113 - It's that time again.

I'm not that entirely sure of what I should type in this vast, white space that Blogger provides me with to rant, rave and ramble about my personal thoughts and happenings, my mind is quite blank itself, just like the canvas that I now imprint my words on to, empty like the plate I fed myself from an hour or so ago that's now in the dishwasher, cleared and cleaned, leaving the bare china for use once again. But I feel obliged to say something because it is New Year's Eve, and because 2010 arrives at my chronological doorstep in less than three hours.

So, I guess the standard action to take would be to talk about what I've done and learned in 2009. Honestly, I've done and learned a lot, but I don't wish to bore you with the details right now. So perhaps I will just give you a list, because I like lists:

 - I turned 18.
 - All of my friends turned 18.
 - I went through my high school exams.
 - I got paid for the first time, working a bartending job.
 - I said goodbye to everybody I knew.
 - I moved to England, and met a lot of people at university.
 - For the first time in a long time, I didn't spend my winter holidays in Hong Kong.
 - I found ways to deal with sadness, loneliness and confusing friendships.
 - My bond with my parents and my best friend grew even stronger.
 - I continued to blog and now have plans to publish a book next May.

2009 could've been a really emotional year. A lot more emotional than it actually turned out to be. But I think I fulfilled the resolution I made last year, which was to learn how to control my emotions, and be more positive in my everyday life. Becoming an official adult meant that I had to stop reacting so childishly and impulsively to bad things happening to me, moving to England and meeting new people tested my inner strength and forced me to find happiness and comfort from within, and working as a bartender in the summer meant that I had to practice customer service and be more tolerant of annoying people.

While going through all of this, I've now found a new set of challenges too. I've found that time management is something I'm really lacking. I don't know how to sort out myself to fit my sleeping time, my working time, my studying time, my socializing time and my relaxing time into the same schedule. With my current prospects to publish a Do you hate it too? book, and manage six or seven blogs by the end of next year, while juggling my second year of university, finding a house to live in next September, and starting to get serious about my trip around the world in seven years, I have to work hard at trying to comprehend the exact essence of which time is.

With the management of time comes the management of my money, my learning capabilities, my priorities, and my sense of responsibility. Basically, my New Year resolution, I think, will be to strive for orderliness and organization in my life.

All the while, making sure I continue to keep my emotions in check, of course. We don't want the past coming back to haunt me.

So, I've already prepared a fairly detailed schedule that gives me space to work, read, sleep, eat, blog, watch TV, and do other useless crap (e.g., Facebook, Sporcle, Twitter, sleep some more...). I'm confident that the schedule will be effective and that the idea of it being a new year, being a new chance, will keep me motivated enough to actually fulfill this resolution like I did with the last one I made.

If you've come over here from Do you hate it too?, once again, I say Happy New Year, my readers.

If you didn't, then I give you a virtual hug and wish you all the best in 2010.

Remember guys, if all is looking glum, there's always a way to work things out. E-mail me if you ever need to. Just keep in mind the message passed down to us by Winston Churchill: If you're going through Hell, keep going.

112 - The day my father dies

One thing that has never come up in my everyday ponderings is the prospect of my dad dying. I know it sounds terrible to think about my father's death, but let me just explain how my emotional system works.

I don't like watching people or hearing about people being stricken by tragedy. I don't like knowing people can feel devastated, or torn apart. Most of the time this happens, is when people get too used to taking life for granted. They take the people around them, they take the things they've got for granted, and it's only a matter of time before some unknown force takes it away, because the reality in this universe is nothing lasts forever.

Something as tragic as my father's death is undoubtedly going to affect me. I shouldn't even be allowed to blog if I thought his death wouldn't affect me, due to how disturbingly stoic and inhumane that kind of reaction would be. However, the one thing that I can reduce is the shock factor. The one thing I can control is whether I feel something has been taken away from me, or has merely been lost. I don't want to feel that God will have taken away my dad. Especially with the information I have, I shouldn't feel that way.

My dad takes drugs. My dad drinks. My dad smokes. One would normally take these facts, and say they worry about their father's health, and that would be the end of that train of thought. It would be a dark piece of information lodged in the back of their mind, and they wouldn't think of it any further because they would be afraid to think of that dreadful day. Everyone wants their parents to grow old, to watch our growth, and to live a long and prosperous life.

But being afraid to think of death is what causes that sense of surprise. Having faith in life lasting forever is what makes us overwhelmed by grief. Which brings me back to why I imagine how his death is going to go beforehand. 

I picture myself in my bedroom, at my computer, in the five-person house I will rent with the English friends I've met at university. Or perhaps I will be walking out of a lecture, and as I do so, checking my phone for any missed calls. Any way it happens, it'll probably be my mother who tells me how, where and when my father happened to die in Hong Kong. I would be surprised by the news then, but I will not feel dismayed, shaken up, or awe-stricken.

I would tell my mother when I would fly back to Hong Kong as soon as possible. I would notify my housemates of what happened, and what will happen in the next few months, and will probably shed a bucketful of tears as I do so. I would fly back on the plane, quiet the whole time. On my arrival back in Hong Kong, many days will be spent organizing and discussing with my family what will be done with my father's body, and how we will commiserate him. Nobody will really care to ask me if I want to talk about what just happened. They will just assume I do, when really I don't. It'll be annoying, but I can't and won't blame them.

A couple weeks later, his funeral will happen, and I will be there in the front row, directly in front of a portrait picture of him, with his ashes or coffin situated behind it. The suit I will wear will be the most expensive outfit I will have ever purchased. Outside, it will not be sunny that day. It won't be cloudy either. It will just be normal weather conditions, semi-sunny, semi-overcast. I won't wear a tie. My face will be blank. Maybe I'll wear sunglasses, like how my father wore sunglasses at his dad's funeral. The church would be silent, just the way I like it, besides the words of the reverend that will perform the ceremony.

Standing behind and beside me will my three half-sisters of which my father also beared, my paternal grandmother, my aunts, my uncles, and my cousins on my father's side, as well as my father's co-workers, my father's friends, and three of my best friends and my mother who I invited for my own moral support.

I might speak about my father to the people who attend that day. After all, I am his son and I am a writer. I don't know what I will say, but I don't need to start writing that any time soon.

But that's already past the important part.

The important part will have been when I stand in front of his picture and say goodbye in my heart.

And as the days go by from now until that day, whatever may change externally will be countered by some change in this image that I have constructed, promptly and appropriately. Like if it turns out that I get an apartment by myself next school year, then I suppose I don't have to tell those housemates I originally planned to live with. That's how the grief reduction program works.

This system works every time. The system prevented anxiety attacks when it came to my final high school examinations, because I prepared myself mentally for glorious success and dismal failure. The system helped me face my summer job, knowing how to balancing inner confidence and the idea that I might get fired at any point I was working. The system saved me months of depression in the last few weeks I was in Hong Kong, on the plane ride to England, and for the past four months in university when I had perfectly good reason to feel weak and lonely.

Before I came to England, I imagined myself crying every night, missing home. And I now imagine crying every night after my father dies. In doing so, I live the experience once already in my head. There will be no heartbreak anymore because I've already had it broken. It's not to say I don't care about my father anymore. I'm not saying he's dead to me. I still care about him, my mother, and all of my family and friends. But I feel that I need to be strong, and I need to take care of myself. As people sometimes say, you can't look after others until you learn to look after yourself.

That's what I'm doing. That's what I just did, today. I went through the day my father dies. I will be fine on that day. They will say, "Wow, Michael. You're handling this incredibly well. I can't even begin to figure out how you do it."

And what you have just read is my explanation in full.

111 - My maternal grandparents

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?

110 - On a blogger I recently met

At some point in time a number of years ago, I had a friend who had a falling out with me over my arrogance and immaturity. I confess to this, it was all my fault, and I see it now. I was obsessed with popularity. I was a bully. I was unreflective, inconsiderate, racist, sexist, stuck up, and spoiled, not just in terms of money, but also when it came to the friends and family I, at the time, didn't realize I had to treasure.

This ex-friend of mine also writes a blog, and I check in on it every other day to get an update on his life. Whether he reads mine, or whether he knows I read his, I don't know. And I don't think I'll find out any time soon.

Unsurprisingly, we still share the same mutual friends. We were a tight group back in the day. Four guys, four girls, not necessarily a spider web of eight mutual bonds, but altogether, fairly harmonious, chill, fun company.

I find it kind of weird when my closest friends tell me about him, how he said this in a conversation the other day, or how they're going to meet up with him tomorrow. I feel a bit weird reading about his life without talking to him otherwise. I think it's weird just thinking about him.

For a long time, I've been thinking about meeting a blogger in real-life. I have a feeling that day's not far.

But here I am in a different situation. I knew this guy in real-life. And now I know him only through his blog.

109 - On judging criminal acts

Have you ever done anything, or wanted to do anything, that you know will not be look at lightly by others, because you know it's ethically controversial area you're treading on? I'm thinking of things that stir up a whirlwind of emotion inside you, as the thrill of trying not to get caught compels you to do it, to continue to do it, things that are immoral and wrong, yet you deem to be necessary for your well-being, or maybe perhaps even your survival? There's also the tinge of fear that comes with being judged by the people who know you, from maybe having to face disappointed loved ones if they ever found out, from having to face the isolation people may subject you to, if you were ever going to get caught.

Four years ago, I was expelled from my first secondary school for stealing money. I'm not going to get into the details of such pilferage, but let's just say that I deserved to get kicked out.

At the time, I thought I had to steal, and I truly believed that there was no other way for me to enjoy life if I did not steal. Of course I bloody Hell knew it was wrong to do so, but I did it anyway because I felt I needed to. I'm not going to sugarcoat it - I was greedy, I was selfish, and I didn't care what my close ones thought of me - I did it. And if I could go back and make that decision again, I would, with a hundred-percent certainty, steal again.

I tend not to judge people who are caught for committing crimes, in terms of these actions that are often so clear-cut immoral in the eyes of society. I don't like looking at things that way, I dislike looking at things from the majority's perspective. I guess I have an irrational fear of being normal. (I tried to look up the technical phobic term for fear of conformity, but sadly couldn't find one. They should invent a term for it.)

Anyway, if everybody thinks someone is acting crazy, I try to help said maniac and listen to what their problems are. If everyone hates this guy for being a total idiot, I will go and talk to him, and tell him that he needs to change his ways. And if I found out somebody got expelled - I wouldn't blame him. Everybody has their reasons to do things, and every situation can be looked at differently. Why judge him? How does that help? What if you were put in that situation? Would you want to be abandoned? Would you want to be judged?

108 - On couples

By the way, I've decided to change all the titles of my blog posts here to begin with "On ________". Oftentimes, I'm not quite sure what to call my entries, and I feel that with this new style of appellation, this new idiosyncrasy, it will help me in the art of naming my blog posts.

Today, I want to talk about couples, and not being in a couple, but being around them. Recently, I've become friends with a couple, and I really like how I can just mosey into the girl's room and watch a movie with the two of them. I like having breakfast with them every morning, and just hanging out with them if I don't want to stay in my room by myself.

I like being friends with both individuals of a couple, and over the years, this has often happened. It's nice to hang out with them as friends, to see their sweetness that they probably wouldn't display in front of others, to see how they feed off of each other's humor, their compatibility that you wouldn't have known had you not seen it working in front of your eyes, their synchronicity, their unity, is admirable, and pleasant to observe.

Obviously, I'm not allowed to hang around when they're gettin' busy, or when they're sharing intimate, personal information with one another. But to their command, I walk out of that room without feeling expelled, without feeling banished - it's okay, because I know it's between them. Just like I would expect them to feel if I was with someone.

107 - On blogging and the busy life

It's getting to the time of the year where it really is a true testament to how dedicated I really am with my blogging. I said I would write in all my blogs regularly, but the simple fact of the matter is - inspiration and creativity only comes to you in patches, for only certain times in a given day, week, month, year, or point in your life. There's also the added matter of having to live with a billion others things to do as well. Oh, the perilous life of university murders my soul... 

I find that I'm feeling really writery (writerish?) right now, so I think the only way I'm ever going to manage getting something published frequently on all three of my current blogs, is if I just prepare posts beforehand right here, right now, as I feel imaginative, innovative, prolific with ideas.

Don't you think that's so smart?

I think it's genius. But whether I'm going to get distracted while I'm in the middle of writing this upcoming week's posts is an issue of concern. Oh, well. Let's see what happens.

106 - On my parents' life lessons

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...

105 - On experience and actions

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Obviously, I hate it just as much as everyone else when people quarrel with each other, but then again, I also love listening to people argue because it is only then do you really see what people are thinking, what people want, and what people are truly like inside.

Often in these altercations, I have found that people sometimes use their backbone of experience as justification for why their point of view is right. They say they have demonstrated in the past that they have a moral code, maturity, the capability of understanding others, so on and so forth, and so we must conclude that their perspective is the one and only 'right' way of looking at what led to the argument.

"I'm always polite to everyone, so I don't see why I can't be rude just this once with you."  "I've met dozens of other people like you, and I've never had a problem with them."  "I have been through this before, and I think your behavior was fairly out of line."

At the end of the day, who really cares what you've done, or even what you do, so long as you smile and be kind to the people around you. If you upset somebody, apologize and let's all move on. How can you use the past as a premise to conclude you're right?

In the end, your actions speak louder than words, your actions demonstrate the kind of person you are, your actions form the reality of this particular experience you're experiencing right here, right now, so don't go claiming you're correct in the way you think because of the goodness you've shown in the past, when people are obviously upset by what you chose to do in the present moment, and frankly, it's just too damn bad that the kind of person you are, with all that experience behind you, would resort to making some poor decisions like that now.

104 - On my guts

Well, it's been a very long day, but I have nobody to blame but myself, because I chose to wake up at around two in the morning. I could've gone back to sleep, but instead, I decided I would finish off my new blog, get a Twitter account for Do you hate it too?, one for myself, and also create a fan page on Facebook. I also did some reading on conducting ethnographic research in past civilizations - it proved to be difficult to stay awake, but it's now more than eighteen hours later, and I'm still here.

For most of the day, I was feeling scared inside.

I am scared about how I will feel after I announce the launch of all those things, I don't know what I expect - if I want a lot of the attention, or if I might get freaked out by it. I was certainly freaked out when I found out that people were writing reviews about me without telling me. (I hate it when people read my blog but don't tell me.)

I often ask myself if I want to be recognized. I ponder it all the time, because it takes a lot of guts to be a person with a widely known name and personality. It takes guts to devote so much time to something like blogging, instead of doing something else that might be practical and productive. It takes guts to self-publish a book. And it takes guts to pour your thoughts, your memories and your feelings out on a public forum where just about anybody can (and actually is everybody that) reads it.

I'm not always sure I have the guts. Most of the time, I like to give off the impression that I do, but those who truly know me, know that I have a lot of fat question marks, sitting on broomsticks, flying around inside my head. I know I doubt my own ability. Worse yet, I doubt my own potential. All I can feel comfortable with admitting are my mistakes, my downsides, the reasons why not.

I wonder why that is. Maybe it's just the way I was brought up. My mother and father, if my memory serves me right, never really gave me impressionable advice on how to live my life. It was always something about what I did wrong, or what they did wrong, or how not to live my life. Don't point at strangers, don't use that bowl to microwave food, and don't ever get married. And maybe that's why that is the way I see things, I am always accustomed to seeing things in contradiction, my moral compass consisting of a giant list of double negatives.

lol. I chuckle at my own words. I admire my own phrasing. One positive thing about myself that I'm quite happy to admit is that I'm funny. Another positive thing is the fact that I'm good at writing - at least for my own entertainment. Sad, I know, but how often have you gone back to read your own written words and found it entertaining, huh?

Oh, Michael. Too often you look at yourself like you're another person, whenever you get depressed or high or tired or drunk. 

Is it a coping strategy? I think so. 

Is it weird? I think so.

Should I stop? I think so.

103 - On my big dreaming

I've been thinking about getting a Twitter account, but am not entirely sure if I'm up for it. There's a lot of ideas brewing in my mind at the moment, and I think I want to list them all out just so I can then focus on what I want to do. So here it goes:

My profile
I don't like my profile. I don't know why. I'll have to perhaps wipe it all off and start on a clean canvas just to paint the perfect picture I want.

Do you hate it too?
I need to keep posting daily, and I need to sign on to more blog directories and communities (like Twitter). I might possibly do a slight reformatting as well, but nothing too drastic, just maybe add a few more widgets and fun stuff on the side bars. As for The Book, I will need to start picking out fifty posts, what I reckon would sell to consumers everywhere, put them in a single word document, do a bit of editing and formatting. I need to pitch a concept for the cover to my best friend, who is quite skilled in the world of photography and graphic design. My other close friend might also be interested in writing a foreword for me. [To-do reading: the publishing process, marketing and advertising, how to work together with your mom, how to be even funnier]

"If you're going through Hell, keep going."
I sometimes feel like this blog is a bit of a mixture of loads of different blog themes put together. Sometimes, I talk about my travels, sometimes I talk about my past, sometimes I talk about my feelings, and sometimes I just post up a Youtube video. Despite the versatility, I feel that it's not really encapsulating my whole self - I still don't talk about the TV shows I watch, the anthropology course I study, the books I read, or where I want to go in the future. In the end, I meant for this to be about my daily life, and it's just really difficult to stay focused on that, when everything else also occupies my mind. Which is why my solution is going to be...

Anthropology blog
I've been doing quite a lot of reading since I've been here in university, and it's starting to get on my nerves how long it's taking me to actually announce the commencement of this blog. The problem is that I just haven't sat down yet to get started on posting anything on it, and well, now I'm pissed at myself, to be honest. So, I vow to post something on there this weekend, because it has to start some time. And if I just can't be bothered, I know I'll be guilted into doing on Monday morning, I'm sure of it. [To-do reading: nature of anthropological study, history of mankind, Sicilian women, the Kwaio, the Azande, loads of other societies...]

Youtube blog
I have a good friend who lives in Hong Kong, and whenever I ask her what she's doing, more often than not, she's going on Youtube. I, myself, have found a lot of funny, intriguing, thought-provoking videos there, and I thought it would be a good idea to start a blog with this friend of mine. Together, we find one video to post on it everyday, and whoever found the video will briefly talk about why it's worthy of your attention. I'm quite excited about this, but with our schedules, we said we would officially release this blog in mid-February. But anyway, just something to think about for now. [To-do reading: video-sharing rights, joint ventures]

Television blog
I felt like I wasn't being myself with that television blog I started, and consequentially, shut down a couple months back. I was being forced to write about everything when I didn't want to, I wrote reviews for some reason. What I really wanted to write about instead was about the thoughts that TV shows provoked in me, because writers put forward ideas that sometimes make quite an impact on the way I think after watching them. I'll try and get to reopening that one around the holiday season, 'cause I was quite unhappy that that didn't work out the first time.

Travel blog
When I turn 25, my best friend and I are leaving our lives behind to travel the entire world in all its power and beauty for however long it takes. We mean it when we say we'll do it, and everything we're doing in the next seven years is to make that voyage possible. We're learning languages, we're doing a lot of reading, and we're only in university, and soon to be working, so that we can earn money to give us steady beginnings as we get accustomed to the traveler's life when we first set out. In my reading, I've been finding a lot of interesting things about how to prepare for such a trip, and information on a lot of places we might want to visit on the trip. This journey requires a whole lot of planning (seven years worth of it), so perhaps compiling them in a blog as a pre-world trip logbook might interest some readers? [To-do reading: travelogues, other world trip experiences, travel destinations]

Hm. I feel a bit better now, 'cause all of that was getting difficult to keep in my head. All six blogs, I have passion for, but I'm a tad concerned about whether I can handle it. Somewhere in my heart, I know that the hard work will pay off, and that this is one of those things that I'm meant to do in this stage of my life. I play no musical instruments, and I do no sports - this is my talent, and I have to embrace it. All I can do is hope for personal fulfillment, recognition and happiness, so might as well hope for more... might as well dream big.

102 - On banging my knee

I was taking off my socks just now, and as I raised my left leg up, I hit my knee on the edge of my desk. I managed to hit the funny bone in my knee, whatever that is, one of those pressure points that cause extreme pain, and I basically just fell off my chair (as I only had one foot on the ground for stability), and collapsed on to the floor. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me, and I couldn't even bring myself to shout or cuss. I banged by knee, and created a thud on the floor, and now I'm wondering how little things like that happen in our everyday life but never get mentioned due to the insignificance of it.

So I'm talking about it here, right now. Pain is funny. And thought-provoking.

101 - On comfort, complacency and contentness

I'm not going to lie - I miss home. I miss the food especially, the clubbing district, and doing something everyday with my friends or either one of my parents. It seems that everybody I know is going to go back to Hong Kong this winter holiday, leave their university lives in Canada, the US and the UK, and go back to my home city for Christmas and New Year's break.

My return flight to Hong Kong is scheduled for July 10th, and although that is a long while away from today, I look at it in the following way.

The anticipation of my return had been building up, and will continue building up, and the longer I'm away from home, the more excited I get to actually go back, I look forward to going home, but I'm not moaning about it, asking God why it's not happening sooner. I know the truth is that I'm staying here, I've accepted it, I'm not letting it bother me, and I'm looking at it in a positive way.

I've discovered that I've grown up a lot since four or five years ago. I like the way in which I approach relationships, schoolwork, life, the social scene, and tough decisions when they arise. In a way, I'm not troubled by anything, I'm not worried and I'm confident in the way I handle things. I don't need reassurance from others, I don't need to depend on anyone else to keep me elevated. I elevate myself to a psychological, emotional state that is comfortable, complacent, and content.

Feels good, like nobody can touch me. Hah.

100 - On my love for writing 'Do you hate it too?'

I've thought about the book thing and I have realized that I want to publish a Do you hate it too? book for the same three reasons I have written Do you hate it too? from the very beginning. The three reasons are:

1) I easily get annoyed by a lot of things, and typing it all down helps relieve stress,
2) and to present my ramblings to the world would mean that I am forced to think carefully about how I write, in order to successfully communicate with readers,
3) and as readers go through my work, they are able to relate, to share their stories which I enjoy reading, to catch a break from their busy lives, and perhaps get a good laugh out of it.

Never has this been for earning money, or fame - the greatest joy for me has always come in entertaining others, and knowing that as I blog, I am continuously refining my sense of written style and my sense of humor.

So what if it's a funny, silly book? It still sells, and the sole reason I believe that it would sell is because the premise for my blog has already 'sold' to hundreds of viewers already.

There are millions of people without the Internet, without computers, who prefer holding text in their hands, as opposed to reading it on a screen. I can reach a greater number of people, attract more viewers to my blog, and there is, of course, that short, sweet little aside - the fact that I might get money from it - that may help fund my own education and life-living.

And if it all doesn't work, it would still be a good experience, and I can take away from it the pride in knowing that I effing tried.

Your comments since I wrote my last post really helped me focus again on why I still do this. Thank you so much, and I promise you guys a mention in the acknowledgments, and a signed copy of the book when it hits the shelves. *wink*

99 - On a 'Do you hate it too?' book.

If you have read my last entry on Do you hate it too?, you will know that my blog has been well-praised. This got my mother very excited, and she pushed an idea forward for me to consider: publishing a Do you hate it too? book.

When I first began doing this about a year ago, I had already begun to think about compiling them all up one day and putting them in a publication. 'Why I didn't do it earlier' is a question I often answered with weak claims that I'm too lazy, can't be bothered, or haven't got the time for, but to be entirely truthful, it's because I don't think it's good enough. I still feel like it really is just me giving a childish rant everyday, and honestly, what contribution to the world do I give, by exerting negativity within the blogosphere?

I know I make people laugh, but in the end, I cannot collaborate with, let's say, an anger management-orientated business, seeing as I don't offer tips on how to deal with the hates I write about. I don't give advice on how to use the English language, or how to deal with stress, or how to focus on thinking positively - even though that's what you would associate with my blog, if it were just a little bit different.

But it is the way that it is, and being an active consumer of the book-selling market myself, I know that this would merely sell as one of those silly books uncles buy for their nieces, and mothers would refuse to spend money on for their children. 'How about this novel on vampires, sweetie', 'Check out this book about dinosaurs' and 'Trevor, come see if you'd like this one full of brain teasers' they would chime. The blatent truth is, I believe Do you hate it too? is silly.

I need people who can change my mind about this, so if you have any words of encouragement, please share them with me, because I'm in a place with no self-confidence right now. I would love to begin this whole adventure right now, to find a distributor, to format a book, to sell it online, and to watch it sell on shelves in Hong Kong, Canada, the US and the UK. I probably would anyway to my mother's insistence, even if I still don't believe in the book.

But I know that if I don't believe in my own work, it won't be a success.

Sigh. What do you think? Any words of advice?