A little while ago, I stopped shaving. I had the flu for about five days, and already had a five-day shadow developed when that began. Then with a lack of social engagements, I decided to let it keep growing, lest I lose such a generous head start that only began because I was too lazy when I was sick.

I took this picture, and it was more than three weeks without touching a razor at that point.

Aaron always keeps a neatly trimmed beard, so I asked him how he takes care of it; which direction to shave, what length to start trimming, etc. It was strange to be seeking shaving advice from someone at this point in my life. Most of the hair is around the mouth and on chin, with only an embarrassing half-dozen wires sprouting randomly from my cheeks, so it required a touch of maintenance.

For a long time, I didn’t know what to think of it, whether I liked it or not. Aaron said to me, “Sometimes, you don’t need to know”, and I went with that for a while. Maybe time would give me an answer.

Soon after, I started shaving again. It wasn’t getting any thicker, and I didn’t think I could pull it off.

I turn 30 in 11 months, and I still can’t grow a beard.

The Turning 30 Series

• 29: The Child
• 29 1/12: The Adolescent
• 29 2/12: The Lachrymologist
• 29 3/12: The Once Loved
• 29 4/12: The Mask

I should start by saying that I’ve wanted a piercing since late high school, either an eyebrow piercing or a tongue stud¹.

For some reason though, I never seriously considered it. To me, it was like having children; one of those things you know you’d want some day, but don’t take it seriously. Then last week, I was sitting at my desk and randomly thought, “Why not?”. So I slept on it, and woke up the next day still wanting one. That’s when I decided to do it.

My biggest concern was that it wouldn’t match me. Some people with piercings look like they’re trying to overcompensate by being part of a “scene”, or by being younger (i.e. the midlife crisis, which my dad seems to be living out with three piercings last year), or it just doesn’t fit their face. The last thing I wanted to do was get something that screamed attention for the sake of it. Most people have told me that I’m a far cry from mid-life crisis age, but I’ve feeling much older lately.

So I figured that I’d rather get it at this age, than when I’m in my fifties like my dad, when it looks ridiculous. But as Tiana reminded me, it’s much less permanent than a tattoo. If I don’t like it, I can just take the piercing out with minimal scarring (as long as there are no other complications).

So I decided to get a horizontal, because I find that verticals are not really my style (and altogether too common for my tastes). The side seemed somewhat arbitrary to me, and I didn’t decide which side until I did my hair one morning and noticed that the part on my hair was on the right, and so it seemed like there was a more open space there for the piercing to fit.

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1. My work in the dental industry, however, has made me shy away from getting anything in the mouth, so that eliminated the only other option for me. [↑]

I wanted a bolder look this time, since my last pair is much more subtle. Actually, they’re still my current pair, as I wear one or the other, depending on the mood.

They didn’t sit quite correctly on my face (or most Asian faces, the sales rep told me, as we have narrow nose bridges), because they don’t have nose pieces. The frames would be too low for my face and my eyelashes would brush against the lenses, so I had to order some nose pads to add on myself, et voilà. A perfect fit.

Of note is the logo on the arms. This is the first time that I’ve seen the Versace logo like this, but further research indicates that it’s an uncommonly used alternate logo. I thought it was because the regular logo would have lines that are too fine for small representations, but that doesn’t appear to be the case, as I’ve seen it even smaller on watches and bracelets too. Which is just as well, as I wouldn’t care to wear anything with the Medusa’s head on it.

The winter storm watch continued at -14°C today. When you’re inside, the sun fools you with the warmth of its colour, until you step outside and feel the bite of the wind.

I spent an hour-and-a-half looking for various things and running errands downtown. The streets were packed, the stores were packed, and I found nothing.

So I spent a stupid amount of money on these awesome mittens at Club Monaco. I actually walked out of the store and out of the mall when I found them, for fear that I would purchase them, but alas, here they are on my hands. I had to decide between the white and black stripes, the grey and black stripes, and the flat grey ones, but since most of my clothing is neutral, I decided on the flashiest pair. The open hole for the fingers makes iPod and camera manipulation easy. They’re 100% cashmere; thin enough to wear indoors or inside your coat pocket.

So it wasn’t a total waste of a day.

Julie drew this picture of me. The details betray her perspicacity.

Such as the way my shirt tails dangle insouciantly from the sweater. How the pant bottoms are slightly bunched up. And while I don’t wear a tie that often, the preppy top + skater bottoms style is accurate. Even the length of chain and the shape of my glasses. All the little details I think about when I dress myself. The only thing that isn’t me is the hair, which falls flat in the winter, due to the fact that it’s toque wearing season.

Also, I have no eyes, nose or mouth is this picture. Only my wide-arm glasses, which I’ve said before is a large part of my identity. Obviously, her exclusion of my facial features has put even more emphasis on this.

I wonder: why are my arms drawn behind my back? Posture says a lot about a person. Maybe this was done without any consideration, but maybe there was subconscious intent.

It’s always interesting to find out how other people see you. A self-image is often biased.

So which image is more accurate; yours or theirs?

I finally got some new glasses. It’s been years since I had my prescription updated and things in the distance were starting to get blurry, making my eyes tired very early in the day. This time I got a wire-frame pair, instead of the thick emo frames I got last year, though they’re still D&G.

The wide arms are in now, but I really don’t like that style (or maybe it just doesn’t fit my face). I also tend to not buy anything that’s currently fashionable, as I prefer classic designs. The wide wire-frame arms on this pair push the whole idea of trendy, but are otherwise acceptable.

I’m still getting used to the weight. They’re very light, but still not as light as my last commonly worn pair, which were like not wearing glasses at all. The good thing, I’ve come to discover, is that they’re not flexible, and while this makes them more fragile, they’re much easier to clean as they don’t bend when trying to hold steady.

Some people ask me why I don’t get contacts, and it’s because glasses are a part of my personality. In a way, they define me, staying in touch with my dorky past. At the wedding Tom asked me to take them off for the pictures since they turn photo grey from UV light, but I refused. I think I would have looked stranger without my glasses, then with my eyes obscured by tint.

Choosing these frames took a couple of visits. I had a hard time trusting Bronwen’s opinion because sometimes she thinks I look good in things that make me either laugh or hurl. I went to Lenscrafters with Aaron and he tried on one pair that immediately made me think that’s the one, but I didn’t have that instantly recognition with mine. Louise did though when I showed her, and that’s when I decided on them. Apparently they make me look more mature, or some shit.

Tristan & America Get Their Groove Back

It appears that the heavenly bodies have aligned against me in a cosmic joke.

Let me explain. The trends at Tristan & America this season are actually sensible, and this is coinciding with the first time in my life that I’m in debt.

I used to shop at T&A years ago. With ribbed sweaters and sharp silk ties, they always had a classic sense of fashion. Around 2002 the style turned into what I can only describe as urban cowboy. Dress shirts were adorned with tasseled fringes and pre-worn edges. Mannequins even had the Texan string tie. For the next four years they experimented, what I’d consider a strong euphemism, with different styles, until this season.

The spring/summer collection has gone back to it’s classic roots, with a lovely blend of earthy tones. I like to stay with neutral colours — though nothing pastel — because I don’t like my clothes to make bold statements. I prefer to hide my personality, what I’m thinking, and let my actions speak for themselves.

New clothes are definitely more of a want than a need, so it’s hard for me to justify going further into debt to add more to an already full closet.

Maybe I’ll wait until it goes on sale at the end of summer. The problem, especially at T&A, is that the small sizes disappear within days.

The cosmic gods, they’re laughing at me.

Khaki Ressurection

The zipper on my khakis jammed and promptly died at a rather inopportune time (well, I guess there’s never really an opportune time for such a thing). When I brought them in to get fixed, I realized that I didn’t have a backup pair.

I only buy khakis at Randy River, the store with the wiiiide-legs that nearly cover my foot with shoes off. Even the Dickies relaxed-fit work-wear series aren’t wide enough, and they’re too stiff for my taste. They also lack a double-reinforced back leg cuff, which I like cause all my pants touch the ground.

The only problem with R2 is that the smallest size they have for pants is 30. As I found out when getting measured for the wedding, I’m actually a 26 waist, but I prefer 28–29 max so I can wear them low on the hips. When they’re 30, I have to cinch up my belt because otherwise they’re really low.

This season, the R2 khakis are all very dark with slight orange tones, and cargo pockets or frayed edges. Really not my style. At least I got my current pair back within a week. Hopefully they’ll survive me until next season.

Fall of the Ben cut

They discontinued the Ben wide-leg cut from Bluenotes. Instead, they’ve come out with a new Walker boot-cut. Off the shelf, the Walker cut really reminds me of the flare they put on girls jeans back when I was in high-school, but I only say this cause I like to give Aaron a hard time about it. They look good on him, but he can pull off anything.

Bluenotes is the only place I buy jeans, and jeans are the only thing I buy at Bluenotes. It’s because of the Ben cut that I go there (and certainly not their pop-culture silk-screened shirts). When I found out they aren’t being made anymore, I had to buy the last three pairs on the rack — two 29s and a pair of 28s.

Oh Ben. You define me.

What will I do for jeans now when they all wear out? For the last couple years I’ve done preppy tops with skater bottoms, but maybe my style will change by then.

“You’re the perfect woman.”

She realizes this as she writes down my chest, waist, and hip size, then asks rhetorically, “What are the typically ideal measurements?”.

Aaron and I could only look at each other, as we had no idea.

“36–26–36.”

“Wow, so you’re a really hot chick!”, says Aaron.

Hi-LAR-ious. Years of confidence I’ve gained, girlfriends convincing me that I’m not too skinny, gone.

“And how much do you weigh?”

“(Pause)…113″.

“After he’s had a buffet”, Aaron adds. My friend the comedian. To console me, he says, “It’s okay. Remember, you’ll be paired up with Jenn in the party”.

My counterpart. The tiniest girl I know.

In the last few years I’ve been to weddings for other friends, but Aaron’s the first out of my core group to get married (although Pat got engaged before him). To pay tribute to his culture, he wants the wedding to be a bit Scottish — something his Popa is especially pleased about.

As a groomsman, I’ll be wearing a kilt. As a Chinese guy, I’ll be feeling a little out-of-place.

He asked me to give him a hand in shopping for the regalia. What a culture shock. Looking through catalogues of claidheamh, sporrans, Sgian Dubhs, Ghillies Brogues. I can’t even pronounce the names. My tongue wasn’t made for these kinds of inflections.

“It’ll take you guys longer to get dressed than the bride”.

Before we leave I remember to ask, “Can we go traditional?”, with Aaron adding, “My Popa would be pretty upset if we didn’t”.

Traditional. The euphemism for commando. The euphemism for bear-ass naked.

“Don’t worry, everything is dry-cleaned”, say the woman reassuringly.

It’s only after we leave that I realize everything but the shirt is made of wool.

I’ll be scratching my balls through the whole service.

Got a new pair of specs. I wanted either thicker rims, for a bolder look, or handles screwed into the glass without rims, for an even simpler look than what I have now. After trying on both styles, I decided on the thicker rims. Since these aren’t titanium, they’re several times heavier than my old pair, so I keep the old pair around for when I’m relaxing or doing sports. The funny thing is that this is one of the least expensive pairs of glasses I’ve ever purchased, yet they’re D&G made.

I spend my time squaring away everything in my room so that I’m comfortable enough to write. The extra cables are gone, as well as the random receipts and bus transfers that somehow end up on the carpet. My mirrors are all in place, making the room seem twice as big, but I when I look I only see myself, slouched comfortably in my chair, hood over my head. Even Dolly has wondered in to lay herself flat on the empty floor. By the time I’m done cleaning, I’m at a loss for all the things I’ve been trying to get into well structured paragraphs.

A new episode of Trailer Park Boys is playing on Showcase, and I’m watching it with the sound off because too much information would ruin the fourth season, something I’m determined to see in order from the beginning. Ricky’s in a high school, completely out of place as a thirty-something man in shop class trying to make some hash or grow some weed or harvest some kind of narcotic, and this only adds to my amusement.

I’ve been letting my hair grow out, à la Matt Heafy in the video for Pull Harder On The Strings Of Your Martyr. Somehow, I’ve only now discovered that my hair naturally grows towards the front, and by brushing it forward, it still looks respectable when I haven’t had it cut in a month and a half.

I’ve been in an odd mood lately. Thoughts branch off in my mind, but nothing seems solid enough to follow through. Inspiration always comes the day after today.

I’ve started tucking in my shirt. The only two times that I remember tucking were both at weddings; Dr. Lea’s and Jono’s. I didn’t even tuck for my cousin’s wedding, even after (or should I say, especially after) a chiding from Priscilla’s unpleasant boyfriend. Admittedly, I have a very thin waist, and tucking always makes me look extremely skinny. I don’t always tuck now, just when I’m wearing a dress shirt with certain new v-neck sweaters. If I don’t tuck, the sweaters end up bunching up oddly around my mid-section and make me look even skinnier.

I don’t mind it so far, although it feels a little odd to have so much material stuffed into my pants, like I have a skirt on underneath (not that I have ANY idea what that feels like, or ever pretended I was Candice Bergen from Attenborough’s Gandhi after finding a cache of my mothers old clothes as a confused adolescent). I’ve always been most comfortable with the casual untucked-shirt with tie or blazer style. I’ve been against tucking for so long that it feels like I’ve sold out, started laying down to the proverbial “man”, but really, I’ve only started to tuck my shirt in on occasion.

I’ve also started trying to sit up straight. I think that posture is an important part of self-image, and realized that I’m confident enough now to project it. My parents would always tell me to keep my shoulders back, because they’re generally forward in a sleazy slouch. I’ve been trying to go cold turkey and not slouch at all, instead of only sitting straight when I feel rested. The greatest challenge is sitting up straight while eating soup. The extra distance the spoon has to travel to the mouth is scary, and after a while, I end up slouching again to prevent stray drippings from making large splashes.

So yeah.

Got my hair bleached blonde. I’ve always wanted very pale blonde hair, but midtone is about as far as it goes.

Trolley, Aaron, and wheaties got me Half-Life 2 for my birthday. I didn’t have a chance to really play it until this weekend, but I decided to play through Half-Life: Source first, because it was four years five years since I last finished it, and going through the game again would help me appreciate all the little details being put into the sequel. The odd thing is that I remember taking weeks to play it through, whereas I started playing HL:S Friday, played a bit last night, and am almost done now. It’s nice to be able to sit and play through a game, taking my time, not having to worry about classes, or assignments, or tests, etc. This makes me realize that I haven’t really gotten into a game like this since I finished university.

Finally get to go for some pho with Loo today. We haven’t been almost two weeks.

Aaron bought me a quadruple/quadruple from Timmies yesterday, and it was good. I’ve been trying to cut down on sugar and creme for years now, so four of each being so satiating (almost candy-like) is very scary.

I took my first puff from a cigarette yesterday. It was a Matinee Extra Mild, and it wasn’t pleasant. I was stoned, and the weed tasted way better.

The Ghost In The Shell: Stand Alone Complex tracks that Number18 sent me are amazing. She rules.

Been busy as fuck.

That’s all. I’m going back to sleep.

Trolley got me a Dwarves pin with the skull and cross boners logo, so I bought a few Misfits pins to balance out my bag. I can’t believe how well done they are.

I just realized that years of wearing school uniforms, and the associated freedom from having to decide what to wear, has made me fashion challenged. Anything I wear is hit or miss, and I always have a hard time distinguishing between the two. There are tons of things I just can’t pull off, but not being able to actually see that actually makes such a fact important.

I think that most guys around this time of year pull a Pablo Francisco in New York, in this area at least, when the weather really starts to go up and a lot of girls are anxious to show off their new summer clothes. I suppose that I can admit to doing the same thing at some point, but I’ve sort of lost the feeling, so they say.

So many are in halter tops and capris (ugh, capris), or other skimpy, tight clothes, and it all just seems so boring now. I might get distracted if a girl dresses with some more fucking personality instead of dressing to show skin, but overall hizzotness just doesn’t do it for me anymore. There’s gotta be a little more, a little something extra to really keep my attention.

Hopefully, that means I’m growing up, not getting more superficial.