Age, appearance..... and stalker!

People always commented that I look younger than my actual age. Today, a guy remarked that I looked like 21 - 22 years old. Whoops! (Of course, he might be just flirting with me. He did slipped his number to me. Hmm...) I was flattered, of course I was. Few years back I would've felt annoyed by that. But now that I'm older, I'm just relieved that I don't look my age (Not that I'm already some old ah pek mind you, just that I'm no longer the twink age).

I guess I just have the naturally boyish look. (Don't hate me for that! =P)

On another note, I need to find a new gym now that I've moved. Hopefully I can find one with lots of hotties. Haha... slutty me.

Found a stalker pic in my phone of the gym Adonis from my old gym, that I mentioned in my previous post here. Let you guys cuci mata as well. You can thank me later. A basket of chocolates would suffice.

I'm not sure if the above picture did him justice. Pardon the bad quality and the horrendous picture-taking skill. I was trying to be discreet. Blerrgh.... blurry face. Really, he was so much more good looking!! I think he's straight though. But don't trust my gaydar.

So how old do you think he is?

New chapter

There are going to be some changes in my life soon. Actually, the change has already begun.

I have to relocate to another place soon for my work. It's a place less 'developed' than where I'm living right now. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about it. Regardless how I felt about it, I still need to go.

They say change is good. I'm trying to convince myself that. The darn thing is that positive thinking is not my strong suit. I'm a pessimist by nature.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not sad. Some part of me is excited. But another is afraid of the uncertainty. However, that's the good thing about being young. You still get to explore life, trying out new things, making mistakes and learning from them. If you don't do it now, when will you?

I'm going to leave this place that I called 'home' for these past 2 years. I knew it was temporary when I first moved here, of course I knew that. I can't help but forming attachments to this place. After all, I'm only human.

The change was a fairly short notice. I'm to move to this new place by next tomorrow. These few days had been a whirlwind of packing and unpacking. It's a wonder how I could've collected so much junks over the span of 2 years.

Oh and I found a gorgeous double-storey house to rent as well. It is spacious and really breathtaking, and comes with a fairly reasonable price. Needless to say, I'm immensely excited to move in there.

This is a good thing.

This is a good thing.

I'm sure if I say that often enough, I'll start believing it.

On Life...Change...Growing up

16th June 2012

This is the day of the turning point of my life. Another milestone. A life-changing milestone. It's a date I wish to remember, forever, even-if-I-have-dementia forever. If I were to tattoo a date to my body, this would be it. It's THAT big.

I can't go into the specifics due to various reasons. And I resent that. But know this, it's a good thing.

Ok lets talk about something I can talk about.

Father's Day.

I used to have a great relationship with my father. Duh, only son in a chinese family. Not to mention I'm the ONLY male descendent in our extended family that supposed to carry and pass down the family name. You see, there are only 2 males amongst my father's too-many-to-count siblings. My father and my uncle. My uncle had 2 daughters. I don't have a brother. So you see, they all depended on me to carry the family name. And the Chinese takes it very seriously about the family name. So I'm kinda screwed. But whatever. Lets not dwell on it at the moment.

But I digressed.

Something happened when I was 4 - 5 years old that changed the dynamic of my relationship with my father. I had a little trouble in potty-training when I was little. So every night my father would wake me up and bring me to the toilet to pee. I guess that particular night my father was in a horrible mood, and he always had a foul temper to begin with, and I was being a nuisance not wanting to wake up. That night, he was so furious, he took the cane (or was it a belt?) and started hitting me as hard as he could. Even my mother couldn't stop him. I still remember after the incident, my mother was crying while applying cooling salve on my skin. That's the night I started distancing myself from him. I could never bring myself to be close to him anymore.

I don't think any of my sisters knew about the incident. And I've never talked about it before. Ever. Now I feel kinda relieved to be finally able to write about it. Letting it out.

I don't talk much to my father unless it's necessary and only when I couldn't avoid it. Like on Father's day, for example. Or on his birthday. My mother expects me to call him and wish him, and I always keep the conversation short. These are only the few occasions that I talk to him. I just don't know what to say to him anymore.

Don't get me wrong. I don't hate him. I just don't love him the way I should, the way any son should.

So here it goes. Happy Father's Day, father.

Saw this on facebook. Immensely hilarious. And creative.