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Thursday, July 31, 2014

Articulation VS Context

There are many words that are interchangeable within each language itself, but there are also words that should stay isolated to themselves, because even if they mean the same thing, the context in which the words are used present different meanings. Especially in such a society of scrutiny, one mistake in articulation could provoke a lawsuit.

For example, the word "false" and the word "faux". Faux is the French word that means false. However, these words are seldom interchangeable, as it would be quite offensive to address a prized faux fur coat as a false fur coat. Likewise, you can't fauxly accuse someone of a crime.

Let's bring in another word with a little bit of a heavier meaning. A slut and a whore may seem the same thing, and they are usually used hand-in-hand. However, a whore is someone who actually makes a living from her sexual encounters, while a slut is just a woman with the morals of a man.

Similarly, a transgender individual and an effeminate male are two completely different individuals. Just because of religious or faithful opinions, you can't merge them together.

I've pretty much never had a problem with people within the LGBT community. People are entitled to being comfortable with being themselves. Being brought up in a pretty traditional Chinese family, homosexuality was taboo, and boys who were effeminate would be cruelly made fun of.

One of these boys that I cruelly took part in bullying turned out to be one of my best friends, sharing passions for Japanese culture, cats, and make-up. There are only a few whom I reach out to during my darkest and most confused and afraid of times - he is one of them, though I've come to open up more than I ever have with my current partner.

Social media and university has further opened my eyes to the LGBT community, and I find that it's harder and harder to stomach how so many people are still anti-LGBT, and some go as far as to boycott an incredible talent JUST BECAUSE they act different than everyone else.

We keep telling each other "to each his own", and everyone's different. I find that for the LGBT community, they're their own unique type of different - they're no different than anyone of us, because they too are their own limited edition.

I'm writing this not meaning to offend anyone, but I had someone address my best friend as an "ah gua", which translates into transgender in common Cantonese. All in all, what I'm just trying to say is that some words are best left to be used in their respective contexts. And I'd be really grateful if people pointed out some mistakes that I make myself in this field of vocabulary.

Friday, July 25, 2014


It's been about 2 years of beating around the bush and engaging with not-so-decent relationships with a handful of different guys. I finally meet one guy who has actually been with me through my emotional catastrophes and loves me for everything that I am, even if my past kills the both of us sometimes.

We're 5 months along and still going strong, if not stronger than ever. But that doesn't mean things have been smooth-sailing for us.

There were issues in between ourselves that we resolved in a somewhat peaceful way. Some scuffles with family members. Emotional breakdowns in between everything. And we still end up cuddling and nuzzling each other.

I finally found someone and learned to appreciate someone who constantly strives to give me only the best, when I reassure him again and again that all I need is his time, love, and attention. I can finally look at someone, past every flaw and blemish, and internally ask myself what I did when to deserve such a perfect person.

You know you love someone when you feel as hurt as they do when you hurt them, and you finally realize the importance of tolerance, honesty, and self-improvement. While many might say change should be for yourself, why not let someone you love be your motivation to change for the better?


Wednesday, July 9, 2014
















Sunday, July 6, 2014

Money is the root of modern problems

I've come to realize that my blog is more active when finals are near. Perhaps it's because I'm so insistent to put off studying that I'd find more things to do, hence, I have more things to blog about. And usually, posts like these come out to be a huge jumble of incoherent thoughts.

I got my first job at around 15, but that job was pretty much an administrative/office job at a relative's office, so I didn't have to worry about the resume, the ass-kissing, all that. I always got my salary on time, which - at that time - was like a bonus to me, because it was more money during my school holidays.

My next job was when I just graduated high school, and was waiting for my exam results to be released. Instead of enrolling in a course ahead of time, then risk having to go through all the paper work to change courses because of qualification complications, I found a job at a cafe/restaurant 5 minutes away from home. It was the job that really challenged my patience and tolerance, and it was the (only) job that provided me with the satisfaction that comes at the end of a day of long and tedious work; and the job that showed me that earning money isn't easy.

I'll continue to say that I'm still on a monthly allowance, with gas and toll fees paid for. So to say that I'm financially independent would be blatant lying. I've always had an extra allowance while I worked every job (except for my internship, where I survived on partial charity, meager savings, and a stop on cigarette purchases).

For all the work that was done, and the little earnings I got that went straight into the bank... well, let's say I think for ages before spending on anything, even food.

I went for dinner and coffee at Mont Kiara earlier, and for those who don't know, Mont Kiara could be considered one of the places where the rich people hang out, because ... it's the place where many expatriates live, and all the expensive condos that are bigger than my own double-storey are pretty much there.

After coffee at LewisGene (I'd only commend the ambiance - too expensive for mediocre coffee), we headed back to the parking lot, not forgetting a trip to the loo. Within the tiny, dark-tiled room that they call a washroom, I encountered a group of four girls - dolled up for the night, and by the looks of it, are rich enough to afford regular visits to beauty salons.

Now, I see these girls often enough on campus, and they don't bother me. I was in my tattered denim shorts and a tee, with my hair pulled back into a high ponytail. My fringe isn't long enough, so after a while, hairs will start falling to my face. In other words, I looked like a mess.

When I was done with my business and proceeded to the sink, I felt four pairs of eyes scrutinize me, and I felt sneers and scoffs. I was so self-conscious because I suddenly realized that I didn't fit into this part of society. As much as I want to be rich and recognized, my casual attitude toward dressing up didn't fit.

Well, I'd dare say that all girls want to be pretty - who in the world doesn't want to look their best? Sure, I'd love regular visits to nail parlors, spas, hair salons, and pretty boutiques. I'd love to spend my weekends throwing my money away on food that has been jacked-up 500%. I'd want my appearance to be perfect, and all my photos and check-ins to be at the hip places in town.

But I know how hard it is to earn money. I know how much hard work, frustration, and putting up with bullshit goes into that little bit of money that isn't even enough to pay for daily meals, let alone luxuries. Sure, I could just stick my palm at my mother and ask for money to pay for something that I don't need, but that is just wrong.

A lot of us are too pampered now - we get basically everything we want, because our parents grew up with almost nothing because their parents couldn't afford it, and now they want to give us the life that they never had.

At the drop of a hat, cash is handed over, then spent within seconds, on things that end up vanishing as quickly as it was bought. Few youngsters now are exposed to actually having to work for their money, and thus, the perception on the value of money has vanished.

While I spent most of my childhood and adolescence going through several hand-me-downs, and DIY-ing practically everything; a lot of other girls and guys had brand new items on request. Sure, I'd want that Michael Kors bag as much as you do, but I have a fake Longchamp that works well enough for me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that too many people are so spoiled that money means nothing to them - it grows on trees for them. I'd have to argue with myself for a week to decide on whether I should get some Starbucks, or heck, even Chatime, but others can pay for a cup of MYR30 coffee just to check-in at the location.

I'm slowly losing faith in humanity...

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Deja Vu

This psychological phenomenon is defined as delayed response of your brain to the current situation, hence making you feel like you've seen or experienced the current situation before. However, I grew up defining deja vu as the phenomenon where scenarios in your dreams take place in your reality.

This has happened to me a number of times, but they were mostly scenarios where I was spacing out, or staring at a particular object or person, and usually, my next reaction would be exactly the same in real life as in the dream, up until I tell someone about the deja vu. Though it amazed me, I accepted it as a fact that we humans have some kind of 6th sense, but it doesn't appear as how the movies depict it.

My dreams are seldom "normal", and are pretty much never stable. Sometimes, even the most vivid of dreams would slip away in mere seconds after I wake up from them, no matter how much I replay the scenario in my mind. Those that remain are only snippets of the entire dream, and over 10 years of consciously remembering my dreams, only a few scenarios remain retrievable from my brain.

Just a mere few hours ago, deja vu hit me in a way I never would have imagined would ever happen. It was a dream that happened a few years ago, though I can't remember exactly how many ago. It was that particular part of the dream that stuck with me, and there was this gut feeling that I couldn't explain, but nothing really happened from it... until just now.

In the dream was a very specific layout - toilet bowl beside a sink, and on the edge of that sink lay a two pieces of clothing that resembled undergarments. Just above the sink was a small ledge for products, and a large mirror. On the perpendicular wall hung a jumble of fabrics. A shower was turned on to my right, and I stood on the right of the toilet bowl, facing toward the sink, staring.

I then shifted my sight to the floor - black and white textured tiles, in a particular arrangement the entire floor were black tiles, with the exception of a rectangular strip throughout the bathroom that left another black border at the edge of the entire floor. My line of sight included the door, which was a screen door of frosted glass - closed.

As I continued to stare to the floor, a male voice beside me asked what was wrong. He asked if I was alright. When I didn't respond, he spun me around to face him. That's when I moved away from him to stand at the sink, staring back at him. Meanwhile, he continued to ask what was wrong, and tried to comfort me. I remembered a very large object that sat on the right side corner of the bathroom, to left of my original position, and there was a protruding ledge above that area.

I remember being gripped with some kind of panic, or disbelief at something, because I had my hands over my mouth in ... confusion? That's all I remembered of the dream, and I never summoned the memory, until it hit me like a meteor crash.

It came to me so vividly it scared me, because I remembered feeling a very close relationship between the guy in the dream and me. Each detail, despite trying to defy the dream, was reenacted with my every move, every glance, and every word; and somehow his reactions were exactly the same as well.

My usual deja vus are usually starting at the roots of a tree nearby, or overhearing the same snippet of conversation between two people while spacing out in a public place. Those held me pleasantly surprised, though that faint delight in quickly dismissed by the continuing of life.

The impact is real, because I've never felt as solid with someone in a relationship as I am today. I've never been as determined to make a relationship work as I am now, and the fact that the setting in the dream was in his bathroom convinced me that my own brain predicted that I would be with this amazing guy at one point in my life or other.

For years, I've dreamed of fairy tale romances, pre-told destiny, and the involvement of a superior force other than what man is capable of. My fairy tale romance did come true, and my destiny was indirectly pre-told by my own mind, but it did not arrive as I expected. Despite the meltdowns, the harsh words, and the abuse in between, I've never felt happier. And now that this has resurfaced, I'm reassured - at one point or another, we are meant to be.