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.

Of things that are pissing me off during the finals: Part 4

You know what pisses me off? Okay to be fair…..a lot of things piss me off. I am easily irritable. Some poor fuck look at me the wrong way and I’ll be pissed for days. I should start taking anger management classes, but that is not the issue here. Since this is my blog, we’re not gonna focus on my anger problem. We’re gonna focus on the fuckers that are pissing me off right now, at this very moment.

 

 

I’m gonna talk bout show off blogs.

 

 

You know………………those kinds.

 

 

“OMG! I went to the mall today. I bought pink toilet tissues to wipe my smelly ass with!”

 

 

*insert picture of said pink toilet tissue*

*insert picture of blogger’s smelly ass*

*readers collectively die from the sheer stupidity and fuckery of it all*

 

 

Really bish? Really? Is it really necessary for the whole goddamn world to know that you bought this and this on that and that day? Reaaaaly? Reeeeeaaaaaaly? Is your life so motherfucking mundane that buying random, worthless, fugly, cheap-ass shit need to be blog about? Reaaaaallllly?

 

 

I mean come on!!

 

 

There are exceptions of course. If per’se, you just bought your first house, your first car…these are life milestones. Then by all means; take photos. Blog about it. Go crazy. But does the collective world really need to know about how you went to One Utama today and bought Big Apple Doughnuts, complete with pictorial description of each doughnut? Is your life that sad and void of neither importance nor significance that buying doughnuts just became the highlight of your motherfucking week? Realllly? If it is then damn son, that is some sadass sssshyit. If you are running a shopping blog then yes, blog away bout the things you just spend your hard-earned money on. If you are running fashion blog, then yes, do tell us all about your adventures in the Jimmy Choos store in downtown London. Or wherever. I just made that up.

 

 

But really come on. Once in a while it’s fine to do that shit. Once in a while. Not all the motherfucking time. Blog about something else for a change. The weather perhaps. Your bowel movements. Your pet koala’s bowel movements. Something else other then how much money your drop today to buy that fugly-ass bag. You are more then the shit you buy. Don’t let your purchases define who you are cause that’s just sad. This whole fuckery of blogging of things that you have bought just to upped someone else and to show off that you are super-d-duper rich is just sad okay.

 

 

Cause, guess what? Wealth comes and goes and that shit you buy could or could not be pawned off. But genuine wittiness and talent for the dramatics such as the one I was born with could never be bought. So got sit in the corner with your 1000$- something bag and have a conversation with it while I entertain everyone with my amusing stories and become the life of the party. As I always am and you will never be.

 

 

So blog about that for once and stick it in your 1000$ bag. You pucchiaca.

Freeeeeeeedddoom!!!

I'm baaaaaaacccccckkkk!!

Okay to be fair, I'm not even sure that you guys were even aware that I was missing. Haha. But I have to complete 3 assingments that were due on the same day. 

1500, 2500 and 4000 words each. All on the same day.

You'll abandon blogging too dude. But on the plus side, I don't have finals. Just crazy ass assignments. I just submitted all 3 on Monday, slept all on Tuesday and now I AM FREEEEE!!!!!!!!!! Sem have finally ended for me. Freeeeeeeeddddommm!

Fuck yeah.

Blogging will be back to regular scheduling. And commenting is also back on. 

Fuck yeah!