this before. People have heard me wail about what's wrong on the phone. People have watched my waterworks on a webcam. One even woke up to find a letter on the floor in the morning, with my handwritten ravings, ink smudged by the tears that passionately ran down my face and managed to freely drop on to the scripture.
I've cried dozens of times, in front of dozens of different people.
But what do we do when someone is crying? What can we possibly say to make the tears go away? What answers are we supposed to give them?
Sometimes people have the appropriate answers. My best friend always has the right ones for me. He's an expert at drying my eyes with his trusting and trustworthy words.
I was also able to give my own father some answers when he was contemplating suicide or leaving the country for good. It wasn't easy as the 16-year-old son, but hey, I am surprised at myself as I feel rather humbled by his confiding in me.
Sometimes people don't have the answers, such as her for example. She never did, whenever and wherever we were sitting opposite each other. What can I say? Falling in love makes you raise your expectations.
There are many of my friends who don't carry the content or the articulateness in their words to soothe others whom are crying. Sometimes, even I don't and so I feel awful.
I can only hope I had the right answers this time round, with this phone call I got today just moments ago. I can only hope that what she has lost gets returned to her by the hands of God and that she stops crying.
And if I didn't provide the right answers this time round, I can only hope that I get another chance in the future. I feel sympathy pains. I want good things for her. That has never changed and will never change because she's my dear friend.
Update (8:09PM): Are you okay?
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...*
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