No I wasn’t sent to serve time in prison nor was I shipped overseas in a container as a mail order bride (nobody’s been making any orders – hurtful). I know, it’s been a very long time my friends since the last high level literary feature on this site – but as was said in the song ‘Changes’ of the late and great Tupac Shakur: ‘That’s just the way it is’.
I’ve received many enquiries from the peoples out there re when I’ll be back in the game – so thank you. Thank you for visiting and thank you for not being easily perturbed. Not wanting to be a dirty blog teaser, I’ll be regaining a sense of frequency with my entries from this point. So I’ll take the chance here to say: Feel free to comment – as in if something strikes you then put it out there. I can’t see you so I’m unable to laugh in your face. Ok seriously, there aren’t many forums where some of us can express views unedited or outside the backdrop of professions, community expectations etc (I can assume you all know the well worn internet spiel re comments not being racist, vile etc so no need to go there). Not everything I put on here is heavy tho not everything is light either. In fact some posts go thru many shades in only a few lines. But that’s real life and not all situations and observations neatly maintain uniform moods, colours and emotions. So that’s how I write cos that’s how I see life and so long as I stay sincere I’ll write whatever the fuck I want – silence is boring so feel free to join the conversation.
Here‘s some shit that I’ve done but I’m telling you now – it’s just Not Recommended:
Take expired medication. Unlike with some brands of cereal and cookies, the expiry date on prescription medication is actually stricter than the ‘best before’ standard of quality of some other consumable products. I know this because I took some expired sleeping tablets during my first night in a share house in London. I woke up in the morning wearing a sparkly silver cardigan that was not mine. I also have vague recollections of negligently using the lavatory in the middle of the night with the door wide open – no big deal you may say? Well at the time I was wearing neither any pants nor that sparkly silver cardigan. However, all this would have been a good way to break the ice with the new housemates.
Fix a pair of sunglasses with a toothpick. The right side of my sunglasses fell off. I’m Chinese. Chinese people have access to commercial quantities of toothpicks. We could build the 4th fucking little piggy house with them if we wanted to. I took one, broke an end off and used it as a ‘screw’ to re-attach the handle. Why – Because I thought I could. Outcome – I couldn’t. I was driving, then I was pumping out heavy bass hip hop tunes from my car speakers, then I was beating my head to my tunes, then I was feeling gangsta, then I was suddenly blinded by sunlight but only on one side of my face, then I was seeing a toothpick piece down my top, then I was seeing a broken handle of plastic on my lap, then I was seeing a damn fool in the reflection of the rear view mirror…
Eat potato chips in bed. I did this while reading with the lights on. And then it was bed time so I lay down in the dark, but while doing so my hand brushed against a stray potato chip. It had fallen out of the packet onto my mattress. So not wanting to waste it, I popped the tasty chip into my mouth and started to chew. It was not a fallen potato chip. It was a dead moth. The reasonable person would understand how easily such an error was made. Both a chip and a dead moth are flat, crispy and flaky – however would you believe that both these things actually taste exceptionally different?
Take the Mexi-Coach to Tijuana alone. This was no venga bus people. Perhaps I got on at the wrong time because the other passengers heading over the border with me from the USA didn’t look like they were heading into Mexico for donkey Piñatas, giant Sombreros or a mini Ukulele. They looked like (and overtly announced) that they were heading over to appropriate and purchase heavy duty quantities of prescription medicines … yet nobody seemed to have a prescription… Funnily enough there is a linkage with this last paragraph and the first – see if you can work it out.
Nobody wants to be a stupid mofo. We all want to think that we can handle our shit and process what’s right and wrong – but the mind is tricky, ego can be a bitch and hectic emotions usually fuck up our good judgement and blur the line between what we should and shouldn’t put up with. This isn’t just what happens when you smoke cheap easy street crack, this is just what happens:
You have the ongoing friend who always finds the bad in your good situation. You get a promotion and they keep on highlighting the extra stress, you get a hot new dress and they make out it looks like a shapeless caftan, you get a new guy and they claim to suspect he’s an ex prisoner on the run etc. Everybody has or has had one – the bullshit friend, the bootleg version of someone you should trust but they’re as fake, cheap and nasty as that canned soya bean cube shit the Chinese grocery shops try to pass off as duck meat. And each time their mouths shoot the shit out, you cringe because you know it’s not true honesty but poison resentment. But their number’s still stored in your phone. Why? Because you feel there’s too much history between you, the way out is not easy, the social ecosystem of your friendship network risks collapse if this tie is severed.
Another Example: You have the relationship that has you questioning why you chose him – as in, why the fuck you chose him over a colourful sturdy vibrator instead (boys, this is from the female perspective, but if you can still relate then great – no judgement). Yes, relationships take work and you need to compromise. But when you put up with someone who is always possessive, jealous, neglectful, abusive, needy, hypocritical, lazy, hopeless, immature, cheating, threatened by your strength and independence etc then you ain’t doing what’s called ‘compromise’, you’re doing what’s called ‘selling out’. But you stay with this person even though they’re the human version of a pack of instant noodles with that shady sachet of MSG flavouring – no inherent nutritional value but it’s convenient and you’re willing to keep on having it simply because … it’s there.
We all do it – see black and white in our mind’s eye but rationalise the bullshit away with our other body parts to why certain situations or people are allowed to continuously cross ‘the line’. Those close to me say my line is pretty damn solid and uncross-able, maybe too uncross-able and I cut people out too easily and quickly. But I’ve had my fair share of Live And Not Learn and I suppose I’ve made the call on the above situations that I’m done. There’s no shame in being burnt. And then burnt again and another 400 fucking times over until finally getting it. But at one point you just have to get it – that the other person in the ‘relationship’ or ‘friendship’ is fucked up, pointless and just not worth it. Some say, ‘But you never know when you might need them’ and ‘But they’ll always be there for me when I have nobody’. I say, Live And Learn – as though the devil is the one who will save you from hell.
I say #1 because there’s more to come. These disturbing memories may also serve to explain why I seem so … disturbed. I was a little girl and it was school holidays so rather than have to chain me to a pole outside on the street while my parents worked (watch the news – shit like this happens in real life), my dad took me to the video store to get some tapes so I would be distracted enough for a few hours to not set furniture on fire, roam the streets looking for gangs to join etc. I really wanted to get ‘Edward Scissorhands’ so I skipped into the shop with excitement, bounced straight over to the New Release section, saw it, ran up to dad who took it to the counter to borrow and pay. This whole time I’m jumping up and down going ‘I can’t wait to see this mooooviiiie’!
But as the Chinese would say, there was Sum Ting Wong. Translation: Something was wrong. Because upon closer inspection the movie that my father was holding and about to borrow for his child was not in fact ‘Edward Scissorhands’. It was instead a slightly similar yet notably different movie called: ‘Edward Penishands’. After the video shop guy told my dad that this may not be the right movie (and was probably about to call the cops) I held the cover close to my little face. I saw a lady who was NOT Winona Ryder. I saw hands that were NOT made up of scissors. I really didn’t understand it at the time – why the lady had no pants on, why she looked like the women that stand by the road waving at cars late at night, why she was squatting over Edward’s hand like she was about to sit on a chair, why Edward didn’t really look like the Johnny Depp version of Edward but more like a drunk clown from the circus….My dad told me to quickly put the video back onto the self and I had to borrow ‘The Neverending Story’ instead – which probably had a different plot to the original choice of bootleg Edward with dick covered hands.
The needy, high maintenance ‘friend’ that soils herself/himself if you don’t return a text or call within 4 minutes so they can keep reading from their self-titled website: www.imavictimandaspoiltshiteventhoiminmy30s.com. I changed my number and told them I had no room for whacky in my life. After that they couldn’t just keep on pressing redial. The legal term for them is as follows: crazy stalker motherfuckers. Seriously, it was tedious and draining as hell. But then I read a blog post called ‘The game called circle’ … hey hold on, it’s on this site….