Que Sera, Sera

I don't know. This blog is full of sadness. It's also full of hope. However, it's full of sadness nonetheless. Perhaps that's kind of why my writing has declined for this blog. It's a reminder of my sadness, which perpetuates the sadness... I guess I can stop focusing on the sadness and start focusing on the positive aspect of my life, which would hopefully steer the tone of my blog towards the opposite way.

For the most part, I've been focusing on my travel blog. It's new, so no relative effort is necessary to prevent it from falling into a negatively-toned pattern. I think at the moment, I will focus on that blog. It's currently what's fueling my writing. The future as my muse and hope. Doesn't sound nice?

Until I'm ready to write in this blog again, you can find my most recent blogs at:
http://thetravelingthought.blogspot.com/

Who knows? Perhaps once I come back from my study abroad trip, I would have found myself and the creative muse to revive this personal blog of mine. Until then, I want to focus on an aspect of my life that is giving me hope. For that you can find me here.

A tout a l'heur mes amis,
Kenneth

HIV Scare and Bad Doctors

On my last post, I wrote about my fears of having contracted HIV. I acted irresponsibly during two occasions and linked an event that followed as a consequence. It was the uncertainty that scared me and having to wait a whole week before getting tested in order to improve the accuracy of the test(s).

Last Friday, I changed doctors from the one my parents had me signed up for (a pediatrician) to someone that dealt more with adults (an internist). When I got to the doctor's office they actually told me that the doctor I had switched to was an "attending", which meant she supervised new doctors doing their residency. For me, this meant that I would be seen by someone recently just got their medical degree. She was a this petite Asian doctor. I felt at ease at first, but once I started talking about my reasons for being there things got pretty ridiculous.

I am the type of person who won't keep things from my doctor. It may be uncomfortable to disclose certain things to complete strangers (even a doctor), but I know that in order to get the best service, I had to be honest. I flat out told her that I am sexually active with men and that the reason for my visit was a routine physical along with HIV and STD tests. She asked me questions and I would answer them completely and honestly. However, it seemed to make her feel uncomfortable how honest I was, which made me somewhat uncomfortable. The whole time she was asking me her set list of questions she was looking at the computer screen; no eye contact whatsoever. She seemed more preoccupied with reading me her list of questions rather than my actual well-being.

Then came the time for her to do the physical. She told me to get undressed. I asked her if she wanted me to completely undress or just down to my underwear. She said whatever I felt like, if I wanted to get checked down there then to completely undress. If not, then just to my underwear. In the back of my mind I'm thinking, "Um, I want a complete physical, what do you think? You're the doctor, you should know what I need to be checked for and how to do it." She then basically dashed out of the room seeming somewhat flustered and not completely shutting the door. Hmmm. Yea, okay. Fucking prude. I just started laughing to myself. When she came back she said, "Oh," with a high intonation as if she's surprised that I'm laying down on the examining table completely naked. I don't think she really knew what she was doing. After less than a minute, she told me I could get dressed again and we'll start talking about the HIV and STD tests when I'm ready.

When she came back, she told me to just go downstairs to get the tests done. And that was it. She didn't tell me anything else about what sort of tests they were and what sort of STDs I was getting tested for or any other supplementary information I should have/know. So I looked her straight in the face and asked her, "What sort of HIV test is it? Which generation? Is it ELISA or the 4th generation PCR test?" Her flustered response was, "Oh, I don't know. I think we have ELISA. Let me check with the attending doctor." Then I rebutted, "I mean, is it the rapid antibody test or is it the 4th generation test that actually detects the virus itself?" She left for what seemed like 5 minutes and came back saying, "It's a blood test. And yes, it's the latest generation of HIV test." She said the last statement triumphantly (with a slight smile on her face) and slightly defensively as if she proved herself to me that she knew what she was talking about and still had a credible opinion. I could tell that she was somewhat unnerved that I made her seem uninformed with my questions. I called my insurance the next day and asked them to change my primary care physician.

Two days after my encounter with Dr. Prude, she called me back to tell me that I didn't have HIV or any of the other STDS I got tested for.

After this whole ordeal, I think I'm going to be celibate for a while.

I'm Positive

"I'm HIV+"
"I'm HIV+"
"I'm HIV+"

As I stood in front of my bedroom mirror this morning, I whispered the same statement to myself. I was thinking, "Can it be true? Can I really have caught it? What the fuck was I thinking? Why did I do this to myself?" I keep on thinking of what I would do if it were true. Would I tell my parents? My family? Of course not. They would see less of me. I would no longer be their son. I would become the reinforcement to their misconstrued stereotype that all gay men are diseased. Can I do that to them? Can I really take away from them the hope and dreams they have invested in me? I can't. It's the second coming out story I just can't share.

I look in the mirror and the same person as the day before, the day before that, and the days that preceded all these days. I look at myself and see nothing of this disease. I see a 20 year old college student soon to be 21 and soon to be going on an adventure to Europe. On the outside, I'm the same person as before, but internally I could possibly be fighting a battle.

Why did I hook up with this person on Grindr? Why did I hook up with this person grabbing his crotch on the train? I took all these risks for nothing more than an hour's worth of an adrenaline rush. I gave up my identity for the thrill of spontaneity. It's stupid. I'm stupid. I can't stop but blame myself.

It has been two days since both of incidents occurred. Yesterday, after waking up from an hour nap at work, my throat felt sore. It was somewhat difficult for me to swallow compared to usual and the lymph nodes on both sides of my neck were tender. It's so bizarre to think that my symptoms started while I was asleep for an hour. Perhaps it was evident before, but I just did not notice? I was somewhat chilly, are chills a symptom of an STD? I don't know.

I've spent all of last night searching for the incubation period of all the common STDs and trying to figure out when I should get tested. I looked up the early symptoms of each common STD and tried to match it with mine. "Sore throat and swollen lymph nodes...," two out of the six early symptoms of HIV. My search only worries me even more, yet I can't stop as I try to find any reassurance I can of it being nothing more than a cold. My worries make it difficult for me to sleep and I wake up with tight muscles. Great, another symptom: muscle tightness. I try to convince myself that the sore throat/difficulty to swallow is probably just because the second guy kept shoving his dick way past my tonsils: over and over. I made sure to not swallow and I rinsed out my mouth just to make sure (since they tell you not to brush your teeth or anything). Then I try to rationalize the swollen lymph nodes on my neck. Nope, I'm definitely sick. It's just a matter of what I'm sick with.

I'm scared and I'm worried. The incubation period for all the common STDs (along with HIV) is from one week to three months. This means I have to wait at least a week to be accurately tested for some, but not all, STDs. It scares me and it worries me. I keep wondering why I allowed myself to be put at risk. I keep telling myself, "I'm HIV+," in order to prepare myself if it were true. However, if my results do come out positive two or three months from now (with the Nucleic Acid-Based test), nothing can truly prepare me for the emotions I will feel at that point.

This has made me face my own mortality. I am human and I am vulnerable to this world. It's astonishing and I wish it wasn't true... but it is.

Andiamo! (Let's Go!)

So for the past few weeks I've been preparing myself for my study abroad trip to Rome. I've been trying to get all the necessary paperwork done for my visa, school, and flight in order. Also, I've been working on a my travel blog (My Travel Blog), which I will be utilizing much more during my time in Europe. Also, I've been working on attaining a scholarship for my trip, which includes an essay portion. For the essay, I had to include:

• How I would benefit from the study abroad program
• What impact would the scholarship have on my study abroad plans
• How my presence in the program would enhance the program environment
• How I plan to finance the trip

Right below, is a draft of my essay. Any constructive criticism and/or suggestions you can provide is greatly appreciated. :)
---------------------------------------------------
<Edited: October 20th, 2011 @ 4:40pm>
       There comes a time in our lives when we realize our responsibility for the world we live in. We come to acknowledge the potential we have to improve society for ourselves and our posterity. From this, a desire is born to learn from a world larger than ourselves and have an proactive influence upon it. From my studies, I hope to learn from the new ideologies, people, and challenges I will encounter. Being a non-native English speaker, I hope to provide a unique perspective that my peers can benefit from. Ultimately, I look forward to embracing the cultural disparities I encounter and hold myself accountable to a world different, but united through a human commonality. I hope to learn, share, and befriend those I come across regardless of physical and political borders.
    During my stay at JFRC for the 2012 Spring semester, my expenses (i.e., tuition, room and board, fees, etc.) will be afforded by money I will have raised working a part-time job during the semester preceding my expected departure, a private student loan, and a monetary amount my mother (my only income-earning parent) can contribute. This scholarship would provide me the opportunity to see more of the world (and greater community), in which I wish to be more of an active participant. This scholarship would prove to me that there are people who share and support the same philosophy as I do in improving society through knowledge and its dissemination through education and social interaction.

My Grandmother Had a Stroke

It has been a while since I've written... I know that I start every post with a similar phrase if not the same. Oh well, it gives my blog a sense of uniformity I guess. In any case, I haven't really had anything to write about. I go to school and I go to work. I make money, then I spend money I should be saving up for my trip to Rome, Italy. People ask me what's new with me and I really don't have an answer for them. The events of my life have been undulating from minor highs to lows. My love life has been non-existent and I am satisfied with that. Nothing in my life has really stood out in the past few months.

This morning, my mother told me that my (maternal) grandmother had a mini-stroke. It made me realize that life is always moving. Things break down, fall apart, and sometimes they can't be perfectly mended. It made me realize that if anything did ever happen to my grandmother... if she were to die, my family would push a generation forward. My parents would then be at the forefront of life, the ones that would be face to face with mortality. And once they are gone, it would be me, my sisters and I, who would be leading our family towards an uncertain future.

My reaction to my mother's news reminds me of Camus's Meursault who started the novel L'Etranger by saying, "Aujourd'hui, maman est morte. Ou peut-être hier, je ne sais pas." There's a sense of apathy or perhaps an inability to the sensitivity of the matter. I cry when I see tragedies in movies and I become anxious when I hear of misfortunes happening to others distant from me, yet when things happen to me (e.g., illness or death of someone close to me), I feel numb. I feel no reason to cry, to worry, or to even feel sorrow. This is the woman who raised me from early infancy to the age of five while my mother worked abroad. She was basically my surrogate mother since birth to the age of five. I remember her taking me to the fish markets during the weekends. I remember the mornings when we would sit on her veranda in the countryside and watch the sunrise. She loved me unconditionally and gave me unconditional positive regard... perhaps even more so than my own mother. However, I am more focused on asking myself questions than actually feeling vulnerable. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism of mine to not suppress emotion, but to completely rid myself of it.

Perhaps, in truth, I have no sympathy for anyone but myself.

My Life in a Rant

This is my life (currently) in a rant:

I'm currently going to school for psychology and advertisement/PR. I also currently work in retail. In the past week, I've realized how much of a slacker/failure I've been. Sure, I have a job and school on my plate, which can be overwhelming, but at the same time I feel as if I've been pretty relaxed about everything; I don't believe that I've stayed ahead of the game. I'm falling behind in certain things, but staying afloat has kept me ignorant of how much I'm struggling to do so. There's still so much space for effort, yet I've not applied myself. I'm coming to this realization and it makes me feel ashamed of myself a little. This isn't necessarily a bad thing since it has made me realize that I do care. I just have to act upon that concern.

I love my retail job. The people I work with (for the most part) are very friendly and welcoming. Sure, there are those that are pretentious and could not be bothered to even say hello or give a cordial smile, whatever. That's their problem. As long as they're satisfied with their lives and personality, that's cool. I'll stick with the people who I can smile and laugh with. The job can get overwhelming at times since it's technically my first serious retail job and basically everyone I work with has had a few months to a few years of retail experience. Whatever, I got the job for some reason, right? I deserved it. I think I'm getting the hang of it.

There's a boy at work that I've become close with. I think he's someone I can call a friend. The first time I ever met him, I knew that I was attracted to him. Sexually? Perhaps a bit. Although, I think that my attraction leans more towards wanting to get to know him, an intimate attraction per se. He has these beautiful azure eyes speckled with hints of green and hazel. He's good looking and everyone knows it. The first time we ever met, he opened up to me. It caught me off guard, but in a good way. Yes, I'm attracted to him and he has been very open to being my friend. However, he's straight. I can't act upon my attraction. It hurts a bit to know that I want something I cannot have and it's right in front of me. Perhaps it's obvious, to him or to anyone else, that I am attracted to him. But it's something I can never admit outside of myself. I don't want to ruin what he and I possibly have. If things go well, he'll be the closest thing I'll have to a straight male friend.

Working in retail has made me realize my dissatisfaction with my body. Sure, I always said that I want to be more fit and physically attractive, but nothing really pushed me forward other than some hopeful fantasy of having flat abs. Not even a six pack, I just want a flat stomach. Working in retail, especially in the city, I work alongside some of the best looking people. I think I look fat. I think that I am fat. It's not even just that... Compared to the others I work with, I just feel quite unattractive.

Brandon has a new boyfriend now as of yesterday. Good for him. I'm happy for him. How am I comparing it to my own single status? Let's admit it, we always compare our status to those of our past when things change for the better for them. Anyways, I'm satisfied with being single. Is it ideal? I honestly don't know, but it currently works for me. Perhaps I'm not ready for a relationship or perhaps no one has found me to be a good catch. Whatever the reason(s) may be, I'm single and I have myself to live for.

I can't believe that I'll be in Rome in just a little over three months. I don't think it will hit me until I've actually slept a night there and wake up the next morning; in a new place, new city, a new country. I account to the fact that I've been disappointed throughout my life for the things I always felt passionate about. For some reason, there's still this doubt in the back of my head that I'll be living in Rome, Italy in just three months. At the same time, though, I am excited. Who knows what sort of transformations I will go through while I'm there. Perhaps I'll truly find myself in the midst of a foreign world.

I'm Sick

To start off, I just want to tell you that I never get sick. Never, ever, ever, ever... Well, close to never at least (considering what's happening to me now). I never get sick during cold/flu season and I never get sick even when working/living close to someone who is sick.

For some reason, I've started to get symptoms in the past few days. It started out with an itchy throat, then a little sinus pressure. This morning, I woke up with the feeling that my throat was really really dry and my sinuses felt like they had 2-3 pounds of pressure pushing on them. Now, I also feel as if my eyes want to pop out and the back of my neck feels really strained. I've never experienced cold symptoms like this since I was like 9 years old, when it would hurt to even turn my eyes side to side.

Usually, when I do feel a cold coming along, it would just be the sniffles and it'd be gone a few days later. This, however, feels much worse. Why is this happening to me?

Oh yea. Forgot, I'm a college student. I wake up for school at 6am every morning, then head to work until 11pm. I usually don't get home til midnight... Now repeat that 4-5 times a week. I'm not stressed, just tired. Oh so tired. The McDonald's breakfast every morning and a can of Monster energy drink every night I work probably aren't good ideas either.

Untitled

Sometimes, crying myself to sleep is the only thing that helps me sleep, instead of staying awake with sadness.

Home

To me, this is home. (A photograph I took in Millennium Park)

I Wanted to Kill Myself

In the middle of my freshman year of university I wanted to kill myself.

I thought about killing myself, about not existing, at least five or so times a day, everyday. I thought of how it would be better not to feel anything or to even have a sense of consciousness... I felt constant anxiety. I felt alone.

I did reach out. I did try to find comfort in my friends. But they couldn't understand the situation I was in. I was often met with blank stares or blank promises that everything would be all right.

So what was the problem? Why did I feel like killing myself? Because of a bully.

She made my life hell. She verbally would attack me on Facebook along with her friends, she prank texted my cellphone, she posted rumors about me on online gossip boards for my school, and she would pass rumors around school. For example, she told people that I stuck anal beads up myself, that I was a whore, and she hoped that I would get an STD/STI; she posted links to my video blog on a school gossip board telling people how pathetic I was, encouraging people to watch it, ridicule it, and comparing it to a car crash that "you don't want to look, but can't help but watch." She truly put great effort into hurting me. That thought is what hurt the most: her extremely driven intent to cause me emotional harm.

I felt degraded by this girl and I felt like no one was out there to help me. I had friends and I had people that told me things would be all right, but for this specific situation I felt alone. I was alone. It hurt. I told myself that I hated her, that I wish she would just stop. But it didn't stop.

From September til October, I fell into greater depression until someone I barely knew reported me to my school about my pattern of depression. I was made to go to the psychologist on campus, who couldn't help but scribble notes on her notepad as I would pour my heart out to her. It felt good to talk to someone, but the feeling of comfort didn't last since her constant scribbling convinced me that her compassion wasn't genuine. I was nothing more than a case study to this woman.

After all that had occurred, I don't think I found immediate closure. I don't know if I ever will. I know that I've become stronger and wiser. At the same time, however, even the thought of seeing her still makes me slightly anxious.

As fate would have it, I ran into her today. I was walking with a friend and she was holding tightly onto her friend. I didn't recognize her at first, but in the back of my mind a sense of familiarity clicked. As soon as I remembered who she was, I couldn't help but look away. Her friend laughed as soon as they both passed by me...

After that encounter, I stumbled upon her Tumblr account as I was curious as to whether she has recently written anything slanderous about me. I found a blog post that showed me her vulnerable side. A part of her that I didn't know existed. She wrote about breaking down and all of her insecurities. It made me feel better after reading all she had written. I didn't feel better because I was happy for her suffering. I felt better because it made me realize that she was human too. It shattered this notion in my mind that she was some untouchable entity that could hurt me, but could not be affected herself.

No matter how much I could be upset with how she treated me, I couldn't hate her or find pleasure in her pain, even though she had driven me to thoughts about suicide. At this point, I finally could find myself to forgive her for all she had done. At the same time, I feel as if I've allowed myself to be liberated from the fearful grasp she had on me.

I'm glad I didn't kill myself.
____________________________________________
(The following is the entry written by her.)
Tonight I messed around with a substance I haven’t touched since last summer. I can’t say that I regret it, but it made me feel excited and nostalgic in some way before I even indulged in it. I’m not sure if it’s the steady approach of another year of school or the absence of my boyfriend, but the strange waves of my mood since he left for Florida some days ago have me dysfunctional and restless, but so so tired. Last night I was in the kitchen of the bar I work at, folding silverware, thinking about my life, or the lack of stability within it, and began to cry. Fifteen minutes later I was pounding shots like a champ and went home feeling pretty empty, despite the fact that I spent the next hour engulfed in a rather heavy conversation with a female ex-coworker of mine. I have always known that despite all of my battles, I am very lucky to have the life I live. It is true that the grass appears greener on the other side, but I think of all the people I know who are blessed in terms of money and familial relationships, and I realize I am so rich in experience, strength, and my ability to connect to the smallest and faintest of things. There are moments, however, like this week, when I crumble thinking about how 90% of my peers have no idea what its like to work 60 hours a week as a 21 year old full-time college student, so what - I can pay for my medical bills, receive an education for my ever promising future, and afford the rent to a studio I hardly live in? Meanwhile, I’m accused of being a golddigger and a heartless bitch roughly every 3 months without fail from a bitter kid who has not a clue who I am anymore, but somehow manages to dig up the most insane shit to slander my name a year and some later. I am in tears as I pour out my soul to this blog that I’m sure no one reads except for my crazy ex boyfriends and the insecure Asian girls who strangely envy me. Sometimes I can’t help but indulge in self-pity as I accept that this life is not at all the reality I had hoped for 4 years ago, this is not the reality I had known could even exist 4 years ago, and that my parents would be crushed if they learned that their little girl works until 5am every day because they finally lost the war. I think that it has be awful that I can’t seem to think of a person I could say all this too. My words fall not on ears but a screen, in a box with a scroll bar that keeps reducing in size as these terrible thoughts seize my mind. I wish my boyfriend was here to make me feel better, because as much as it pains me to say something so cliche and trite, his arms really are the safest place for me - where my only worries are whether or not all boys sweat this much and how late I will be to do my next ‘to-do’ if he keeps squeezing me this way. I think, if he were here, that he would scoop me up and ask if I wanted to eat ice cream. I know that I would hesitate a little bit in fear of seeming childish before I nod kind of excitedly. It makes me smile thinking about it, and again, I realize how lucky I am and want to delete this entire blog post all together. And as always, it all ends with me being a hopeless lover with a sleeve full of emotions. Sometimes I think I was born to be living in a world of rainbows and unicorns and I really hate myself. I still really hate myself actually, because if I hadn’t wasted the last hour analyzing my uncompromising feelings, I could have called him before he fell asleep and would feel at least slightly better about being a poor 21 year old who jaded long before her time. GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.

Holy Shit

Reality recently hit me. I'm basically an adult now. It didn't hit me until I went to my first day of school yesterday. For the previous two years, I've been living on campus and just coming back home for the summer. Now that I'm commuting from home, everything seems so different... more real.

I guess this is how the real world feels; living a few miles away from all your friends instead of living in the same building or even just across campus from one another. I no longer belong to that environment of quasi-reality, where everyone lives within this small bubble between childhood naivety and the unfiltered reality. It feels weird. It feels kind of sad.  I realized that childhood isn't a part of life that gracefully fades away, but something that you one day just realize is no longer a part of you. It's not scary, just sad and brings up a sense of nostalgia.

This year didn't start off as exciting as last year, and last year wasn't as exciting as my freshman year. We're truly adults now and it's surprising. In just a little over a year, I'll either have a full-time job or be living in the streets. One of my friends will give birth to her baby in less than a year... She'll be giving birth to the next generation, the generation that will take our place.  No more will there be three month summer vacations. Instead, there will be the two weeks per year sort of vacations.

Life shouldn't be like that. It shouldn't feel like this... Why does it feel like a part of my life is ending? I no longer feel the excitement I felt when high school ended, where I looked forward to what was coming next. Now, I just await the uncertainty of the coming tomorrows.

I Went Blond

As the title says, I went blond. I made a friend at work the other day. We sat at the same table during our group exercise, and we bonded over the fact that we went to the same school.

Yesterday, when she said she wanted to dye her hair, I jumped on the chance and said I wanted to as well. We picked up a few items at a beauty supply store after work and went to her dorm to do it. I looked pretty silly wearing nothing but my pants, a garbage bag over my torso, and a grocery bag over my head (I couldn't risk getting my clothes dyed and I brought no spare since it was all spontaneous).

It's welcome week, so everyone at my friends' dorm was new and every five or so minutes, someone just had to come by and say hello. And what did they see? Some boy in a garbage bag and a plastic bag for a head wrap sitting at the corner of a girl's dorm room watching Futurama. If I was on the other side of the situation, I would have done the same thing each of them did: look for a few seconds too long and look away without mentioning it. 

Anyways, the plan was to lighten my hair a bit with bleach before dyeing it a light auburn brown, so the purple-reddish hues of the color would be more prominent. We thought the color would lighten to just a simple shade of chestnut brown. Once I took off the bag, my head was golden yellow. I decided against using the hair dye for a few days just to see if I like the blond effect. What do you all think?

And to think that I did all this with a girl I met less than 48 hours ago. This will be a very interesting semester.

Let Go

My esthetician told me that I need to get my stress in check. She said that the source of my problem is predominantly a combination of the day-to-day stress I experience and the constant shifts in weather. She advised that since I can't control the weather, I need to keep my stress in check. She added that puberty is probably no longer the primary culprit in making my hormones go haywire, but constant stress. It makes sense.

I'm neurotic. I worry about things that I know are out of my control. I've always thought of the worst case scenario when walking into situations, thinking that I'm preparing myself. I'm always living in my head trying to over analyze the world outside of it. I constantly try to predict how the world perceives me, when in truth what the world thinks of me is not my business. The gist of it is that I just need to let go.

In a few days, I'll be starting school. In a few months, I'll be leaving for Rome. It's time to let go of the things that should not and do not matter. I need to get a grasp of who I am and what is truly important.

What is this Person?

I gave him another chance. Brandon that is. He message me on Facebook that he wanted me back in his life. He said he needed me in his life in whatever way he could possibly have me. He just wanted me to be a part of it. I tried once, then a second time, then this third time. I don't think it's going to work out whatsoever.

He annoys me. He aggravates me. He says shit that I question and bring to his attention, yet all I'm met with is deliberately imposed silence.

He tells me he no longer wants to be a counseling psychologist because he can't stand listening to people's problems anymore (referring to his friends and acquaintances approaching him for advice). He tells me constantly whenever we hang that he's dumbfounded as to why people come to him with their problems. He professes himself as being so approachable and how it's a problem because it allows people to think that he cares about their problems. I found this quite insulting. I found it quite hypocritical as well when he would complain to me about his friends complaining to him, then bashing them for it. I confronted him about it each and every time he brought up the subject.

Every time he did this, I would ask him if he has ever actually directly told these people that he is not interested in listening to them, and that he'd prefer not to have them come to him for their problems. His response, no, he has never approached the situation in such a manner. How has he approached the situation? By listening to these people express themselves from beginning to end, without voicing his disagreement, then complaining to his others friends about these people. He claims he's just too nice to tell them. Wait. Hold on. Too nice to tell them? This is the same person who also constantly claims to be a cold-hearted, bitch that is not afraid to tell people what they think, right? This is the same person that blatantly states that he is far more intelligent than those around him and that he has a problem finding people as intelligent as him to have a conversation with?

When I challenge his opinions and refute every discrepancy in his argument (basically demanding him to show me the strength of what he stand for) wouldn't you consider that an attempt at an intelligent conversation? Yet he falls short. When I ask, "Have you ever told these people how you feel about them coming to you for their problems, when you don't want to listen?" When he always answered no, I asked, "Why?" I was often met with silence. He would blatantly ignore most of my inquiries toward his illogical statements, yet he would reply to those who  simply agreed with his logic or at least not disagree with him.

He often plays the victim and says that he's given so much to being a good friend to everyone, yet he's often given nothing in return. What kind of friend complains about not receiving anything in return? If you're not receiving anything, you have bad friends. If you expect anything out of good-will, then it's not genuine and YOU are not a good friend.

I'm done giving chances. Now let us all listen to Adele's song "Tired". Pretty upbeat song, surprisingly.

Love Thyself

I need time to discover myself. I've spent so much time trying to find people to attach myself to that I lost my senses in all the chaos. I forgot that I could be a stand alone person that others could gravitate to. A person others can identify with instead of identifying myself in relation to others. I allowed myself to be blown  here and there, back and forth by the opinions and criticisms of others. I lost myself, my sense of pride and respect for the person that I am... Whoever that may be.

I tried to find love in others without realizing that I couldn't love them. In my eyes, showing that I needed them was love. I honestly didn't know what love was. Perhaps I still don't. I told men that I wanted them, desired them, needed them. Is that love? To want and desire for the sole sake of having, but have nothing to offer? No. It can't be. It no longer makes sense to me.

I need to love myself in order to know what I can offer. In order to know what I'm worth. I'm still learning. It's a path I've rarely taken, if at all. Sure, I've avoided harm, pain, and heartache, but is that love? Could I call it love when all that has driven me are my superficial desires directed towards another and the avoidance of harm? Did I ever think to offer myself to myself? Did I ever think to give myself the pleasures that I wanted from others? How foolish was I to not look to myself for the simplest yet most enigmatic of things? Love.

I am capable of love. Everyone is. I think so, at least. However, I never asked myself if I could be capable of loving myself. To love oneself. It sounds good, doesn't it? A perpetuating cycle of confidence, validation, strength, happiness, and hope. Could that be right? Can I define self-love as that? The will to give oneself undeterred hope for the future, validation of worth, and all-encompassing happiness? Who would get in my way? It would be a relationship between me... and me. It's beautiful. I want it for myself.

To want such beautiful things for myself. That's the first step right?

Après une Semaine

It has been a week since my last post. As many of you all know, I started at my new retail job a week ago. It has been quite interesting...

Le Premier Jour
My first day was somewhat discouraging. I had an interesting haircut, I was one of the only people not wearing plaid and non-prescriptive, thick-rimmed, Buddy Holly-esque glasses. I honestly didn't know what to wear, so I went with a warm red sweater, a robin's egg colored button-up underneath, and a pair of slacks. I wanted to try my hand at color-blocking. Unfortunately, I felt a little overdressed as everyone were basically in plaid shirts and denim cut offs. Perhaps that was their interpretation of the company's unique current trend? It seemed more like a general interpretation of a current American trend.

Generally, when put into a room full of strangers, I'm the type that likes to "get a feel" for the rest of those in the room before interacting with them. Due to this I did get the sense that the people sitting at the same table as me considered me to be a bit odd. Perhaps even a bit stupid. I came in an hour early and my first workshop wasn't suppose to start until 10am, but they mistook me as a part of the 9am group, so it seemed like I was relatively late (I truly wasn't). I just went along with it. Unfortunately, it meant having to sit right next to the projector screen way up front.

One interesting bit of the day was when I finally faced everyone in my group and realized something... Sitting right across the table from me was a guy I had an OKCupid crush on. We made eye contact a few times where he would swiftly look away. It was obvious that he recognized me and he knew that I recognized him. I sent him an "eye candy" award on OKC for Christ's sake. At the end of the workshop he took the stairs instead of getting in the elevator with me. Perhaps he was trying to avoid me? We were just on the second floor anyways, so he might've just wanted the bit of exercise? Who knows?

Le Deuxième Jour
The second day of workshops was a little less nerve wracking. I connected quickly with a girl that was in the same group as me. Of course, it was somewhat expected that of all the people I would get along with it would be the only sassy black girl in the room. We talked a bit about the group's social dynamics; people were starting to form cliques. It was expected, however I personally didn't expect them to start forming so soon. It wouldn't be surprising if social hierarchies start to form. The sassy black girl, or I should say woman, was in her thirties and seemed like she didn't give a fuck. I quote, "I honestly could care less. If these people want to start closing themselves off to other people, that's on them. I'm here to do a job, not to one up anybody."

She gave me hope that perhaps there are other people like her and me. People that are there to be vain, look pretty while making money, but without the intent of proving superiority over anyone else. I took this job for that reason in the first place. It's a new store, therefore everyone is starting on the same level with basically the same amount of pay, so no one should feel much more or less than anyone else. Or perhaps it's my own defense mechanism(s) coming into play? Perhaps everyone isn't that bad and I'm the one who might be closing himself off?

Le Troisième Jour
I've noticed that for every day that passes, I become a little more open. Even though I have a different set of strangers in my group every day. I felt that the people who would get along with one another the best seemed to gravitate to one another. Whether it be their body language, their explicit expression of self, or whatnot. I felt that the people I was sitting with this time around were people I could freely speak to. I laughed with them, joked with them, and yes, worked with them during the group exercises. Meanwhile, it's not surprising that some people still stood out as the obnoxious overachievers. I understand if people want to stand out and show their worth, but a few of these people didn't even allow others to contribute. It was their way or no way. It annoyed me a bit, but I thought to myself, "Fuck it," and went along with it.

At the end of the day, the workshop leaders gave people the chance to give their two cents on the workshop experience. Of course, some people felt it necessary to say something even if it meant saying the same thing as those that went before them. The was the most tedious half hour of the whole session. Everyone liked the workshop, the fact that everyone got to interact with one another, that it wasn't dull, and everyone had fun. Try to spin that in every way possible for thirty minutes. Yea, it gets dull after five, doesn't it?

Market Days
The weekend following my first week of workshops was Boystown's Market Days weekend celebration. Basically, it's like Pride, but consisting of the whole weekend full of live concerts, outdoor vendors of various kinds, drinking in the streets, gay go-go dancers advertising the bars they work for, and checking who's on Grindr locally and from out of town. It was a nice way to end the weekend. I got to see Shiny Toy Guns while dancing in the rain, and I got a kiss from a guy (a friend of a friend) that I think was cute. (Who knows, I was tipsy at that point). When I told him I had to get going since I lived in the suburbs, he asked me for my number. He then texted me right then and there so I could get his number. His text read, "You're hot." Of course, at that point I considered it the right time to make my move. We kissed, but then some drunk asshole tried to lunge at the both of us to get in on the action, which kind of ended the moment.

We texted a few more times throughout the night during my train ride home. We promised one another that we'd see each other again. Blah blah blah. It's been two days, I haven't heard from him since. I don't feel like starting the conversation with him. I don't feel like initiating anything with anyone at the moment anyways. I get attached to people too easily and I'm not looking for any sort of casual encounter, so it might be best to just keep my distance until we come across one another again serendipitously.

Taking Risks

Tomorrow's my first day at my new retail job in the city. In order to prepare for the occasion, I got a haircut that I thought would fit the "look" and style of the brand. I've never had a haircut like this before; I often had it in a uniform length. However, this time around, I thought I'd experiment a bit. I never thought that I could pull off a haircut like this. It kind of reminds me of a bowl-cut... but a little more disheveled. It was a risk and I actually like it.

It's kind of like my new job. I didn't think I was qualified for the job, but I applied nonetheless. Now, I'll be working with a company I admire and I will be in the city more often. For the most part, life is about risks and trials. Our presumptions never tend to be accurate and they're likely not as bad as we often presume. In any case, wish me luck for tomorrow!

The Kate Moss Mantra

Food doesn't take as good as skinny feels. -Kate Moss

I've been telling myself this for the past few weeks. Whenever I feel like I'm about to indulge on a cupcake (or leftover Chinese take-out) past 11pm, I repeat the words, "Food doesn't taste as good as skinny feels." I say it two or three times and it tends to keep me from indulging. 

For some time now my physical image has been a constant, active concern in my mind. Ever since I took on that job in retail a few months ago I realized how much my image truly mattered. Hence why I quit the job. Among other things, I couldn't stand the pressure of being systematically judged for how I looked... especially being constantly aware of it. Sure, I've always been decently dressed.

The problem has been the body that puts itself in the clothes bought.

When I was in middle school and early on in high school my clothes ran from medium to large. After some time, I lost weight and realized that clothes running in small sizes were a better fit. I went from ~167 lbs. when I was in middle school and got to my lowest weight of ~135 lbs. just due to puberty kicking in. Clothes became more flattering, I was given a greater range of choices in clothes, and I gained more confidence. However, now that my metabolism is starting to slow down and physical education/workouts are no longer mandated, as they were throughout elementary and high school, I have become more conscious of my body image. I've started to gain back the weight. I can no longer eat an order of 10-piece chicken McNuggets, two Big Macs, large fries, and a large sweet tea everyday after school. My metabolism can longer process it all as quickly as it used to.

Realistically, I've reached the peak of my metabolism and now keeping off the weight will depend on my choices, not the automated, inner workings of my body.

I've taken on another retail job, which I will be starting at next week. (Don't worry, I left my food service job on good terms.) I will be the first batch of employees hired as it is a new store opening in the city. Surprisingly, it's a job I never thought I could attain, not even get an interview for. I sent in an application just for the heck of it one night. Surprisingly, they called me for an interview, and after two interviews, I was hired. Now, my greatest concern is being prepared for the job. Yes, they will train me on proper protocol, the brand/company's history, the lingo, etc. Meanwhile, I will personally have to take into my own hands the state of my body: clearing up my acne (as much as I can under my control) and getting my body in a much fitter shape.

Either a) I keep denying the fact that I will have to start wearing clothes running in sizes medium/large if I don't take action, b) lose the weight, or c) stay on the path I'm on and just choose clothing in sizes larger than a small. I choose the second option. I will lose the weight.

So where do I go on from here?

Story About a Boy

His name is Dirk (yes, that's him in the picture). He went to high school with me. He was two years ahead of me. During my freshman year (2005), around the time Facebook was gaining popularity with high school students, I was the first one (in my school) to publicly display my sexual orientation on my profile. I was the one that guys from school, who were still in the closet, would privately message to confide in and ask questions about "being gay".

I helped him ease his nerves and talk him through his first few dates with a guy. We would chat online way past 2-3am on weeknights; we'd talk about love, life, stories of ourselves, anything that came to mind.

This whole friendship of ours only existed online. He never spoke to me when we passed one another in the hallways. We looked at one another, but our eyes never met. He was the gorgeous in-the-closet upperclassman and I was merely a freshman that nobody knew and everyone ostracized for being gay. Nonetheless, I was satisfied with the secret late conversations we had.

One day, he asked me to meet up, in person. I didn't know what to say. It was so unexpected. Was it a date or us just hanging out? I was afraid. I was ashamed of myself. To be in real, personal contact with a guy I admired from afar and realized I was finally growing feelings for. I was afraid of expecting something from it and being let down in the end. I made up some excuse as to why I couldn't and he said okay.

Our late night conversations continued until finally he said, "Ich liebe dich. Sie machen mich glücklich." I asked him what it meant and he said, "It means 'I love you. You make me happy' in German. :)" At that point, I felt encouraged to perhaps take him up on his offer to meet up, even if it would only come out to be casual meet up rather than a date.

Weeks passed by the time I had gained the courage to ask him. When I did, he asked me for my advice on a guy he really wanted to take out on a date. Night after night I would advise him on how to keep his cool and whether his intended actions were cheesy or romantic. He would tell me about his date ideas such as taking the guy to dinner on top of the John Hancock building, saving up money for each excursion he planned, taking the guy to concerts, etc. I pushed my feelings aside to give him the advice he wanted, but what I felt couldn't be left unnoticed.

Finally, one night, I told him how I felt. I told him that I had grown fond of him. That I wanted to get to know him in person, and perhaps continue our friendship or whatever we had face to face. He told me that he was sorry. He told me that he didn't really know what he was saying back then when he said he loved me because I made him happy. 

I asked him, "What changed?" He said, "I realized I'm only attracted to white guys. Sorry."

The Grass Looked Greener in the Past

This was me no more than two-three years ago. Can you believe it?

Back then, I thought I was fat and ugly. I was ashamed of being surrounded by big groups of people (e.g., parties, eating out, going to the mall) because I was ashamed of being seen. I was ashamed of myself.

I took pictures to compensate for how I perceived myself. I thought that if I could take a few pictures that others would perhaps find attractive, they could convince me that I was attractive. Yes, the pictures I took were nice, but inside I still felt ugly and undeserving. I realized that even if I could change every physical aspect of me, the ugliness I perceived would not change. What I saw was not the problem, but how I saw it.

Now that a few years have passed, the person in the picture seems like a separate entity from me. A person whose attractiveness I can appreciate. I wish I could be that person again. Perhaps I am still this person. Perhaps nothing has changed. I just wish that the beauty I can now see in my past is something I can appreciate in my present self. Maybe, just maybe, in some time, I will look back and appreciate the person sitting in front of this computer. However, I really want to look at myself in the present moment and see the beauty in what is now.

My Own Enemy

Been fighting my own shadow. Once I looked the other way, I had to let it go.

Death

I'm afraid of death. Who isn't, right? It's like a debilitating fear, for me, however.  I've mentioned it before and labeled my situation as "thanatophobia". Should I be labeling it as such? A part of me believes it to be true, but another part of me perhaps just doesn't understand or know how to live...

Whenever I think of death, I find myself saying, "What's the point of it all?" What's the point of building myself up if all that will happen will simply crumble through death? What's the point of loving, attaching myself to others, or even finding what I'm passionate about if such things will inevitably flee from me? It scares me and makes me want nothing more than to crawl into bed and not get up. In a sense, I feel as if I'm trying to fight against death by trying to make sure that death would have nothing to take from me...

Then I realized: I'm giving away my life into the nothingness. Each moment, each passing second, each possibility I don't grasp is a portion of life I'm voluntarily letting go by staying idle.

I'm afraid of death. Everyone is. I don't have a say as to how my life will end... However, I do have control over how my life could be lived. I still don't understand life. Ultimately, I don't understand myself.

Je reviens.

Hello. I'm back. Expect a legitimate blog post from me soon.

Love,
Kenneth

Le Corps

I want to start working out. I want to have a body and self-image I can be proud of. I want to be healthier, feel better physically, emotionally, and cognitively. I want to finally accept my friends' invites to go to the beach. I want to put myself into that perpetuating cycle of taking care of my body/overall-self because it makes me feel good, and where feeling good makes me want to do it even more...

The problem is that I don't know where to start. I don't know what to do to get things started. I want to have a plan, but I don't even know how to develop a plan that would be challenging, but not discouraging. I'm also afraid of looking stupid because honestly, 85% of the challenge for me is the self-doubt I have in succeeding.

Word Vomit

Where have I gone? i don't really know. Why did I stop writing? I guess to get away from myself. Or perhaps from the self I thought I was and no longer wish to be. I stopped writing because it kind of bothered me. I lost my muse. I lost all feelings to write. I didn't stop writing for my sake but for the sake of writing: for the sake of undeserved words, meaningless words, pretentious words, all words. I wanted to get away because I was doing nothing more than holding up a facade. What I wrote, I assumed to feel, but never truly felt with the blisters and bruising of emotion. All that I wrote were speculations and assumptions of what I thought I felt or should have felt. I still feel the presence of these speculations, these hints of emotions, but their strength have faded. Now, life has fallen dull and I no longer feel the desire to write. I have no desire to write until I find my identity once again. I need to find that person with a heart that loves, aches, and hungers for life. That person has fled and all that is left is a shadow. A shadow that thinks of feelings, but no longer feels them. I can longer write until such a person returns. I have hope that such a person will return when the times comes, whenever that may be. Until then, perhaps these words deserve to be kept in reservation.

I'm Used to Rejection

I went to a movie with a guy last night. We were planning on going on a date this upcoming Friday, but he said he couldn't wait to see me. So we decided to go see a movie around 8pm since I got off work at exactly 8pm.

I met him inside the theater rather than our planned rendezvous at my work since I was running a little late. Simply put, he was human. He looked like the person depicted in his pictures. The movie previews were already playing when I got there, so it was somewhat difficult for us to have the first first-date conversation: How are you? Do you go to school? Where? What do you do for work? Any plans for the summer? Blah. Blah. Blah. He told me that he recently just finished his undergrad and he was going to get his masters at Juilliard in New York in the Fall. I figured that we won't be able to develop anything more serious or that there wouldn't be a point in attempting to do so... considering that he would be leaving the state in a few months. However, a part of me still thought we could have something, a friendship or a romantic Summer fling perhaps.

Throughout the movie, he would hold my hand, caress it, or caress my leg. It got to the point where he started fondling me through my shorts while watching the movie. I wasn't turned on, but I allowed him to continue. I also started fondling him just because I thought it'd be rude/awkward not to reciprocate his attempts. It was obvious he was enjoying it and getting turned on. For most of the movie, we just held hands or he would caress my arm or hand. We kissed a few times throughout the movie and it was all right.

Towards the end of the movie, about ten or so minutes before, he said he had to leave. He said that his roommate locked herself out of their apartment and that he had to go let her in. He told me to text him once the movie was done. So after the movie, I did text him. I told him that it was a pleasure meeting him, that I enjoyed the movie, and hopefully his roommate was okay. He didn't respond. After an hour, nothing. This morning, I still have yet to hear from him. At this point, I get the message.

If something like this was to happen to me a year or two ago, I would be quite upset. However, surprisingly, I'm not. Should the fact that I'm not upset upset me even more? A part of me thinks that I've become so accustomed to rejection that it has become so easy for me to shrug it off. Should it ever be that easy or have I just become too numb or jaded? Sure, I wasn't turned on by his sexual attempts, but should that be held against me? Was he holding it against me? I'm just not the type that's interested in sexual advances during a first date. Sure, I tried to reciprocate his actions, but it wasn't for my benefit; I thought it was what he wanted.

I'm just rambling at this point... In any case, even though a part of me can just shrug it off another part of me is disappointed. The latter is wondering if I did something wrong. What part of me he disliked. Sure, I understand that he realized his lack of interest in me, but to make an excuse and run out of a movie ten minutes before it's done in order to avoid me? Really? Was that necessary? Couldn't things have ended with some sort of civility and mutual respect for one another? Perhaps even with just a little honesty?

Perhaps his roommate truly was locked out of their apartment. However, by the looks of his unresponsiveness, it makes me speculate otherwise. I just wonder: Am I really that disappointing to men? This experience has just made me realize even more why I should stay single for the next few months before I go to Rome next Spring. I don't need the unnecessary stress or expense of a man at the moment.

Staying True to Myself

Since my last post, I've quit my retail job. I did a no-call, no-show last night, to be exact. I wrote up my two weeks notice and was planning to turn it in during my shift Friday night. However, I decided against it and decided that sleeping on it for another day would be wise. I'm sure the fact that my new hot coworker asked for my number that same night had something to do with it. Also, my shift that night wasn't too bad, which made me realize that I should thinks things through a little more. However, in the end, I decided that working in retail just wasn't for me. I couldn't endure going back in for another day, so enduring another two weeks was really out of the question. Yes, it was unprofessional of me to abandon my job, but I really couldn't put myself through anymore of it.

Hey, I wasn't under contract and both parties have the liberty to cut ties with no fair warning. They could fire any employee without any warning, often on the spot, which I'm sure they do. On the contrary, rarely does an employee practice his/her freedom to cut ties with a job in such a manner. (Way to rationalize)

1) I dreaded coming in everyday.
2) I didn't feel happy on the job for the most part.
3) The customers were inconsiderate.
4) Some of my coworkers were overly-pretentious beyond their payroll.
5) Even seeing my check couldn't make me say, "It's worth it."

The managers loved me and most of the employees loved me as well, so I didn't leave because of conflict or anything like that. After my first day on the job, one of my managers said that she'd love to suggest me for a promotion me due to my exemplified work ethic, ability to adapt quickly, and my positive attitude. The job itself was going well for me in terms of my ability to do the job, but the job just didn't resonate with what I wanted out of my time... or life.

Before getting this retail job, I idealized the idea of working in fashion retail. Being able to dress up, not having to physically strain myself, and gaining fashion-related knowledge as well as experience seemed so attractive to me. Unfortunately, it wasn't what I expected. I became more self-conscious... more than I would have liked. I was mentally, emotionally, AND physically exhausted after each of my shifts.

I believe that I was pushing myself to be something I wasn't or didn't want to be. I had this ideal self-image of being fashionable and working in retail in the city. After obtaining the opportunity to be "that person", I felt so out of touch with myself. I found myself more stressed, temperamental, and simply unhappy. I realized that I was trying to force myself into a mold I simply could not fit into. I was starting to resent myself and not even realize it.

A few hours before my last attended shift, I went to Evanston to watch a movie before heading to work. I had an hour or so to spare before my movie showing, and since I was in the area I visited my previous employment to say hi to my former coworkers. My general manager was there and I chit-chatted with her a bit. I became pretty nostalgic and started to compare my time there and my experiences at my retail job. With the former, I may have felt physically exhausted by the end of my shifts, but I enjoyed what I did. I laughed, joked, and really felt a sense of family with them. On the contrary, with my retail job, I felt like an outsider. Sure, it was a new job and everyone feels like an outsider when starting at a new place. However, I felt like even when I would try to include myself and be open, I would be disrespected. There was a sense of authenticity and warmth lacking whenever I would interact with a few of my retail coworkers. It was a job and we can't always expect to like where we work, but when I couldn't even say that the money or experience was worth it, I realized that I was exposing myself to unnecessary hardship.

So I quit. I'm happier. I find myself more at ease. I came to the conclusion that I don't have to work with clothes at minimum wage in order to feel good about myself physically or to consider myself fashionable. If I do have an interest or passion for fashion, then it's something that should be exemplified by my lifestyle in general, and not something I have to explicitly force on myself.

I believe that I've chosen the right path for me by letting go of my exaggerated ideal self-image.

Sure, jobs are hard to come by and there are those that aren't fortunate enough to be hired in this economy, but why waste your limited time in this world enduring a job you are unhappy with? No job is worth crying over, losing sleep over, or stressing over when you're not even on the clock. I want to work to live, but not live to work.

Finding my Center... All Over Again

It's been a while since my last legitimate post. After my last blog entry (not including the second part of my story about Dylan), which was about Brandon, I felt like I needed some time away. Writing these blog entries mandates me to put my emotions and thoughts to the forefront of my consciousness. Writing prohibits me from suppressing the resulting affects of day to day events in my life, which can be too much to handle at times. . I thought about writing each and every day since my last entry last March, but I felt like I still needed time to just let my mind rest. For the past few weeks, I've felt like I was overstimulated by everything around me: the end of a friendship/relationship, financial pressures, academic deadlines, etc. I just needed time to let things be without having to dwell on them or analyze them, which is what writing inclines me to do. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it was too much for me to handle.

In any case, here's an update on my life...

Brandon
Brandon (a.k.a B) is out of my life for good. A day or so after my last entry in early March, I had to finally stand up for myself. I was being pushed around by his uncertainty and fickleness. One day he would tell me he loved me, then the next day he would try to change the subject when I would bring up the topic. When he tried to communicate with me after a three-week silence, which he imposed (blocking me from any way of contacting him), he told me that he wanted me to forgive him and that he still loved me. The next day, when I told him that I still had feelings for him, he couldn't/wouldn't respond; I knew that something was wrong at that point. He then retracted what he said the previous night and showed no remorse for it. The next few days, I still felt like I was chasing after him just to have him pay attention to me. It was a ridiculous situation since it was he that begged for my forgiveness a few days earlier.

I knew that things would never progress between us, so I let out all my frustrations. I told him that he was fickle and didn't know what he wanted. That he had no reason to tell his friends and his mother that I broke his heart by not accepting his professed feelings for me (i.e. he told me he loved me) a mere two weeks of knowing one another. Whether it was his intention or not, he defamed me to his friends even though at the end of the day, I made the right choice. He had no right to say anything about me, whatsoever, since I was right from the very beginning: he did not know what he wanted. To his friends, he portrayed himself as someone who wanted true love and as if it was me who deprived him of such an opportunity.  However, when I was finally willing to give him my heart, it was he who stated, "I don't know what I want. I'm sorry." It was also frustrating and upsetting for him to tell me that his mother hated me because I had hurt him for not accepting his affection, which were in retrospect, apocryphal. I felt as if complete blame was unreasonably put on me, when I made the right choice to tell him the truth: I did not have feelings for him when he told me he loved me after only knowing me for two weeks. Yes, my feelings for him did develop after that point, yet he still couldn't let go of his past resentment for me.

In the end, he continued to firmly hold onto his beliefs. He continued to believe that he was in the right and that I was the enemy. He rejected any form of reason other than his own. He felt hurt, therefore whoever hurt him was universally bad. On the other hand, any transgressions of his own were to be left unacknowledged or completely denied. Total bullshit. That's when I knew he was delusional and psychologically maladaptive. It bothers me that he will continue to say bad things about me to his friends and they will actually believe him, and they're actually not bad people... However, if they would unconditionally believe what he says without personally getting to know me, then that's bad on their part.

Academic
 Since my last blog entry, I actually dropped my Italian minor and took on a second major. I think that having two major degrees is better than having one major and one minor degree. Also, the latter option would have required me to take summer classes to finish on time (i.e. graduate with the class of 2013), whereas the former can be completed on time without having to take summer classes. So now, I am a Psychology and Advertisement/PR double major. I decided that I could pursue foreign language studies independently. Nonetheless, I have enjoyed the Italian class I am currently in and my peers have acknowledged my abilities (as they've often come to me for help)... I guess being raised bilingual, then taking French for seven years helps. Hah! I guess you can say that I'm working on being quadrilingual? 

I am also glad to say that I've been accepted into my school's study abroad program in Rome, Italy, which will allow me to study at my university's own Rome campus. I'll be studying there from January 2012 up til May 2012. My mother is also excited and is surprisingly more supportive than I thought she would be. I actually thought she'd be against the idea since I would be more than the ~10 mile distance I currently am from her and the rest of my family (try thousands). With my family's support, it has made me more excited about studying abroad and it makes this prospective experience seem more of a reality to me. 

Family
My family has been surprisingly more supportive than I would have ever expected. My previous conversations with my mother have been quite relaxed. At one point, she caught me off guard when she mentioned me possibly finding an Italian lover and getting excited about. I would have never expected her to initiate such a topic or mention something so... explicitly gay? Hah! I must say though, it's a relief to hear that my mother has completely accepted me for who and what I am. Of course, it will take some time to completely open up to her; it'll take some time to unravel a decade's effort of trying to hide facet(s) of my identity.

Recently, I've also felt a personal desire to spend more time with my family. Along with feeling that I can show them more of my "true" self, I no longer feel like I have to keep my distance. Also, I've realized that my baby sister is growing up and I want to be there for her. This point in her life is quite vital in her personal development and as her older sibling I do have the personal desire to help guide her. I know that it kind of sounds sappy and it's a sentiment that I would have never expected to come from me, but it's true. Perhaps I'm growing as a person and caring for those other than myself? That's a good thing, right? Doesn't that fit into one of Erikson's psychodevelopmental stages? 

Work
At the end of March, I got hired as a retail associate at a clothing store. I was very excited considering that I finally got a job in fashion retail and will (hopefully) no longer work in the food industry. Of course, on my first day, I already felt like quitting. I was afraid that my new coworkers would already have high expectations of me and consider me a failure for not knowing what to do. I feared that even if I would explain to them that it was my first retail job, they'd still consider me incompetent and a bother. Luckily, before coming in to work, I went to get some coffee with Dylan, who eased my first day jitters on the job.


Fortunately, my expectations for my first day were completely wrong. Everyone was very friendly and went out of their way to introduce themselves to me. Whenever an associate was close by, he/she would come up to me and ask if I was doing all right and if I had any questions. It was overwhelming to try and take in everything while also trying to provide assistance to customers (i.e. doing my job), but I couldn't have asked for a better first day.

I've been working at the clothing store for 3-4 weeks now. I'm still trying to take things in, but for the most part, I feel myself more at ease. Of course, I do find myself feeling mentally and physically exhausted at the end of the day for pay that really isn't up to par with the work being done. Also, with any job in fashion retail, I've found myself crossing paths with coworkers that believe themselves to be superior, therefore they don't feel it necessary to make eye contact when I speak to them. It's funny because I'm doing the same job as them, at the same place, and probably for similar pay. The customers can be assholes too, but what can you expect? Many of them never worked a minimum wage job, therefore they probably don't even see associates as people. Nonetheless, I tell myself that whatever I'm not receiving in monetary gain, I'm attaining through work experience. My current job is a mere stepping stone for what I want to go into as a career. God forbid, I wouldn't want to be a sales associate working minimum wage after the age of 25.


What do I want to for a career exactly? Well, the dream would be to find a starting position in an advertisement/PR firm or something relating to fashion, advertisement, and travel. Perhaps I can use my multilingual abilities to good use. No matter what though, I don't want to be working in minimum wage sales, whether it be in the food or fashion retail industry, five years from now. 


Love
At the present moment, I am single. I'm all right with being single. I actually prefer to be single for the time being. My thought is that since I'm leaving for Rome in about 7 months, it would be unwise to seek/start a relationship. When I leave for Rome, I want self discovery to be the center of my trip/adventure. Sure, a relationship wouldn't necessarily hinder me from achieving that goal. However, realistically, starting a relationship then turning it into a long-distance relationship within the first year would be detrimental. I'd rather wait, but who knows? If I do find a potential lover and we hit it off this summer, it's something I'll definitely allow to run its course, but I wouldn't seek it out. Love is something you should never prevent or intentionally seek out. If it happens, it happens.

Currently, I do have my eyes set on a guy. He's sweet, intelligent, cute, and has a good head on his shoulders. I'll keep specific details under wraps for now, but if my interest in him does develop further and it becomes a mutual interest, then I'll let you all know. 


Overall
My life is moving forward at a tolerable and satisfactory pace. Things are going the way they should. Although, I know that I can and should put more effort towards my academic endeavors, which I will. At this point, the best I can do is enjoy life and live it.

Almost Lover (Part 2)

It was dusk when we decided to ride the train back to the neighboring suburb, where we had met up and left his car. I was so nervous about what my parents would say, but each time I looked into his eyes, I knew that the decision I had made was the right one. It was the right one for me, at that very moment, and that was all that mattered. I texted my father and quickly turned off my phone soon after.

We were able to get out of the city center pretty quickly, but once it got dark and we were at the outskirts of the city, we got lost. Every mile or so that we would drive, we would be uncertain as to where we were going and where we had been. We stopped at every gas station that we passed by to ask for directions. However, each time we got out of his car to ask for directions, it was quite a terrifying experience. Imagine being lost on the outskirts of the city, where the surrounding neighborhood looked so dark (there were no street lights), dangerous, unwelcoming, where we felt eyes were on us whenever we got out of the car. Now, imagine a 17 yr. old gay Asian male and a 16 yr. old gay white male with bleach blond hair, both of about the same height of 5 foot and 8 inches, looking lost and out of place.

I could feel him getting nervous after our fifth or sixth stop to a gas station, so I gently put my left hand on his as it nervously, but firmly held onto his gear shift. I continued to tell him that everything would be all right; we would find our way. I wanted to comfort him, to protect him, and to let him know that I was right there beside him, holding his hand, riding through that dark, scary adventure with him. He accepted my gesture and intertwined his fingers in mine. His hands were so soft and supple. His touch was so gentle and comforting... Luckily, after that point, we were able to find our way. We drove on with our fingers intertwined all the way to our destination.

When we got to his place, we quickly ran to his room. It had stark white walls, a bed at the corner with a window above it, a table, and a framed display hanging on one of his walls. At some point, we found ourselves sitting on his carpet, his back resting on the edge of his bed as I sat facing him. We looked silently into each others eyes as we both felt a sort of magnetism bring our our faces and bodies closer together. I pressed my lips onto his and he accepted them. I gently held his face in my hands as we proceeded to deepen our kiss.

We were alone in his room with the light on, which was intensified by the stark white color of his walls. I didn't care. Everything felt so right. We sat there on his floor, his head laying on the edge of his bed as I held it and caressed his face, with my body pressed onto his. Only he mattered at that point: the softness and fullness of lips, his quiet and delicate movements, the smooth softness of his hair, and the way his body perfectly fit into my embrace. After a night of feeling our attraction to one another develop as we roamed the city, then to have our fears and anxiety of being lost with no one but one another to depend on bring us even closer, that moment when our lips connected was perfect.

What my Man Will Someday be Like

Having this whole night all to myself, I had time to think, which led to thoughts about my future. Specifically, I started to think about my ideal guy... So here's what I came up with.

- He'll be all right spending a whole Sunday morning and afternoon just lying on the couch with me, while the sun warms our cheeks.

- He'll notice me crying when a movie gets really dramatic and/or romantic, but he won't tease me for it. Instead, he'd unwittingly pull me closer to him.

- When I try to grab hold of his hand in public, he won't pull away; he'll look at me, smile, and grab hold of mine.

- He might think that the things I say or do are kind of weird, but he'll laugh along with me anyways and realize that only those special to me can get close enough to see my quirks.

- He'll surprise me by remembering the things I say when I don't think he's listening (e.g., what I'm afraid of, my favorite movie, my favorite colors, my favorite places to go, the secrets I share with him.)

- He'll snuggle up right behind me, put his arm around me, and pull me close to him before we both doze off to sleep.

- He will sometimes call or text me just to tell me he was thinking of me just a few seconds before he called/texted.

- When we can't be together, he would make sure that we both have at least a few minutes to talk every night before we head off to sleep.

- He wouldn't mind letting me sleep in the passenger seat during long drives with him.

- He would trust me driving his car while he sleeps in the passenger seat.

- He'd be happy to take late summer afternoon walks with me while he puts his arm around my waist and hold me close to him.

- He'd be happy to take lots of pictures with me and wouldn't mind me taking lots of pictures of him to remember our special moments together.

- When I'm feeling down and upset, he'd be there to hold me close and tight, no questions asked, to let me know that I'm safe in his arms.

- He'll challenge me as a person, but never make me feel inferior.

- When we're mad at each other and saying things we don't mean, he'd lean in and kiss me to make me shut up.

- He would want to introduce me to all his friends and he would be proud to call me his.

- He wouldn't be afraid or too embarrassed to tell me he loves me whenever it crosses his mind.

To Forgive and/or to Trust

B. messaged me last night saying that he's finally willing to talk.

We stopped talking about three weeks ago after he blocked me from every possible way I could reach him. He blocked me from Twitter, Facebook, and he even went as far as blocking our mutual friends (that he met through me). Sure, I could still text and call him, but for the three weeks before he re-initiated contact with me, I resisted calling and texting him. Sure, I thought of him everyday and wondered if it was really that easy to forget me, to suppress every thought pertaining to me, and whether I even crossed his mind anymore. However, I respected and loved myself enough not to degrade myself so far as begging him to speak to me. I took his act of blocking any possible communication between us as his way of permanently cutting ties with me.

It did hurt to have someone I trusted and cared for as a close friend for 7+ months totally cut me out of their lives. However, I was fine. I surrounded myself with friends that cared for me and showed me that I still have my own life to look forward to. I think that the experience, through and through, made me a stronger person.

I was planning on texting him on his birthday (March 3rd) with the simple message "Happy Birthday B." and leaving it at that. Frankly, in my mind, the best case scenario would be him saying, "Thank you," and leaving it at that and worst case scenario would be him saying, "Fuck you. Don't ever contact me again." I was honestly prepared to receive either response. Surprisingly, he beat me to the punch and he texted me last night saying he's sorry that he hurt me and he can no longer go on living without talking to me. He then told me he loved me.

Frankly, I don't know how to feel. I'm glad that he's willing to talk again, but I don't know how I feel about him saying that he loves me. Yes, the feelings I professed for/to him a few weeks ago were genuine, but considering how he has treated me since, I don't really know whether I want to offer my heart again. Yes, I still have feelings for him and I potentially love him, but I love myself more. I love myself more than I love him and I love myself enough not to put myself (and my heart) in harm's way. I have learned to live and be happy without him in the past three weeks, therefore what would be the reason for including him back into my life? Will he bring more love into my life or will he just bring back the possibility of me being hurt by him again?

Like I said, I now know how to live on without him; I've experienced it, I've lived it, and I've enjoyed it. If anything ever does happen between us, I know that no matter what happens, I will still have myself. I never have to fear the possibility of ever losing him because it has already happened and the experience wasn't horrible. It's the uncertainty of how we would react to future events/possibilities that scare us. However, once we've come to experience it and realize that it wasn't as scary as previously thought, any similar experience/event following it will be taken with ease.

Yes, I forgive him for how he treated me. Do I trust him? I don't know. My trust is something that he has to earn and prove to me that it's something he deserves. What does he have to do to prove himself? I don't know. Just like love, it's something I cannot predict; I'll know it once the thought, "Wow. He's someone I can trust (again)," hits me. Meanwhile, I think it's my friends that he will have the hardest time convincing. Each and everyone of my friends who I have told that B. re-initiated contact, apologized, and is telling me he loves me again were quite skeptical. Some even told me not to buy it and just move on. Perhaps I'm an emotional masochist or perhaps I'm just too forgiving, but I can't stay mad at someone who apologizes... especially someone I still have feelings for.

Sure, I can't trust those that have hurt me as easily, but I will often forgive even the undeserving.

Le Rêve (The Dream)

I just woke up. I had another dream about B. I always believed that my dreams always meant something. My unconscious mind trying to tell my conscious self something? Precognition? Clarity brought on by the automatic reorganization of the mind when one sleeps? I don't know. I just know that my dreams have always meant something. Some people might say that in retrospect, dreams might seem profound because we make the connections between the concrete reality and the ambiguous dreams... The thing is, my dreams have always been so specific, but still symbolic that it's hard to believe that I'm just making connections where I "believe" I see them.

Anyways, this dream... I was meeting up with B. in some mall. We had reconciled our differences and it seemed as if we had started getting along. We were being affectionate with one another in public and I was happy. I was happy, but it seemed as if I was happy on my own. Sure, I was content with being with him in the dream, talking, laughing, holding hands... But I felt no significant difference between those direct, intimate interactions. I felt the same whether I was holding his hand or not. Also, close to the end of the dream, I realized that I had skipped a whole day of classes. I was shocked and a little upset about forgetting my classes, but I tried to tell myself that it's okay. I told myself that it was okay to skip class because I was with B.

What did this dream mean? Is my unconscious mind, heart, or whatever showing me how I really feel about B. and how I've always felt for him? In reality, did I just convince myself that I had developed intimate feelings for him because I saw him moving on with somebody else, whereas I find myself standing where we parted ways? With skipping a whole day's worth of classes to be with him, is it symbolic of the fact that I'm sacrificing (too much of) myself in order to be with this man I might not have intimate feelings for?

Who knows? At the moment, this is the most logical explanation. On the other hand, there's nothing logical about dreams... right?

A New Dawn

It's been over week since I've written. Frankly, I just haven't had the energy to actually manifest the things I've felt and thought into words that others could understand. For the past week or so, I would think about writing, but I found myself unable to act on it. I believe that I just needed some time to get get away... some time to escape from analyzing and admitting to what I've been feeling and thinking. To write means to become fully cognizant of what I feel, believe, and think; that is what writing means to me and I just had to stop before I sank myself too deep into my emotions.

I compare the past week or so to the progression of the day from dawn to morning. For the past week, I felt as if I had woken up too early in the day and the sun had yet risen. Dawn, that time in the day when everything around you is still encased in darkness, everything is silent, still, and it's too cold to get out of bed; that is how the world has felt for me in the past week or so. I found myself separated from the rest of the world as I looked out from the warmth and certainty of my figurative bed. I detached myself from the world because it was just too much for me to handle. It was just too sad.

Fortunately, recently, things have gotten better. I've surrounded myself with friends that have been showing me a better, more optimistic perspective on life. My friend A., especially, recently showed me that the world isn't necessarily the enemy nor is it the bearer of misfortune. It's interesting that she's come across her fair share of heartache, betrayal, and sorrows, yet she can still smile back at the world. Previously, I was only aware of my perspective of the world (cold, selfish, manipulative, and perhaps even menacing) and those that shared the same view. What I solely knew was what I considered to be a universal truth; I knew no better. After my conversation with A., she made me realize that the way I saw the world was not as objective of a view as I previously thought. She made me realize that it's not the world that hurts us, but ourselves. It reminds me of the psychology term "self-fulfilling prophecy". We see ourselves being hurt and betrayed, therefore we unwittingly put ourselves on the path of being hurt and betrayed.

Sure, there are those that intentionally hurt us, but it's how we see the experience that matters. To be deliberately hurt for reasons far from justified reason, or the lack of any reason at all, can be painful, but the pain is only temporary. What is long-lasting, perhaps even permanent, is what we take from it. Do we fight back? Do we hold a grudge? Or do we move on, decide that we were the better person in the given situation(s), and live our lives free from the weight of scorn?

I've lived far too long holding my fists in front of me. Frankly, I feel as if being on the defensive for so long has kept me from truly living. I want to let the world in: the pain, the happiness, the sorrow, the bliss. Whatever happens, as long as I make sure that I did the best I can to live virtuously, compassionately, and lovingly, I can tell myself that my life was worthwhile.

The best I can do and should do is open my heart. The rest is left for the world to decide.

I Still Believe in Love

So here it is, Valentine's Day... Is it odd that it's my favorite day of the year, more so than my own birthday? Considering my history with "Love" and the men that followed, most would expect me to have become jaded, cynical, and/or repulsed by the though of love or Valentine's Day. The surprising part is that I, myself, thought that I would turn into that person... but I didn't. Just like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, no matter how many times I have been hurt, I still believe and wait for what Carrie described as, "Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love."

Some of my friends and a few others have expressed their opposition towards Valentine's Day. They say that it's a Hallmark holiday, where corporate America feeds on love-struck, perhaps even dumb-struck, people. I don't agree, of course. Personally, it really depends on the individuals and/or couples as to whether Valentine's Day has any value to them. It's like someone's birthday; it's like any other day of the year, yet it is significant to many because they believe it to be their day. Sure, many out of the six billion or so people in the world were also born on that particular day, yet it's still special to many of us because we want it to be. It gives us a sense of meaning and identity. It's a day we subjectively give significance to and basically tell those within our own little microsystem of the world that we are here, we exist, we grow, and we live.  

No matter what, I still believe in love. Romantic, shameless, unreasonable, intensely dizzying love. 


Anyways, here I am, writing a blog post in a Starbucks in the middle of the "gayborhood" in Chicago. It has gotten relatively warmer, the snow is melting, the sky has cleared with a hue of robin's egg blue, and the sun is shining. It's quite unusual for a February day in Chicago. Nonetheless, it makes me happy. Even though it's Valentine's Day and I don't have a Valentine, I think it would've been unwise to stay at my apartment and hide from the good weather in an attempt to avoid being the single individual in public. In a sense, I should embrace this day. I should take my individuality, hold it in front of me, and love it. Basically, I should be my own Valentine and embrace it. I love Valentine's Day because it reminds me of who I am and what I believe to be the core of all my convictions: Love.


No matter what I've been through in the (recent) past concerning love and men, I haven't given up. I still believe in love. I still write love letters in order to convey my feelings for another. I still believe in doing special things whenever I get the chance (however big or small the deed may be) for that one special person. I believe that love would/should never make one feel limited, constricted, or deprived of the live he/she dreamed of. I believe that love should complement one's individual life, not replace it. Sure, I've become more cautious when falling love, but that hopeless-romantic part of me still thrives... I'm just patiently waiting for that one special individual I can present it to.


We meet three loves in the world: ourselves, the world, and that one person who can love us just as much as we love ourselves. We must love ourselves enough to never lose hope.

You Don't Deserve Me.

You are beautiful to me. You were once kind, gentle, and caring. You comforted me when I felt alone. You gave me affection when no one else could or would... But you don't deserve me.

Here I am, offering myself to you, but you don't want to listen. I've traveled into unknown territory just to hand you my love. You didn't seem to care. You couldn't understand how much you meant to me then and you still don't comprehend. In words and in actions I tried to give you my love and affection. I made myself vulnerable to you... I degraded myself and offered you my dignity.

I once hurt you because I told you the truth. I did not love you when you first professed love and I told you. It hurt you to hear the truth. You cried because I was honest. You wanted me to lie. You wanted me to give you what I did not have. You despise me, you hate me, you hold a grudge against me because I told you what I knew then as the truth. I did not lie to you. I did not deceive you. I told you the truth and for that you see me as your enemy... For that, you don't deserve me.

I love you. You don't seem to care. You believe that I deserve to suffer like you did. You want to hurt me like how you hurt. Please remember, it was the situation that hurt you, not me. Here we are, here I am, professing my love to you. All you can think about is how to serve me what you think I deserve. You cried, but not for me. You cried because you could not get what I could not give. You did not love me, you loved the thought of being loved by me.

One thing is certain, dear, you don't deserve any part of me.

Love knows no hate. Love does not associate with Regret. Love hopes, but never expects. I know that I love you. Even though you deny me, I hold no grudge. I don't regret anything I've done to show you my love. I don't expect you to still feel the same for me, all I can do is hope for the best.

I wish I could make the world a better place for you. I wish I could fix all of your problems. I wish I could take every blow the world has given you, but all that I can offer is myself. It seems as if it's no longer good enough... If you think I'm not good enough for you, then you don't deserve me... I deserve better. I deserve to be loved as much as I loved you.

You may be better looking than me. Everyone may not notice me like they do you. Some days I feel lonely. Some moments I feel inferior. But I know that I deserve more than what you've given me. I don't deserve to be put on my knees to beg, but you let me. You don't deserve me or the love I can give, but I still offer it to you.

Every moment at the moment is occupied by you. I showed you the secrets to my heart, but you didn't understand. You want me to feel the pain and jealousy you felt. That will never happen. You hold a grudge against me because you regret the love you professed for me. I don't regret what I've done to prove myself to you. I don't feel deceived, tricked, or swindled. I don't have the desire to make you suffer what you're doing to me. All I offer is my love and I don't expect anything from you.

I willingly give you my love and only that. From me, that is all you will ever receive. You don't deserve my love, but it's something I'm willing to give. Just please remember dear, you never deserved me.