Letting my guard down

Let me first begin by saying that I am not jaded and bitter.

Of course, now having said that, half of you are rolling your eyes, and giving a good chuckle. But honestly, being jaded is not in my nature and it is not something I would want to be. However, when it does come to relationships, I have always been somewhat leary. Cautious might be the more appropriate word, but the idea of being in love with someone so deeply has always been somewhat foreign to me. I know, it really is a sad thing to say, but it is the truth. I came from a family, where open displays of affection were not particularly common. Family life was sometimes traumatic and painfully disturbing, and I am sure it set a psychological and emotional precedence for my life. Thinking back to all my relationships, it is hard for me to know if I was truly in love with any of them. I realise that this had a lot to do with my fear of rejection and abandonment, but that is something I have been working on and believe I am overcoming.

When you have had so many things happen in your life that either hold you down or kick you to the curb, it is hard to put trust in other people, but more so to allow trust in yourself. You find it hard to believe that you can be loved when those you had loved hurt you. It’s not rocket science. It’s emotional scarring and the need for self preservation, and it is the truth. A truth that I have realised and am still sorting out.

Having said this, I have found myself in an unusual situation. I have never dated or gone out with anyone for more than a few months whereby at some point I begin to get bored, or begin to question the validity of the relationship. I have also never lived with a partner or spent more than a few days consecutively day and night. It usually gets to that stage where you start to pick out qualites you don’t like in the person and wonder if you can live with them. You take the glue away from the relationship and it unwinds faster than you can believe. It often was a welcome thing for me, as I could then pull away and not commit to trust or love. I was far to rational and logic to believe that love was something that could fulfill something in you. Oddly enough, it has now been 3 months since I met Rib Breaker, and I have gotten cold feet once for about 10 minutes. It quickly dissappated when I saw his face and received a hug. I really hate sounding sappy and gushy, but he makes me happy and has literally been with me everyday since we met.

I admit, that I by definition have never been a very demonstrative or emotional person. Well, the truth is that I never let people believe I was. Emotions were a sign of weakness and irrational behaviour, which I realise is a somewhat chavinistic, machismo attitude. It is something that I have been working on, and again something that I attribute to that fear of letting my guard down, and trusting myself.

Luckily, Rib Breaker is easy-going, laidback, intelligent, unassuming, unpretentious, funny and incredibly sexy. He is an incredible person and so much more real than anyone else I have ever met. We don’t take anything too seriously and believe humour and laughter to be the basis for our relationship.

Yes, the early stages are often filled with gushy feelings and ridiculous displays of affection, but I am enjoying it, as I have never before. There is a passion here now that I have never felt, and I don’t want to quell it. I am curious and want to explore the options. It should be an interesting adventure.

A New experience

Let me first begin by saying that I am not jaded and bitter.

Of course, now having said that, half of you are rolling your eyes, and giving a good chuckle. But honestly, being jaded is not in my nature and it is not something I would want to be. However, when it does come to relationships, I have always been somewhat leary. Cautious might be the more appropriate word, but the idea of being in love with someone so deeply has always been somewhat foreign to me. I know, it really is a sad thing to say, but it is the truth. I came from a family, where open displays of affection were not particularly common. Family life was sometimes traumatic and painfully disturbing, and I am sure it set a psychological and emotional precedence for my life. Thinking back to all my relationships, it is hard for me to know if I was truly in love with any of them. I realise that this had a lot to do with my fear of rejection and abandonment, but that is something I have been working on and believe I am overcoming.

When you have had so many things happen in your life that either hold you down or kick you to the curb, it is hard to put trust in other people, but more so to allow trust in yourself. You find it hard to believe that you can be loved when those you had loved hurt you. It’s not rocket science. It’s emotional scarring and the need for self preservation, and it is the truth. A truth that I have realised and am still sorting out.

Having said this, I have found myself in an unusual situation. I have never dated or gone out with anyone for more than a few months whereby at some point I begin to get bored, or begin to question the validity of the relationship. I have also never lived with a partner or spent more than a few days consecutively day and night. It usually gets to that stage where you start to pick out qualites you don’t like in the person and wonder if you can live with them. You take the glue away from the relationship and it unwinds faster than you can believe. It often was a welcome thing for me, as I could then pull away and not commit to trust or love. I was far to rational and logic to believe that love was something that could fulfill something in you. Oddly enough, it has now been 3 months since I met Rib Breaker, and I have gotten cold feet once for about 10 minutes. It quickly dissappated when I saw his face and received a hug. I really hate sounding sappy and gushy, but he makes me happy and has literally been with me everyday since we met.

I admit, that I by definition have never been a very demonstrative or emotional person. Well, the truth is that I never let people believe I was. Emotions were a sign of weakness and irrational behaviour, which I realise is a somewhat chavinistic, machismo attitude. It is something that I have been working on, and again something that I attribute to that fear of letting my guard down, and trusting myself.

Luckily, Rib Breaker is easy-going, laidback, intelligent, unassuming, unpretentious, funny and incredibly sexy. He is an incredible person and so much more real than anyone else I have ever met. We don’t take anything too seriously and believe humour and laughter to be the basis for our relationship.

Yes, the early stages are often filled with gushy feelings and ridiculous displays of affection, but I am enjoying it, as I have never before. There is a passion here now that I have never felt, that I don’t want to quell it. I am curious and want to explore the options. It should be an interesting adventure.

Puppy Power

I've been sick and I've not been in the writing mood. I blame it on the damned power outage I had this past Sunday and my inability to stay warm for 12 hours. So instead, here are some pictures of my baby. Well, she's not a baby, she's a dog. She's 13 years old and a nut just like me. But isn't she cute?


Babooshka or is it Not Without My Daughter?

Camera shy Kalyx
New booties and coat




Christmas Kalyx

Quick excerpts that I forgot to mention.

Thursday Jan 13, 2005

My hair was all nappy and big, and as close to an afro as it gets. My Project coordinator at work also made mention of it, and gave me a complex, so I had to go cut it. I went to see my Vietnamese hairdresser, and upon sitting she proceeded to ask how my holiday was. This was the conversation:

Hair Dresser: Oh, Hi Alex! Good to see you! How was your holiday?
Me: Good thanks.
HD: You see lots of family, or just see friends?
Me: Both. I had some small gatherings with friends, and had Christmas dinner with family on the 25th and on the 27th.
HD: Oh that nice. You eat a lot?
Me: Well, I guess. I cooked Christmas dinner for the family. there was lots of food, because there were 14 people. Then on the 27th, my brother and I cooked for 29 people.
HD: Oh, That a lot of people! So you eat a lot then. I can see!
Me: You can see?
HD: Yes. You more round in face, and fatter in body. Holiday fat.
Me: (staring blankly): Oh...
HD: Oh no! It look good. Much better now. You clothes fit more nicely. Before you so skinny like skeleton.
Me: (staring blankly): Oh...

The remainder of the haircut was silent. I paid her, gave her the usual tip and left.
That night I had a salad.

Scissor Sistors Concert

Scissor Sisters Concert

10:10pm @ The Guvernment

It was a fucking cold Monday night in Toronto, and my balls had literally retreated into my throat on account of the -36 degree celsius cold front. I would have been content staying in with the dog and a warm cup of tea, but I had a date with the Scissor Sisters for an evening of sexy rock and funky disco at the Guvernment. I am glad I braved the frigid weather, as this was by far the best concert I have ever been to, and I wasn't even on drugs.

After having made 2 trips to the venue (I had to return home to get my forgotten ticket), I entered a room full of energy and excitement. The crowd was energetic, eclectic, friendly and very sexy. After listening to the opening band, we all waited with anticipation for the Scissor Sisters to come on stage. We were'nt dissappointed by their entrance. With a fanfare of chic and glam, the band came on stage to a whole lot of cheers. I don't think anyone in retro has ever pulled off skin tight polyester pants the way this motley crew has. The band exuded an incredibly sexy glam-groove that was both casual and entertaining at the same time. You couldn't help but bump and grind to the music, no matter what sex or gender you fell into. Gorgeous Jake Shears, the lead singer looked like a cross between the boy next door and a whorish dirty fag. His sex appeal was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was circumcised. The third thing you noticed was the incredible voice and range of Shears.

Ms. Ana Matronic was as much a sassy diva and bitch as Shears and really got the crowd going with her antics and feistiness.

These guys have style and presence and really know how to rally up the crowd. I was not immune and found myself dancing and grinding with both girls and guys. It goes without saying that the crowd was totally sexed up by the end of the night. I had to tell 2 girls I was gay when they had their hands wrapped around my ass, but that didn't stop them, and by that point I didn't particularly care.

The Scissor Sisters, cross not only the sexual boundaries of homoeroticism, but also the boundaries of music, often incorporating the sounds and styles of Abba, Bee Gees, Freddie Mercury and Elton John. What is phenomenal about their music and their stage presence is that they palatably combine 70's funk, 80's tackiness with over the top theatrics, that have completely upstaged a music scene that has become stagnant and a bore with tacky pop bands. It's no wonder that they have been labelled U.k's #1 band and album.

I look forward to their next album and tour. Won't miss it if it is -50 celsius.

Parental Phone calls

I just got off a very frustrating and confusing call with my mother that went something like this:

Me: Hi Mum.
Mum: Oh Hi! How did you know it was me?
Me: I always know it’s you mum. I have caller ID.
Mum (in a perplexed tone): Oh yes. I always forget. I just wanted to call and say hello and to tell you I just got the new phone and am testing it to see if it works. But, I can’t tell if it does?
Me: Umm, you’re talking to me on it right now?
Mum: Yes. But it is so confusing with all those instructions and terminology I am unfamiliar with!
Me: But mom, you’re talking to me right now using the phone, so it must work!
Mum: Oh?...Oh! I know that, but it was confusing all the same. I just didn’t know what they meant by handset and base until sometime later! Handset is the cordless thing, and the base is that thingamajig that sits on the table. Did you know that?
Me: Umm Yes Mum, I did know that. Wait, I thought you were speaking about the new cell phone you ordered?
Mum: No. The new phone for my house I bought. Did you know I also cancelled my Bell voicemail? This phone has everything on it like a message recorder and caller ID and it was a good deal. I just wish it were simpler to figure out.
Me: So, did you get the voicemail part working?
Mum: No, not yet. I don’t know how to do it. Do you? Oh, did I tell you your father is at your brothers place downtown? He went there to watch the house as the construction people do the repairs.
Me: Yes, he already called me to tell me he was there….bored. (that was another interesting conversation!)
Mum: Oh your father is always like that. Did you know that I cancelled my Rogers internet and changed it to the cheaper one which was originally $48.00 and is now only $30.00? I think $48.00 is a lot and I don’t need it for my emailing…..

The conversation went on like this for another 3-4 minutes. Even if I had been paying attention to her and remembered the rest of the disjointed conversation, I wouldn’t bore you with it. I love my mother, but she has a wonderful knack for calling while I am busy at work to talk about a whole lot of nothing.

She’s cute, I have to give her that.

Dissappointments

I've realised with some hesitation, that I am to the Chinese what the anti-Christ is to the Christians.

No, I was not some demon child bent on raising hell (though some may disagree), but I also was not what my parents had in mind when they had a child. I think every Asian parent believes that their new bundle of joy will also bring them a bundle of cash; That their newly swaddled child would bring wattles of cash; That their bouncing baby would study to become a successful doctor, businessperson, dentist or lawyer.

Little did they know the shameful path I would take - I am what you would call a disappointment to my parents. well, maybe dissappointment is a harsh word, but I definitely did not maake them proud to be parents. I am sure they would not say this to my face, but like most Asians, would do it in gossip behind my back.

Instead of a successful son in business, married to a beautiful fruitful wife, with 3 children (mostly boys), I turned out to be a whorish fag, who studied Psychology & Art History and theory in University. I suppose I redeemed some of my parents respect when I went back to college for I.T studies, and now work as a data specialist, but the fact of the matter remains that I did not turn out the way they wanted. My older brother (god bless him) is a successful Analyst, married to a beautiful kind wife, with a new home, who is I am sure well on his way to conceiving a child in the next few years (well his wife, not him). The pressure has been somewhat alleviated, and I am glad for it. Nevertheless, I feel terrible that the entire genealogical onus is now on my brother to be the one that bears our fathers’ name.

Anyhow, it was shameful enough that I didn’t pursue medicine, but as a child I was horrendous at arithmetic, and every person knows that Asians are mathematical geniuses. Sadly, my year-end average would still have been a fail if I reversed the digits. In an effort to make me more Asian-friendly for presentation to friends and family, my parents put me in piano studies, which again was a foolish attempt on their part. After 7-8 years of study, I quit upon reaching Grade 3. I was not a very astute pupil.

My parents during family or social gatherings would try to stay quiet about my studies and piano lessons. However, Asian families love to compare their children and highlight each childs' achievements in an effort to determine the hierarchy of their childs' intelligence. Of course when doing such a comparison, one always starts with the best or most intelligent child. I still remember one such conversation:

Mrs. Li: Oh yes, son number one now in gifted class. Get straight A’s and finish Royal conservatory for piano. Maybe now study violin. Son number two now get scholarship for school. He also play at Kiwanis festival. Win prize for piano! How your son’s do? Must be finish piano now after 6 years play!

Mum & Dad: Well, Justin is doing really well with straight A’s. His piano classes are also going very well, and he is now in the gifted class as well! He is also very good at sports, and has joined the math and chess clubs.

Mrs. Li: Oh fantastic! How about Son number 2?

M&D: Yes, well Son number 2 is a very...what would you say he is? Um, a very creative child. He also has quite the fascinating character, with many interesting qualities.

You know it’s bad when your parents are trying to inflate or boost your achievements by using adjectives to make you sound less retarded. It's like pimping your resume to make you sound more educated, experienced or qualified.

I still remember Report Card Day, when report cards were handed out, for us to give to our parents. Who does such a thing? I was terrified, and upon opening it to see a plethora of C’s, D’s and the occasional E, I decided it would be a brilliant idea to use Liquid paper to cover them over and write in a more acceptable grade. Completely oblivious to my own stupidity, I also decided it would be completely unnoticeable if I liquid papered the scathing comments section:

Alex , although bright, is , often lazy and un willing to do homework. His lack of focus is evident in his lack of rewards and accomplishments in class.

I looked upon my handy work and thought how brilliant I truly was, and how my teacher was more of an idiot for failing to see my hidden genius. I thought the mark of an intelligent man was in how they covered up a major fuck up. Of course, my parents weren’t stupid. They knew something was up, upon opening an already opened report card to see half the report card covered in crackling lumpy liquid paper. It might have worked a little better had I given the liquid paper time to dry, instead of trying to score the letter into the moist liquid paper like a kid carving his name in wet cement. Needless-to-say, the whole plot blew up in my face.

In a way, I feel sorry for my parents. To have dreams of a successful child dashed on the rocks of reality. A number of years ago my parents confided in me that they actually thought I was retarded (their words, not mine). Apparently, as the story goes, when I first came to Canada at 9 months old, I would bang my head in the crib so violently like an autistic child that the crib would move across the wooden floors to the other side of the room. This story brings no end of laughter at Christmas parties and family events where they reminisce about our childhood follies. I think they actually tell the story to comfort themselves and say,

See, how retarded and crazy he was? Now, he is doing quite well. We really must have been exceptional parents, because we took the retarded ness out of him. We are truly amazing parents!

Yes, Mum and Dad, you truly are! Thanks and I love you!