Showing posts with label China Man's favourite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label China Man's favourite. Show all posts

Sunday, November 7

Love







Many people have the misconception that I’m from a rich family. Well let me tell you now, I’m not. I’m poorer than you. When I say this I’m really not trying to portray modesty. I mean it when I say it.



My dad had a major setback in his career and is now at the verge of bankruptcy. My mom is currently trying to make a living for the family by running a hawker stall in a Chinese food-court.



When I was in the car w my mom on the way to the food-court, I asked,



YgGuo: ‘Mi, how much are you earning from this?’



Mother: ‘About 150 to 200 ringgit a day?’



200 Ringgit. That’s 9 hours of toil and sweat from a loving mother in exchange for granting her son a meal at any decent Chinese restaurant in the UK.


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The other day I sat down at my desk thinking of writing to my family to tell them how much I love them. Instead, I thought of how each and every one of them has detached themselves from all sorts of luxuries to support my living expenses in the UK.



Not surprisingly, I winded up being overwhelmed by just how much they love me.




It’s so easy to talk about love, but how many of us have really put forth the effort to weld those words together as we speak of love? I can’t remember when the last time I did something nice for my family was. I was too young to comprehend their subtle ways of loving me. They never told me how much trouble it was to look after me.



Mother Teresa once said, ‘The success of love is not in the result of loving but to want the best for the other person.’ That’s indisputably true. Despite my previous relationships have been ultimate failures, my devotion to my exes has accorded me a different kind of happiness. It has once meant something to someone.









No wonder we are all screwed up. We let people into our deepest core and allow them to uncover our true selves for the sheer thought of being someone’s someone.


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Once I caught a glimpse of my mom from my car squatting by the roadside while washing some dirty dishes. After parking my car I quickly got down and offered to help. However, she flatly rejected my offer and said,


‘You’d stink.’


And proceeded to cook me a nice bowl of fish ball noodles w additional ingredients in it. In that split moment, my heart cracked.



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Love manifests parents who forgo their sleep to look after their kids; lovers who send cards to express their affection; friends who stand by each other during bad times. However all of them have no intrinsic value at all as love cannot be measured.




Whether it’s a love card sent from another continent or a simple morning text the value lies in the fact that we all look beyond our own needs and welfare to look out for others whom we cherish. After all, love inspires us to better ourselves in every way to provide for those we love.



I am truly amazed at what love can do. I am amazed at how much I’ve grown under their perpetual love, how much I’ve changed from a rebel against my family to a loving son.



I am eager to find love. I cant wait to show someone the love I have inside of me.


And, to make that person feel happy.




Tuesday, October 26

Happy 21st =]


If life is like a race, at the age of 21, when arrive at the pit stop, expecting refueling and tires change, the mechanics would tell you, ‘You’ve watched us long enough, now do it on your own.’




The point is simple. After 21 years of being sheltered, it’s time to start taking matters into your own hands.



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Despite months of anticipation, when the big 2-1 is finally here, it still came as a shock to me, like omg dude, I’m fucking 21.



Considering the leaps and bounds that I’ve made, I’m glad that I did not choose the less travelled route. For English is finally getting into my stride, though I still can’t speak very well. No more spindly arms and legs. Still full of crap, but no longer the target for clique discrimination.



At the very least, I’m content with the person I have turned out to be.



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For some odd reason, however, at times I still feel like I have not changed at all, exemplified by numerous distraught nights I spent on self pity indulgences like looking at old pictures, watching a sad movie, or calling an ex, leaving me pretty little time for anything productive. And most of the times really, I don’t know what I’m depressed about.




Especially after a long day of work, or after a massive event, when I get home, I have a tendency to snap.




Perhaps it’s because what I set out to be was distinctly different from whom I really am. I’m not totally cut out for this. I like the feeling of these cognitive emotions, such as sorrow and love. And while I suppress this sentiment as I clamber my way up to my goals, increasingly, I’d miss these sentimentalities, and it’s harder to fend off each time. The further I wander off my comfort zone, the more I desire to dwell in it.



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True, it’d be so much easier to just turn a blind eye to this matter. After all, it’s me being myself, reminiscing about what I’ve been through, where I came from and whom I used to be. I could just lay back and trap myself in oblivion, regarding issues that revolve around me, or drink a coffee during the economic crisis and be totally comfortable w myself.




But looking back 5 years from now, will I love myself for taking the easy route? No I won’t. I know better than anyone that I’m holding onto what I should have let go of long ago, and it needs to be rectified, as being 21 year old means no room for such meaningless course.




No room for any weakness.



Friday, September 3

BIGGEST BITCH SLAP ON THE FACE.





I always think you are beautiful.






And honestly, when I heard you got a new boyfriend, it still hurt a lil bit inside.





Then I went to your facebook.





Because I wanted to know who's this lucky guy



who has been so competent to win your heart over







and I was anticipating...





He must have a magnificent car that I do not own. You always

have a thing for sports car.







He must have a lucrative career, if not, an impressive academic

qualification to which I do not have.





Or, at the very least, he must be drop dead gorgeous.











And then I stumbled upon this dude.




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My initial thought was, damn, stalkers nowadays are really hideous.



I wonder to myself, does this stalker really think he looks damn yeng here?




Also, I felt really bad for him.
(For it's the saddest thing on earth not knowing that the people who you think envy you are in actuality, think you are a complete fucktard)







Out of curiosity, I clicked on his page, to understand how this

Chinese Frankenstein can fit into normal human's circle...







And then I stumbled upon this pic,




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And I was like,

whoah Chinese Frankenstein, trying to get some lovin' too huh?

chuckled*









Then suddenly, something occurred to me.









'No no no no no no, ygsik, no no no no no no.... It can't be him...' my senses told me,

'She's not like that.'









I continued to the next page.








STUNNED.




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Turned out I thought too highly of you.





My eyes dilated. My breathing stopped.




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To tell you the truth, when I saw this picture, I was FURIOUS.



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Seriously honey, WHAT THE FUCK?


You left me for a fucking midget?!?!?!?









who smokes MENTHOL?





But a few minutes later, I started ROLLING ON THE FLOOR LAUGHING MY ASS OFF.


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I really don't know what to say, love. But you can tell your Frankenstein boyfriend

NOT TO WORRY.





Because I wont be chasing after you.

Your attractiveness has just taken a nosedive to zero.




And after this post, if you and your Frankenstein boyfriend intend to come after me like your previous ex boyfriend, you know exactly how to find me.








But on the safe side, please make a mental note to yourselves,

I have Van Helsing. HAHA!




Saturday, August 7

The Game Finale

I wrapped up my work, loosened my tie and switched off the computer. It was time to go for tonight’s college gathering.



'I'll see you tom,' I pulled J closer and kissed her. 'Sorry I can't drop you home tonight, I have a gathering to attend to.'




'Where to?'


'It's at Alexis, Mid Valley.'


She paused for a few seconds, and asked


'Can I follow you?'




I did not wish to alienate J. In fact, under normal circumstances, I would gladly bring her along to my social outings. However, my former prom date - and my former crush - was going to be there. And I swear to god, for all honorable intentions, I did not want to tell her.




'I wont be joining you, I just want to do some shopping,’ she said.


I was a little baffled by her. Maybe she knew what was going on, as I did not trust that her sudden shopping spree was genuine. But I did not know how to say no.


'Alright' I said. 'When you are done w your shopping, just come and join us. And if they so happen to ask, just say you are my girlfriend.'


'Actually, there is something I've been meaning to ask you. What am I to you?’



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There is a downside to casual romances. Sometimes it stops being casual. Though usually there is a preliminary consensus of agreement among two parties, when one person's expectation exceeds another, the person would start seeking reassurance, or embark on commitments, in the hopes of winning back his/her fair share of treatment.




I wont deny it. I love casual romances. Not only do they help replenish my 'emotion bucket', I always tend to get off scott-free. And most importantly, I had nothing to lose.




At least, it was what I believed back then.




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Once at Mid Valley, J and I went our separate ways. I folded my sleeves up high, to the extent where it subtly revealed the curl of my biceps. It had been more than 2 years I last saw that bitch. To me, it wasn't just a gathering. It was more like a 'Serves you right bitch, this is what you missed out on' payback session. I had to put up my best game.



So when I reached their table I greeted everyone, except for her. Never acknowledge your target at the start. I then turned to look at her and smiled. That was my first encounter with ‘the prom-date’ ever since prom, whom I had gladly waited for a good hour to see her make her way to me gracefully from the gate in her long, black gown.



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The game sets a precedent. If you adore someone, go out and fuck a dozen other chicks, and then see if the flower is still so special. To which I did.



But at that moment, for the very first time, I questioned the credibility of the game. What if the cure for such obsession turns out to be the venom that aggravates the situation? What if sleeping w a dozen chicks conversely accentuate the person's prominence, and you end up falling deeper?



When a player learns how to control social situation in clubs, it will lead to a mindset that everything in life is a game and every predicament could be manipulated to the player's advantage. But somehow that night was a complete disaster. My game evaporated before her eyes. Despite the experiences I’ve acquired from being an alpha-male, they did not seem to aid a tad bit. In fact, it made things even harder w her.



What if the actions I deemed to be the alpha-male’s ways to deal things all these while are preventing me from getting the outcome that I wanted?



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About an hour later, I called J to join us at the table. When I handed her a scoop of tiramisu, instead of letting me feed her, she helped herself by snatching the spoon from me. To my surprise, J seemed rather distant with me around my friends.



I couldn’t blame her. Instead, I felt so sorry for J. She wanted to make a statement to my friends.


Apart from getting my reputation smirched (which I couldn’t be bothered with), I always thought the game was something that I could constantly pull off w apparent impunity. But what I failed to notice was, due to all the shit that I’ve done, there will always be a social stigma attach to any chicks that hang out w me, and I hate to see her bearing the consequences of my own actions.


Because unlike all other girls, I really liked her.



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True, the game prepares you to be the life and soul of the party. With the right scripted ice breakers, w the right pickup lines, and w the right body language, you'll be well on your way in procuring random hook-ups.



However, the sheer highness derived from these random hook-ups can only last this long. It's like filling up a bucket w a hole in it. Eventually, it flows out. And there will come a point where you’ll need to find a girl to fill up that hole indefinitely.



But the question is, even if you have found the right girl, and she is willing to magnanimously overlook your past promiscuity, would you be able to face her w a clear conscience? Would it be safe for you to think that you are the rightful person for the kind of love she could offer?



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I told Ben how I felt that night. He said,


‘At least you got her as your prom-date.’



Perhaps, when I waited for her at the vegetarian hawker stall for lunch everyday, when I scooped the fried thingy that she loves onto her plate, when I showed her the song w both our names in it, there was no sequence of maneuvers, nor was there any prepared routine behind it.



Maybe that time, I did not see it as a game.




-YgGuo


Friday, June 4

Connection

This is written by one of my bros, Samantha Liew. It's very well written so I wanna share w everyone.


Hope it's ok!! Here it is:

This piece is a personal investigative essay, as it is concerned with the nature of communication and connection in a modern world. My personal experience, particularly my long-distance relationship, will be used as an example to illustrate how strange it is that we often feel less connected with these technological innovations.



Ding ding. Ding ding. I looked away from my laptop screen and saw my white hand-phone illuminating. It was a text message from Chern, “Babe, free to chat on Skype?” I instantly replied, “Give me 5 minutes.”



I turned my attention back to the laptop screen and logged on to Skype. Doo doo doo doo doo. Dooooooooo. The image of a tanned and well-built guy popped up on the screen. I felt a smile tug at the ends of my lips,



“Heyyy…”


“Hey,” said Chern with a hint of monotony.

“How was your day?”

“Ok, so so. Went to uni and then went to the gym straight after that. I just finished dinner.”

“Cool.”




Although he was staring straight at the computer screen I knew he wasn’t looking at me. He shifted his eyes to the keyboard and I could hear the rhythmic tapping of the keyboard. He would pause every now and then, and then resume typing. Ok, what was the point of me coming on Skype to talk to him if he was busy with something else? He just makes me feel less important when his eyes pace from left to right across the screen whilst typing away. It’s like I’m not even there. I’m just a part of the computer. But that’s the reality.




“So,” I began. Does your mum want anything from here?”


“Umm I think she wants…” Suddenly Chern’s image froze and I couldn’t hear anything from his side. He unfroze.


“Sorry Chern, I didn’t catch that. Skype was acting up.”


“I don’t want to repeat myself again.”


“It’s not my fault that skype hanged. Could you please repeat it again?”


“Forget it, you just never listen.”


“But skype hanged, how can it be my fault?”


“I don’t want to argue anymore. I have a lot of work to do now. Anyway, you never try to have a meaningful conversation with me.”





I felt tears brim my eyes. He sighed and the call dropped. Or either he purposely put it down. The latter seems very likely.
Mum says that I’m lucky to exist in this era with all these technological innovations, such as Skype. She’s right though. It’s so easy to keep in touch with someone through different ways, such as e-mailing, “Skyping”, calling someone, chatting via MSN etc. In fact, in our modern world there are so many companies which advertise these communication methods which all say “Keep in touch with your loved ones”. Although this phrase has been overused it’s still a good marketing gimmick to grab the attention of those who are away from home. This includes purchasing phone cards, which reduce the cost of international calls. It’s so cheap to keep in touch with people now through these means of communication.



However, there’s only so much one can say to another if they’re physically apart. When communicating through a medium it’s like telling a story or reporting daily events rather than spending time and experiencing events together. It is almost impossible to enjoy spending time together communicating through these mediums with the lack of physical presence. These modern innovations are merely nothing more than programmes and machines. This means that to the other person we are communicating with through these mediums, we are nothing more than programmes and machines to them. It’s so easy for them to shut us out of their lives, as all they have to do is turn off the computer, put down the phone, or ignore us completely. By doing this continuously, we will lose our personal connection with them for good.




I don’t know how Mum and Dad kept their relationship going strong without free calls on Skype when they were apart years before I was born. Dad was working in Malaysia and Mum was working in New Zealand. I remember once when I was about 9 years old I accidentally fell through Mum’s dressing chair. Luckily the seat was only a lid and I was too small to get my bottom stuck in the wooden box/seat. I lifted up the seat/lid and found a bundle of old photographs of different places, around New Zealand I reckon, and letters scattered all around the box. I read a few of their love letters to one another, which were so full of passion. Dad would start off his letters with “Darling” and in one letter Mum wrote, “I can’t wait till we’re reunited so we can be Husband and Wife again”.




My parents kept in touch through letters and their love remained strong. If they could do it why can’t Chern and I do the same? We could try writing letters to each other, but it would only be more difficult to bear, not being able to hear each other’s voices for almost eight weeks at a time. But maybe it’s because they were slightly older than us and more mature. Or maybe it’s because letters are more personal, as you have a piece of that person with you in your hands as you read it. Touching that piece of paper is almost like touching that person, because you’re bound to touch the same places on that paper as them. Their handwriting is there written down especially for you as opposed to the modern, easier and faster substitute.
What if it involved both cases - that they were more mature than us, and writing letters is the most personal form of communication?




Typing things out on the computer can easily be done and sent via mail or e-mail, although it’s not your handwriting and is a superficial form of your writing’s font and shape. The text you have typed is a product of both you AND the computer, not just you. It’s not just typing things out on the computer. Even calling someone and sending a text message involves a medium. You can’t store those very words the person has said because the person has not written them down especially for you in the case of a phone call. Sending someone a text message via a mobile phone is quick and inexpensive, although it can come across as cold at times. Marcuse (1941) says that the presence of modern technology has shaped social relationships. To put it simply, wherever a medium is involved it plays and important part in the relationship between people who rely on it heavily to keep in touch.




As the saying goes, absence makes the heart fonder. But does it really? What about friendships and intimate relationships? Don’t they eventually fall apart until you’re left with very few friends or if your relationship breaks up? It seems to me, at times like these, that absence is just another way to encourage people to ignore, and slowly forget, each other. These communication methods do assist in helping people keep in touch, but only to a certain extent.
A counter-argument to this would be that you only know who your real friends are after you’ve been apart from them for a long time, and you know that your partner is the one for life.




Long distance-relationships are difficult in particular. Aunty Lynette once told me that men tend to be indifferent when they’re away from their partners. Most females I’ve spoken to have said the same thing. Technological development has definitely not been able to make things easier between the Chern and I. Skype unintentionally makes C more emotionally remote. My webcam is a barrier between the both of us. I try to reach out to him, but it’s of no use. He’s told me before he’s only better with communicating to people face-to-face. He’s always like this when I’m away from home, and he only transforms into that boy I first fell in love with when I’m back home. When we talk on Skype he’s looking at the monitor screen, he’s not looking into my eyes. I know this because our eyes don’t meet when we talk online. It feels as though it’s been forever since we’ve had proper eye contact.
It’s just like Heidegger’s (2010) saying: “The will to mastery becomes all the more urgent the more technology threatens to slip from human control”. Skype has control of my relationship with Chern, especially since I try to recreate things to match up to how we are when we’re physically together with each other.




‘Should I call him back?’ I thought. ‘I know I shouldn’t because when he’s in a foul mood it’s best to leave him alone so he can cool down and, hopefully, think about what he’s done wrong and apologise.’ However, I didn’t care if it was wrong to call him again. I just really needed some form of his presence, even if it was a superficial form. The only way to get through to him was to apologise. I had to swallow my pride and give in, even though I knew I wasn’t at fault. I called him again. I wasn’t surprised to see his annoyed face, “What is it?”




I managed to utter through my blocked nose, “I’m sorry baby. I miss you.”


“Mmm.”



A moment of silence passed between us. My heart pounded really hard against my chest. I didn’t know what to say to him. Although I didn’t want to end the conversation on skype and wanted his company, I felt really scared of him. I was scared of what he would say, and of what I should say to him. I’m never scared of him when we’re together, but Skype somehow brings out the fact that he can be very intimidating. It’s when we talk on Skype that I worry about losing him.



His eyes were fixed on the screen, but I know he wasn’t looking at my webcam as he was busy typing away. Every few seconds he would pause, and I would hear the click of the mouse. I grabbed a textbook to read while waiting for him to say something. Every few minutes I’d look up at the laptop screen to see if he was going to start a conversation, or to find an opportunity to say something. This went on for about half an hour.



“Baby, you ok?”



I looked up and nodded my head. He looked very sympathetic, “I don’t like it when you cry. It makes me sad and angry because I’m not there with you. I can’t hug you when I really want to. I’m sorry for getting angry at you.”



“It’s ok.”


“You know I love you, right?”


Those words made everything seem ok.




However, it would have been perfect if I were with him at that very moment. I know we’re going to argue again, but it’s just a matter of when. Like I said earlier, the personal essence which has been robbed by Skype makes it difficult for us. There is no such thing as the perfect substitute for someone’s presence.


Friday, April 23

Tonight, I'mma fight 'Til we see the sunlight


Henry J. Beans.




I toiled away for 5 months but needless to say, it was a pleasure.


I mean, A LOT OF PLEASURE.


Working in a bar is like no other jobs.

It served me better than any of which I've acquired as the music helped me stay frisky throughout the night. Long hours seemed so short that my shift ended even before I know it.


And the girls would literally throw themselves at you, proving once again that there's really no racism as long as you are good looking and loveable.


However, they do terrible things to loveable people as well.





I've been warned on my last day of shift.

'Ever heard of ice machine?' said one of the bouncer.

I did not take it very seriously because what occur to me was getting shoved into the ice machine, which is literally impossible because my body wont fit.

And please, all that from one bouncer? You need to be better than that.

Turns out they were 4x better than that.


And I winded up here.

And then I soon came to learn, that the true definition of ice machine was



1) Pin down a person from behind

2) Hammerlock that person and wrap him up against the pillar,

3) Shove ice into his clothes, underwear pants or whichever possible place

4) Shower that person with dirty detergen water (that small white pool on my head)

5) Film it up and tell him that it's going up on youtube.

6) Start drinking beer in front of him and pretend he's invisible





All bartenders and bouncers took turns to fling something at me.

The worst part is, after all the fun they have had, I still had to clean up the mess they created. FML




After a quick 'shower' at the kitchen, we went to a bar that is only available for workers, called 'The Seven Oaks" (Normal people will not gain access how cool is that) It opens till the next morning.


But it always amazes me how dodgy it is. There is no 'main entrance' to the premise, there's only a back door that doesn't even have a working door bell.




That is the back door. Doesn't that give you the feeling of entering a brothel.


And for the first time of my life, I literally drink myself till I see the next morning sunlight.