Thank You

I often find myself giving in to an extreme nostalgia and overwhelming sadness over an otherwise inappropriate memory.

Then my mind flooded to Sydney; of our lattes, brunches, weird walks to the gym etc, and that exact feeling comes to me.

Then I remember that you're here now. In Melbourne. Next to me. And nothing else matters.

Golf

My father has always been a person I've admired; not cause he's my dad, but because he is a great person? If I had to describe a person who is actually morally righteous, nobel and all that jazz, he would be the first (and perhaps) only person that comes to my mind.

For most of my life there has always been this uneasy feeling of undeserving, like I don't deserve someone like him in my life. There were many things I did wrong - I bailed on swimming (albeit I had other reasons for quitting), I got really fucked up, I screwed my exams and the like. Then there were also the expectations I did not live up to (things you'd expect to enjoy with your sons once they're of age.. but eventually they chose shopping over golf) - golf, nature, being smelly and sweaty playing golf, being sweaty and smelly surrounded by nature etc; although I must say I do enjoy nature and to a lesser extent golf, as long as I get to go home to a comfy room and a shower equipped with a consistent stream of properly temperated water.

As I grew older I thought that the greatest (sober) feeling I would ever feel was getting my dad's approval. I constantly shoved what I thought were accomplishments in his face, and one day (after he had a few glasses) I was finally rewarded. I would never forget the first time he told me he was proud of me.

Then it hit me - I had daddy issues.

Perhaps it was his slight distance from me when I was younger, or his alcoholism that gave me nightmares on end, or perhaps how I knew that everyone held him in high regard (and sucked up to him like liches drinking steroid-tainted blood) before I even understood why; I needed his approval.

For a good two years I was a lost cause, and my dad finally broke down and found me. My mum had long given up, not that I would blame her, I've given her a lot of grief and she's given up on me at least 3 times, but it's been so long since I've longed for her approval; I don't actually feel like it's consistent enough for me to want it anymore. And since my dad was the one who came for me I've always wanted to prove him right over my mum, and I guess this may have been when my need for his approval really started to show. Afterall, he gives me everything I want, fetches me anywhere I need to go, and allows me my little rebellions as long as they're not crossing any lines; he has been trying to please me since day 1 (even when he was a drunk businessman 6 days a week) (Sundays were his sober days when he would spend time with me ahahaha).

Half a year ago, I realized something else. I've made peace with this need for his approval, and I realized that me needing his approval was something that he wouldn't approve of in the first place. He would like me to be a proper person, not because of his approval, but because of him, and because of who I am. I remember skipping new year eve clubbing (OMG) to stay home and watch movies with him. I remember skipping (what would have been fun) outtings with friends to spend time with him. I remember ditching an afternoon of shopping for golf at the driving range with him, how his eyes lit up when I asked him if I was holding the driver right (duh I was), and expressing genuine interest in his favourite sport.

I learned something that day while pretending to love golf with my father. I learned that even if I had to give up something that makes me happy, my father's happiness more than makes up for it, and I feel even happier than I would have if I went.. drinking with my mates (for example). I realized that it extended to a few more people in my life, my grandma, my mum, my sister etc. I learned what it meant to love someone properly.

I have no real love for golf. But I do love golf, like how my father loves shopping. I love seeing him happy like how he loves seeing me happy, even at his own expense (it's always been at his expense though). And regardless, I owe it to golf (and my father) for teaching me one of the most important things in my life.

Thank you, I love you and happy father's day pa.

I'm here cause I have things to say that I can't on my anonymous blog.

Wtf

Since U Been Gone

Melbourne has become such a lonely place.
My room is somehow so quiet it's deafening.
It'll be summer soon but it feels so cold.

I just need you here with me, in bed watching TV drinking hot coco having sex.

TMI

Sorry

I shan't deny that I enjoy the attention. But I always make it clear, I always state explicitly of the zero possibility of anything blooming into more than it is.

I'm sorry I wasn't harsh enough.

I Shall Grant You No Such Power Over Me

You meant so much to me. Despite this, somewhere along the lines things changed. You're still very much as important, but I guess I have deemed you not worth the effort. Like how these things always are, I can't put my finger on the exact moment in time when this occurred..

..But on the bright side, I still can't decide if I'd rather have never met you at all or not. Take that as a comfort?

Wait, what am I talking about. What comfort? You never needed any comfort from me. Yeah.

Stop distracting me, gotta study. Bloody Londoner. I said bloody cause that's fucking British.

edit: Wrote this in anger. What an irony, writing this post to state that you no longer have any sway over me but it was talking to you that made me write this in the first place. Classical K.

Jealousy

I've always been the silent-jealous kind. The kind that's never outed by a shade of green, that smiles benevolently like nothing's going, who wishes you warmly without a tinge of envy; but deep down is so jealous his smile is threatening to stab you with a knife (secretly).

The lesson to conceal my jealousy came in many doses - when I was younger (in primary) my best friends were one of my old classmates and his younger brother, Justin and Bryan. They were really wealthy, highly loved and thus thoroughly spoiled. They got everything they wanted and more, even all the things they hadn't realized their yearnings for.

We were tight, staying over once every other week, going on family vacations with each other's families, talking on the phone till late, planning the future together (wtf).. until they left for Melbourne years before me growing apart anyway. But all that exposure to the luxuries they took for granted left me green eyed on many occasions, and often after expressions of jealousy (as a 9 year old kid) I felt stupid, and regretted my display. Over time I guess I've learned to not wear jealousy on my sleeves.

Some people get the impression that I'm not the jealous kind, that jealousy is just one of those emotions I don't feel (often), because after all I've got it good as well. And I go with that, because being jealous is just pathetic. I'd rather feign apathy and walk on. I'm a classy bitch.

Anyway all of the above were digressions. I originally intended to just express my secret jealousy here in (semi?) private. Being friends with their mum on Facebook, I often see her photos of her visits to Melbourne, of her hanging out, kissing her children, etc etc.

Jealous.
And I can't decide whether being jealous of something like this makes me more or less pathetic. On the bright side at least it's not superficial?

My mum's got a way with words, and I've got a memory built to never forget. Words are the most dangerous weapon one can wield - they cut so deep when left along the way and while you tend to disregard it it never heals.

I've never been the kind to be shy about affection with my mum. Always used to let her hold my hand in public (even at 15), amuse her and go along with whatever she says in front of people to impress upon them that her son finds her cool and isn't embarrassed by her.. wouldn't that be something parents would kill to have?

So why did she tell me to not be so close to her? It wasn't inappropriate. Bah really moody thinking about it, really hurts to put it to words so I'll just leave it at this:

I'll never touch you again. 

Justin and Braaaaayan, it's been almost 10 years down separate roads and here I am once again, back to square one, back to being jealous of your possessions, back to pretending to being that envious little boy again. I miss you guys.