Saturday, October 17, 2009

I Want to Understand….you

“Would a hug have made it better?”

Awhile back, I started thinking of a story that happened maybe 6 weeks ago. An extremely short one that consisted of only a momentary conversation that probably lasted less than two minutes. I happened to be on campus that night, spending our university’s food punch before it expired. I checked out the ice cream line because I definitely craved for something sweet that night. Weighing the situation between my housemate scouting for a parking space outside and the line of around 6 people in front of me, I just decided to follow my temptation. I considerately called up my housemate asking if he parked, although he didn’t, he still gave me the okay to just get whatever sweet satisfaction I needed. Weirdly enough, before my housemate came inside, a classmate from last semester happen to stop by me. Oh! It was the affable Travis, who I happened to think was the cutest guy in that class. We had spoken a countable number of times before, and he reminded me that evening on what subject we spoke about every time: a small presentation I had given in that class.

We exchanged the usual catch-up talk, in the meanwhile I was thinking wow, he seems happy to see me! I was surprised he even remembered me! He responded with “Of course! You gave the best eggs presentation I’ve ever seen”, on the contrary, he couldn’t quite recall my name. Well didn’t I only remember his because I was corrected after mistakenly calling him Travis the last time we spoke? Although I don’t care so much, at least he had the first letter of my name on the tip of his tongue. We just chitchatted lightly, but it left such a merry impression that has contentedly recurred through my thoughts. Who could have known just a few sentences from someone barely an acquaintance, would leave such a cheeky feeling graffitied on your heart.

Though the conversation was encouraging, something about Travis’ appearance disturbed me. He looked skinnier, indeed noticeably in the manner of his seemingly more slender figure and gaunt face. I wanted to ask,

“Hey…have you been eating well, you look skinnier!!!”

“Hey has everything been good with you?”

Sadly that is the limitation between someone you’ve just met. Though I feel I need not worry because his usual jovialness was still apparent. Maybe he was just more unkempt than usual that night; still, if I could I want to be of some sort of comfort to him if he is stressed or dealing with some heavy pressures. For a kind person that stops to see how I’m doing, even though we could be the strangest of strangers, you simply reached out to talk to me first, the least I can do for you is to listen back to your troubles. Whenever you grabbed my attention to converse, it did not sound like a chore or a responsibility, your concern was at least this genuine. And I also want to say you have one of the most endearing tone of care in your voice. Our hasty meeting also gave me a touch of confidence, besides Travis’ sincerity, his cheerful laugh and smile was a form of approval to me.

Remembering this now alleviates some of the apathy recently piled on. It feels good to feel like you mattered, even more he showed me I made an impact. Even if it is just my shabbily ‘3 minutes and 2 second’ presentation on a poorly and rashly picked topic, you have definitely put an accomplished grin on my face.

-------------On a different note more recently-------------

Confusingly, I do not know what I’m getting myself back into again weekly. Perhaps attending the bible study held at my own house every Friday is moving me back towards Christianity. I’m being drawn in again, but it’s not as wearisome as all the times I’ve tried to break away from the religious pressure all around me. I believe it is the natural attraction between humans and good-natured things, it is appealing to learn to have better standards for myself and behave in a way I'll be proud of. There is no harm at the moment, and at least I will have better morals than I was left with before. But there is one difference though; my university family is really close with a pair of sister and brother, and the brother, although only a sophomore in high school, is really really cute. He is straight (7 girlfriends!? Lol), but his actions provoke me to think otherwise, although, when I observed more diligently he is just touchy and friendly with everyone. I cannot deny a part of me is definitely attracted to his laugh, looks, personality, and touch (That’s a lot more than I wanted myself to admit) Still, I’d like to think that he likes me a lot just as a good friend though since I know what is better for me, definitely in the mental health aspect. I’ll try not to play the fool for the umpteenth time, so this I plead with you, God, don’t let me fall in love with a straight man anymore.

p.s. hahahah how amazing, he just showed up at my house now, and he came up to ask if I like the tomatoes in the tomato and egg dish in big or small pieces…haha too cute, too cute~

Sunday, September 20, 2009

An Unforgettable Reminder

The haunting past paves a daunting future

This morning I found myself explaining the same old, yet twisted tale of my buried love for a man. A mutual friend of my housemate’s stayed the night and in the morning we talked over some porridge breakfast. She told me my housemate may be getting a boyfriend soon to which I delightedly congratulated the idea as well our friend’s matchmaking skills. In just one lapse in reasoning, before I could stop myself, I mistakenly asked her if she could set me up as well. She remarked “I don’t know…I thought you liked someone”.

The person she referred to was probably what I told my housemate about my second unrequited love, of course, they were not informed of the sex of this individual, or was it more like I intentionally kept referring to him as a “her”. It isn’t uncommon anymore for me to casually chatter up a conversation with my friends about who I like, it’s a mutually beneficial one, I tell them what I want to say, they hear what they want to hear. It’s weird for an older teen to continually digress away from the subject of love interests- “oh well, no one in mind currently” “not right now, no love interest for me at the moment”. I feel like I’m biting my own words again of “not misleading anyone anymore”, but this is what it takes, at least before I mention a word of my innate preferences.

Jokingly I asked “Can you find me someone?”
Miss J: “I don’t know…I thought you liked someone”.

“Well I got over her"
She questions “How did you get over her?”

I could barely answer, so the next most fitting response was “I forced myself to”
She inquired, “Did she have a boyfriend” He had a girlfriend

“Yes, she did last semester, I don’t know about now, we don’t talk much”…I regret continuing “I don’t even think we’re friends.”

Immediately she rebuked “What? Why did you like her?” him…
Kris: “…”

Kris: “Cause I just did” A most unsatisfying answer to her and myself

Miss J: “You’re weird”
I returned with a lame comeback “You’re weird too, wasn’t it the same with the guy you liked”

Miss J: “Nooo.”
Kris: “Oh.”

Ms. J begged the question again “How do you like someone you don’t even know?”

The same question that made my heart skip the first time asked, but I still had no sufficient answer for her. Nothing I said would be appropriate to describe the relationship of a gay guy watching a straight guy from the borders of each other’s lives. Because simply, it was just that. The basis for our liking does not have to be the normal interactions of a girl and a guy, and usually it isn’t. With a straight man, our hope is every talk we have, every hangout, and every friendly touch he makes is his way of reciprocating to our hidden agenda. It might be case-specific, but all gay-straight crushes involve a distinct line which must not be crossed, and it’s safe for me to recall that this final limit was never within sight. I played my part inconspicuously, unless he observed my every gesture, there were barely any traces of my sentiments toward him. Every move I played put a defined distance between us, resulting in an irreparable gap that I can now admit dejected a bleak situation to a hopeless one.

There was something special in the words of my friend and the inconclusive answer that she beckoned for though it was all shrouded amongst the white lies, the girls, the guys, and the borderline love. Could I even pick out what I really felt before, because every time I see him, I’m overwhelmed by a concoction of emotions so potently brewed over a year and a half. I wish I could throw up what I’ve already ingested, so the residues of this strained crush could finally be put behind me. No longer do I want to suffer the aftereffects, but I do so each time I have to hide what I desire. Such as telling every interested ear that I thought I was truly in love with someone, but not who he was. The delusion has long since been dismissed, for what I felt was not love, no matter how powerful my desire was; after all, it was just one-sided. Although my better judgment tells me to learn from this, I cannot help not remember feeling shaken from it as well. Deep down I want this to be the one and only exposition that is better left sealed in the past.

Lyrics- Silent

Friday, September 4, 2009

Summer Blues

Farewell summer, your warmth has finally reached me.

The summer of 2009 was nice and breezy, easy and relaxing, time ticked away slowly, yet when it ended the actual passings of each day seemed much shorter. This season certainly has its perks; The sunny days, the resplendent skies, and of clouds that billowed by, I took it all in while walking to and fro on my daily tread to the library. Greedily, I assimilated myself to all the surrounding scenery, although with the poor quality cellphone camera that belittles what your eyes could see for itself, but still, I tried to capture these few treasures on the brightest days here. Looking up at the clear-blue vastness and almost tripping on my missteps due to uncompleted sidewalks, I've never found a scene more glamorous and animated to observe than the neighborhoods filled with summer colors and softly breezed through by some gentle wind. Though it may get humid, and for sure it got sweltering, it provided more fuel to the cause to...go to the pool, the beach, or letting go of our self-discipline for ice cream. Personally, I went to the pool (thanks JF), the beach (thanks a ton JF), and had more than my share of ice cream too! Summer has never been my favorite period, but for once I began to cherish bits of this year's summery days, trying to catch its zeal before it fleets away. A tardy effort since it'll continue on its way as if it's impolite to overstay its welcome, but only ends up returning shamelessly the next time around. The end of this summer symbolizes the end of my solitude, marking a change in my perspective and gone now will be those doleful summertimes. Summer has grown on me and I have grown new fondness for it. The next year when I start to feel my skin sweat, I won't be haughty or in a foul mood, I'll accommodate myself to celebrate this one indispensable anniversary.

Being busy with school, I haven't had time to acknowledge a slight change in my mood towards summer. So before I forget, I'll say my goodbyes to summer early and wave excitedly to our parting, since I will see you again right on time next year.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Troublesome Humor or Humorous Trouble?

Mailbox, you and I end here...

I went home and asked my friend for advice on what I should do about Fred's books. And she said I should take his books with me and leave a note in his mailbox to tell him I had it. Honestly, I thought that was kind of creepy-ish, though I really have no right to say that after trying to open every mailbox in the whole place. Well I decided to stop by the office while my housemate and I were waiting for the bus to go on to campus anyways. I went to check the locker to see if his books were there, thankfully yes, and I also showed her how my key opens Fred's mailbox just as easily as it does our compartment. Off I went then to report my problem, but the office people were really confused with what happened here. I'm just relieved they didn't press me on the issue that I should have gone home and looked for my mailbox number instead of...y'know. Well they seemed to grasp the concept after a few more explanations of what mailbox I opened, why the key wouldn't come out, and that books were still left unlocked in the open. And actually they came up with the most reasonable solution to the overly complicated mess I got myself into, just go deliver the books to the guy myself. Wow, that was simple. Was I too dumbfounded by my mailbox situation that I couldn't figure that out? Maybe. I sprinted out, all excited that I'm finally doing the right reparations to fix this. It was all about to be resolved! I grabbed the locker handle and opened the locker....the books...were GONE!! I freaked out! What are the chances that in the 10 minutes I last checked it, it would be missing?!?! Probability sucks, chance sucks, so for the last time I decided to open his mailbox, and found out his usual letters and newspaper were also taken. I'm supposing now that Fred was the person that got all his mail as well as his books since that's all I could really hope for! Well most likely it is what happened as I went back to the office and they told me not to worry about it anymore, and then I thought about it again.

Many things in my life seem to resolve itself without me really doing anything. The only difference between me reporting and not reporting the mix up is the knowledge I tried my best to fix the situation. It seems my life may be planned to be undramatic, rarely any friend fights, never any illicit trysts. Boring? But I'm not complaining, people who look for stress will find it. And perhaps I was as lucky as originally thought, I didn't have to get officially involved with Fred and he never had to know about me opening his mailboxes, several times. Thanks Fred for checking for your own books, and we will most likely never meet.

If Fred looked anything like him, maybe I would've missed not meeting him


i'm just dreaming

Saturday, August 29, 2009


Have my entries just flopped over and dried up to a carcass of what it originally was in the summer?

Yes, this is what I think and I had to force myself to realize I'm really not taking the time to update, not to mention not even trying my best to practice writing. Guilt and laziness have been having a competition this past week and without saying, laziness won the last 6 days. This guilt stems from me not staying consistent , it's just been very easy to get carried away by the current at college. The only reason guilt could finally overcome laziness, what I know of as the reigning champion of moods in me, was the little bits of motivation from you guys' entries. Collectively, you guys have chipped away my apathetic exterior. Overtime the small pieces of feelings and thoughts left behind from reading other blog entries began to light my fuel again. The embers begin to glow again, although, this fire still feels cold to the touch. To not leave a part of my soul behind, I will quickly write some things I wanted to write full blog entries for, but procrastinated. Now it's just a glimpse back.

I live at a townhouse this year and all the mailboxes of every house in the community is placed in one area. When school hadn't started yet, in my boredom, I went to check the mail. By the time I got to the area of 10 mailboxes, each divided into 16 smaller boxes, I realized I never looked up which box out of the 160 boxes was mine. I live in the last row of houses in the community, so I decided to try my luck. At the time I didn't really calculate accurately so I impulsively decided to try opening them all. It got awkward at times when other community neighbors drove near the area, I had to act naturally, exactly the opposite of a creeper trying to unlock the whole place's mailbox. After around ...25...26...27th box my key went in the hole and turned. Like striking gold, I felt ecstatic that today I was a pretty lucky man.

Inside was a pile of white letterings and newspaper. I looked on the address of the mail and it read Frederick S----, but I concluded that it was just the last year's resident's name and mail. I was completely ignorant of the fact that the address listed below the name was not my house's address. I pressed on. Also a key to the locker for bigger packages laid in the mailbox. This key convinced me, if I wasn't already, since I was waiting for my books to arrive this week as well. To my fault, I opened the bigger locker and there were at least 5 books in there! Whoa! All my books already shipped here? Probability must have shut its mouth for the day, lucky me~ Actually it had the last word, written in the same exact words of "Frederick S----". Astonishment, realization, and that order I got it all wrong. The mailbox I opened wasn't mine, it belonged to Fred. Yea, that must be why the address printed did not even have the same street as mine. Well, I thought "I'll put the locker key in his mailbox again so he can get his books later." I closed the locker door and tried to take out the key, but it wouldn't even budge! The second barrage of Ari struck. I'm really battling luck today. The key was only suppose to open the locker once and the mailman was suppose to pick up the key after the rightful person opened it and retrieved the contents. So now the locker was left opened to the public, it can also be stolen... the community office was closed so I had no other solution left. Well I did lock up his mailbox, it was the least I could manage after a series of frown-face :( events. I mean I was so sure of myself, my key opened the box, it must be my mailbox. So I left the locker with his books there unlocked, unable to think of a resolution and begging that not stealing is still a virtue.

It's not over!! I don't understand how I ended up writing so much that I need to explain the second day of this accident in another post, perhaps I really have been deprived of writing x] I thought I could fit all 3 things I wanted to share in this one post, guess not!

Pictures I took around the same time frame this happened, all from my cell.

On the road driving to my college house

The scenery was so incredible I took many pictures of it. Is God coming? ;)

The biggest rainbow I've ever seen in my life happened that week too!

When my housemate moved in, we went out to my favorite Thai restaurant in the quiet city.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

A little Something Personal

I write about weddings, things in my imagination, and relationships with my family and friends, but I would like to finally share a few personal things. I’ve been yearning to write a casual post, something un-profound and pertaining to my private life.

Foremost of all, I’m returning to college today, in about an hour I’m going to head to my newly leased apartment living with one guy and two girls, all Taiwanese, coincidentally haha. One guy and girl are brothers and sisters, and no worries for me since I have absolutely no attraction to my roommate. That’s not an insult to him though! He already has a gf in California anyways. My mother really approves of me cooking for myself at school so yesterday we shopped 5-6 bags of groceries for things I need to cook. Thanks Mom =)

I’m a sophomore (2nd year) in college and I’m a computer science major, but I’m not sure if I want to stick in that major. My very kind Uncle also works in the computer field, he is quite proud I’m studying in his field, but I just can’t be confident that this is the right path for me. I only stick with it because it’s a viable option as a decent career (makes $$) and lack of a better interest. What does my father think? I have no idea because he still lives in Taiwan, all by himself.

I’ve also committed a dastardly deed, repeatedly, for one week. I drove the car without a license! As illegal as it is, I did not feel too guilty since I only drove about a quarter of a mile (.5 km???), just to the library. I was surprised I was daring enough to drive by myself, but I also learned when I do something for myself, I get the most out of it.

Also I wanted to impart to you bloggers how appreciative I am for all of you guys. Thanks for reading (even commenting with your helpful knowledge and experiences), more importantly, thank you for writing your own blogs. It’s indescribable how much it has helped me to develop and mature in my thinking. For once in my life I feel like I’m not alone in my situation as a gay. I could always relate to my friends in their problems and endeavors as normal or as abnormal as they were. But who could relate to me? As a closeted gay, I could not reach out to anyone and that feeling only grows worse the longer you keep it to yourself. But just revealing that fact online, telling even one soul, where we can share stories, support each other, even as the strangest of strangers…that was enough for me. Actually I was wrong, this has been more than I could ever have asked for. Thank you very much everyone, especially Mr. n, you know who you are!!
I was thinking of adding a picture of me would be a fitting end to this post, because really I don’t feel like we’re strangers at all anymore.

Perhaps you cannot call me your friend, but at least I know we’re more than mere acquaintances now.

Ironically I divulge so much information and pictures of events that anyone who knows me in real life or on facebook would know I wrote all of it, although this blog is actually suppose to be anonymous!! But sometimes even I forget that :)

I wish I looked like this

p.s.I apologize that you have to read the whole post to pick out any info on me!

Wednesday, August 12, 2009


Watching love from the sidelines can be painful, but this time it surely didn’t feel like it.

It seemed like everyone at my table was getting along quite well. The camaraderie between these strangers bloomed well under the happy mood of the wedding. I was next to my sister, but she was being well attended to by the guy next to her, but I had little care about my own well-being because I was also deeply under the influence of the intoxicating mood. The environment was a perfect buffer against those lonely thoughts: “Where’s my hubby-to-be?” “Will that cute guy glance my way again since he nodded to me at the church?” “Could two guys’ wedding be as beautiful as this?”. I never answered them, I just stopped wondering; there just was no time to lose focus on myself. Optimism paved the way forward, and as that future path cleared in my head, I turned up in time to notice the light as well as the chatter dimming. A beautiful jazz sound permeated the room, sweeping through the room and stilling the air, or what also felt like the time around us.

The groom extended a hand to his bride; it was as much a gesture of his manners as it was an offering of his heart to hers. Fortunately the dim lighting conveniently helped to conceal her blushing face, just in case she did. All eyes were on the eminent couple of this night, they could withstand our gaze though, well, they probably weren’t even able to notice their surroundings. At that moment I thought they could think of nothing else except for each other. They walked to the center of the stage where they began to dance tightly within each other’s embrace, moving slowly and romantically. Her small hands were rested on his shoulders, he held her up and she became his support. Partners in dance and now partners in life. Now I was thankful for the dark room that hid my teary eyes. Seriously, the background jazz instrumental of 月亮代表我的心 (The Moon Represents My Heart) did little to keep our emotions from getting flustered and our tears at bay. The groom guided my friend with his forceful, yet gentle steps. Her feet swiftly stepped the ground and she followed his lead because she knew she could trust him. Their waltz ended up being a direct translation of their assuredness for each other. We could all sense how special this moment was for them, but it influenced us as well. I could feel their tenderness for one another, I could see his intangible love for her, and I could hear the music echoing her matching feelings right back to him. It was suffocating, in the way that their movements took my breath away. They moved in a languid fashion until the song of eternal love came to an end. Did time freeze right there? I know it did for them. But to not be rude to their guests they returned from their world, temporarily back to ours.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

A Toast to a Wedding of Success

I hope my love will grow to be like theirs

At the altar they stood, looking lovingly into each other eyes while holding onto one another, saying those coveted words of “I do”. Now their lives are entangle until death do they part, together they are one, standing for one marriage with completely bounded hearts. The bride and groom's mother proceeded to light the wedding candle, signifying their family are now irrevocably intertwined. The exception being that the candles of the couple's hearts have not just been lit, it has only been spurred to a glorious blaze. In the same reference of time, I was grinning with excitement and graciousness just at the thought of how I witnessed such a magnificent and joyous occasion.
It was only last saturday that I attended family friend's wedding, but very grateful I could accompany them on one of their happiest day of their lives. In short, it was absolutely beautiful; besides the impressively picked décor, I am mainly talking about the couple's interaction. That was what stood out, what stunned me almost to happy, yet melancholic tears. The ceremony was touching, but perhaps it was more exciting for us observers as evidenced by all the cameras flashing like twinkling stars do on the most serene of nights. Of course I was on board with the rest of the wedding crew, spazzing my index finger over , click after click, as the saying goes “if you can't beat them, join them!” Thankfully the wedding procedurals were kept to a minimum; the mother's candle lighting, the pastor's blessings, the vow exchange, the ring exchange, the husband and wife candle lighting, and the climactic Kiss. *mwah* This part of the wedding happened so fast that I believe my constant picture taking captured enough. Thankfully, my sister was right besides me, clicking away, the perfect photographer's companion. As the event inside the church ended, the events outside began. We hurried out as the time for the wedding reception was right around the corner. Hold up though, before that, we needed wanted to take a few family pictures. Since many of our family members got to attend, including my first uncle and aunt, my second uncle and his wife, my cousin, and our own household. It was one of those rare chances that everyone all dressed-up and prettified and willing to take some pictures. A few of us ended up staying until the bride and groom came out of the church getting showered with confetti by the bridesmaids, then also taking pictures with the admitted perpetrators. We decided to make a take our leave to the reception, after going through two tolls we arrived at the hotel where it was held. The wedding attendees were escorted to a hall to start mingling, and I happened to talk to the bride's aunt and family a few times before finding out their relations. I congratulated the bride's father and was happy. I also took my first sip of alcohol ever at the reception since I was already past overboard with the wedding mood I got into. I even think it was a shrewd idea to include a bar at the lounge, for those easy, but tipsy introductions. I called my sister's drink the chumaloo even though I know the only similarity it has with the drink's original name was the “c-h”, but no matter, alcoholic drinks all tend to have funky names. It was a mix of milk, cream, and very little alcohol? Only the bitter aftertaste gave any hint of its presence. And after a few too many hors d'oeuvre sating too little of my appetite, the dining room finally shed open its door, letting the long suspended guests in. I was the last one there to fill the “young-adult” table, which also means champagne glasses included, yet I was the only one at the table below the drinking age (21). The hostess began the reception event, and we toasted to the bride and groom. I've already done the taboo, broke the law, so what's twice in a row worth? Unfortunately after the second sip, I admittedly gave up on least for the next few years, it felt like I need to dip my tongue in water to get rid of that bitter burn. The whole event was neatly and successfully executed, consisting of lots of dancing, lots of food, and lots & lots of alcohol. Every “young adult” there was holding some sort of alcoholic beverage by the time they hit the dance floor. (Another guy with the same name as me sitting at the table even brought his own beer holder, hopefully that is just a coincindence and not foreshadowing fate) Besides that, the father toasts were noteworthy, it was obvious how much they cherished their children and their newly acknowledged son/daughter. Anyways, this post is getting quite long, so I'll write about the most moving part of the wedding later. Lastly, Congratulations to Christina and Jeff, my indefinite blessings to you guys.

The Altar of Love! =)

Confetti shower anyone?

Limo of Love! *Just Married!*

Alcohol looks nice, but tastes bad (imho)

Lovely People (everyone's inebriated with love today)

The walnuts in there taste like candy


Thursday, July 30, 2009

OMG, Let's Eat

Putting the love back into homey cooking

It's been awhile since the first time I posted pictures through my expedition of making Korean food, but let me warn you this, I have not stopped, not even close. On the contrary, I think I've regained some of the mystery, fun, and gratification in learning to cook from the beginning of this summer. Cheers to hoping that I won't get too lazy when I'm off in college to cook. A cooking addiction, now that can be anything, but bad right?

The Korean version of Sushi! It's Kimbap, but I don't mind referring to it as sushi...they're just like cousins :) This is amazingly fun to make, but a pain to cut into pieces.

These were rolled with kimchi, and these I didn't cut up since you can just eat it like a metal pole. Oh I lost my bamboo rollers so I used my hands instead, they're chubby looking, but not so bad huh? >_<

I also made bebimbap awhile ago, bebim means 'mix' I think and bap = rice. The beef, vegetables, and mushroom took a fair amount of time to cook, but worth the full experience of poking your chopsticks into 8 different ingredients.

(A) Please blindsight your eyes to our frog-colored, plant patterned tablecloth. And (b) Grab a little of everything to put on top of your rice. There's also suppose to be an egg on top, but I made too many egg sidedishes that week so I ran out, ops.

Before eating, bebimbap requires messing up the food you nicely stacked together moments ago. Sadly, beauty can never be preserved, oh well, at least I get to fill my stomach.

This past week I acquired some beef steaks and finally got to make the much-desired bulgogi, korean bbq! So here's what happened to the beef...

This is the mocha-swirl like marinade, it contains half an asian pear, only after it was beaten to a green/brown pulp.

This is Actually how it's suppose to look after the beef sits in the fridge overnight, transforming it from a lake-algae look to a septic swamp.

I pan fried the final result, but I think it would taste better if grilled, and I also made that kimchi.

I'll be trying another genre of food to make after I'm over my Korean phase. Also I'd be happy to cook for anyone of you guys! It's really fun for me, but the only downside is all that mess behind the camera.
Credits to Maangchi, for her amazing website which includes the recipes for all this.

Monday, July 27, 2009


Time and time again, my thoughts run amuck, does normalcy still exist between Mom and me?

Is it because family is the most essential and fundamental relationship any human has that it turns out to be the hardest? We devotedly seek it out from the casualness of calling our best friends 'bros' and 'sis', and adopting pets as important members of one to churches that have tightly-knit spiritual families. Even orphans learn to develop a sense of family from their surroundings. The most certain thing is that we want to return to that place no matter what our situation, our circumstances. Our home, our safe shelter.
But is the closeness between us also what creates the friction as well? I got scolded today after my mom told me to get out of the car to pump gas for her. For that moment I lost the filter that most people have when speaking to their parents. Instead my mom got the gas while I stood next to her at the gas pump. Back in the car she started going on about “This is what happens when kids get raised with American values”... “Should I beg you for a small request? Ridiculous.” ... “At the tip of a tiny favor, you complain the loudest.”

So badly, so badly I wanted to retaliate, but because I lost my cool earlier I decided to shut my mouth this time. I was fuming and in my head thinking,
But Mom, don't you know by know I hate touching anything dirty? Can't you be more considerate to see that I was about to drink juice when you turned around demanding me to go out of the car? Why don't you see all the “small” things that I do for you without you saying a word?'s not only me, I guess my mom returns the favor in this aspect...and more.
There it was, the rationalization I've been waiting for, the one where, in my smoke filled thoughts, I needed to realize that I was at fault too. I started un-fuming,
Kris, can't you just let trivial demands go and just do it? You should know that mom has to touch the dirty gas pump more than you. Yuck. Don't you see all the “big” things that she does for you without you asking for it? I'm not sure I can totally convince myself of the last one, but my mother does do a lot for me, no matter how much I try to deny reality.
Now really, do I have to empathize with everyone, including my own mother? Especially your mom. She single-handely raised both my sister and I after we moved to the U.S. How tough was it for her? I know I can't and never will be able to imagine how much.

When one competes over miseries and hardships, there will be no end to it. This is how I took a step forward out of my “appreciate me” phase and into the“let's come to a peaceful understanding” phase. It took 19 years for this thought to progress, perhaps it'll take another 19 for me to settle into a “appreciate mom” phase. Hopefully, for both my mom and I, it won't take that long. Consequently, even after being thoroughly reprimanded, the first words that came out of my mouth instead was “Mom, I'm sorry.”
My mom, paused, responded with“What am I suppose to say?”
I was speechless, after gathering enough courage to genuinely apologize was she not going to accept it?Am I suppose to tell her how to feel too!? When did our relationship get so complicated that sincere apologies weren't enough!?!?...Wait...Calm down. I'm currently suppose to be in my peace-making phase, so I wont get upset, yell, and be frustrated, I said I'm sorry and I meant it, so mom please, just consider it, consider forgiving me.

Korean SuperActor KimBum

Monday, July 20, 2009

The light in our step, the wind beneath our feet

After reading Manglish's blog, I felt a surge to try and write something creative about my is it?

The escalator rolls, and I as what feels like it's only passenger, rigidly take a step or two below. Inconveniently now, I wish I could just stop moving, to have a minute to gather myself, but the mechanics around me just wouldn't allow such a decidedly fickle impulse. At least it's justly fulfilling its duty. The final step from grinding irons to the maroon pasted cement has sealed my path, the inexorable turn of metal gears was only a step behind, but it may as well be distances away as it no longer matters, my mind has closed off all thoughts of return. With the aid of the chatter and footsteps closing upon me, my feet have unwittingly returned to its original pace to save the rest of the body from public humiliation. You just can't stop after dropping to the bottom of the well, like falling into the lowest depth of a manhole, the only way up is...well only as real as a stairway to heaven. Each step further into the subway station leaves a film of events that had only occurred a few hours earlier, as if one step at a time, a drop of memory leaked onto the ground. It can be conceived to be the literal and metaphorical action of a step, as strong as the thud that follows, is the resonance of its many accompanying emotions. Every step is invigorated with a scene of memory and its exact copy of the energy at that moment in time, leaving a vivid, vibrant sheen over the surface of the step. The sole of my first step captures the early-morning gathering filled with excitement of seeing familiar friends and the reeling movement of finishing a step provides the perfect motion of imprinting the shoe onto its cold grounded partner. The right foot now steps ahead of the left, leaving another imprint, its reflection shines with heartfelt laughter and joys of the zoo. Again, the left, this time it leaves a mark that captured the bonds of friendship and love between these individuals. Fueled by so many fluttering memories, a glimmering trail begins to form.
...However, the trail's light begins to diminish the further my foot diverges from its step. Unfortunately neither can what is only a shadow of the memory deviate far from the body and soul. The energy that animates it will irreversibly run out overtime, sometimes it may only be ephemeral. They will also begin to be overshone by the light of bigger and stronger feet, “small but tough” shoes, or simply superseding feelings attached to another's particular recollection. Perhaps by smear prints of oval-bellied shoes followed by dainty heel-points, by flat-shaped loafers, notoriously known for their clear cut, and furtive image, or by the stomps of colossal mountain boots, the king of footwear, oh, here comes a sneaker's craggy bottom precisely snuffing out half of an earlier step. By no means of any harm, it has coincidentally imparted a glimmer of the teenage boy's memories. Likewise so do all shoes that pass upon the station's floor, leaving luminous marks of what only the soul can retain. Imaginably, the subway's cold, hard floor has begun to be lit up with dozens of footsteps followed by their individual spark. One trail circles towards one direction, while another intersects it, just like the crossroads of urban cities. The once faceless pavilion, is now a sea of a thousand fading footprints, reminiscent of the many occurrences that goes on all in one day. Crowded and bustling may need to take on a new meaning, one less pair of feet would mean one less gleam in the eyes of those who are watching. My steps suddenly stop, I've reached my temporary station, awaiting the subway train to come into place, where I along with many others, step by step, will always and constantly shine its floors. Our walk will never be alone.

Friday, July 17, 2009

The last time was Spring break...

My hands are shaking, I'm pressing down hard- real hard. The tension's building, the pressure immense. Stop, success was unprobable with the initial try. I take hold of the clear covering and release. My fingers still sticky with saliva. It's unbearably tense, tension gone, a sigh of relief. My mind is numbing, recalling the pain, the initial force of my hands sapped. My resolve...crumbling. But there's no backing down at this crucial moment, it's now or never, fingers trembling, yet angling for the perfect repositioning that would ease reentry. The last of my efforts, face contorted, on the verge of hallucination, -crack-clack-click-, my jaw slacks, all strength lost, pain overwhelming. It's over...OW OW OW. The throbbing multiplies by 10. Tight. Too TIGHT!...Oh well, at least I got these retainers in.

I need to thank Janvier for giving me dirty thoughts...

Due to laziness and more unhindered laziness, I didn't wear my retainers since spring break, but painful retribution has been dealt and my teeth have gone back to their once upright selves, after the past two days of above description. When one is going through a truly painful process, one will stop to think whether the result is worth it. Cowards like me adamantly shake our heads, average pain-tolerant men shoot a confident look with fearful eyes, clever men avoid a majority of the pain, and tough guys yell “bring it on”, they also happen to be the most bruised ones at the end. Aside from the usual ego.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Red Fire, White Stars, and Blue Pool

I finally got to it! Here are some pics of the July 4th, 2009 Celebration, it was so long ago that I don't remember what I can write on it, but it's just one of those days that you enjoyed so much that time just flew by, and what's better than doing that together with your friends? Of course, fireworks, swimming, and food added made us more hyper than usual.
It's a lot of pictures, but I couldn't explain the day without it :)

Driving to our friend's house we saw our friends of the forest with two babies too! you only get to see one =(

Our friend's dad is now a retired-architect, he designed their own house...that's awesome

We were sent to the pool to chill~



What's a July 4th without BBQ?! (neither of them are me btw)lol

An American feast for an American celebration! I ate 2 burgers, 1 hotdog, 6 chicken wings, corn, and beans >_>

For dessert, the jack-o-melon made by our host-friend!! I just grin when I see it!

It's finally time!! OMG, we thought these were bottlerockets so we had to go "somewhere safe" before we lit it.

Turned out to be just regular, good-ol'-safe sparklers! haha, how anticlimactic!

After our show, we got back to the pool, it's all nice and lit-up now =]

We're waving goodbye (actually we just thought it looked cool)

Monday, July 13, 2009

The Discipleship

One face, a perspective of a weekly church-going gay.

Why have I arrived here again, week after week? I'm not too sure myself, but probably first is because of the family that doesn't excuse anyone from not going to church, second is perhaps more cynical and subconscious in that I haven't forgiven myself for being the way I am and I'm not turning away from the prospect that maybe God can still change me. Too many years of indoctrination here may be to blame. Still, I have to give my pastor praise as he is deserving of many credits, truly, if I wasn't so disillusioned by my homosexuality, I would've believed the words he spoke every week. The ones of promise, of salvation, and of eternity... I listened intently as I always have even with my doubts, and I have never poked holes at his messages. He has reasons for who he is, the teachings he spreads, and I have mine for living the way I do, just as valid as his, his as valid as mine. Anyways he goes on and tells us of three biblical meetings each between Jesus and a different men, for which every man had their own excuse that prevented them from following Christ: “wordly comforts”, “family ties”, and “divided loyalty”. The pastor emphasized these are the characteristics we must surrender for us to become true, willing disciples. These were the costs then, the same as now, no excuses, no alibis.

Don't read the next part if you don't want an expansion on the sermon. It's kind of related, but not necessary.
Be willing to give up all wordly treasures:
“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose”
-Jim Elliot

Put God ahead of your family:
“He who loves his father and mother more than me is not worthy of me and he who loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me” Matthew 10:37

Your first loyalty is to God, above all (boyfriends/girlfriends/everything):
Once we haven given up what it takes to be with God, there is no looking back, or wanting any of those things back.

At the end of prayer, one thought remained- I am not willing. I cannot be bent to give up any of these things for God. Actually...who would?? Surprisingly, a moment later, I found the answer to be me and inevitably all of us. I just convinced myself that I wouldn't give up any of those things for God, but I realized I had the potential of doing so. What I mean is that there is something that we all live for, the number one thing that takes precedence over everything else, our goals? our career? our image? our love? ourselves? It just depends on where your priority lies. I realized I would be willing to give up my possessions, my friends for him, sever my family ties for him, and love him more than anyone else in my life. My future man may not be of godlike status, but finding and keeping him has become what's most important to me, my life's initiative. Perhaps all my pastor was asking us to do was to rank God as #1, place the being, he believes, is worthy of our all in that position. But I know I won't...then what do I do now with this personal insight, knowing that I have the capability to focus my life on a single point? I think I'll have to wait to deal with that until my life ambition has actually appeared. For now, I'm just grateful that I learned I am a “disciple”, it's just not God that I'm worshipping.

~p.s. I really really didn't have an intention of preaching here >_<'' I hope I haven't offended anyone T-T~
~p.s.s. I finally found out how to change fonts/basic stuff in my blog, I'm such an amateur blogger, but is the new, smaller font better? (if you noticed..)Or do you have to squint to read now?~

Friday, July 10, 2009

May I worry

Sometimes I'm not as deep as I want to seem. I may ponder a lot about events in my life, but in the end, I always come to the same conclusion. It's my fault. I'm not trying to be all depressing today, don't get me wrong, but when something isn't going as you hoped, don't you feel like the main contributor to the problem? You're not the one making things right, wishes fulfilled, you've let down your responsibililty. I may be sitting here blasting my happiest/cheer-me-up/dance song, but as soon as the music ends, it's all going to rush back: Why can't I get along with my mom? There's not much to explain actually, just my mom came home with a bad mood. She was trying to hide it and I could tell as soon as the first confrontation of the evening began.

Kris- “Why is my spoon laying like that on the table.” (looking at my mom since she's in the kitchen)
Mom- “I don't know” (not with her smoothest tone)
Kris- “Uhh, I know I don't lay my spoon on the table like that, it gets dirty.”
Mom- “I didn't do it!”
Kris- (looking at the eggs and vegetable on the table next to my spoon) “Mom, I know I didn't do it. You put the egg carton and tomatoes on the table, it probably pushed my spoon over.”
~At this point you may wonder how there is even anything to argue about, it's a freaking utensil. I think it's ridiculous now too, but at the time I didn't think it would escalate to anything, but also it's no coincidence that our explosive arguments always start with the most trivial matter. ~
Mom- She yelled something I can't recall.
Kris- “Well, don't blame me for it.” (Stepping down the stairs to grab another spoon)
End of Conversation.
Hahaha, See? it wasn't bad right? Unbeknownst to me until later, this was the start of something...dramatic?
I came by the kitchen later and the stove was on, mushrooms were in the pan, but it looked like she was focused on looking for something.
Piecing the clues together I asked “Do you need a spatula?”
She didn't look at me. Pretending not to hear me, she animatedly fumbled through the drawers.
“Mom, why aren't you talking?”
Mom- “I don't want to talk to any of you!!!!” It was close to a shriek.
She pushed past me on her way out of the kitchen. This set me off. In retaliation, I pushed back. She yelled “STOP IT!!”. Everything seemed to stop. She headed down the stairs to get the spatula.
Kris- “Just because you're in a bad mood from work doesn't mean you can take it out on me!”
Mom- “I'm angry when I get home.” not even bothering to hide her distaste.


Don't feel too bad, I know she said the last thing out of anger. I don't remember what happened after that, but this has led to what is now— the 3rd day of a mutually dealt silent treatment. Ugh...when will this end? I can't believe something so annoying like this is happening again. Since I've gone off to college and came back, I think both my mom and I tried not to get in any big fights. It's just a part of history that peace never lasts; perhaps though, being a stable family always means having some unsteady times. Disagreements included. I don't want to apologize though, I keep thinking, I don't want to continue being treated this way, and when I graduate and move out, it'll be the end of all this. Recently even, whenever I get mad at my mom, I think about using my homosexuality as a weapon. Like a bomb that will destroy our family, and that's how I will leave home, with everything shattered to pieces. I'm scared I even think about using my sexuality as revenge, but I don't know! I don't I want to go off and live by myself with no family burdens, no matter if they know I'm gay or not? Be free and run away? Or maybe I want to stay nearby, impatiently waiting for them to understand and cherish me for who I am. Ah, what is wrong with me, dreaming again in the middle of the night.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Anger and Angst, but Against what?

Awesome jack-o-melon from this year's celebration~!!

Happy 4th of July! Or belated depending on when I get to post this. Coincidentally, the date will be relative to when I'll prevail getting to use the internet at my house, the one my sister buys and hogs. Somehow she is able to stay on the computer from 10 am to 10 pm with a few intermittent breaks from here to there, as my eyes have witnessed. So if I expect myself to be able to get online, I must a) Sneak in 15 minutes of internet use while she's eating b) Beg her to get off her buttocks and let me use it once in awhile or c) Go to the library nearby. Lately I've been opting for option (c.) since I need it for at least an hour and I also cower from confrontations with her. However, today, she put up a new condition, changing what was tolerable to unbearable. She ordained that the use of her internet required that I must read at least one chapter of the bible. What in the name of-is she doing?! Discriminating against people void of the same religious zealous that she claimed to have? What an outrage! I thought there were laws against this! All the repressed anger of letting her slide with using the internet for 8-12 hours a day, actually, all the anger from me always condoning her commandeering behavior simmered to a boil. Thankfully, these thoughts cooled as quickly as they heated.

Despite the lack of an verbal eruption, I did tell her what I thought. If she wanted to push something on me, even religion, there are better ways of doing it than bribery, even close to blackmail from my perspective. My religious views got pretty slighted after something happened in college, hugely contributed by her, but skip that for now. In other words, in her opinion, I fell from grace, which I felt I was never perched on in the first place. I'll admit that I was affronted and anger was wholly my motivation here to rebel. But what was I actually angry at? My sister being an unreasonable cow, at having to compromise yet another belief, or just the plain fact I couldn't even use the internet freely at my house? It was a mish mash of all these things, but at the center of it was my resentment towards myself, wanting to express, perhaps for a change, that I do not want to lie about who I am anymore. Truthfully, I wouldn't have minded lieing about not using the internet or could have easily pretended that I followed her directive since about a minute after boasting her decree, she had to go out for an errand. She wouldn't have known, but...I, Kris...would. That alone is enough to stop the criminal mind, and instead to rethink a better way out, imaginably an earnest attempt to break off the part of me that was a fraud. I chose the other way out not because of my moral education nor the 10 commandments, but from my own acceptance of who I am. I'm not the little boy that used to tread down the guided path set out for me by my family neither am I blindsighted by religion anymore. And I'm surely not the boy who used to believe gays were perverts and sinners. I am one now. I certainly won't flaunt it, but neither am I going to fake it any longer, not to myself and not to my family. If I read the bible, it wouldn't be me, it wouldn't be the naïve supplicant that has gone through 11 years of Christianty only to come out a mediocre product. So I end up at the crossroads of a) Cheating my new beliefs b) Lieing to my sister c) Just using the internet regardless of it all, but the answer simply became none of the above, with me lying on the ground typing out this anecdote with the internet modem right infront of me, pitch black. Stronger than my selfish desire to use it, is my selfish hope to never mislead anyone about who I am any further.