why does it torment me, even me...
i'm ian ho. the ian ho.
this thing called desire...
what is this damned thing called desire.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
IV - what patience sometimes is
i went to the downstairs appliance store to get a few things, and seeing a 6 plug multi-plug body, i decided to get that, some cable, and a plug head to fix up on my own. it’s not so hard. anyway i mentally calculated the cost of that and some other stuff and it came up to $18.40. The uncle rings up the register and it shows $19.40. i forked out the money, did the math again, and i knew it was $18.40. but i paid it and left.
i wondered why i didn’t say something about it to the uncle. firstly, i might not have been right the first time, but i'd already paid without protest, so the moment might have passed. secondly, he was an uncle, and it's these little snips that keep him going. thirdly, i would probably have made the situation awkward. it takes a little bit of mental stabilising to handle things tactfully and politely. fourthly, it was one measley dollar, what, not five percent of the total cost. cheaper than friggin gst. and lastly i wasn't having a bad day, so i let it slide.
i like to think of myself as al pacino in the godfather. like what would al p. do in this or that situation. i think the godfather movie teaches a man a lot about life. anyway, i suppose, firstly, that nobody stiffs the godfather. secondly, al p. has thugs that settle this kind of bullshit. thirdly, al p. has street cred to protect, so he'd probably have made things very clear to the uncle. fourthly, al p. is not stupid, he definitely does the maths. fifthly, al p. is a nice guy, he looks out for the mom n pop establishments that pay him protection. sixthly, al p. might give the guy a icy smile, and that guy would know that he'd stiffed the wrong customer.
besides the al p. stuff, i know that i'm a confrontor. i don't like to bite my lip and keep my mouth shut when i've got something to say. my ideal argument would be passionate yet respectful, honest yet responsible. i know that it's possible to reach this ideal, but i also know that not alot of people love to talk about stuff without reserve, even in an argument. but that's me, i'm like that, i'm brought up this way. but i also know that confronting is (for me) the easy way out.
i wonder about people who do hold their tongue. how they must feel so frustrated (because? therefore?) they chose to keep quiet, worrying whether the other person knows how they feel. the first or the second are both quite incredible, quite powerful choices to make. when you know that someone has chosen to keep quiet, in love, in some powerful desire for the other to choose to someday realise that they made a mistake, it's so humbling, for me.
it reminds me of arsene wenger. he's the type of coach that doesn't berate his players openly. he says, these players are mature, they know when they've done something wrong, sometimes without having to be told. i think the world of him, for his love of the game, his approach to football, and his respect for his players. what he wants them to achieve in terms of football, and in human maturity. i can't imagine how many years of scorn or abuse or impatience from others who wish he'd do something he must have endured, keeping his mouth shut in public, or even in front of his team, when he sees something wrong, and choosing to speak to his players privately, respectfully. i think that really builds character. could i do it? i don't know.
i've been brought up the other way. the hard way. the 'i scold because i care' way. and i believe in it, i love it, i love the people who've brought me up like that, because they care deeply for me, they're honest with me, they're curt with me, and they want me to know straight up that they have higher expectations of me. it's hard to take a scolding like this in front of others, teammates, family, etc., but it's taught me to stay positive, and to stay humble. it's a cliche sometimes, you've got to be cruel to be kind. and i apply it to myself, and i apply it to the people who look up to me. i suppose it's more like how fergie does it. and both these managers are football champions, manager/ coach heroes.
so i suppose it's a part of growing up. sometimes a man is mellow, sometimes a man is hard. but the important thing is to care. not to do either for selfish reasons, but to commit, each to his way, with as much heart as one is able.
i wondered why i didn’t say something about it to the uncle. firstly, i might not have been right the first time, but i'd already paid without protest, so the moment might have passed. secondly, he was an uncle, and it's these little snips that keep him going. thirdly, i would probably have made the situation awkward. it takes a little bit of mental stabilising to handle things tactfully and politely. fourthly, it was one measley dollar, what, not five percent of the total cost. cheaper than friggin gst. and lastly i wasn't having a bad day, so i let it slide.
i like to think of myself as al pacino in the godfather. like what would al p. do in this or that situation. i think the godfather movie teaches a man a lot about life. anyway, i suppose, firstly, that nobody stiffs the godfather. secondly, al p. has thugs that settle this kind of bullshit. thirdly, al p. has street cred to protect, so he'd probably have made things very clear to the uncle. fourthly, al p. is not stupid, he definitely does the maths. fifthly, al p. is a nice guy, he looks out for the mom n pop establishments that pay him protection. sixthly, al p. might give the guy a icy smile, and that guy would know that he'd stiffed the wrong customer.
besides the al p. stuff, i know that i'm a confrontor. i don't like to bite my lip and keep my mouth shut when i've got something to say. my ideal argument would be passionate yet respectful, honest yet responsible. i know that it's possible to reach this ideal, but i also know that not alot of people love to talk about stuff without reserve, even in an argument. but that's me, i'm like that, i'm brought up this way. but i also know that confronting is (for me) the easy way out.
i wonder about people who do hold their tongue. how they must feel so frustrated (because? therefore?) they chose to keep quiet, worrying whether the other person knows how they feel. the first or the second are both quite incredible, quite powerful choices to make. when you know that someone has chosen to keep quiet, in love, in some powerful desire for the other to choose to someday realise that they made a mistake, it's so humbling, for me.
it reminds me of arsene wenger. he's the type of coach that doesn't berate his players openly. he says, these players are mature, they know when they've done something wrong, sometimes without having to be told. i think the world of him, for his love of the game, his approach to football, and his respect for his players. what he wants them to achieve in terms of football, and in human maturity. i can't imagine how many years of scorn or abuse or impatience from others who wish he'd do something he must have endured, keeping his mouth shut in public, or even in front of his team, when he sees something wrong, and choosing to speak to his players privately, respectfully. i think that really builds character. could i do it? i don't know.
i've been brought up the other way. the hard way. the 'i scold because i care' way. and i believe in it, i love it, i love the people who've brought me up like that, because they care deeply for me, they're honest with me, they're curt with me, and they want me to know straight up that they have higher expectations of me. it's hard to take a scolding like this in front of others, teammates, family, etc., but it's taught me to stay positive, and to stay humble. it's a cliche sometimes, you've got to be cruel to be kind. and i apply it to myself, and i apply it to the people who look up to me. i suppose it's more like how fergie does it. and both these managers are football champions, manager/ coach heroes.
so i suppose it's a part of growing up. sometimes a man is mellow, sometimes a man is hard. but the important thing is to care. not to do either for selfish reasons, but to commit, each to his way, with as much heart as one is able.
Friday, October 9, 2009
III - quieting
nowadays, there's only one real reason why i get morose, and that's family. it's the one thing that's out of reach, but won't go away.
sometimes i wish i'd done more when i could have. sometimes i hope that i tried my best. i used to wonder why i couldn't have had it easier. and this family has a bad history. i don't know why, and i don't know why. why wasn't there anything i could have done, when i know what i'd do now. but it's too late. and even if i could go back i don't know if we'd listen to me. even for me i know i can't always win people over. people are fucking stubborn and i fucking get damn annoyed sometimes. but that's selfish thinking.
i care, you know. but it sucks to care when things are like this. you know i care, i've told you before. but i hate things like this. i wish you'd come back, but i wish you'd really go away. i'll miss you when you're gone, but fuck lar. you give me grief. you, you don't listen to me. you're stubborn, ridiculous. you give me the worst grief, and you're my mom.
i think about all the lonely times you have to go through, and i feel so sad. i wish i could be there for you, but i wish you'd stop bugging me as well. it's over, isn't it? isn't it? i feel like yelling, FUCK, ISN'T IT?
and i know it'd make you sad to no end to read this. but this is exactly what you know is true. and i'll never be able to bring myself to tell you.
angelina, tommy emmanuel. it tells me, listen. listen, my boy. life will end alright. no, no, just listen. and as you smile and as you waft and as you tap your foot and as you hum to the tune. even if it's a gloss over all the crap, just let it persuade and let it convince and let the cover-up feel good.
maybe i'll play it for you someday, mommy.
sometimes i wish i'd done more when i could have. sometimes i hope that i tried my best. i used to wonder why i couldn't have had it easier. and this family has a bad history. i don't know why, and i don't know why. why wasn't there anything i could have done, when i know what i'd do now. but it's too late. and even if i could go back i don't know if we'd listen to me. even for me i know i can't always win people over. people are fucking stubborn and i fucking get damn annoyed sometimes. but that's selfish thinking.
i care, you know. but it sucks to care when things are like this. you know i care, i've told you before. but i hate things like this. i wish you'd come back, but i wish you'd really go away. i'll miss you when you're gone, but fuck lar. you give me grief. you, you don't listen to me. you're stubborn, ridiculous. you give me the worst grief, and you're my mom.
i think about all the lonely times you have to go through, and i feel so sad. i wish i could be there for you, but i wish you'd stop bugging me as well. it's over, isn't it? isn't it? i feel like yelling, FUCK, ISN'T IT?
and i know it'd make you sad to no end to read this. but this is exactly what you know is true. and i'll never be able to bring myself to tell you.
angelina, tommy emmanuel. it tells me, listen. listen, my boy. life will end alright. no, no, just listen. and as you smile and as you waft and as you tap your foot and as you hum to the tune. even if it's a gloss over all the crap, just let it persuade and let it convince and let the cover-up feel good.
maybe i'll play it for you someday, mommy.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
II - a bitter old man
i was at acs(i) training yesterday, and i realised how much i missed the old me.
it wasn't the building and the old trodden paths, and the field, and the sights, that brought this out. it was a person there, a young man.
cocky. brave. strong. smart. cheeky. cheerful. attractive, as in charisma. leaderly. a devillish, handsome grin.
and i thought to myself, that was me. before army made me bitter. and i promised to never forget. and i wondered how long a young man could keep that up in life.
i think of wen juin sometimes, and i wonder how different we are. and i don't think there's too much of it in there. minus the jane austen stuff, wen juin is to me what i'd become if i hadn't become bitter. i love wen juin.
the word bitter is too strong. i know i'm not a bitter person. but i'm not cheerful as i used to be, either. and that makes me bitter in comparison, it does.
and i think of another friend of mine, who i think is too bitter. but who could blame him? between the two of us, either, there's not so much that's not the same. but that's the way things happen.
if i had a choice, i'd wake up tomorrow, and i'd be exactly the person i used to be. the person that i dearly loved. and i do have that choice.
i suspect i've been trying for a long time to remember that young man. but i've forgotten what he looks like, until lately. but it also shows me that i recognise the qualities that i cherish, so i don't need someone else to follow, and i know what can be done.
thanks, yam. although you don't know it.
it wasn't the building and the old trodden paths, and the field, and the sights, that brought this out. it was a person there, a young man.
cocky. brave. strong. smart. cheeky. cheerful. attractive, as in charisma. leaderly. a devillish, handsome grin.
and i thought to myself, that was me. before army made me bitter. and i promised to never forget. and i wondered how long a young man could keep that up in life.
i think of wen juin sometimes, and i wonder how different we are. and i don't think there's too much of it in there. minus the jane austen stuff, wen juin is to me what i'd become if i hadn't become bitter. i love wen juin.
the word bitter is too strong. i know i'm not a bitter person. but i'm not cheerful as i used to be, either. and that makes me bitter in comparison, it does.
and i think of another friend of mine, who i think is too bitter. but who could blame him? between the two of us, either, there's not so much that's not the same. but that's the way things happen.
if i had a choice, i'd wake up tomorrow, and i'd be exactly the person i used to be. the person that i dearly loved. and i do have that choice.
i suspect i've been trying for a long time to remember that young man. but i've forgotten what he looks like, until lately. but it also shows me that i recognise the qualities that i cherish, so i don't need someone else to follow, and i know what can be done.
thanks, yam. although you don't know it.
I - humble beginnings
i remember the last time i did this. that was... four years ago. and i remember much about why i started blogging. we were all so damn emo after losing that softball game, and it didn't feel right without an accounting. now it's really long gone and forgotten, though not by us. but we keep the best memories of the past. and here there are many.
i stopped blogging because i didn't need it anymore. and i can fairly say that it's not about need now, either. i just, i just want to talk. i'm not here to emo, i'm here to record.
there's no strings attached here. i'd like to keep these reflections clean and mature. having said that, i suspect that in my weaker moments, more revealing thoughts will boss their way in here. but that's how it is, sometimes. i'm an old man sometimes, but i'm an old boy sometimes too.
so this, primarily, should be about life. what i think about it. what i want to do to make it better. what i love about it. and what i hope the people i love will understand about life too.
wisdom, then. i wish to talk about wisdom. the world needs it quite a bit, and i may be wise enough for some. but a man is wise only as far as he knows that he is not, despite how he wishes otherwise. and i do mightily wish otherwise.
enough of sentence fragments! ha. thus begin my reflections, recorded as of today. may they be a blessing for you and i.
i stopped blogging because i didn't need it anymore. and i can fairly say that it's not about need now, either. i just, i just want to talk. i'm not here to emo, i'm here to record.
there's no strings attached here. i'd like to keep these reflections clean and mature. having said that, i suspect that in my weaker moments, more revealing thoughts will boss their way in here. but that's how it is, sometimes. i'm an old man sometimes, but i'm an old boy sometimes too.
so this, primarily, should be about life. what i think about it. what i want to do to make it better. what i love about it. and what i hope the people i love will understand about life too.
wisdom, then. i wish to talk about wisdom. the world needs it quite a bit, and i may be wise enough for some. but a man is wise only as far as he knows that he is not, despite how he wishes otherwise. and i do mightily wish otherwise.
enough of sentence fragments! ha. thus begin my reflections, recorded as of today. may they be a blessing for you and i.
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