i’ve been told i write well on numerous occasions, it’s always been kind of a niche of mine. i don’t do a lot of things very well, and i will admit my writing is still very far from good, but writing is basically the best of a collection of mediocre things i do.
and i like writing, i do it everyday. how can i not when no one in real life bothers to listen? like almost everyone else with a modem, i express myself through the internet. even when i’m not at the computer i go through my day to day activities and i document them in writing, i narrate the things i do, the things i see, the way a person would write a blog. it’s weird, but it works.
i like to think in terms of writing (not necessarily temperament or attitude) i have grown a bit. i used to be such an angry, angry person. anyone who once saw my previous blog would agree, it is NOT the blog of a happy person. it is the blog of a person who should not be allowed within a hundred feet of flammable things. or things that go “BOOM!”. or sharp objects. or gasses of any sort. basically i should be put in a straight jacket and be deep freezed. or heavily medicated. i should stop now.
i’m not really an angry person, i just prefer to pent things up, pouring my feelings into a barrel (mind barrel, that is) until they overflow like a disgusting sewage waste. THEN i blog, and when i do it i do it with much gusto and rage. but then i stopped because i got too lazy. a year and a half after i stopped blogging, i got started again, wrote sporadically until my boyfriend found my blog and liked it. ever since then he’s been giving me wave after wave of relentless motivation. thus the more frequent writing.
i don’t usually think about my audience, i just write. but recently it has come to my attention that a certain unsavory character have been reading my blog.
i get that there’s no such thing as true freedom of speech, i don’t mind if people disagree with the things i say, but i would prefer that those who disagree with my writing not be the same people who have the mental capacity from the 60’s and would not hesitate to beat me up and breaking my things (i still have a scar on my lip from the previous encounter and my netbook has never been quite the same).
i don’t intend to stop blogging, but i can’t continue to blog here, it wouldn’t be safe at all. i raised this issue with my boyfriend, and he got me another account. this time i am keeping it completely anonymous. he promises to buy me my own domain if i kept up blogging as frequently as i can for a month. let’s hope i can do this.
i feel bad about leaving here, i do love tumblr. it makes writing so easy. but i guess it can’t be helped.
sorry, guys. thank you for reading. i guess this is me.
i haven’t been on lately because there was a death in my family. okay that’s not entirely true, i just didn’t have anything interesting to talk about. even now i didn’t really feel like writing, as i’ve cremated my grandmother just this morning, but then i thought i should talk about the death. should be therapeutic, at the very least.
my maternal grandmother died in her sleep monday night. which is a good way to go, i suppose. better than dying of some infection in the hospital after some lengthy battle and worrying your family. or whatever is the fashion these days. *shrug*
initially i didn’t want to see her body. the last (and first) death i saw was my great grandmother (mother of my late grandmother) and we had an overnight gathering at her house as per chinese tradition. i still have nightmares about seeing my great grandmother. i didn’t want to remember my grandmother like that, cold and pale in her coffin filled with flowers and incense, mouth slightly agape, not breathing. i wanted to remember her as my adorable rotund naggy grandmother.
i declined when my mother asked if i wanted to see her. but one of my sisters turned malicious and started insulting me, calling me a bad granddaughter and that i’m some kind of bitch and such. it’s okay though, dealing with small minded people is something i do every day, so i didn’t mind too much.
it’s not like i can escape seeing her, anyway. just like the last funeral i attended, i had to stay over my grandparent’s place for the night. according to chinese tradition this is to ensure my grandmother’s soul that each of her immediate family is healthy and okay when she comes back to visit her body. i was surprisingly calm about seeing her, though i did cry at first. i suppose i’ve come to terms with death a lot sooner than most other people. which is considered “insensitive” to some people. i don’t know. whatever.
one thing i remember most about my grandmother was that she was always so “in” with the trends. despite being completely chinese AND 68 (i think) she knew who john travolta, tom cruise, katie holmes, david hasselhoff and all these celebs are. she’s always up with trends and i remember she would always get to the point in a funny way. i remember the last time i saw my grandmother, a couple of weeks ago. i’d lost some weight and my aunts were commenting on it and she went straight to the point and was like “amanda, how did you lose so much weight and still have tits like THAT?”. that’s my popo.
i’ve always said that my paternal grandmother taught me humility, honour, manners, respect for the elderly, and reservedness. my maternal grandmother taught me not to take life so seriously, to look at bright sides no matter how bad life gets. she taught me it’s okay to be flamboyant, to be open to new things. my maternal side was the perfect yang to my paternal side. which is why i am the way i am.
i’m sad that she’s gone, of course i am. but i’m happy she’s gone from such a cruel world. i’m glad she didn’t have to live to encounter rude teenagers and see any more violence, fiction or otherwise. i’m glad she won’t need to see her friend’s obituaries, or have to attend anymore sad funerals. i’m glad she died knowing her grandsons would be useful men in life, if not successful, i’m glad i got to hear her tell me how beautiful i am, something i’ve never heard from her before. i’m glad she’s not suffering anymore, and if people ostracize me because of that, then so be it. fuck them.
kids are in such a hurry to grow up these days. i have my eleven year old cousin on facebook, and every few days she would update her status on how much of an asshole her boyfriend is, sometimes she would flirt with other guys on her facebook, sometimes her relationship status would fluctuate between “in a relationship” to “single” and back again.
look at justin bieber (15), willow smith (9), kaitlyn maher (4, -_-), kendall kardashian (15) miley cyrus (she was 14 when she started i think?) hell they even made sixteen year old taylor lautner into some kind of steroid ridden mass of muscle before he was even done being fucked over by teen angst and puberty. have you seen the poor guy in interviews? the. guy. e-nun-ciates. like. a. mo-fo. he’s trying so hard to be cool and hip and stud material that it’s a bit sad to watch him struggle NOT to fumble with his words.
i don’t know why do they keep making these child stars. it’s not like britney spears or tara reid and lindsay lohan are doing philanthropic work or getting into college and being good pillars of society. aren’t these people a good fucking example that maybe, JUST MAYBE a child star’s life isn’t good for a developing brain? that kids shouldn’t grow up thinking they’re the hottest shit around and they could do anything they want, put down anyone they want, and STILL get what they want?
and what’s sick is that these kids always start out wholesome and cute, naive and innocent. eventually these kids are going to grow up (and by eventually i mean two months to a year) and they’re going to want to start setting up their sexual image to appeal to a wider audience, without even considering their young fans. and then the lifestyle of this sexual image would catch up with them, they appear on the news/gossip sites, and from there on it’s all downhill. then rehab. rinse and repeat with most child stars out there. i’m sure there are some exceptions out there, but not enough to tip the scales.
people wonder why i initially wasn’t planning on having kids for like, ever. would you want to bring kids into a society where hip thrusting sixteen year olds in tiny scraps of nothing prance around stages dry humping older male dancers and gyrating on stripper poles? would you want to lie in your bed being worried that your 14 year old kid would be snorting coke or smoking a joint in the school locker room? maybe even having sex already?
i’m not saying a little experimenting is bad, everyone experiments. i know i did. i’m just saying i’d like it very much if my kids aren’t watching the news and tv shows and start thinking that their lives suck and that i’m a bad mother just because i don’t let them smoke when they’re 13, or because i won’t get them a fucking car on their 16th birthday or have them spend $300,000 on a party with fucking diddy in the dj stand.
don’t lie to yourselves and say this won’t happen. it’s happening even now, with you. you watch shows with over privileged kids mooching around in their bentleys and over indulgent (read: stupid AS FUCK) parents handing them american express cards like money is as abundant as hydrogen, and you think “man i wish i had that…” and then that thought evolves to “why can’t i have that?” and in the end, your mind ends with “wait, WHY aren’t my parents like that?”. and then the resentment starts. don’t pretend, it happened with all of us. just that some people come to terms that not everyone is an over-entitled spoilt brat with guilt-ridden divorced parents. other people move on to buying guns and shooting random people in the head. or something
don’t even fucking GET me started on the glamorization of teenage pregnancy in modern media.
also, i didn’t want kids because they’re pain in the asses in ALL ages, but hey this is a good, valid point, i think.
ahhhhh venting felt good. can you believe all that came from a single video of willow smith?
why are unattainable things so fucking attractive? i want that coat. i want that ipod. i want that plane ticket. i want that VAIO. i want that car. i want that house. all are inaccessible simply because the numbers in my bank account don’t match nor are they larger than the figures on the price tag.
fuck money. fuck capitalizing, money grubbing companies making me covet things i do not need. fuck peer pressure and rich brats showing off their shit and making me jealous of them.
why would i need a coat? i live in the fucking equator, our version of winter is a flooded drain and people complaining about laundry not getting dry. why would i want an ipod? i don’t even LIKE apple. why would i want a plane ticket? i don’t have the fucking visa. why would i want a VAIO when my current netbook is perfectly suited to my needs if not more? why would i want a house? i’m always scared of living alone anyway.
being logical about these don’t make me want them any less, though. i don’t like the materialistic part of me, but it’s what every girl has to deal with, i suppose. trying to be happy with what i have is a battle i have to go through every day.
i want that fucking coat.
[link to purchase is HERE. i am not affiliated with the buyer in any way]
- remember that little kid you were friends with back in your nursery? that little scrawny kid with no front teeth, who’s always sweaty and dirty but acts all superior because he’s one year older but shares his little toys and cookies with you and pushes you over everytime he’s bored?
or your cousin who bullied you when you were 3?
what about that kid from elementary school who was so fat they wouldn’t give him one of those plastic chairs, but would insist he sit on the sturdier wooden ones?
or or or! that kid your mum made you play with because he’s your mother’s friend but you don’t want to because he keeps making you show him your “cunny” and eats his boogers?
yeah these kids are no longer virgins. now imagine them having sex.
- what is a wood chuck? why would anyone be hired to chuck wood, and even if they did why would it matter how much wood a wood chuck would chuck even if such a profession existed? if you ask me i think we should stop focusing on how much a wood a wood chuck could chuck, and just focus on the more pressing topics in life.
- i did some researching (read: lurking in yahoo answers) on a whim today and i saw some articles on why some white guys prefer asian women. the gist of it is that we asians are brought up to be more submissive and polite, and thus appeal to the neanderthalic, conquering nature of white men. also, apparently we are less inclined to cheat and are more respectful. the petiteness of asians in general helps too i suppose. i like this stereotyping. i like it quite a lot.
obviously i am ignoring the people who say we asians are white wannabes because we dye our hair and get surgery to look more “white”. or those who call us money grubbing homewreckers. so anyway.
- i used to be scared of zombie movies. i put them right up there with Ju-On and The Ring and all those other very scary shit your pants nightmare movies. but recently i have been stuck on playing Left 4 Dead 2 and i must say…… there is an appeal to smashing dead beings with meelee objects. i am now downloading zombie movies. this abrupt change in views trouble me somewhat especially if you take my temper into consideration.
i once had a fight with this girl. and i dont remember what she said, exactly, but basically what she meant was “you’re so self-righteous, you think just because you dont believe in god that makes you superior? you’re going to hell, and i’ll be watching you from heaven.”
first of all, isn’t it funny that the person who called me self righteous tells me she’s going to heaven and i’m going to hell?
i find it incredibly offensive. i don’t particularly believe in any god, but i do think having a god, someone you can turn to in your time of need “if you just pray” is a beautiful idea. i think having a higher being to look to is beautiful. i respect that. never once have i ever thought myself better than people with religion. however, i do try to debate with them, to see how strong their beliefs are, to see if i can sway them, to see if they really do have answers for all the inconsistent facts put out there. if they do, good for them, if they don’t then… well, whatever.
and who’s to say having a god gets you into heaven? is belief all you need? what about the atheists who happen to be active philanthropists? do they get to heaven? or do they spend an eternity in hell just because they were too logical to believe in something they cannot see? what about jewish people? indians? Buddhists? these people grew up being told they should believe in their own god. and even if you did somehow convert them, what happens to the time they spent in their previous religion? does the slate get wiped clean again?
and what about the priests who were being accused of being pedophiles? they believed in god, so do they get to go? or the upper class rich people who prefer to have a whole third world country starve to death and exposed to the elements than donate money to them? because god forbid they miss out on a couple of thousand and would have to settle for a smaller blood diamond studded crucifix and not have their Prada suits for church, right? child abusers and molesters who are devout christians? what about those?
if you tell me all i need is to believe in god to get into heaven, i ask you: would you want to share heaven with those the pedophiles and child abusers?
stop judging what i believe in, and i’ll leave your religion alone.
i don’t like Macs. goddamn brain washing shiny overpriced computers… but my boyfriend is a little mac faboy, and sometimes he likes to talk about those infernal machines, and that gets on my nerve because i am a PC girl but i don’t know enough tech talk to counter his stupid MAC-DOS rants.
admittedly i am always the one instigating these little debates (for no reason at all, usually) and he usually owns me in all of them, but that’s because he’s gay as a rainbow, dammit.
but anyway, 4 ways you can make YOUR boyfriend shut up about his precious Mac.
- threaten to break up with him until he shuts up about it and/or get a PC
- sex withholding always helps.
- sometimes i do this just for the fun of it (i am not a good person), but if he has a brother, express a fervent desire to have sex with the brother. his mind will be so consumed with insecurity he won’t even bother with his video games,let alone anything else. if he doesn’t have a brother, switch to the father. if the father died a while ago…. even better.
- this last is very risky should be done ONLY as a last resort: get a magnet and quickly slide it past the hard drive of his Mac. be sure to just use a weak magnet, or he’ll suspect something when his Mac starts going on the fritz the moment he turns it on, you want it to fuck up SLOWLY.
these should shut him up at least for a little while. you’re welcome. unless you’re a Mac fan, too, then i guess you guys can take turns blowing steve jobs. maybe one of you can toss a coin and see who gets the dubious (to me, anyway) privilege of giving him rimjobs. go you.
do you remember when you were younger, and your mother would sit you in front of a little potty and watch you while you try to push a turd out?
and incidentally a few hours before that, you had taco bell, so in no time you filled up like three potties and two buckets worth of smelly kiddy feces and your mum starts cheering you on, telling you what a good boy you are and how proud she is of you? right before she starts crying at the thought of having to clean all of that up AND wipe your ass?
i think it’s safe to say that your little marathon right there would be a yardstick of what your mother expects from you. every time you have to go potty she would be there with toilet paper in her hand and eight buckets at the ready, and she would look at you expectantly.
that’s kind of how i feel right now.
i’ve been trying to write every day for the past…. five days or so, and it’s not easy. i have topics in mind, content somewhat planned out, but i cannot for the life of me write it down. ideas - plans of execution = useless. i need help. and tips. and maybe a ghost writer.
so…. how now brown cow?
psst, wanna know another secret?
i’m currently working in a cyber-cafe. it’s not a job i’m proud of, but who doesn’t hit a low point every now and then? it’s a job, and it keeps money coming in. good enough for me for the moment.
the most disturbing part of my current job is the sheer amount of kids skipping school. we have a strict “no uniform” rule to keep out the cops and what not, but the kids only circumvent the rule by bringing clothes and changing into them.
but on a more troubling note, i also get to see how violent these kids have gotten.
there’s this little kid, about eight or so, whose parents toss him into the cyber because they couldn’t be bothered to take care of him properly. they just come in with him, hand me enough money for him to play for four hours, then leave and dont come back until his time’s up. i took it upon myself to keep watch over him as best i could, so sometimes i would go over and watch him while he plays games.
one of his more favorite games is Left 4 Dead 2. for those unfamiliar with the game, it’s a post apocalyptic game. with zombies. and blood. lots and lots of blood. hardly something you would want an eight year old to go near. but boy, you should watch this kid play. he goes through the hordes of zombies like they were stationary stoned out cows with bulls-eyes on them, whizzing through the obstacles and taking out zombies with head shots like they were on sale and he is a shopaholic bent on wearing out his credit card.
but then there was this once, when he just went through a horde of zombies and no more were coming in just yet, i saw him pick up a machete, and just hack at a dead zombie for about two minutes. just…. hacking at it passively, like he had nothing better to do.
that was pretty creepy.
and once i saw him play Taxi (it’s a game. you are a taxi driver. not exactly rocket science), and he was against the clock, but the boy just… drove around trying to run over as many pedestrians as possible. i asked him if he knew he should be following the arrows, and he said yes and shrugged, then continued with his massacre.
i don’t know what the younger generation is gonna be like when they grow up, but i do NOT want to stay and find out.
have you ever spoken malay to a chinese before?
it’s funny, because not a lot of malays (in fact, none from what i observed) look chinese, but every now and then you get some chinese guy/girl with non chinky eyes and dark skin, they seriously just look…. malay. and if you work in the service industry where you’re required to make split second judgments, you just.. go with whatever you feel, you know?
this happens to me quite often. but not always by accident. most of the time i sussed out the other party is chinese, but i talk to them in malay anyway. if any of you guys haven’t tried it before, you really should.
(to those not in the know, Asians are -in my own opinion- quite racist and very proud of being AZN)
what happens is first they look at you like they don’t understand you, then their nostrils flare out with mighty indignance, the eyes get narrowed, and they start shitting out little slips of paper with little chinese proverbs written on them.
for most of you guys who have never seen the last part, don’t worry about it. practice makes perfect, it’ll happen if you get it right.
and the beauty of it is that you can do this to ANY asian people out there (i just pick chinese because we have those in an alarming abundance here). and if you ever assumed a vietnamese girl was thai, or a korean girl as japanese, or any combination of asian out there, you would definitely know what i mean. these people can get so indignant over racial issues they shit bricks.
as i am typing this i have a gun pointed at the back of my head by a stranger, he demands that i write a tumblr post every day or he would blow my head all over the wall.
oh wait.. that’s not a stranger, that’s my boyfriend.
but anyway, unspeakable abuse being dished through the virtual world aside, i am making a little promise to myself to write at least one short post every day, starting today. wish me luck.
(and please, for the love of god… send help)
condoms! yes, condoms. don’t go without ‘em, folks.
PSA by the author.