Posts tagged with "pieces of me"

No One Gets My Humour

Sometimes, my sar­cas­tic humour is so dry and sub­tle that peo­ple who don’t know me very well think I’m being seri­ous. I try to say things that are so ridicu­lous they can only be taken as a joke, but it doesn’t always work. Example:

Yesterday, Jairus made pulled pork sand­wiches (took him 8 hours!) that smelled soooo good they made me hun­gry, even though I had just eaten a huge din­ner. As we were watch­ing A Jihad For Love (about the coex­is­tence of homo­sex­u­al­ity and Islam), Jesse said, “Too bad these Muslims wouldn’t be able to enjoy this deli­cious pulled pork sand­wich”. I said, “Oh, cause it’s pulled”, in a tone like I had just real­ized some­thing, but what I thought was a jok­ing man­ner. Everyone turned their heads at me, Ian said, “Cause it’s pork, yeah”, and he lin­gered on that yeah really slowly, like he was embar­rassed for me, then every­one turned back to the TV. I’m pretty sure they all think I’m an idiot now, and that I thought Muslims have some­thing against ani­mals when they’re slow-cooked in vine­gar sauce.

Sexual Secret

Secrets aren’t so bad
We’re too young to feel safe
I don’t deserve all this now
Don’t want to feel I’ve made mistakes

I want to tell you every­thing
I want to tell you every­thing
But if I tell you every­thing
What we can build won’t mean a thing

Secret’s Aren’t So Bad, Magneta Lane

There’s this thing, this sex­ual thing I like. I mean really like. It’s not exactly deviant, but cer­tainly some­thing that some girls may find gross or unappealing.

Even though it’s such a big deal to me, I never told any of my girl­friends about it. Only one of them liked it, and even she didn’t know how impor­tant it was to me, because it was some­thing she wanted from me.

I know most of my girl­friends would have prob­a­bly indulged me (at least once in a while) if I told them, but I never did. Not because it’s embar­rass­ing, but because I never wanted any of them to feel obliged or pres­sured into doing it. I always think that one day, I’ll tell the right per­son because she’ll ask me what I like, and she’ll do it for me because she loves me. None of them have, yet, maybe because it’s never got­ten bor­ing in the bedroom.

So for now, it remains this lit­tle secret I keep, because secrets aren’t so bad. They can be lit­tle gems that bring peo­ple closer together. So why reveal them all so soon?

Surrounding Myself With Great People

It’s hard for me to hang out with peo­ple with same bad habits as I have (or have had).

Habits like:

  • over­re­act­ing
  • wor­ry­ing
  • ana­lyz­ing or think­ing too much
  • being judg­men­tal
  • get­ting emo­tion­ally involved in arguments/discussions
  • putting value in mate­r­ial things
  • being impa­tient
  • get­ting too competitive

I always try to improve and refuse to accept these things in myself, so it’s hard for me to accept them in oth­ers. I’m also afraid that spend­ing too much time with them would make me com­pla­cent, as I’d start to believe that these things are accept­able because other peo­ple are okay with it.

That’s why I sur­round myself with peo­ple who are bet­ter than me.

Boxer Briefs

Boxer briefs

She bought me these boxer briefs. Calvin Klein, body cut, light­weight cot­ton construction.

Until then, all the under­wear I had were plaid XS box­ers from The Gap that I could only find online, or XXL from Gap Kids, dec­o­rated with rock­ets, and bas­ket­balls, and skiers. I didn’t think she’d find any­thing else that would work on my small frame.

So this is my first pair of boxer briefs, and they fit. My sexy under­wear, she would call them. I guess it’s hard to find my other under­wear sexy when it’s meant for those 7–14.

Blending In As A Local

When I tell the taxi dri­vers here the name of the street I want to go to (pro­nounced from mem­ory because the names are too com­pli­cated to under­stand), they don’t always know how to get there. That’s why I always have the name of a pop­u­lar land­mark in close prox­im­ity mem­o­rized, and when I men­tion this, it usu­ally gets me where I want to go. Sometimes I get a part-time cab­bie though, who doesn’t even know where this land­mark is. That’s when they ask me how to get there, or what else is around, or if it’s close to such-and-such-a-place adja­cent to such-and-such-a-street. Somehow, they assume that I’m a local.

Which is odd, because I know I have an English accent when I speak Chinese, so I assume most peo­ple can tell I’m not from around here. When I was here five years ago, most peo­ple said they knew I wasn’t from Hong Kong before I even opened my mouth. Something about the way I looked or dressed or acted.

Guess I’m fool­ing some­one now.