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Note to self:

I wasn’t aware it’s been over a year now since I’ve posted anything here. I haven’t felt inspired to write for quite some time.  And even though things have been hard for me, instead I’d like to write about someone else’s struggle.  I’m sure I will never truly know why things happened the way they did, but on some level I am deeply sympathetic to Park Bom, and 2NE1’s disbandment makes perfect sense to me.

News of Bom’s “drug scandal” (not what I’d call it, but what I think doesn’t matter in context) changed things forever for 2NE1. The criticism from people was unreal, and given the drug she had brought into the country was an anti-depressant, it’s obvious she was already in a vulnerable state of mind.  The group was put on hiatus, and eventually Minzy left the group entirely to pursue her own interests.  To think of what it felt like for Bom at this time is much like taking a look at my own life.  How could she not blame herself for this?  The whole world was looking for someone to accept responsibility, and well-intentioned or not, the things people were saying were destructive.  Destructive to her and her heart.

I know this because I’ve been there. Every day I combat my own feelings of my mistakes and my shortcomings, and I’m sure Bom does too.  But other people’s opinions weigh heavily on our minds, and even things that are said in support of us will sometimes have just the opposite effect.

It doesn’t have to be anyone’s fault that 2NE1 broke up. Maybe it was CL’s fault, and YG’s too. Their favoring her marketing and solo debut detracted too much from everyone else and made disbandment the easiest option.  Maybe it was Minzy’s fault.  Being impatient and unsupportive and wanting to distance herself.  Or maybe it’s our faults; Blackjacks and society in general.  Maybe life happened, and 2NE1 suddenly found themselves at different places emotionally.  Can we blame CL for having incredible potential?  Can we blame YG for helping her and focusing on her while the group is on hiatus?  Can we blame Minzy for being driven and not wanting to waste another moment she could be using to invest in herself and her future?  We can, but all the while Bom is listening and her heart is hurting, because at the root of all the blame is someone who feels there is no one to blame but herself.

YG has stated Bom was 2NE1’s undoing, and on the surface perhaps this is true. But maybe instead of blaming her or anyone else involved, we should just be accepting.  Accepting of 3 young women (shout out to Dara!) who are ready to face the world and make themselves proud.  And accepting of another young woman who has faced more criticism than anyone ever should, and recognize that her flaws are our own.  Does anyone know how this makes her feel?

We all make mistakes. We all feel inadequate.  We all feel flawed.

We are all Park Bom.

I hate myself.

I just really, really hate myself. I have a fleeting moment of confidence where I feel I’m sufficiently capable of being a grown up and then I remember that I’m awful and such a thing is indelibly unattainable.

I went back home for Christmas to spend the holiday with my family and it was the worst.  I got into it with my mother on Christmas Eve after being treated like a second rate human being compared to my siblings by both her and my dad.  Long story short I told her I’m not certain I would even come by anymore if I weren’t financially dependent on them (my parents).

Then I got home and I started to think, you know, maybe it’s really time I just settle on a life course and see where it takes me already, because my current path hit a dead end about 2-3 years ago. I started craving my hometown, and not the town my parents live in that I spent my adolescence in, but the town we relocated from to get there; the town where I spent my youth.  I haven’t been back in half a life time.  Literally.  I was 12 when we left and I turn 24 this year.  Honestly, though the move never bothered me at the time, I find myself wondering what my life would be like today had we not left.  Our family was more bonded before the move, particularly between all of us kids’ individual relationships with our dad.  Though I’m not certain that had anything to do with the move…

Anyways, my point here is that I find myself wondering lately if I would be a different person today had we stayed. I see all these people I grew up with settling into careers and living capable, fulfilling lives, and I just can’t say the same for myself.  If I stayed, would I have been influenced to pursue other hobbies growing up?  Would I have found a talent or an interest I could devote myself too?  My neighbour, a boy my sister’s age I used to play with, he’s still playing hockey 12 years later, playing for a minor league team and undoubtedly pursuing a long term career out of this.  One of my best friends growing up, a crafty girl who always loved to doodle and make art projects runs her own art store now and seems to absolutely love what she does.  Radio emcee, astrophysics, salon manager, graphic design, you name it.  Everyone I know is doing something they love, and it’s a product of years of pursuing that specific interest and making it into something they can do for a living, all the while I sit in my apartment alone wondering what my interests even are so I can do something other than hate myself.

I moved to the city to pursue laboratory sciences, and after 1 semester at University I quickly fell off that band wagon and realized I wasn’t near passionate enough to devote 4 years of my life, blood, sweat, and tears into something I chose on a whim.  However, I recently found a more comfortable program for me for the same thing at a different institution and I wonder if I should just… try again.  I think probably my rationale behind wanting to pursue such a career is that growing up, my sister’s two closest friends both had mother’s working this exact job or similar to it.  And that caters to me in the sense that I’ve always wanted to have a family of my own and I idolized both these women a lot growing up, so much so that it would almost feel fulfilling to me to pursue this in that regard.  They were both so friendly; always smiling and always so caring.  They both were ambitious and I feel they both truly have everything.  A husband, children, a career, and the patience and resilience to manage all 3 of those things without ever losing face.  I wish I could be like that so desperately…

And that brings me to today. I lost my hair ties.  “What?” you ask?  I spent like a crap ton of money on these ultra-cute hair ties for me, my sister, and my sister in law’s stocking stuffers for Christmas, and I was incredibly excited to wear mine, because I’ve been growing my hair out for what seems like forever (I had an anxiety attack and hacked off months of effort which set me back a lot) and finally I am able to tie my hair back properly.  So I go hunting for my hair ties I had last seen not 2 weeks ago… and they’re gone.  I was already running late for work today so I left in a panic and yelled at my mom over the phone to look around her house in case I left them there… nothing.  It really got to me.  It’s really getting to me.  It will really get at me in the morning.  They were one of a kind that I bought online and they’re just gone without a trace.  Then I spent 8 hours at work hating myself and hating my life because karma just really seems to dislike me and these kind of things always happen to me!  Side note: while typing this my laptop died because I unplugged it for the first time in half a decade to move my makeshift coffee table around so I could accommodate my new area rug and forgot to plug it back in…  You see??

And these things ACTUALLY FACTUALLY bother me. I mean I go ballistic and you’d think you’re witnessing someone who should be sent to an asylum.  I throw tantrums like a 2 year old and coincidentally I’ve been throwing them ever since I were 2!  I become overwhelmed with anger and hate for myself for being stupid enough to misplace something I was so excited about and I honestly feel the urge to harm myself.

What’s worse is I’ll probably call my mother again in the morning and rip her a new ass hole like she had anything to do with this at all, just because I need to scream at someone other than myself to relinquish some of my anguish.

And now I’m sitting here typing, thinking that my ever being an adult is such a farce. I’m a financial and emotional cripple.  How is someone like me supposed to go through school and practicum and 30 years of dedicated work without blowing a gasket on someone undeserving over something petty…  I don’t know that I can.

What’s holding me back the most though is my lack of motivation. What is this really all for?  At the end of the day I don’t have someone who loves me, I don’t have children who depend on me, I don’t have hobbies or friends… I have no reason to do anything more than what I’m doing right now… and that’s despairing to me.  I want more from life but I can’t achieve it.  I wouldn’t see the point if I could.

Romanian Libra and Early Dad Bod

Today I bought some pants. And I am very tall, requiring a 36” inseam which I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist in retail anymore, so I settle for 34”.  I’m also very thin, or… at least I thought I was.  I remember 3-4 years ago (aka the last time I was in a relationship) I was a trim 29/30 waist in mens.  28 depending on the store.  Today I bought pants and I left with a 31.

Okay, okay, not a HUGE difference, but I tried on the 30s and I felt like my gut was spilling over. They felt snug on my hips, and made my legs look fab, but oi.  My belly.

Now I’m officially convinced that I’m on the fast track to fatherhood… SANS CHILD! You heard me.  Dad bod.

I’m definitely being over-dramatic, but I’m 23 and basically ready to dump all my cute threads for sweatpants and hoodies (the latter of which I bought 3 of today).

And this is where the Romanian Libra comes in. He comes in other varieties—the Chinese Fabio, the African sugar daddy, the Maritime stalker (he started off good!!), the Italian stalker (actual stalker), and the Ukrainian big fat question mark—but the Romanian Libra stands out as my biggest relationship regret so I’ll use him. (Also I’m a Gemini so we were pretty much meant to be until I blew it.)

Anyways, 2 and a half years ago I met a Romanian boy online named Cristian. His picture was plain looking with a touch of scholarly—perfect for me!  Not too intimidating but not too boring.  Yet when we met in person I could see that his photo was a little gratuitous.

He wasn’t ugly, by any means. But he didn’t really encompass a “type”, if you will.  I felt ashamed of myself for thinking of him in such a way, especially when one of the first things he said to me was he was glad I didn’t walk out on him like other guys have after first meeting him.  Somehow he caught me there.  It’s like there was a switch that flicked on and I had to have him.  Normally I cringe when men are self-loathing (y’know, like me) but Cristian was so sincere.  He wasn’t looking for pity.  He was just happy I gave him a chance and he told me so.

He became increasingly attractive to me as I got to know him. He was older than I, but incredibly inexperienced.  He was shy and modest and I tried to be gregarious enough for the both of us.  I was playful and eager and innocent.  I felt innocent with him and it was so special.  It was our first date and it was probably the most memorable first date I’d ever had.  I asked him if it would be alright for me to kiss him when he took me back to my place.  And it was.  And he was awful kisser but he was an amazing kisser.  I feel warm just thinking about it.

The next time we hung out I invited him over to my place to watch a movie (no, not Netflix and chill). He was dressed so… drab.  And it occurred to me that he was pretty drab on our first date too.  And both dates I was dolled up in my tightest jeans and my cutest sweaters!  And it wasn’t until today that I really thought of myself as having looked “cute” in clothes.  But I was.  I was thin and nice clothes fit me so I bought them and I wore them.  And now today I look at myself in my size 31s with a gut on the verge and I miss my Romanian Libra so very much.  Because with him I was cute, and I was confident.  And today I am not.

On setting goals–

Do people actually think about what their life is going to be like? 5 years from now? 10? Do people actually make life plans and set goals? I’ve heard this all my life and yet I’ve failed to make any plans at all. I have zero expectations, except for maybe a few bad expectations. Planning is such a farce to me. I feel so unsupported and so incapable.

I just finished talking with my mom on the phone. We talk often enough, but every few months I feel so synonymously overwhelmed and underwhelmed with my life that I need to vent to her. Honestly? Trying to vent to her is just self-sabotaging, but I really have no one else.

Today’s stressor: Money. Finances. Moolah. And how I have none of it.

It all started 4 years ago. I think that I had maybe anticipated having high expectations moving to the city to attend post-secondary, but I was just going through the motions. You graduate high school, you take a year off to “find yourself”. You go to university, you meets someone special, you graduate, you get a real job, you get married, you make real money, you have a real life. I just couldn’t follow through. I wasn’t there yet. I’m not there now. And between being gay and dropping out of university, I’ve become my parent’s number 1 disappointment in life. They’ll never admit it to my face (actually that’s a lie, they’ve basically already admitted it in so many words), but I am disappointing. Even to myself.

They seem to think it’s appropriate to always, always respond to my fears about finances with an unsympathetic head tilt and a “well, you know what you have to do”. *Cough, cough* *wink, wink* *nudge, nudge* SCHOOL.

I can’t go back to school. Not now, maybe not ever. I can’t make myself pick a career or pick some courses out of a hat and just go for it. My heart will never be in it.

I tried communicating that to my mom on the phone today, and it didn’t work. It never does. I tried telling her that it’s hard for me to predict what my life will look like in 10 years, because my heart truly isn’t even invested in myself. I told her that it’s easiest for me to think I won’t be around in 10 years, because when I try to imagine what life would be like, I’m entirely disappointed.

All she had to say to me was that I’m just having a bad day and then asked if I watched last night’s episode of Big Brother.

She always does that, changes the subject. I try and confront her about it, tell her that I feel unloved and unsupported, and she says that I’ve ranted and there’s nothing else she can do about it. Then she swiftly changes the subject again before I can engage her at all. I mean yea, maybe she’s vastly under-equipped for my state of mind these past few years, but the fact that there’s just such a huge wall between my feelings and her is so utterly despairing to me. I feel like I have nobody. I feel like of all the people in the world, my own mother, I shouldn’t have to feel ashamed of my feelings or embarrassed that she may not take them seriously.

Now I try and put on a brave face for a few months until I need to release, only to have my feelings rejected all over again.

I’m tired of feeling like all I have to offer people are blank stares and empty smiles and remedial laughter. I’m tired of going unnoticed for who I actually am and how I actually feel.   I’m tired of people expecting me to be somebody in their lives in 10 years, in any capacity, when I already feel like I’m so immeasurably separate. I don’t want to be here in 10 years. I’ve made my first life plan.

Searching for a way to find a way

It’s been a couple months since I wrote here, and as usual, I came into this feeling like I had a pretty good idea what I wanted to write about. I don’t think it’s going to work out that way though. My life feels pretty ambiguous lately, and I think my scatterbrained thoughts here won’t deny that.

It’s literally been over 3 years now since I was last in a relationship. And if you think that’s absurd, perhaps even more depressing is that I haven’t even been on a date in over 2 years. “You need to put yourself out there more”, people say. Well, duh. Working 8 hours a day, sleeping 7 hours a day, tending to my cats like 1-2 hours a day and grooming my own personal need to recharge and be alone for all other hours unaccounted for doesn’t necessarily leave a lot of time for love, sex, and friendship.

I am alone. And I think I’m okay with that. But I’m not always so certain. I feel like I put so much pressure on myself to feel like I should be giving myself to the universe and… well, in effect I’m trying to induce feelings that I’ve been coming to recognize as unnatural for me.

“What?” You say?

I love being alone. I really fucking do. Sometimes the world tricks me into thinking otherwise, but in the end I always seem to understand my version of happiness as exploring life and exploring myself all by myself. Maybe I used to dream of getting married someday and having children, maybe I used to think you can’t make it in this life without having someone to depend on 100%, and maybe I understand that these things are totally subject to interest me again someday in the future, but right now I just feel like it’s all a hindrance. It’s all keeping me from really knowing myself.

To be honest, I mourn this as well. I regret that I’m wasting my youth and beauty on being isolative. And this regret contributes to how much I isolate myself in other regards. I’m not pursuing hobbies or interests. In truth, I’m literally doing nothing to explore myself. WHAT A WASTE.

This is why I just feel so damned sad all the time. My lack of confidence in myself holds me back from understanding myself better, and my lack of understanding for myself holds me back from pursuing interpersonal relationships. I feel like I missed a pivotal chapter in my life where I should have been embracing things just for the sake of fulfilling myself and my own expectations. I missed a chapter of mistakes and learning and growing as a result. Holding myself back and feeling undeserving has always come natural to me.

So where do I go from here? How do I discover what I am and become who I am supposed to be?  It sounds silly, but for so long I’ve been searching for a way to find a way to be happy.  And if you think that sounds like I spend a lot of time thinking instead of doing, you’d be right.  I need to do away with the rhetoric.  I need to do.

Quiet homebody seeks LTR

About Me:

ASL?  23, male, my apartment (indefinitely)

I find myself wishing I had the nerve to pursue the dating game again.  I’ve been randomly browsing dating websites and finding myself yearning to reach through my screen to pull the geekiest, kindest looking boys right into my living room.  (Which makes me realize how much my idea of an ideal boyfriend has changed over the years)

Of course I still like a bad boy with a bod as much as anyone else, but I think I’ve come to realize that I would never be able to feel totally at ease with someone who’s going to put in the effort it takes to look like the douche that everybody envies when I’m purely running on youthful metabolism at this time (and hopefully for a long time!)

I get told time and time again that I’m “literally beautiful” “one of the best looking people [I] know” “like model pretty”.  I’ve been approached to do modeling 4 or 5 times (once was local alternative, once was a small artsy/modern kinda business, once by a Holt Renfrew rep., and a couple times online by people wanting me to do a few local runways for their aspiring fashion lines).  And I’m humble enough about this that I either reject or ignore every offer.

Beauty is honestly, truly, skin deep.  I don’t feel beautiful at all.  I don’t feel worthwhile at all.

I have a very long, slender, thin frame.  One of the things I love most about my body is my tiny waist and beautiful bone structure.  I have broad shoulders, my limbs are long, my cheekbones out of this world, but slathered all over it is this skin that I writhe under.  And that’s not to say I have bad skin, I just… I sometimes feel like I am a fat skinny person.  Like everyone who sees me sees all the things I would love about myself, but underneath my clothes I see the things that deter me (am I being literal or metaphorical?).  My chest for starters–inherited via my father, and his father before him.  The largest point of contention in my life.  I have never stood proud, shoulders back.  I have never taken my shirt off since beginning puberty.

Especially now that I live alone, this affects my life daily.  Trying to find clothes to wear that make me feel comfortable enough to brave going outside can be an hour long process.  Sometimes longer.  Sometimes I decide not to go out at all.  Even buying groceries is hard for me.  I have a lot of anxiety about people seeing me.  I’ve spent so much of my life stocking up on carbs and snack foods, frozen foods, foods with artificial ingredients and a longer shelf life.  Why?  Because it allows me to stay home for longer.  My skin feels like elastic and I’ve never had a lean tight body.  I feed myself garbage, how could I expect to have that body?  I am the skinny fat person, for as long as my metabolism allows.

I pick apart every little thing about myself and use it as fuel for being alone.  My breath reeks–cryptic tonsils.  I have awful sebaceous dermatitis–my hair gets so waxy if I’m not diligent and I shed skin cells from my scalp like my cats shed in the spring.  My teeth could be whiter, my nose could be more elegant (and it runs a lot because I broke it in kindergarten, which also makes me a mouth breather, yuck), my eyebrows never quite look like they belong.

Even non-physical things.

My mom still does my banking–I’m not frivolous I just don’t know anything about finances.  I’m pretty lazy when it comes to doing laundry.  My cats are welcome to walk, sit, or lay wherever they please (counter tops and dining tables included).  I am incredibly habitual and follow a daily routine, anything out of the ordinary is indelibly stressful.  If you’re with me for the long haul you better be prepared to re-watch my favourite movies and replay my favourite video games on a yearly (or so) basis.  I’m pretty ambitionless and am rarely motivated to do anything other than sit on my ass (my version of “homebody” for all you online dating folks).  I like to think I’d be into adventures and cute dates of laser tag or skating or going to the movies or walking through the park, but I’ll probably wind up passing because it’s too hot to wear a sweater to blanket my insecurities within.

Oh yea, and if we eat too close to bed time or I haven’t had a number 2 in a while (also thanks to my dad’s genetics), you can forget about cuddling with me much less doing ANYTHING ELSE.

So if any of this makes me your idea of a perfect partner, hit me up!

The Tale of Spiritual Enlightenment

I have always loved Studio Ghibli movies, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya is not my first love by any means.  But every now and again, in any entertainment medium, I come across a song or a quote or a scene that moves me beyond words.  This particular Ghibli movie had one of these songs.

It’s honestly been so long since I’ve been overwhelmed by feeling enough to compel myself to write here for any reason other than keeping up my humanity.  And this entry probably already sounds half ludicrous as it stands that I almost feel a fool putting this feeling I have into words, but… here it goes:

The Procession of Celestial Beings.  It’s a song that plays towards the end of the film as the celestial people of the moon come to reclaim Princess Kaguya among their ranks.  I think that the movie intended for the song to evoke a certain level of exalted grandeur to muddy your feelings of hopeless abandon.  At least that’s how I would describe my relationship with this song.

If you wanted me to quote my brain verbatim from the moment the sounds of percussion interlude into a splendor of symphonic winds, “This will be the song played at my funeral” is what I would say to you.

I stood up clumsily and surprised my cats–one sprawled on the floor and the other pawing at the fish bowl on the table.  And then I began to dance.  Suddenly my head was adorned with a crown of sprigs and my wrists were slaves to the bells.  My living room transformed into a breezy field with the sun beaming ringlets of light around us as one cat stretched across a mossy patch of stone next to a pond where the other cat played and pounced at the fish.  I spun and twirled and flipped my hair.  I smiled and I looked upon them between turns and embraced myself.  For the first time in what feels like forever I felt my spirit break free from my skin and the two of us… the two of us just “were”.  I was simply me and for a blip of time I enjoyed an eternity of spiritual enlightenment.

Someday maybe I will find myself there for real, and until that day I have the Procession of Celestial Beings to guide me.