You're emotionally unstable.
He's emotionally unavailable.
You say he's supportive and loving.
In reality, he hasn't done anything for you.
Are you blind?
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Thursday, April 3, 2008
[Part II] On Brothers: Stephen
This took a little longer than I had anticipated, but I'm finally going to finish up my brothers' stories.
So in my previous post, I had mentioned my other brother Stephen briefly. In our family, Stephen was what we called a late birth. There is a 10 year difference between us. People have even mistaken me for his mom (... which means I would have had the child while I was 10... and sex probably at 9) because I'm so close and protective of him. Before my youngest cousins Nathan and Samantha were born, Stephen was the youngest of all the cousins as well. It was weird because I mentioned that I was also the oldest of my cousins and now, Stephen was the youngest.
Stephen as a brat.
As the youngest, I think Stephen grew up stereotypically pampered and babied. As much as I would like to just blame my parents for treating him like he isn't capable of doing anything by himself, everyone treats him like a little kid, and don't really expect him to do anything too difficult. Only Raymond treats Stephen differently (I'll elaborate later).
Because of this preferential treatment, Stephen is a bit of a brat. He acts like a prince. Well, that's not entirely true. He acts like a prince when he's around my grandma. Sometimes when I'm home for the weekend, I wake up to Stephen screaming at my grandmother about how he doesn't want to eat this or doesn't want to do that. This makes really pissed off because I hate it when people treat elders this way. Especially when they're just trying to do something. This is a bit of hypocritical of me because I occasionally get annoyed at the constant nagging (which is her way of caring) and snap back. But I don't do this on a constant basis and I do feel bad afterwards. It's just hard to not get annoyed when people ask you the same time over and over again. Unfortunately, neither of my brothers have the same restraint as me, and they both snap back violently (not of physical kind) and then it turns into a scream fest. (I might make a post about this later).
In any case, I think Stephen really grew up extra pampered. Since he's pretty smart (well, he is Asian), my mom and grandmother is constantly praising him. I think it really goes to his head too. Often I hear him boasting about how he's smarter than grandma. I mean, sure, you're more book smart than someone who never went to school, but you're definitely not as skilled as her. Sometimes when Stephen is boasting, I just want to smack him and tell him to be more modest. If you flaunt how smart you are, you're just going to get bullied. (In comes old memories...)
Me and Stephen. Stephen and I.
Anyways, despite that attitude towards other people, when I hang out with Stephen, he knows not to pull that kind of shit around me. Like I do pamper him, but I don't praise him nonstop and I don't just let him disrespect people, especially myself. I occasionally take him out since he is unfortunately stuck in the house for most of the week, buy him something for lunch, and maybe buy him something like clothes (which by the way are getting way too small for him. They grow up too fast.) And I do like his company since he's so obedient in public and is pretty well behaved.
Actually, I should mention that he acts differently out in public. All of a sudden, he becomes really shy and indecisive. Instead of saying how he definitely doesn't want to eat something, as he would have done at home, he can't come up with a decision about what to eat or won't complain about the food even if it's not something he likes. This disparity kind of makes me think that he might have some kind of problem socializing with other people. I hope he doesn't turn into one of those people that can't approach someone or is afraid of making new friends.
He doesn't have that kind of confidence that I would like him to have as a kid. When we go to a park or something, he wouldn't play with other kids, and would just kind of sulk on the side or make me play with him. When I was a kid, I played with all the other kids on the playground. (Even when I got to an age that I was kind of too old for the equipment, little kids would come up to me and ask me to play with them.)
However, I do think that with Stephen, he has a lot of time to correct any undesirable flaws in his personality. He is a bright kid, even I get jealous sometimes of how he's always praised, but I feel like my parents should let him roam around. Like he's always confined in the house and has become pretty much a mama's boy. Sometimes I feel as if Stephen isn't really eight since he acts like he's four.
Oh, I should mentioned that Stephen is really into computer games too. I think it's because I grew up without a computer (I didn't even use the internet until I was around 13) and Stephen started using the computer at around 4. This makes me kind of worried that he wouldn't be able to handle real life situations and will revert to some fantasy world on the internet. Don't get me wrong, I play MMORPGs sometimes, but I've come to realize that it just stresses me out. I just hope that Stephen realizes that computer games are just to pass time, not a way of life.
There isn't as much to say about Stephen as Raymond since I've known Raymond longer and Stephen hasn't really gotten to that point where he has formed some kind of identity, but I hope that he grows up well especially now that I'm not around to correct any bad behaviors.
Anyways, I'm gonna probably write one more entry about my brothers, how they interact together later. I'm a CS major, not an English major.
So in my previous post, I had mentioned my other brother Stephen briefly. In our family, Stephen was what we called a late birth. There is a 10 year difference between us. People have even mistaken me for his mom (... which means I would have had the child while I was 10... and sex probably at 9) because I'm so close and protective of him. Before my youngest cousins Nathan and Samantha were born, Stephen was the youngest of all the cousins as well. It was weird because I mentioned that I was also the oldest of my cousins and now, Stephen was the youngest.
Stephen as a brat.
As the youngest, I think Stephen grew up stereotypically pampered and babied. As much as I would like to just blame my parents for treating him like he isn't capable of doing anything by himself, everyone treats him like a little kid, and don't really expect him to do anything too difficult. Only Raymond treats Stephen differently (I'll elaborate later).
Because of this preferential treatment, Stephen is a bit of a brat. He acts like a prince. Well, that's not entirely true. He acts like a prince when he's around my grandma. Sometimes when I'm home for the weekend, I wake up to Stephen screaming at my grandmother about how he doesn't want to eat this or doesn't want to do that. This makes really pissed off because I hate it when people treat elders this way. Especially when they're just trying to do something. This is a bit of hypocritical of me because I occasionally get annoyed at the constant nagging (which is her way of caring) and snap back. But I don't do this on a constant basis and I do feel bad afterwards. It's just hard to not get annoyed when people ask you the same time over and over again. Unfortunately, neither of my brothers have the same restraint as me, and they both snap back violently (not of physical kind) and then it turns into a scream fest. (I might make a post about this later).
In any case, I think Stephen really grew up extra pampered. Since he's pretty smart (well, he is Asian), my mom and grandmother is constantly praising him. I think it really goes to his head too. Often I hear him boasting about how he's smarter than grandma. I mean, sure, you're more book smart than someone who never went to school, but you're definitely not as skilled as her. Sometimes when Stephen is boasting, I just want to smack him and tell him to be more modest. If you flaunt how smart you are, you're just going to get bullied. (In comes old memories...)
Anyways, despite that attitude towards other people, when I hang out with Stephen, he knows not to pull that kind of shit around me. Like I do pamper him, but I don't praise him nonstop and I don't just let him disrespect people, especially myself. I occasionally take him out since he is unfortunately stuck in the house for most of the week, buy him something for lunch, and maybe buy him something like clothes (which by the way are getting way too small for him. They grow up too fast.) And I do like his company since he's so obedient in public and is pretty well behaved.
Actually, I should mention that he acts differently out in public. All of a sudden, he becomes really shy and indecisive. Instead of saying how he definitely doesn't want to eat something, as he would have done at home, he can't come up with a decision about what to eat or won't complain about the food even if it's not something he likes. This disparity kind of makes me think that he might have some kind of problem socializing with other people. I hope he doesn't turn into one of those people that can't approach someone or is afraid of making new friends.
He doesn't have that kind of confidence that I would like him to have as a kid. When we go to a park or something, he wouldn't play with other kids, and would just kind of sulk on the side or make me play with him. When I was a kid, I played with all the other kids on the playground. (Even when I got to an age that I was kind of too old for the equipment, little kids would come up to me and ask me to play with them.)
However, I do think that with Stephen, he has a lot of time to correct any undesirable flaws in his personality. He is a bright kid, even I get jealous sometimes of how he's always praised, but I feel like my parents should let him roam around. Like he's always confined in the house and has become pretty much a mama's boy. Sometimes I feel as if Stephen isn't really eight since he acts like he's four.
Oh, I should mentioned that Stephen is really into computer games too. I think it's because I grew up without a computer (I didn't even use the internet until I was around 13) and Stephen started using the computer at around 4. This makes me kind of worried that he wouldn't be able to handle real life situations and will revert to some fantasy world on the internet. Don't get me wrong, I play MMORPGs sometimes, but I've come to realize that it just stresses me out. I just hope that Stephen realizes that computer games are just to pass time, not a way of life.
There isn't as much to say about Stephen as Raymond since I've known Raymond longer and Stephen hasn't really gotten to that point where he has formed some kind of identity, but I hope that he grows up well especially now that I'm not around to correct any bad behaviors.
Anyways, I'm gonna probably write one more entry about my brothers, how they interact together later. I'm a CS major, not an English major.
Monday, March 31, 2008
[Part I] On brothers: Raymond.
For those who don't know, I have two younger brothers. The older of the two, Raymond, is two years younger, while Stephen, is ten years younger. At the time of this blog, Raymond and Stephen are 16 and 8 respectively.
I've always been a family person. Growing up as the oldest (within my siblings and cousins) I've kind of just gotten used to being the around kids. As a child, I was always the one who held the most responsibilities, the one who was safest choice to leave alone or leave with younger kids. And I'm glad I had this experience. Granted, most of my ideas of being responsible as a kid wasn't that responsible (i.e. going to the library by myself) but I've always felt that trust that the adults bestowed on me. And now, as I'm approaching 19, I'm really glad that I was able to have a taste of what it's like to be an adult.
But in any case, this is about my brothers. First of all, let me say, I love both of my brothers equally, even if it may seem like I baby Stephen and argue with Raymond all the time. They're my brothers; I love them to death. It's not like love is some finite feeling that I need to be careful about handing out. But I guess from other people's perspectives, it'll seem like I like Stephen more cause he's younger and cuter than Raymond. That really isn't the case.
My past with Raymond
For a good eight years of my life, I had lived with just Raymond. And in that time, we've done a lot of things together. Gosh, I haven't even thought about it much until I started typing this entry, but eight years is a long time to be just the two of us. Of course, if you count all the time we spent together, it has been 16 years. That's pretty amazing. I think for at least half of that, I was getting along with Raymond. We would do a lot of things together.
Diverging, but I remember how much I used to hate him as a kid. It was around the time he was starting to get the hang of walking and he got into this phase where he would like to pull on my hair. And I mean pull on it. He has ripped his fair share of my hair. I remember this one instance that he was running towards me and I decided to him in this little cupboard (except it was on the floor). I was kind of screaming for my mom to take him away from me because I didn't want to get my hair pulled anymore. I don't know why, but that seems to be my most vivid memory of us as kids.
As a kid, I was kind of a tomboy so I had built up my muscles. Haha, I remember that I used to hold contests with the boys in my class on the monkey bars: how long we can hold onto the bar for, how many times we can go around the bars, how big our calluses are. Fun stuff. Back then, I also had a love for arm wrestling. It was fun to challenge everyone. Anyways, until Raymond hit puberty, I was the one who won all the fist fights and arm wrestling contests that we were in.
I think I stopped hanging out with Raymond pretty early. I had made a best friend out of a girl named Shasta when I transfered over to Hillcrest elementary and spent most of my time with her. However, I think we didn't get to the point where it was hard to communicate till he reached puberty.
Raymond in his teens
Raymond was kind of awkward growing up and he still is. Partly, I feel bad because I think it's because I was "smart" and he was "dumb" that my parents were always trying to compare the two of us. Being the Asian parents they were, perhaps they were trying to motivate him to be as successful in school as I was (though, I didn't really become too much of an overachiever) and pushing him to do better. Of course, I liked the fact that I was more intelligent and would taunt him as well. In hindsight, I feel bad for doing that. It wasn't as if I did it constantly, but when we argue, I would just throw it in because I knew it would hurt him. However, because of this, I think he might have gotten an inferiority complex.
As much as I like being more successful than my brother, it pains me when I see him just want to give up. I hear him say "Oh, I'm not going to college. I'm just gonna go to City or something." or "I know I'm dumb! Stop telling me." and it makes me just want to comfort him and tell him that he doesn't have to try so hard, to the point of thinking that he's just a dumbass that's wasting space. I think that's partly why he is on the computer so much. People online aren't as judgmental as real life. Plus, he's good at video games.
I know it's kind of a stupid thing to be proud of, but I think for my brother, being good at something makes him feel better even if it's something as useless as video games. And I feel bad when my dad is always telling him that being good a video games is useless since you can't really make a career out of it. But I think for Raymond, it's his haven.
Oh, as an interjection. Raymond used to be bullied as a kid. This kind of bullying made me really pissed off (since I felt like I was the only one who had the right to mess with him) so I wanted to beat up all the fuckers that messed with my brothers. Like, I had so much anger towards those little wanks who wanted him to like eat garbage and shit like that that I was willing to get beat up trying to beat some snot nosed kids up. If I met them now, I'd still be willing to fuck them up even though I've lost all my strength due to laziness. But seriously, I got really pissed back then.
In any case, I feel like it's partly my fault, partly my parents faults, and just society as a whole. I feel bad for not telling him that he doesn't have to follow in the same footsteps as me. I feel bad for not sticking up for him when my parents thought he was just useless. I feel like I failed as a sister.
Despite this though, I'm just kind of confused as to what to do. I kind of don't want to interfere with his life since he's gotten to the point where he's so frustrated with everything that he just lashes out in anger. I'm scared that in trying to help in, I'll get frustrated trying to make him understand and in turn making him worse than he is now. I think for now, I'm just gonna let him find his own path. I can't always be there to hold his hand, or slap him in the face. I just hope that he'll turn out okay. Oh god, I really hope he does.
This has gotten kind of long so I'll continue with Stephen's story later, maybe tonight or tomorrow.
I've always been a family person. Growing up as the oldest (within my siblings and cousins) I've kind of just gotten used to being the around kids. As a child, I was always the one who held the most responsibilities, the one who was safest choice to leave alone or leave with younger kids. And I'm glad I had this experience. Granted, most of my ideas of being responsible as a kid wasn't that responsible (i.e. going to the library by myself) but I've always felt that trust that the adults bestowed on me. And now, as I'm approaching 19, I'm really glad that I was able to have a taste of what it's like to be an adult.
But in any case, this is about my brothers. First of all, let me say, I love both of my brothers equally, even if it may seem like I baby Stephen and argue with Raymond all the time. They're my brothers; I love them to death. It's not like love is some finite feeling that I need to be careful about handing out. But I guess from other people's perspectives, it'll seem like I like Stephen more cause he's younger and cuter than Raymond. That really isn't the case.
My past with Raymond
For a good eight years of my life, I had lived with just Raymond. And in that time, we've done a lot of things together. Gosh, I haven't even thought about it much until I started typing this entry, but eight years is a long time to be just the two of us. Of course, if you count all the time we spent together, it has been 16 years. That's pretty amazing. I think for at least half of that, I was getting along with Raymond. We would do a lot of things together.
Diverging, but I remember how much I used to hate him as a kid. It was around the time he was starting to get the hang of walking and he got into this phase where he would like to pull on my hair. And I mean pull on it. He has ripped his fair share of my hair. I remember this one instance that he was running towards me and I decided to him in this little cupboard (except it was on the floor). I was kind of screaming for my mom to take him away from me because I didn't want to get my hair pulled anymore. I don't know why, but that seems to be my most vivid memory of us as kids.
As a kid, I was kind of a tomboy so I had built up my muscles. Haha, I remember that I used to hold contests with the boys in my class on the monkey bars: how long we can hold onto the bar for, how many times we can go around the bars, how big our calluses are. Fun stuff. Back then, I also had a love for arm wrestling. It was fun to challenge everyone. Anyways, until Raymond hit puberty, I was the one who won all the fist fights and arm wrestling contests that we were in.
I think I stopped hanging out with Raymond pretty early. I had made a best friend out of a girl named Shasta when I transfered over to Hillcrest elementary and spent most of my time with her. However, I think we didn't get to the point where it was hard to communicate till he reached puberty.
Raymond in his teens
Raymond was kind of awkward growing up and he still is. Partly, I feel bad because I think it's because I was "smart" and he was "dumb" that my parents were always trying to compare the two of us. Being the Asian parents they were, perhaps they were trying to motivate him to be as successful in school as I was (though, I didn't really become too much of an overachiever) and pushing him to do better. Of course, I liked the fact that I was more intelligent and would taunt him as well. In hindsight, I feel bad for doing that. It wasn't as if I did it constantly, but when we argue, I would just throw it in because I knew it would hurt him. However, because of this, I think he might have gotten an inferiority complex.
As much as I like being more successful than my brother, it pains me when I see him just want to give up. I hear him say "Oh, I'm not going to college. I'm just gonna go to City or something." or "I know I'm dumb! Stop telling me." and it makes me just want to comfort him and tell him that he doesn't have to try so hard, to the point of thinking that he's just a dumbass that's wasting space. I think that's partly why he is on the computer so much. People online aren't as judgmental as real life. Plus, he's good at video games.
I know it's kind of a stupid thing to be proud of, but I think for my brother, being good at something makes him feel better even if it's something as useless as video games. And I feel bad when my dad is always telling him that being good a video games is useless since you can't really make a career out of it. But I think for Raymond, it's his haven.
Oh, as an interjection. Raymond used to be bullied as a kid. This kind of bullying made me really pissed off (since I felt like I was the only one who had the right to mess with him) so I wanted to beat up all the fuckers that messed with my brothers. Like, I had so much anger towards those little wanks who wanted him to like eat garbage and shit like that that I was willing to get beat up trying to beat some snot nosed kids up. If I met them now, I'd still be willing to fuck them up even though I've lost all my strength due to laziness. But seriously, I got really pissed back then.
In any case, I feel like it's partly my fault, partly my parents faults, and just society as a whole. I feel bad for not telling him that he doesn't have to follow in the same footsteps as me. I feel bad for not sticking up for him when my parents thought he was just useless. I feel like I failed as a sister.
Despite this though, I'm just kind of confused as to what to do. I kind of don't want to interfere with his life since he's gotten to the point where he's so frustrated with everything that he just lashes out in anger. I'm scared that in trying to help in, I'll get frustrated trying to make him understand and in turn making him worse than he is now. I think for now, I'm just gonna let him find his own path. I can't always be there to hold his hand, or slap him in the face. I just hope that he'll turn out okay. Oh god, I really hope he does.
This has gotten kind of long so I'll continue with Stephen's story later, maybe tonight or tomorrow.
Monday, March 24, 2008
清明 on Easter Sunday.
I was going to write this earlier, but I've been busy enjoying my spring break and haven't had a spare moment till now. Anyways, yesterday was 清明 (I don't really know much about the traditions, but if you're curious, you can read the wiki on it. Anyways, we went to visit my grandparents grave. It was the same... holiday, I suppose, that I visited my grandma's grave. It was the same holiday. This time, we decided to go a little later than usual to avoid the heavy crowds. The weather was the complete opposite of the day that I visited my grandmother's grave. It was sunny and clear. In fact, I had to wear my sunglasses to be able to see without squinting. So we pulled into the cemetery to find a place to park, since apparently Chinese cemeteries just let you park inside. I dunno, Chinese people are pretty resourceful.
In any case, by we, I mean my immediate family and my aunt and uncle. It was a much smaller party this time since my other aunt's family went down to Las Vegas for spring break and they didn't have time to come to the graves since they were busy packing or something. The whole thing was much much simpler than the time we visited grandma. All we did was clean the grave, burn some currency for my grandparents to spend in the afterlife. Overall, it was a really peaceful ceremony. It was somewhat reminiscent of grandpa himself. Forget the fancy stuff, just get what you need done.
I saw Daniel and Wendy at the cemetery too. Caught up with them for a little bit about school and stuff, but it wasn't exactly an ideal place to have a conversation. They had their own tasks to attend to.
I shouldn't be saying this, but there were a lot of cute guys again. All the Asian guys come out and do their stuff during this time, haha. But yeah, felt guilty again, but it was kind of hard not to look around. It wasn't like I was gonna go up to them and ask them out or anything.
After cleaning up my grandparents' grave, we packed our things and headed over to my great-grandparents' cemetery. I had only been there once before and that was a while ago. I don't know anything about my great-grandfather since he died in the 70s but I can vaguely remember my great-grandmother. I can remember her in her wheelchair and she would always have a blanket on her... but than that, my 3 year old memory isn't that good. I can't remember her face very well, or how she smelled, or what she did. I do remember her funeral though. I didn't know what was happening, but I could see grandma sobbing extremely loudly... and that's about it. I don't know how accurate that is, but I have that image in my mind without anyone telling me anything about her. Anyways, we cleaned her grave too, paid our respects and burned some money for them too.
Overall, it was a pretty simple day. There were only a few people around both cemeteries, and my whole family wasn't there to startscreaming talking to each other. It was a little hard though since my grandpa only died last month and we had to go to his grave so quickly again. But I'm alright now. I still have fond memories of him that I will take with me forever.
In any case, by we, I mean my immediate family and my aunt and uncle. It was a much smaller party this time since my other aunt's family went down to Las Vegas for spring break and they didn't have time to come to the graves since they were busy packing or something. The whole thing was much much simpler than the time we visited grandma. All we did was clean the grave, burn some currency for my grandparents to spend in the afterlife. Overall, it was a really peaceful ceremony. It was somewhat reminiscent of grandpa himself. Forget the fancy stuff, just get what you need done.
I saw Daniel and Wendy at the cemetery too. Caught up with them for a little bit about school and stuff, but it wasn't exactly an ideal place to have a conversation. They had their own tasks to attend to.
I shouldn't be saying this, but there were a lot of cute guys again. All the Asian guys come out and do their stuff during this time, haha. But yeah, felt guilty again, but it was kind of hard not to look around. It wasn't like I was gonna go up to them and ask them out or anything.
After cleaning up my grandparents' grave, we packed our things and headed over to my great-grandparents' cemetery. I had only been there once before and that was a while ago. I don't know anything about my great-grandfather since he died in the 70s but I can vaguely remember my great-grandmother. I can remember her in her wheelchair and she would always have a blanket on her... but than that, my 3 year old memory isn't that good. I can't remember her face very well, or how she smelled, or what she did. I do remember her funeral though. I didn't know what was happening, but I could see grandma sobbing extremely loudly... and that's about it. I don't know how accurate that is, but I have that image in my mind without anyone telling me anything about her. Anyways, we cleaned her grave too, paid our respects and burned some money for them too.
Overall, it was a pretty simple day. There were only a few people around both cemeteries, and my whole family wasn't there to start
Monday, March 3, 2008
On Dreams.
Normally I don't do this because my dreams are usually pretty weird and I don't remember much after waking up, but this one stuck out for some reason. Before you continue reading, you should realize that this dream is about guys (nothing sexual, actually), and is going to be written by a GIRL so, you might want to stop reading now. :)
Anyways, if you guys have read my "On Boyfriends" post, then you guys should know that I've never had a boyfriend and never really desired one. *shrug* I have a sense of independence and commitment doesn't really excite me.
But in any case, the dream. It was pretty normal actually. Usually when I dream about things, I have these crazy surreal events like I'm in outer space or Naruto and crew are running up the empire state building because they were chased by Godzilla (yeah, I know. I wonder what that TOWER means, hahaha). Anyways, this one surprisingly was pretty normal, you know, excluding some things.
Probably the only things that clued me in that this was a dream was the fact that he was living in the same room as me, i.e. my dorm. Which would be impossible because last time I checked Michelle wasn't a guy. But yeah. negligible. It was still pretty real.
I can't really remember his face, but he had a distinct face. You know how when you dream, the faces that you don't really know are distorted or shadowed, but I remember seeing his face. It wasn't anyone that I've met before, or someone who probably even exists. I recall him being really humble looking. No one super hot or fantasy like... I mean, he had like a weird buzz cut thing, definitely not my type. But still, dreams make everything seem perfect.
What was weird was the fact of how complete the relationship went through its cycle. Other than getting together (he magically appeared and we were together), I can remember having fun with him (funny guys are the best♥), I can remember going through some trouble that resulted in breaking up, and then reconciling because we were being stupid.
I don't know, this whole thing seems weird. I normally don't even remember my dreams, but his face (even if I don't remember it well) kept appearing in my mind. Haha, maybe I'll meet him one day.
I dunno, that's all I really wanted to say. There's a lot more detail that I can get into, but I don't really feel like it. For the most part, I still don't want a boyfriend, but maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Hm, well, I'm not gonna actively look for this certain guy. If he finds me, so be it. :)
Anyways, if you guys have read my "On Boyfriends" post, then you guys should know that I've never had a boyfriend and never really desired one. *shrug* I have a sense of independence and commitment doesn't really excite me.
But in any case, the dream. It was pretty normal actually. Usually when I dream about things, I have these crazy surreal events like I'm in outer space or Naruto and crew are running up the empire state building because they were chased by Godzilla (yeah, I know. I wonder what that TOWER means, hahaha). Anyways, this one surprisingly was pretty normal, you know, excluding some things.
Probably the only things that clued me in that this was a dream was the fact that he was living in the same room as me, i.e. my dorm. Which would be impossible because last time I checked Michelle wasn't a guy. But yeah. negligible. It was still pretty real.
I can't really remember his face, but he had a distinct face. You know how when you dream, the faces that you don't really know are distorted or shadowed, but I remember seeing his face. It wasn't anyone that I've met before, or someone who probably even exists. I recall him being really humble looking. No one super hot or fantasy like... I mean, he had like a weird buzz cut thing, definitely not my type. But still, dreams make everything seem perfect.
What was weird was the fact of how complete the relationship went through its cycle. Other than getting together (he magically appeared and we were together), I can remember having fun with him (funny guys are the best♥), I can remember going through some trouble that resulted in breaking up, and then reconciling because we were being stupid.
I don't know, this whole thing seems weird. I normally don't even remember my dreams, but his face (even if I don't remember it well) kept appearing in my mind. Haha, maybe I'll meet him one day.
I dunno, that's all I really wanted to say. There's a lot more detail that I can get into, but I don't really feel like it. For the most part, I still don't want a boyfriend, but maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me something. Hm, well, I'm not gonna actively look for this certain guy. If he finds me, so be it. :)
Monday, February 25, 2008
One Rough Weekend.
This weekend has been one hell of a roller coaster. Two and a half weeks ago, my grandpa died and we weren't able to have the wake/funeral till this weekend. They decided to chose this weekend because it was my aunt's birthday the week before and they were adamant about not having it on her birthday. However, this weekend was my cousin's birthday. She came back to San Francisco from Las Vegas to come to grandpa's funeral. Happy belated birthday, Nikki; sorry you couldn't celebrate it. She had to sit out on the wake and just go to the funeral.
The wake was hard. Basically it consisted of me sitting there crying because there wasn't anything else for me to do. I remembered tearing up already as I walked down the aisle to see him. The place smelled of incense and I could see part of his head over the shoulders of my aunts and uncles. We had to take some incense, bow three times, stand it on this container and then bow three times in front of grandpa. That was hard.
The wake/funeral was open casket and I thought about how old he actually looked. His face has already lost the color that normal humans possessed since he has been dead for 20 days already. There was only a few strands of hair on his head. He didn't look like he was sleeping at all. His eyes had sunken in and nothing about him looked human. I didn't want to believe that it was him. I half expected him to jump out and be like "HA FOOLED YOU." Of course that was silly, too silly for an 18 year old girl to even think about. But that was what I was honestly hoping for.
After bowing, I had to sit on a bench by his side with the rest of the family members. Everyone was crying, but there was no loud sobbing that was memorable of my grandma's wedding. Perhaps everyone already accepted the fact that he was old and it was just his time to go. But I have accepted that yet. I still think that he's immortal. He's still here somewhere going to Chinatown, having a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. I didn't want to think that that shell of a human being was formally the man who held my hand to cross the street, the man who took me on the MUNI and pointed out the best places to eat, the man who foolishly bought too much buns. Seeing him in that casket was mortality's cruel way of telling me that I've been robbed of everything that my grandpa embodied.
Unfortunately for me, I'm a crybaby. When I am faced with a situation that isn't favorable for me, I start tearing up immediately. I really can't help it. I know that I should get thicker skin, but I just can't help it. How can you voluntarily turn off an involuntary reaction? It gets worse when people tell you to stop crying and that it's gonna be okay... because that just makes me want to cry even harder. To feel that support makes me want to let even more out. I tried to turn my focus away from the situation and look at different things in the chapel. A window, peeling paint, the wornness of the seats that we're in. Anything to keep myself from totally losing it. It was hard; I had a mound of tissues by the end of the ceremony and the day after, I still had to go to the actual funeral.
When we arrived to the funeral home, they put black bands around our right arms (they also did this during the wake) and for the women, they put a pin in our hair. White for the daughters and daughter-in-law (my mom) and green for the grandchildren. They also gave us a red one to hold when we take off our other pin.
The actual funeral was pretty similar to the wake, except family friends can come and pay their respects. But grandpa was stubborn. He had refused to make many friends. In fact, the only people who came were friends of my aunts who came to show their support for their dead dad. Grandpa never really had any friends. He was a lone wolf, too stubborn to socialize, too much of a kid of really understand the adult world.
My cousin was able to go to the funeral. It was the first time she had seen him for about half a year. And their reunion wasn't under favorable circumstances. She cried. I've never seen her cry. She always seems to have this strength to keep going, to resist against all odds. To see her cry was something truly heart breaking. Of course, I was crying harder. By the time the funeral began, I was already becoming numb to the fact that my grandpa has passed on. But that didn't make it hurt any less. However, I had cried buckets the day before and my eyes were already swollen.
I don't even really remember the funeral and it was only two days ago. Maybe I don't want the memory of the funeral. I do remember the staff telling us to keep our heads down while they closed the casket. I started crying then. It was kind of a finalizing event. He's gone. Forever.
We went into the cars and followed the hearse over to grandpa's house to make one final goodbye before heading to the cemetery. My 婆婆 was outside burning something. I don't know what it was, but it's probably some kind of tradition that Chinese people had. The ride to the cemetery was long and kind of boring. There was too much time to think about grandpa so I decided to just sleep. I was already emotionally drained and my head had become light and I was ready to just collapse.
I woke up just as we went through the big gateway into the cemetery. Again, it felt like a threshold between the real world and the afterlife. The cemetery was empty, vastly different from the last time I came to pay my respects to my grandmother. There weren't any picnics, there weren't any people. There were, however, those annoying seagulls looking for scraps of food. We were again told to look away as they lowered my grandpa down the grave. There were some workers who pissed me off a little. They look like they had such smug faces as if this was just another day where some stupid family was mourning over the loss of a loved one. I wanted to slap all of them. But then everyone would think I was crazy.
After they lowered him down to his grave, we were given some incense and paid our last respects before they covered the grave. They also gave us a flower in which we tied our ribbon our and clipped the pin on. We all bowed three times in front of grandpa and threw our flowers on top of his grave. It was... unexplainable. It just kind of felt empty. I didn't know how to feel at that point.
We went to a restaurant afterwards and had lunch. I think that was a big step to becoming normal again. I had to leave early because I had to go to a doctor. Over the weekend, what I thought was a pimple turned out to be a bacterial infection and I needed to get it checked out. I was prescribed an antibiotic and they told me to come back the day after to check if I needed to get it drained. Turns out, I really did need to get it drained and it was probably a certain bacterial skin infection. They sent a sample down to the lab and I was given another prescription. Walking back to the car, I started crying. I was just so tired of everything. I felt like ever aspect of my life was going downhill. Even my health was fucking with me.
Now, I'm just trying to cope. I know that no one would want me to be miserable, especially not my grandparents. I bet my grandma would slap me silly for being so stupid. She was always the one who wore the pants. Always sharp, always stern. Grandpa was more of the kid that gave you buns to eat. Heh. I think I just need time now...
The wake was hard. Basically it consisted of me sitting there crying because there wasn't anything else for me to do. I remembered tearing up already as I walked down the aisle to see him. The place smelled of incense and I could see part of his head over the shoulders of my aunts and uncles. We had to take some incense, bow three times, stand it on this container and then bow three times in front of grandpa. That was hard.
The wake/funeral was open casket and I thought about how old he actually looked. His face has already lost the color that normal humans possessed since he has been dead for 20 days already. There was only a few strands of hair on his head. He didn't look like he was sleeping at all. His eyes had sunken in and nothing about him looked human. I didn't want to believe that it was him. I half expected him to jump out and be like "HA FOOLED YOU." Of course that was silly, too silly for an 18 year old girl to even think about. But that was what I was honestly hoping for.
After bowing, I had to sit on a bench by his side with the rest of the family members. Everyone was crying, but there was no loud sobbing that was memorable of my grandma's wedding. Perhaps everyone already accepted the fact that he was old and it was just his time to go. But I have accepted that yet. I still think that he's immortal. He's still here somewhere going to Chinatown, having a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. I didn't want to think that that shell of a human being was formally the man who held my hand to cross the street, the man who took me on the MUNI and pointed out the best places to eat, the man who foolishly bought too much buns. Seeing him in that casket was mortality's cruel way of telling me that I've been robbed of everything that my grandpa embodied.
Unfortunately for me, I'm a crybaby. When I am faced with a situation that isn't favorable for me, I start tearing up immediately. I really can't help it. I know that I should get thicker skin, but I just can't help it. How can you voluntarily turn off an involuntary reaction? It gets worse when people tell you to stop crying and that it's gonna be okay... because that just makes me want to cry even harder. To feel that support makes me want to let even more out. I tried to turn my focus away from the situation and look at different things in the chapel. A window, peeling paint, the wornness of the seats that we're in. Anything to keep myself from totally losing it. It was hard; I had a mound of tissues by the end of the ceremony and the day after, I still had to go to the actual funeral.
When we arrived to the funeral home, they put black bands around our right arms (they also did this during the wake) and for the women, they put a pin in our hair. White for the daughters and daughter-in-law (my mom) and green for the grandchildren. They also gave us a red one to hold when we take off our other pin.
The actual funeral was pretty similar to the wake, except family friends can come and pay their respects. But grandpa was stubborn. He had refused to make many friends. In fact, the only people who came were friends of my aunts who came to show their support for their dead dad. Grandpa never really had any friends. He was a lone wolf, too stubborn to socialize, too much of a kid of really understand the adult world.
My cousin was able to go to the funeral. It was the first time she had seen him for about half a year. And their reunion wasn't under favorable circumstances. She cried. I've never seen her cry. She always seems to have this strength to keep going, to resist against all odds. To see her cry was something truly heart breaking. Of course, I was crying harder. By the time the funeral began, I was already becoming numb to the fact that my grandpa has passed on. But that didn't make it hurt any less. However, I had cried buckets the day before and my eyes were already swollen.
I don't even really remember the funeral and it was only two days ago. Maybe I don't want the memory of the funeral. I do remember the staff telling us to keep our heads down while they closed the casket. I started crying then. It was kind of a finalizing event. He's gone. Forever.
We went into the cars and followed the hearse over to grandpa's house to make one final goodbye before heading to the cemetery. My 婆婆 was outside burning something. I don't know what it was, but it's probably some kind of tradition that Chinese people had. The ride to the cemetery was long and kind of boring. There was too much time to think about grandpa so I decided to just sleep. I was already emotionally drained and my head had become light and I was ready to just collapse.
I woke up just as we went through the big gateway into the cemetery. Again, it felt like a threshold between the real world and the afterlife. The cemetery was empty, vastly different from the last time I came to pay my respects to my grandmother. There weren't any picnics, there weren't any people. There were, however, those annoying seagulls looking for scraps of food. We were again told to look away as they lowered my grandpa down the grave. There were some workers who pissed me off a little. They look like they had such smug faces as if this was just another day where some stupid family was mourning over the loss of a loved one. I wanted to slap all of them. But then everyone would think I was crazy.
After they lowered him down to his grave, we were given some incense and paid our last respects before they covered the grave. They also gave us a flower in which we tied our ribbon our and clipped the pin on. We all bowed three times in front of grandpa and threw our flowers on top of his grave. It was... unexplainable. It just kind of felt empty. I didn't know how to feel at that point.
We went to a restaurant afterwards and had lunch. I think that was a big step to becoming normal again. I had to leave early because I had to go to a doctor. Over the weekend, what I thought was a pimple turned out to be a bacterial infection and I needed to get it checked out. I was prescribed an antibiotic and they told me to come back the day after to check if I needed to get it drained. Turns out, I really did need to get it drained and it was probably a certain bacterial skin infection. They sent a sample down to the lab and I was given another prescription. Walking back to the car, I started crying. I was just so tired of everything. I felt like ever aspect of my life was going downhill. Even my health was fucking with me.
Now, I'm just trying to cope. I know that no one would want me to be miserable, especially not my grandparents. I bet my grandma would slap me silly for being so stupid. She was always the one who wore the pants. Always sharp, always stern. Grandpa was more of the kid that gave you buns to eat. Heh. I think I just need time now...
Sunday, February 3, 2008
In memory of my 爺爺
My grandpa died today... it was a sudden death, apparently. He was hospitalized last week because of heart pains, and everyone thought he would be fine; he was stabilized, he was eating. Apparently, the doctors don't understand why he passed away because he seemingly recovered. Last week, when I found out that he was hospitalized, my mom asked me if I wanted to go with my dad to the hospital to pay him a visit. I asked her what was wrong with him, and she just said that he was experiencing some pains and was fine now. Since I thought he was going to be just fine, I declined to have some more sleep. Now I really regret not going. Because now, I don't remember the last time I saw him. The last time I called him 爺爺 and make small talk. He was a funny old man, racked with senility. His hearing had gone bad; I had to shout for him to listen because sometimes he would be too stubborn to pay attention. His eyesight was poor; he had to get lasik eye surgery just to see again. Everyone made fun of him because of his stubbornness.
It was probably his stubbornness that finally did him in. He would insist of going to Chinatown even though he lived in Sunset. Perhaps it's because that's where we made our first home, and grandpa just never left it. I remember all the little cafes that we would eat at. He would buy me a long rice roll with pork or a bowl of congee with pork and aged eggs. I would always give him the eggs because I didn't like the black color and thought they were poisonous. He would take me to Chinese school, shop a little, and then come right back to pick me up. Sometimes he picked me up from the bus stop from elementary school. Wherever I went, he was there.
We used to go to the park all the time. He would always push me on the swings; I loved that feeling of flying through the sky. (of course, when you're small, the ground seems like it's miles away.) He would push me until I finally learned how to swing on my own. I was really proud of that. I always thought I was an excellent swinger. I didn't need him anymore. He would just stand back and watch.
Grandpa also did taichi. I thought it was silly; it looked like a bunch of old people just dancing slowly. It was graceful, but as a child I didn't hold any interest. I tried doing it on my own, but it was boring and I went back to the playground. Now that I recall, it was a beautiful form of exercise. The control, the concentration that a young me would not have understood.
And then everyone moved. We left that house on Greenwich and moved to different places in the city. He moved with my second aunt over to Sunset and I saw him less. I didn't live with him anymore. It was the same with Grandma. I thought it was a shame, but, maybe I was naive in my thinking. Maybe they were immortal and I could always have the same relationship as the one I had when I was a child.
Over the years, I saw his health deteriorate. But my grandpa was never a weak man. He was standing tall, with a big build and nothing ever seemed to stop him. I remember how he used to carry bags of groceries as if it were nothing. But, I also remember when he got his hearing aids. It was a shock to me. Here he was, this man, whom I've always seen strength in, was succumbing to mortality. Then his eyes got bad. Granted, he always needed reading glasses to read those newspapers that he loved. (We would always purchase a copy of 星岛日报 on the way back from school) Only when he had to carry a cane was when I realized, this is an old man. During a visit to grandma's grave, I had to walk slowly with him back to the car. I then realized, this was the man who I had to walk quickly to keep up to as a child, and now, it felt odd that we were moving no quicker than a snail. It hurt to see the work of nature acting on a human being...
I mentioned before, my grandpa was really stubborn. He would always wear like five sweaters, a hat and a jacket. It was ridiculous to see and my family always made fun of him. The most brutal (after probably grandma) was the oldest aunt. She is really annoying and naggy. Always telling grandpa what a fool he was for wearing so many clothes, what a senile old man he was for going to Chinatown, and how he couldn't do anything right. I'm glad I'm not that kind of person; otherwise, my guilt would never leave me. But through the family's insults and constant nagging, he never lost that innocent smile of his. Perhaps it was just a senile old smile, but his smile always seemed to say, "It's okay. I know they all love me. I'll just humor them into thinking that I was senile." And he would laugh it off.
I'm crying now... but I have to get all this stuff off my chest. I'm so afraid that I'll forget who he was, what he felt like, his face. Everything. When my grandma died, I realized that I can't see her anymore and when that feeling washed over me, I couldn't picture her face anymore. I couldn't smell her anymore. I couldn't hear her voice. And, it feels the same way. I don't remember that smile he would give me, I can't hear his laugh. His face seems fuzzy in comparison to the world. I'm scared that I'll forget all the memories of him. And that's why I have to write this down. It's kind of funny because I never really thought about my grandpa till now. I mean, don't get my wrong, I love him and will always cherish these memories that I have of him.. but I'm scared that one day, I'll stop in my tracks and realize that I don't remember what kind of person he was. I'm scared.
爺爺，對不起。我真怕我可以忘記你。我真的沒有用。
It was probably his stubbornness that finally did him in. He would insist of going to Chinatown even though he lived in Sunset. Perhaps it's because that's where we made our first home, and grandpa just never left it. I remember all the little cafes that we would eat at. He would buy me a long rice roll with pork or a bowl of congee with pork and aged eggs. I would always give him the eggs because I didn't like the black color and thought they were poisonous. He would take me to Chinese school, shop a little, and then come right back to pick me up. Sometimes he picked me up from the bus stop from elementary school. Wherever I went, he was there.
We used to go to the park all the time. He would always push me on the swings; I loved that feeling of flying through the sky. (of course, when you're small, the ground seems like it's miles away.) He would push me until I finally learned how to swing on my own. I was really proud of that. I always thought I was an excellent swinger. I didn't need him anymore. He would just stand back and watch.
Grandpa also did taichi. I thought it was silly; it looked like a bunch of old people just dancing slowly. It was graceful, but as a child I didn't hold any interest. I tried doing it on my own, but it was boring and I went back to the playground. Now that I recall, it was a beautiful form of exercise. The control, the concentration that a young me would not have understood.
And then everyone moved. We left that house on Greenwich and moved to different places in the city. He moved with my second aunt over to Sunset and I saw him less. I didn't live with him anymore. It was the same with Grandma. I thought it was a shame, but, maybe I was naive in my thinking. Maybe they were immortal and I could always have the same relationship as the one I had when I was a child.
Over the years, I saw his health deteriorate. But my grandpa was never a weak man. He was standing tall, with a big build and nothing ever seemed to stop him. I remember how he used to carry bags of groceries as if it were nothing. But, I also remember when he got his hearing aids. It was a shock to me. Here he was, this man, whom I've always seen strength in, was succumbing to mortality. Then his eyes got bad. Granted, he always needed reading glasses to read those newspapers that he loved. (We would always purchase a copy of 星岛日报 on the way back from school) Only when he had to carry a cane was when I realized, this is an old man. During a visit to grandma's grave, I had to walk slowly with him back to the car. I then realized, this was the man who I had to walk quickly to keep up to as a child, and now, it felt odd that we were moving no quicker than a snail. It hurt to see the work of nature acting on a human being...
I mentioned before, my grandpa was really stubborn. He would always wear like five sweaters, a hat and a jacket. It was ridiculous to see and my family always made fun of him. The most brutal (after probably grandma) was the oldest aunt. She is really annoying and naggy. Always telling grandpa what a fool he was for wearing so many clothes, what a senile old man he was for going to Chinatown, and how he couldn't do anything right. I'm glad I'm not that kind of person; otherwise, my guilt would never leave me. But through the family's insults and constant nagging, he never lost that innocent smile of his. Perhaps it was just a senile old smile, but his smile always seemed to say, "It's okay. I know they all love me. I'll just humor them into thinking that I was senile." And he would laugh it off.
I'm crying now... but I have to get all this stuff off my chest. I'm so afraid that I'll forget who he was, what he felt like, his face. Everything. When my grandma died, I realized that I can't see her anymore and when that feeling washed over me, I couldn't picture her face anymore. I couldn't smell her anymore. I couldn't hear her voice. And, it feels the same way. I don't remember that smile he would give me, I can't hear his laugh. His face seems fuzzy in comparison to the world. I'm scared that I'll forget all the memories of him. And that's why I have to write this down. It's kind of funny because I never really thought about my grandpa till now. I mean, don't get my wrong, I love him and will always cherish these memories that I have of him.. but I'm scared that one day, I'll stop in my tracks and realize that I don't remember what kind of person he was. I'm scared.
爺爺，對不起。我真怕我可以忘記你。我真的沒有用。
Monday, January 14, 2008
On Boyfriends.
Yesterday, I had a hard time sleeping because I kept thinking about how life is way too dramatic. I feel like I'm constantly in some war zone that with one word, will blow me up. Comments are exchanged, and then flames will start to be thrown, and someone always seems to get hurt in the end. And then somehow those thoughts went back to just why I don't have a boyfriend.
I've thought about it for a while; it's kind of odd for a girl of eighteen not to have had a boyfriend during this era of random hookups and young romance, but as much as I think about it, I've never had that real desire to have a boyfriend. I've never desired that passion, that connection that a relationship usually entails. In fact, I'm so satisfied with my life at this moment, that I'm afraid a boyfriend would ruin it. It's kind of funny because I didn't think I would feel this way. But, I guess, I just don't want to commit to someone. I want a friend, a person to chill with, but not someone who I have to see often, someone who I have any special feelings for.
I think deep down it all, I don't really care for romance. It's great for other people; I like hearing about how the relationship is going well, but I never want the happiness or the sadness that the couple has.
Now that I think about it, I've never really had any serious crushes. I mean, I'm not immune, there are guys that I used to like, guys who I thought were cute, but I've never had that "I want to date him" feeling. It's always been, "I wanna just hang out with him and if we can't, then whatever."
It's kind of funny because it's not like I've never thought about getting married and having a family. But whenever I think about it, I never think about the husband, but I end up thinking about kids and the family.. hmm, I don't know. It's kind of interesting.
Who knows? Maybe somewhere in the future, I'll have that desire to fall in love like all these other girls of my age. But for now, I'm really glad that I don't have drama in this part of my life.
I've thought about it for a while; it's kind of odd for a girl of eighteen not to have had a boyfriend during this era of random hookups and young romance, but as much as I think about it, I've never had that real desire to have a boyfriend. I've never desired that passion, that connection that a relationship usually entails. In fact, I'm so satisfied with my life at this moment, that I'm afraid a boyfriend would ruin it. It's kind of funny because I didn't think I would feel this way. But, I guess, I just don't want to commit to someone. I want a friend, a person to chill with, but not someone who I have to see often, someone who I have any special feelings for.
I think deep down it all, I don't really care for romance. It's great for other people; I like hearing about how the relationship is going well, but I never want the happiness or the sadness that the couple has.
Now that I think about it, I've never really had any serious crushes. I mean, I'm not immune, there are guys that I used to like, guys who I thought were cute, but I've never had that "I want to date him" feeling. It's always been, "I wanna just hang out with him and if we can't, then whatever."
It's kind of funny because it's not like I've never thought about getting married and having a family. But whenever I think about it, I never think about the husband, but I end up thinking about kids and the family.. hmm, I don't know. It's kind of interesting.
Who knows? Maybe somewhere in the future, I'll have that desire to fall in love like all these other girls of my age. But for now, I'm really glad that I don't have drama in this part of my life.
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