shit

Each period of my life are identified by different women, these women they hold little historical significance, but when I look back, I discover my past emotions towards them, and these emotion offer me insights into what type of person I am--or think I am.

I was trying to figure out my first encounter with what I identify as the Asian American that I grew to loathe so intimately.  Fortunately, this shit comes pretty fucking easy to me because whatever cortex of my mind recalls people's faces like a Japanese super-computer.
Diana, I remember that girl coming in the middle of grade nine to my junior high school at the time.  It was my first real experience with a Vietnam girl, and when I say experience I mean 'to look at'.
She was four foot nothing, wore these ridiculous high heels to school which drove this mid-puberty son-of-a-bitch crazy.  Her make up was a carbon copy of some prostitute I saw on television, and for a thirteen year old, she had some serious ass and tits.  I stared at her fine ass like a silly dog.  This woman possessed every single attribute that I learned to despise now.  I saw only sex in that girl, and it made me a complete lunatic.
I felt she might have represented the stage of my life where I was willing to prostitute myself to whatever social crowd that was willing to accept me, and in exchange of their acceptance I would alter myself to act, talk, and dress like them.  Not knowing where I belong, I couldn't figure out my propensities.  I had to change what I liked just to fit in, and I didn't actually end up fitting in anyway.
So when I looked at Diana--a girl whom belonged to a demographic I haven't seen before, and I know she's far cooler than everyone else at school, and plus she's sexy as fuck--that became my initial introduction to what I thought at the time to be something different.
Despite Diana being of Vietnamese descent, she represented to me everything ( I find) wrong with the Canadian Born Chinese crowds.  Their physical shortcomings, their distorted view of beauty, their empty headed way of life.....motherfucker I fucking forgot what I was talking about!

I had a point I wanted to make, but I got lost in the middle and this became a fucking rant, which wasn't what I wanted to write.  Also, I didn't want to swear...but fuck that I guess...

Growing up

The doorbell rang just now, and the realisation that I haven't purchased a single treat for the all the kids scowling the streets had me feeling like a deer in front of a oncoming headlight.

I suppose at this age the responsibility of playing doormat host to all the trick-or-treater's doesn't come naturally.  All I was thinking was; where the party is at? or which one of my friends is dressed like a slut tonight?  Even preparing my sister's last year of trick or treating costume, never once did it occur to me that eventually, someone else's sister will be knocking on my door.  I feel very ill-prepared.
When the house went 'ding-dong,' I was frozen with fear...then instinctively found the nearest wall and hugged it trying to hide myself from little pubescent sugar coons fearing that they might use their Halloween only XRAY vision to detect me.

So now I've shut all the curtains, switched off all the lights, and reduced anything that may stir a noise to utter silence.  Hope, pray that nobody would egg my door.  Sister says kids are better now and don't egg houses, but I'm still taking precautions.

Romantic clichés, and how I managed to ruin them.

Every one of my cliché romantic gesture has been ruined by untimely and inadvertent moves.


I remember the first time I gave a store bought rose to this Korean Woman, I think it was pink.  This was a genuine gesture after seeing her for over 3 months.  She was surprised and taken aback, and received it with slight hesitation.  I don't understand where the awkwardness came from, considering our first official acquaintance was when I rolled over to her in the morning after a drunken party at a Markham Hotel.  It was the most confusing friendship I have ever had with a Woman, where sometime it would be strictly platonic, other times she's lying beside me, clinched to my body rambling on about nonsense.
The friendship finally ended because of our abusive manner of communication.  I would say something rash, and she pick up the nearest blunt object and beat me with it.  I think that was when I swore off Korean Women.  Perfectly good $20 rose wasted...and it was my first time.  Damn it.

The was that time on the boat. A ship actually, with sails.  The setting couldn't have been anymore romantic.  An evening of fine dining and expensive wine and luxurious food.  We got onto a landmark ship, and the vivid scene could have been straight out of a painting, or one of Shakespeare's plays.  The situation was tense, and I we were trying to find something to talk about before I to kill the awkwardness.  I began to lean in, almost half a year of semi-dating I was about to kiss her...and then she mentions her ex-boyfriend.  The mood shatters like a broken mirror crumpling to the floor as in a cheap 80's romantic TV mystery drama.  All I could see was the face of her ex-boyfriend.  It was my last attempt at the perfect first kiss...after an amazing evening, on a sail ship.  The relationship soon ended after that moment.  The effort to nullify the romance in the months afterwards were completely tantalizing.  So, no roses, or ships.

Then there was that Private schooled Woman of immense fortune.  Loretto Abbey I think, that was her school.  Perfect tightbody, long angel-like silky hair, reputable status, and an education that belittles every other Woman I dated.  I had no idea what she saw in me, but she confess her feeling for me like I were the Duchess of Cornwall.  It would have been the most romantic moment of my entire life, if only the Woman possessed an ounce of female intuition.  She was the most perfect and beautiful robot I have ever encountered.  Before I knew it, she had me sign my name in blood into a romantic contract.  She announced her feelings, and I was obliged with utter silence.  The Woman had such ambition that if I didn't...I would be fearing for my life.....even more.
We never ended up going on our first official date...because I kept coming up with excuses.  To this day, I still fear straightforward ambitious Women.  I'm not too picky am I?

What other clichés are there? Flowers? I meant it as a good gesture which ended up blowing in my face in a huge misunderstanding.
Jewellery?  The girl thought I was coming onto her, I never had to fight off sex thrown at me at such force and high speed.  I wasn't sure of my sexual orientation afterwards for a day or two.
The only things I got left are; confess my feeling and risking friendships, and killing the competition...

It's all good experience I suppose.  The way which I communicate with Women are unparalleled.  Seducing trollops at high-end establishments is child's play now.  What an unfulfilled love life I have.

Blending In

The mood to this blog is rather sad isn't it? I don't know who I'm speaking to because I don't actually know who reads this blog, if anyone read it.  I thought I'd change the mood, from a slightly satirical cynicism kind of humour to something..happy.  So I searched my computer for a happy photo, and this was the best I could do.  I don't have happy photos, but since my perspective on life have changed during the last couple of months, I think my blog should too if I am to maintain it.   
BTW, I must of missed this in computer class, nobody has ever taught me or said a thing;  I never knew that you're supposed to leave two spaces between words after a period when typing.  NEVER!

Shame

My Mother just received Bei Bei's wedding photos, and of course she forwarded to me. Unbeknownst of the awkward and childish situation I've created between me, and the Woman in the photographs who is hugely responsible for shaping me into the person I am today.
It's been very difficult for me to browse through these photos of her on her wedding day, taken in the hometown of Qingdao. I see her happiness, and my inability to be happy for her simply because I disapprove of the husband. As if it was any of my business.
The future is unclear as to where this momentous occasion will take her. Will she stay in China? Or will she begin her married life with her husband in Holland? --where I possibly will never again lay eyes upon the Woman whom I owe my greatest debt?

Sorry Bei Bei, I've failed you as your younger brother who is supposed to support you.

Contrast

So after telling my friend Lucy how different our minds worked, she requested that I take a photo of my note taking (since that's how I came to the conclusion of our differences in the first place).

First, she was writing her thoughts in a notebook that had no lines. I wouldn't dream of doing something like that unless I was brainstorming. I NEED lines!

Also, the things written down in her notebook looked as if it could have been used for some kind of illustration to promote something inspiring. All Starbucksish, It seemed fun. There's nothing fun about my note taking. Horizontal, vertical--that's my safety net. I believe how we structure our thoughts on paper gives great insight on how our minds work, and even predicts how imaginative or unimaginative we are.
Btw, I sent you a parcel in the mail. So be home if you can on Wednesday, or Thursday. I want photos!

You never seen me with my glasses have you? lol hmm...

Sharing it.

^
click above

This is my friend's blog, she covers make-up and other stuff. She gives away feminine products, she's done this forever now. I am entering her contest...because I think it would be completely ridiculous if I won. hahaha, I must share in order to enter.