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| On Downelink.com (or as I refer to it as "The Yellow Pages") when you're filling out a new profile, there's a question asking who's your idol. My response was this deep, Hallmark-esque answer of "Be your own idol." Lame, I know. But it wasn't until just one and a half weeks ago that I start to find my true answer. My idols are my mother and my grandmother. It wasn't until one week ago did I realize the strength of these two women in my life. Grandma (婆婆) passed away on Monday, late afternoon. Today's the wake; tomorrow the funeral. My grandmother was diagnosed with cancers (yes, plural) back in December and underwent all the chemo and radiation. There's no need to say that the battle took a toll on her body. The image of her as I grew up was but a shadow of the past. She still had her spirit, but I could tell there was a lot of pain that she endured. Fast-forward to the past month and she ends up going into the hospital due to inflammation in the colon. She doesn't want to stay there and after nearly two weeks of hospitalization, in which she celebrated her Chinese birthday based on the lunar calendar, she goes home. From what I heard from my aunt, my grandma wasn’t happy that she had to be in the hospital for her birthday. It’s not auspicious to say the least. It’s 1-something in the morning of October 28. I’ve had about 2 hours of sleep so far. I’m awoken by cell’s ringtone and all I hear is my sister frantic in her speech, telling me to come to the hospital immediately. Grandma’s gone into the ER. Not even a week from being released, she returns to another hospital. It was a tough sight to see. The doctors don’t know what happened. My family and I stand by her bedside and are lost as to why her eyes don’t close at all. No blinking, a deer caught in headlights but filled with agony. We talk to her, eyes locked on the heart/respirator/blood pressure monitors, but there’s no response, just labored breathing. The next time I go to the hospital, I hear from the doctor that she had a cardiac arrest and it resulted in damage to her brain, heart, and kidneys. Hearing the word “kidneys” shoots me back to when my mom was in the hospital. I was 8 and she ultimately died of kidney failure. I never got to see mother again after she was transferred into the ICU. It’s a hard decision a family goes through to decide the fate of one person’s life. The DNR papers are signed. We just wanted her to go on peacefully as she could. We know she went through so much suffering and she didn’t need to go through more, she didn’t deserve that. I make my visits, again watching the monitors, watching the nurses empty out the respirator tubes because they keep filling up with water. We wonder how long she’ll last, how long she’ll keep holding on. Saturday. Every time I visited I said already my goodbyes as if it was final. The respirators need to be taken out soon, as grandma’s been in ICU for nearly a week, else further complications occur. Today is also her Roman calendar birthday. She’s one year older. Part of us knew she’d be a trooper and live on until this day passed. It’s been decided that I won’t be there when she does go. I couldn’t bear it. I say my final goodbye. One of my childhood fears came to life. I’ve always been afraid, while growing up, what would happen if my grandma died. I thought I wouldn’t know how to carry on, how to live or function. But I’ve grown up. I can take care of myself. I will go on, with the memory of her in my heart. When I said goodbye, I wasn’t looking at her on her hospital bed, so weakened by all she’s been through. Instead, I closed my eyes and thought of the happier times when I was still little and relied on my grandma for so much. I thought of the memories of me playing with my grandma, me running around like the little duckling she fondly called me as “Ah Dee”. Of all things, I thought of one picture of my grandma, sister, and I sitting on the couch at her apartment; me as a cross-eyed baby who was being watched and cared for deeply. We were so small and we were her pride and joy. I know she was, is, will be proud of us. She carried me on her back when I didn’t know how to walk. When I learned how to walk by myself, she held my hand crossing the street. At that age and height, I would look up at her. At my age and height now, I was looking down to see my grandma but forever, like my idol she has become, I’m still looking up.  | | |
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| This past Friday, I had job related appointments to go to and had some free time between them. To pass the time, I went into that place with the mermaid logo, bought a drink and sipped on it while I began to write. I usually don't write out my thoughts, more of the type-into-a-blog-because-I'm-lazy guy, but the words flowed out and my hand was just skimming the paper. It's filled with sentence fragments and clearly shows why I had to take the SAT II Writing test 3 times, but I ended up writing all of the following:   
I've taken the laborious task of transcribing it into readable text. If you can read my cursive though, more power to ya' 
Here goes everything: ------------------------------------------- (1) -I’m waiting for my 12PM interview (why didn’t I schedule it for early!?) and drinking a grande Java Chip Frappucino -Pomade from Bedhead or “you got 2B” that has pheromones; description apparently for the attraction of ladies -Nipple action; my iPod changes tunes so easily when placed in a suit, jacket, or shirt pocket (it’s not the best DJ in the world) -It’s such a different mentality and world (people included) in Midtown; I definitely like lower Manhattan much more; it’s more laidback and not filled with people that seem so full of themselves just because they have money (so many corporate people here) – therefore I am a suit-hating suit -Listening to “Golden” and it’s one of the pick me up songs; Jill Scott rules! -Looking at people on the subway in the morning in, I have to wonder why so many people don’t put effort into what they choose to wear to work; sure I hate to get all dressed up for work (still looking for that casual dress finance job!) but at least I do my best to look nice. It’s more so the guys, I see them just so schlumpy (word? maybe Yiddish?)...like wearing button down and whatnot but ugly tie or not tied well at all; in talking about ties, I think I need to be a bit geeky and get clip-ons ‘cuz tying a tie is not a skill I’m good at (I think I spent a good 5 mins tying, untying and adjusting) -Should I be a paralegal? (2)
Sidetrack: looking at my handwriting, it’s definitely got more sloppy; sure I’m just speed writing now but it’s like back in school after a summer of not writing notes and whatnot daily, I just can’t write. Holding a pen/pencil becomes awkward feeling but at least that callus (on middle finger) where my pen would rest lessens a bit! Lol Note: should scan this writing in to compare to economics and chemistry notes to show organization of graphs versus writing chemical formulas; mention how you can’t print for shit Random thought: why can’t I just have a job to write like this; no pressure and I can just people-watch while drinking Starbucks which I shouldn’t be indulging right now :( -Looking at guys in jeans, straight leg, is like the hottest; unfortunately I got hips and thighs so that’s never worked out well…plus I’m short :( Addendum: I need a nice firm round ass! What I have isn’t good enough -Fuck! I need to pee and the bathroom’s busted -Should sing and record something to play in the background of blog -It’s so funny to see people just carrying their ID cards, like some guys were wearing it on their belt even while in the subway..can’t I just get your name and do some investigative work to find out about…I don’t know..your address, job, what type of dog you have, favorite ice cream flavor (3) ß wow, 3 pages.. I’m amazed with myself -Shit! I think I just caught myself writing and about to stick out my tongue :P (old habit, no idea why..I think it’s ‘cuz I get so focused or zoned out that I let my mouth muscles go slack…I think for the same reason, sometimes I catch myself drooling..yep, I’m soo a catch! haha) -Been writing for ½ hour so far..just one hour to go before next interview..fun! :/ -Wanted to write about how as energizing Pride can be, I think I was a bit down because of the couples and whatnot; if you were to ask me about finding a bf like a week or so ago, I would’ve been like “I’m not at a time where I think it’s a good time for me to get involved; sure it’d be nice and all but I shouldn’t actively pursue anything unless I’m more stable in my own life” ironic -Whatever happen to Des’ree? -Funny comment from someone about how, especially when I’m standing, I’m always seemingly posing (it’s really because I have no idea what to do with my arms/hands so I cross them..but also you never know if cameras are around. I love candid photos but I’m not photogenic all the time; in fact most of pictures are taken of/from my left side because that’s my good side. I have a beauty mark on my right cheek. Vanity indulgence moment. Should I get rid of my beauty spot/mole? Sis says it makes me cute. ------------------------------------------- I love how I write things like "sidetrack" or "addendum" as if the rest of what I wrote was one cohesive piece. I'm including the recording below, which I actually did this morning after realizing my throat was a bit scratchy and gave a nice timbre to my voice. I really wish I had a backing track to the song, Feeling Good, but music would just throw me off, like when I do karaoke. That's not to say my cover of it here doesn't suck :p
This post has to be one of my weirder ones. Definitely. | | |
| Exhausted and burnt, pretty much the tag words of what four nights of going out culminates to. Celebrating Pride here in NYC had taken its indulgent toll on me physically, mentally, and even emotionally. Here's a quick blurb on what went down: Thursday: Went to Pop Rocks for their $1 drinks, even with bad weather brewing. Rain or moonshine, I schlep my ass out to party when I have to. Pretty much get felt up by friend and another guy, jokingly of course, but I'm too tired already to defend myself. They molest away. Went to this Korean deli afterwards with said peeps, got home around 4ish AM. Friday: Attended a get-together of sort at APICHA, non-profit AIDS/HIV organization, where I started my dancing for the night much earlier than expected. Speakers and an iPod, that's all you need. Afterwards, headed to The Web where the Asians came en masse. In my six years of going to that club, started when I was an innocent 18, I've never seen that many people there. For you folks out in Cali, maybe this isn't big deal for you, but for me to see a couple hundred of gay asians in one spot just enjoying themselves, I'm glad for it. God damn, there was two freaking lines to get in, something that's never happened before! Management definitely was smart in raising the cover. The club closes at 4AM and I didn't even start my journey home until 4:30 only to end up getting home around 6-something. It's just weird to get in the subway when it's still dark and then pop back out when the sun's already in the sky. Yeah, pity me for my commute. I accept cash or check. Saturday: Definitely wanted to live up every night of Pride weekend, especially since I didn't go the parade two years in a row, so after some planning I was to show up at Avalon aka the renovated Limelight aka the church. Actually, swung by a friend's place first to pre-game. Let's just say with me being 'por, I'm glad my friend and another guy bought all my drinks that night. Danced? Check. Sweated? Check. Kissed a guy? Check. It's amazing how these events bring people together 'cuz I saw someone I met a year ago and he totally recognized me. I also saw the famous ekin and was happy to see that he was out clubbing and enjoying himself. According to what he has to say, I'm not the wallflower I claim to be as shown by a picture he drew on my Facebook:
He apparently was also trying to escape me when I spotted him. Why? I assume I was just too fierce. I leave at 3am because I know I needed that sleep for the parade the "next day"; got home around 4ish. Sunday: The big day arrived and I didn't even have an outfit ready. The gay asian (i.e. me) primped on his hair for quite some time. The parade starts around noon, all the way up in 50-something street and ends up that many blocks and more South. I was fashionably late by half an hour and still was able to catch the beginning of it ala Dykes on Bikes. It's always nice to see the gay people just everywhere on the subways coming into Manhattan. I stood in the harsh sun and watched people do their thang for about four hours. I said "burnt" before but I really meant I got sunburnt as you'll see at the bottom. The parade is so long that my camera's battery died about half way in. After that, I went to eat 'cuz not only was like a teacher's pet for gold stars in terms of thirst, I realized I hadn't eaten anything in 24 hours. In that whole time, I just drank. In fact, I woke up that morning with my face red. My friend then dragged my ass to the piers, into the horde of people, while I was walking/strutting with my gay/man bag I bought in Shanghai. Hours later, I'm walking through Chelsea and the menz are just all out and about. Good times, good eye candy. I finally plop into bed around 3 AM. Well since I took them, I might as well show you the pictures of the Parade  Photo-vomit time!  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
After it all (the clubbing, drinking, dancing, parade watching, tanning, and guy checking)...
So Pride somewhere else next year? | | |
| Blind Items Are Fun What little kimchi boy, whom my sources insinuate is a less-than-perfect husband for his trolling presence on cruising sites (such as adam4adam), has been peeking into my blog...possibly for a bit of recon? Doesn't he know that he's just a minnow swimming into dangerous waters? -----------------------------------------------------
Curious, Curious (Mouse Trap Game's Cheese Update)
I'm quite entertained by how you readers don't really know what the above writing is about or who I'm condemning specifically. Instead, as a friend pointed out to me, I've got you guys being flirty with me  My, my. Read into the lines my friends...by now, you should see the answer.
What I do find most laughter-inducing, and I actually did out loud, is that I set a trap and it was sprung by my target. Now the question is, why would someone dress up in sheep's clothing to wander my fields when it's so clear that he's a wolf? I'm not a stupid guy, but he may just want to look into a mirror for one.
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Hi-lar-i-ous Just got home not too long ago from a good night of clubbing (drinking, dancing, sweaty crowd, guys wanting to kiss me, scratch marks on my body...the usual) and the sundae that is my evening just got its cherry on top. I'm fucking amused by a comment I received for this continuing post. It looks like Rosie and Elizabeth aren't the only ones making a ruckus. But you know what? I'm just still laughing it up, along with other people in the know. In fact, I am more than satisfied because my point was made and nothing could better strengthen my stance on writing whatever I feel like. It is my damn right and something I hope everyone does with their own blogs and whatnot. Go read some Steel if you want romance.
Clearly, what I've had to say has pushed a few buttons and it makes me want to throw out some more questions. Why the fuck read my blog then? Why be a coward and have new/empty accounts to comment and check up on what I have to say? Why care if I'm just a nobody who's "never again" (a totally original allusion of course! and omg, loved Kelly's performance of it on Idol) to be involved with? Doesn't someone understand the notion of deliberate verbiage? I don't know the answers because apparently, with my brain, I'm only capable of using juvenile figure of speech and composing sad little notes. Woe is me. I think I'll be all emo and write a haiku about it. The flop's been shown, the turn card is down, what's left is the river. Time to bet and it seems like I should play along :) Couldn't figure it out? No problem, I love to help and have stressed the clue I already wove in. For what it's worth, I'd like to think I've done Mr. Michael Musto proud. All in all, I'm with Nelson on this... HA HA | | |
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