the sweetest tongue

Confession time.

Monday, September 10th, 2007 | I love my job, I'm a bitch and I know it., life, now why did you have to tell me that?, self-deprecation, things happen | No Comments

Ok. I admit it. I am a micro-manager.

In everything I do or is related to my duties, I feel safer and more at ease when I have a hand in the process. I feel calm when I know that my finger is on the pulse on everything that is happening around me. I do not feel 100% comfortable passing off tasks to others, and when I have people who are taking direction from me and they go off to do their tasks, there is always a nagging thought in the back of my head that something can go wrong.

What can I say? I always look at all the probabilities of a situation. The best-case scenario is that everything is perfect and people know what they are doing. I dare not mention what i think the worst-case scenario might be.

And sometimes I micro-manage to the point where I tire myself out, and worse yet, drive myself crazy and into manic episodes that only add on to the inability to communicate to others what needs to be done. The trembling hands, the incessant stuttering, and the paranoid, furtive looks behind my back and at others.

The first step is admitting it. That I have a problem. I micro-manage to an extreme.
I used to think that it was just an indicator of OCD, an offshoot of my inability to function without some semblance of order, the same way I have to line all of my packets of sweetener in the same orientation and line before tearing each pair of packets in succession methodologically from left to right. And the hand-washing. And the inability to eat food with my bare hands knowingly.

While micro-managing is quite possible a natural progression from my OCD-tendencies, I think that I need to start the process of slowly letting go, and trusting others to do the best they can, and with good intentions. Micro-management has let my job consume my life, distrust others, and by letting go, I think I can regain myself back.

The Unwittingly Asian Parking Game

Tuesday, June 13th, 2006 | blog entry, self-deprecation | No Comments

This was linked at [Ernie's], and I have to say…. it’s quite hard.

Click here to play.

Now that Ernie’s been in the Advocate, guest-hosted a radioshow/podcast, and still is THE Asian-American Blogger who happens to be gay, he’s almost like God now.

Imagine….

Sunday, April 4th, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

Talking with M*** about the conference this past weekend (only the first such glbt college conference in the history of Florida), we both concluded that yes, there were lots of cute boys.

This conversation also leaded off into fantasizing about how different the world would be if we were goddam hot, beautiful people. People would ask for numbers. People woudl notice you more. And if you touched someone, you might give him an orgasm. Okay, so the last part was my own overactive imagination.

Point is, earlier in the day I was thinking about my weight and build, and fantasized about losing a few more inches off my waist. Never mind that I am currently at a waist size I hadn’t had since I was a sophmore in high school(38). I feel like I want to go even further, to the early 30s, all sizes I hadn’t experienced since I was 12 or 13. Now that would be something to imagine.

Looks like its time to break out the diet plans.

e-mail from mother

Monday, February 16th, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

you make mom so disappointed on you,

Breaking Things

Sunday, February 15th, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

I just scared these two people doing their work here in the lab when I threw my phone forcibly onto the floor, causing the phone to break into six separate, lovely pieces. I then proceeded to piece them back together. It looks just like new now, except for that one crack, but it’s still turned off. It was a call from my mother.

I think my mistake was giving her my cell phone number. And also giving her my room number. I have a mind to disconnect the phone once I get back to my room. I’m the kind fo son who can live without phone calls from his mother. I know that’s bad, but it’s come to this. I don’t need to call her anymore. She’s already made it clear that she won’t support me. And I’ve already made it clear that my life would be so much better without her.

That application to Georgia State is lying collecting dust in some electronic filing cabinet online somewhere. Every phone call from her is about filling out that app and sending it in, or else I will not go to school, and I will not get my education. My mom has already expressed her wish/command that I shall not spend another semester in Miami. Now, it isn’t that I want to 100% stay in Miami, that the lure of the city has taken me in. I’ll admit that I get that thought about leaving Miami about once a week. The friends I held close to me through that trying freshman year are gone or have forgotten about me. And I know that this school does not have the best programs for the fields I am majoring in. My problem is more of the fact that I have to live under the same roof as someone who insists on the security of her children through suffocation.

I just need to be cut out of the family. She’s already turned the rest of the family against me anyway. My only ally, my dad, passed away just before I entered college. And it was because of him that I had contemplated not leaving Puerto Rico. I went out with him every Saturday night, driving long rides just so we could enjoy a great meal. He did it for as long as he could, and I learned to enjoy restaurants and meals as havens away some of the harsh realities of life, like sickness, stress, and closeted homosexuality. It’s hard to think about losing friends when you’re enjoying a nice plate of spinach Fettucine in Alfredo Sauce, or a fried whole snapper in a fresh tomato sauce.

Ahh, food is love. And yes, Love is food. Food can be made with love, and no matter who ends up eating it, you know that love and care has gone into it. And that is what matters.

I snapped once when I was in high school in my senior year (This was post-nervous-breakdown junior year). I forgot what happened, but it involved my mother, and barricaded my bedroom door by pushing my bookcases over, my treasured books spilling out onto the tiles. The most heart-wrenching part was when I knew that my father was outside my door, on his wheelchair, wondering what was wrong. And I knew that I couldn’t tell him, because I knew he wouldn’t understand. I did not know enough words in Cantonese or Spanish to express how I felt.

The phone is silent, I haven’t turned it on. And I don’t want to, because I’m scared.

OCD Moment

Wednesday, February 11th, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

I walked into the dining hall, standing alone with my earphones while some gay froshes talked past me to each other. I checked out the stuffed green pappers, and left the dining hall because there were too many people. I walked away from the dining hall, trying not to step on any cracks, and keeping my head low and observing my feet, measuring my steps as I walked past people. Walking down the hallway back to my room, I was suddenly taken by a feeling of paranoia, and almost began to run towards my room, but instead jerked my feet forward as fast as I could.

Dinner is a box of sushi from the convenience store, and a bottle of Sobe Green tea.

writer’s block

Thursday, February 5th, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

I have a short story due next Monday, and I’m stuck. I have the idea set. It’s the story of a woman who walks down the vegetable aisle of a supermarket, picking out vegetables for a salad. The original idea was to have her shoplift vegetables, feeding some sort of internal obsession.
It evolved into every vegetable reminding her of every oen fo her exes, each vegetable havign qualities of each.

So now when I try to write, it all comes out blank.

So yeah, writer’s block sucks. What I need is a night fo coffee and cigarettes to keep me going.

alcoholic?

Sunday, February 1st, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

Did I finish two 750ml bottles of Bacardi Razz on my own in just two weeks?

ooh! There’s some left over…

See Stan run. See Stan be a Total bitch.

Friday, January 23rd, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

Yes, contrary to popular belief, I do have a bad side. Sometimes I can be a total bitch. Some people have experienced that, while a majority have not. I think all of us have our inner bitchy sides. More so in gay men, because well, we’re just more comfortable about showing it. So the next time any gay guy gives someone the Hand, feel proud in asserting your true self!

But of course, my bitchiness has to be justified. This time, it was about telling a certain AAP (Asian American Princess. Quite similar to the more common JAP.) to get out of my life. Yes, a certain asian bitch from my childhood popped back into my life a few months ago when she moved to Miami, and since then, I have been unsuccessfully in shaking her off my ankle, mostly because i’m just too damn nice. And a poor, AAP in Miami is just someone I hoped to direct towards the right areas.

So I endured her hour long phone calls about her struggles, troubles, and her whining and dishing out whatever advice I could give, just like any good ole gay buddy and agony aunt. But of course, I did not come out to her, because she’s a AAP, after all. Doesn’t exactly have the most flattering views of homosexuals. There were phone calls every night, and as my roomate can attest, every conversation I have with her is not enjoyed. All the time, I am mouthing “bitch” with her every utterance.

So maybe it was the incessant phone calls, or the constant text messages. or was it when she looked up and found my home phone number in PR just so she could talk to me, as if I was her only friend. I’m sorry, honey. I just can’t take shit from you anymore. You cannot demand my attention 24/7.

For more evidence of my total bad side, continue reading.

So after a verbal “Do not call me.”, constant phone calls and text messages after asking me if I was mad at her resulted in this text message conversation between moi and the bitch:

Bitch: can you call me later if u are not busy
Me: No, I do not want to speak with you.
B: are you mad at me
M: It’s not that I am mad at you. You’re just not a kind of person i want to talk to. You’re too damn annoying and stubborn. I was just tryign to be nice whenever you called. You’re a selfish bitch. grow up.
B: since when im being selfish
(She tries to call me. I was on another line.)
B: Thank you so much.
M: Since you could only whine and complain. Grow up solve your own problems. Call a real friend, if you have any.
B: thanks for bieng such an ass
M: You’re welcome. I’ve been wanting to say all those things since november.

So hopefully, I won’t hear from her again. I think I’ve accumulated enough “nice guy” points to spare a few. And if i get bad karma from this, I’m totally quitting being a nice guy.

Yay for embracing your inner selves! *Hand*

I suck

Wednesday, January 21st, 2004 | self-deprecation | No Comments

I’m trying to apply for a job as an assistant webmaster for my school’s Collage of Arts and Sciences, and i don’t even knwo how to make a resume.