Raging Teenage Hormones; Part Deux

I’m so excited!!

It’s Supanova tomorrow!! Basically Supanova is this pop culture convention where science and fantasy geeks congregate. The fact that I use the word “congregate” in a sentence shows how big of a fucking geek I am. There will be cos-plays, glompings, competitions and guest stars. This quite frankly, is the only reason why I’m going tomorrow. Other then the whole I-am-super-geek part. Let’s not forget that shall we?

You guys!!!!! Spike’s gonna be there!!!! I think I can die now.

Wait, what you mean “Who’s Spike?” You dirty bastards.

For all those who grew up in the 90s, you guys remember how big Buffy the Vampire Slayer was right? When I was in high school, Buffy was the shit. We used to have discussion groups in the school the next day….. discussing everything that went on in whatever the episode that went on the night before. Every generation has a TV show. The 70s had "Happy Days", the early 80s had "the Wonder Years", the early 90s had Beverly Hills 90210 (the original, not the bullshit that goes on right now)….and my batch? We had Buffy. Okay we also had "Bill Nye the Science Guy" and "Charmed" and yeah okay but Buffy was definitely Top 5.

Ah Buffy……… when vampires were actually cool and not sissy emo-bitches that glitter when the sun hits them. Memo to Stephanie Meyer: Vampires burn and then die in the sun. They do not glitter like over-the-hill Vegas show girls? Comprehende?

Anyways, there was Spike. The Big Bad. Villain turned comic relief turned anti-hero….and all around the object of my unbridle, hormonal, teenage lust. Man, he was a sexy bitch. It wasn’t just me. My best friend and I used to fight over who would get him at the back of the class during Biology. Fucking stupid ok. But wah….he was sexy. The platinum hair, the British accent, the tight leather pants, the witty exchanges….….more of a rock star then a vampire really and man, did he rocked my world. I used to have a poster of him at my desk and just used to stare at it instead of doing my Add Math exercises. This would explain why I flunk Add Maths during the finals. Heh.

Ahhh……..to be young and full of raging teenage hormones again…………

Anyways, that was then and I haven’t thought of Spike since like….well the last decade. The show died, I went to college and there are other guys to lust over namely….you know…*cough* Clive Owen *cough* until one day during study group, my friend oh so nonchalantly mentioned it. “Oh CD, did you used to watch Buffy? That Spike guy gonna be at Supanova you know….”……and the obsession was renewed.

I know its so passé! But wah, I feel like a teenager again. Watching Buffy on Thursday night and then going to school the next day all excited to discuss the hotness that is Spike….and sometimes the plot too. I mean, it’s not everyday you get to meet the dude that used to be a poster hanging on your wall. This is big to me you know. Like a blast from the past. The only thing that I’m bummed about is that all my school mates that used to worship him as well can’t be there tomorrow. Especially my best friend. Would have been so much fun…... Just like old times.

But you know what’s different this time around? This time he’s in the flesh. And this time…………… I’m legal. Ahem.

Healed

I’ve been gone a long time.

I’ve been busy. I’ve been out and about. I’ve been cooped out in my room doing assignment. I’ve been researching. But most of all…….I’ve been licking my wounds.

I know……….it’s been awhile and to tell you the truth, I needed all that time. I mean, people, I have to deal with the thought of me being so revolting that I actually made a dude….gay.

It is not a good feeling. One I wouldn’t even wish on those I venomously hate. No one. That’s how bad of a feeling it is. Was.

I tried to play it down. Make a joke out of it. Made a shitload of dick jokes out of it specifically but when I step back and examine the issue like an adult; I have to admit to myself that it was a blow. A huge one to my ego, to my vanity, to my sense of worth as a woman……..I mean, the fuck? I am so repulsive that I turned a guy gay?

Of course gay men reading this would go “Oh huney, its not you. We always have been gay. Its just nature”. Of course, but it’s never a good feeling to know that you are the last one, the last final straw for him, that shoved him out of the closet. To entertain the idea that you are that revolting that this would have happen to you.

I’m over it now. I took my sweet time at it of course; it’s just something big that I had to deal with at my own time. But I’m back now and ladies and gentlemen…..and it’s back to regular scheduled bitchings from now on.

Stay tuned. Bitches.

Elusive

Hey guys, I know I have been gone for a long time.

Its not that it is because my life is ridiculously going spectacular at the moment. It is not. It is just that I don't have the mood to write right now. When there's no flow, then there's no flow. Can't force it.

Writing's funny like that. It gotta come from inside or it'll come off affected and forced. And nothing worst then someone trying to be funny as opposed to is funny. So yeah, when the flow comes back, when the words are spewing out of me, when the inspiration can no longer be held back- I'll be back.

But for now, there's a brick wall where creativity should be. And void and nothingness where words should exist.

So...umm....FML

He’s gay!!!'

He’s gay!!!

Remember Geek Boy, who played me like the fool that I was…..and then he wanted to meet me and then I stood him up? He’s gay!!

He’s gay!!!

The guy that I was smitten with and picked over a military man, who is hot and who wanted to fuck me 7 ways till Wednesday, is gay. He’s gay!! I was so into this guy. I was so messed up when he played me. I didn’t cry though, thank God. The moment you cry over a man, huney, you lose. But still, I was really messed up. And now I found out. He’s gay.

Oh my god!!

No wonder I was rejected!! I don’t have a dick. You guys know what this means right? It’s not me he rejected. It’s my lack of dick!

Okay, okay…let me just take it from the top.

I have a MSN. And even though I deleted him off my list, the dude is still on my network. My MSN network. And I was looking at my MSN network and I saw his new updates and it went something like this

“Woo hoo! Having a great time in San Francisco!”

First of, the fuck is doing in San Francisco? Right. So I buzzed a mutual friend of ours…who did not delete his Facebook page as I did. A bit of pleading, a bit of bribing and then I got my friend’s Facebook password so that I can go snoop around Geek Boy’s page, under my friend’s account.

So he is in San Francisco. He transferred his final year credit and doing it there. Fine. Whatever. Not that I am jealous or anything like that. Cause I never been to San Francisco and always wanted to and now he’s there. Fine, whatever. Then I look at his photos. And there are a lot of photos of him with one guy. Hugging. Sitting together. Partying. Just that one guy. Okay, say bromance or whatever…but it looks more then platonic okay. It looks more like Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee "platonic" bromance. It looks………………..different.

Curious.

So I went to his info page.

Interested in: Relationships with men and women. And then like 5 groups about being bisexual.

Ladies, just like Carrie Bradshaw said- being bisexual just means you’re not ready to come out fully out of the closet yet. And the clincher, he’s on Level 4 of the Supermodel game. No self respecting straight man plays that game. Even I don’t play that game.

Am I reaching here?

And then all his little quirks and the conversation came back. The overtly neat things, the interest in theatre, and the fucking tight pants and oh this one time he told me:

“Oh I’m kinda weird. I like a lot of things that women like. I guess that’s why we can get along so well.”

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Yeah, take your time. It took me half a year to figure it out. And henceforth, I shall rename myself. I will no longer be the Constantly Dramatic One. I will be “the Dumb Beyatch who Dates Gay Guys”.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could I not see this? Why was I so blinded? Am I reaching here?

I had a thing for a gay dude…or at least a sexually-confused dude AND THEN at-least-sexually-confused-dude played me and now, he’s in motherfucking San Francisco having butt sex with some American and waving the gay pride flag during Mardi Gras!

This is bullshit. My life is bullshit. It’s a whole lot of bullshit that been thrown together and labelled as my life.

But hey, at least it’s not me. I mean, it’s not my fault I’m not a gay man. And have awesome tits and a working vagina instead of a dick. If I ever meet him again…I will let him know that what happened was okay and give him a hug….and then we can go shopping together.

After all….every fag needs a hag.

A gilded cage

I’m back. In Malaysia.

But I won’t be around for long.

Instead of elation and perpetual joy of being home and around the people I love and care for- I feel nothing but misery and yearning. Okay….alright, “misery” and “yearning” is kind pushing it. I’m more “miserable” and forcing myself to look happy. Here’s the thing that I’ve learned after being away:

I don’t belong here anymore.

I know that this sound pretentious to those that have never lived away from home before but its true. I haven’t been away for long but the moment I got here I realized that no, I no longer belong here. I moved away and time, as I - being the spoilt and entitled bitch that I have always been, naturally assumed that time will stop moving for me. That I would come back to a life that was the same as it was the day I left. My room would be just as messy, my mom would just be as naggy, my dad would be as nauseatingly overprotective, my friends would just be a phone call away and life would be just as wonderful, if not more. Isn’t that what holidays are for?

I was wrong of course. As I has always been most of my life.

Time did not stop. It went on without me. People moved on and I came home to a life that I am no longer part of. My room was not messy the way I left it. It was clean, spotless; you can eat a fucking burger off the floor and not be constipated. It was never like this when I was living in it. My things were missing. The stuffed toys that have been there since I was still cycling around the neighbourhood at 9 to my first heartbreak in high school and the ones that I hugged and kissed over and over again while I profusely apologize to their glassy, lifeless eyes for not being able to take them with me were missing. I asked my mom where they were. She said that she have given them away. “You’re too old for toys now”.

My mom gave away my childhood friends. She didn’t ask me, she didn’t tell me over our Skype conversations. She gave them away. The lifeless toys that I have imbued with personalities and who have been my only friends, back in the day when I had none and bullied for being the only fat kid in the class. The lifeless toys that I thought of with a smile on the long flight home. She gave them away. And that was that.

True...I am too old for stuffed toys. But old friends, toys or not, alive or not, deserve more then a fate in the hands of an ungrateful child or at least a goodbye, from an old friend….who have been away for a while.

My things were not at were it was. My mother, decided that even after decades of living in the room, I still have not found a suitable place to keep my things. So she rearranged my room. Putting things at different places then I had originally done. I am sitting in my room now but yet I can’t find a thing. It is my room. And no, I can’t find a thing. The whole purpose of a room is to have your privacy and to showcase your personality. She moved my things around and now I felt like my privacy has been violated. She put away my artwork because it “gets dusty out there” and now my walls are bare. It’s like living in a hotel room. But worst. Hotel rooms have no memories of your previous life. This one does, but yet it shows off none of it. And that hurts.

Freedom is, for lack of a better word, a drug. One taste and you’re hooked. I had my taste of freedom when I was living alone. I had the freedom to wear whatever I want, cook whatever I want, come home whenever I want. And then suddenly I’m back here again and all that is taken away from me. Suddenly, I can’t even come after 11pm. I feel old. I feel older then I what I really am and yet these people, my parents are putting all these restriction on me. You don’t give somebody a taste of freedom and take it away. It’s not that easy.

Being an Asian kid, dealing with parents with the single-mindedness of the Asian parental supremacy no longer bodes well on me. I can no longer tolerate these restrictions of movement, this subjugation of identity and the oppression of free thinking. I can no longer do this. What was once a safe haven is no longer one. I have seen what my wonderful life was really before I left, it was nothing but a gilded cage. I was blinded by all the shit that my father’s money could buy and I didn’t question much. As long as I have that kick ass shoes from Nine West, that sweet dress from Dorothy Perkins and a pair of brand new diamond earrings from Tomei for my birthday, I am set.

I am no longer that spoilt, materialistic bitch. Some things have changed. People changed. I have. My parents didn’t. The longer I am here, the more I realized that I can no longer be here. I can no longer abide to be with them, to see them see me as the child that I was and not the woman I’ve become. My place is not here. My life is not here anymore.

Even friends, they moved on without me. Getting married, getting jobs. Forging lives that I am no longer part of. I am home in my home country but I don’t feel like I’m home at all. I am a pretender, living in a strange room that not long ago used to be mine, in a family that could not see me for who I’ve become.

And I’m miserable.