My father

My dad and I had a talk tonight. He asked if I had a moment, and wanted me to sit down and listen to him. I was prepared to listen to his complaint that I have been unemployed. Instead he told me about my family history, why I have no blood related fraternal relatives. What my grandfather was like, what he did, and how he died. How my dad grew up as a child and teenager. The choices he made because of my mother. What he expected of me when I was sent to Canada for schooling. A lot of things.

It was awkward, it was weird. We generally no longer communicate, except for hi-bye and when necessary. We hold contradicting views on essentially all things in life, so it's come to this. It was the most my dad has ever said to me, the longest conversation by far. I don't know what prompted him to do this all of a sudden. He just said that he wanted to tell me, so that someone would know. Because there's no one else. Even my mother is oblivious to parts of this, he said. Maybe it's because he's leaving to go to Hong Kong in a few days for vacation. Or maybe he just felt this was the right time.

I still don't know how to do this in person, but Thanks Dad. You answered much that I had wondered about as a child. There's too much miscommunication and misunderstanding between us. Too much assumptions and prejudice towards each other. For now, I'm just gonna let things be, and see how life turns out.

Done, and over with.

The never-ending, exhaustive, grueling full-time job search is finally over. After close to three months, ten phone interviews and another ten in-person interviews or so, two rejected job offers, I've finally got something that I think I can go with long term. Somewhere that'll treat their employees with some respect as human beings.

Why do you blog?

My blog is for me to express a certain side of myself - one that I'm not necessarily confident to show everyone or anyone. Hence my nick Vinny is used rather than my real name, and never a picture of myself. Maybe I'm just not strong enough, and don't believe in myself enough. But I would rather not have anyone I know in daily life read any of my blog. I worry what their reaction would be, how their perception of me would change. I fear this unknown. The "me" in this blog is as real as it gets, the full me. And I don't know if the world would like that person. I have no secrets here, I say what I want, exactly how I feel with no restraints. It lets me be free, if just for a brief moment. I lack the talent to draw.. and other forms of art. Writing is the only thing I somewhat have a tad of confidence in. At first I didn't think anyone would ever read my words. My ramblings, my stupid relationship episodes.. but I wrote anyways. Because I needed to get it out. Sad things, happy things, anything and everything. An outlet desperately needed. Until Veronica came along. It's amazing how knowing someone is actually reading what I write could motivate me to at least attempt to improve my writing. How a one line comment could sometimes convey so much when knowing someone else is understanding my words. Even if it's just one person, or two, three.. etc, it's amazing in the warmth it brings.

So I blog.

I wanna breeze with an open mind
I wanna swim in the ocean
Wanna take my time for me
All me

- stereophonics, maybe tomorrow

Potential

We all have it, yea?
What do you want to do in this life?

It was fun. It was great. It was pricey, but it was fantastic. Afterward, after the headaches, the shakes, the upset stomach.. a sense of emptiness. Memories have faded, they have faded.

Does it have to be so?.. what if.

"Before I was scared to have all those identities."

- A stranger in her own skin - Calgary Herald, Nov 11 2008

"even if it took her a long time to feel comfortable in her own skin."

"I thought they talked loudly and just weren't good people, she said.
'I didn't want other people to think I hung out with them."

"how can you bring children from one culture to another?"

".. a large exporter of children." What ever context that was written in, I don't care. I am not cool with that phrase.

"She worries about the motivations of regular families as well, and wonders
if they're simply jumping on a trend."

Gone like the wind.....

And so they're gone, again.

A little tired of being unemployed, a little sick of going to interviews. There is still a chance that me and her will work together in the same building again.

But I don't think it is meant to be.

She's moved on, and I need to move on. Ever since she spoke to me about the job posting, she's vanished once again. As if it never happened. She didn't ask how the interview went. Not a single thing.

There's this Chinese song.. about some magic potion that lets you forget your past loves. Yea, sappy stuff. But I could use some of that right about now.
I walked in. Right on time.. just a few minutes before 8:30. I pressed the power button on my old ass computer, and it did its thing.... emails. Inbox - it was her. Weird I thought. I swear I replied all her emails yesterday already.

Click. It was the happy birthday song. In multi-colors and font sizes of all things, in an office email. I stood half way up and looked over all the way across to the other end of the office. Her bald boss was there, as usual, just blabbing blablblab. He was always around it seems. I dialed anyways.

We went for lunch. It was the first time in probably weeks. We were after all, just friends. It was a relatively warm day. Definitely warm for a Halloween. There was no snow, just hovering around zero degrees. We sat. We ordered. My phone beeped, a message or something. She sent me a Happy Birthday sitting across from me, without me realizing.

I looked up at her, and she was smiling.
This year, she no longer remembers. Or care.

David Usher - Time of Our Lives

I once had a bird like you
A bird of prey
Still your tearing at my insides
And yesterday when you flew so far away
If you find the morning save a piece for me

Who of us are open
Who of us have freedom really
Who of us can tell what these dark days will bring
All of us are hurting
All of us are crazy now
We're crazy now..

I'll smoke a cigarette
I'll eat the flesh instead
Another whiskey more or less
Or more or less, yea
I like the drugs that sail
I love you when we fail
When we fail
I wonder if she remembered. On the dash.

She hasn't changed. Her personality. Her voice. Her face. Her hair. Just as I remember.

But she has.
She's moved out. She actually suggested to have viet food for lunch. She doesn't remember my birthday. She's someone else's girl.

I see it again. What matters in life, what doesn't really. What I need, what I desire. What I lack. But she doesn't need me. I'm not part of her life. Maybe I never was any part of her life.
It's all so clear.

"I'm trembling inside, and nobody knows it but me." babyface

Twister of Lies

That is what I'd like to call life.

Interview, tomorrow morning. At the old office. Where we met, where we did everything. Where it all started, where we fell apart. Where I was her vip, and she was my everything. Will I see her again? I texted her, that thanks to her.. 10am, Tuesday. Her reply, "Please don't tell anyone that I told you about the posting." Not a word more.

I'm simply, speechless. I don't know what to think, I can't figure out what she ever really means. When is she putting up a front, when is she speaking from the heart? I know, that she was real, crying over the phone with me at the airport. And.. that's all I've ever known.

Two year old McDicks coupons. Even the red's changed color due to the sun. I just can't toss them out.


Lunch, tomorrow noon. It'll be her. The first time we're face to face again, the first time she'll be in my car again in four years. That thing, that box from Vancouver she got for me in 2004.. sits on the dash.