little. yellow. different. A weblog by Ernie Hsiung

ernie has yet another pre-freakout birthday moment

My 26th birthday is on Sunday. Here is my Amazon wish list. There, I said it. I was trying to think of a way to be witty and clever, in a “hey, that birthday story was witty and clever and I should buy Ernie something” way, but honest to God, my day has now become a routine. One of the problems with having a high-volume weblog is that things I’ve previously would have posted in a heartbeat, I have second thoughts of now.

Maybe something mildly amusing will happen during the afternoon. “I should blog that,” I think to myself. Then I decide not to. “Naaah. Not funny enough.“

I can’t write about how I’ve been depressed lately. Only thing that will generate is an e-mail from my dad saying that none of this would have ever happened if I just became ungay or tried harder or to just move home with your sister who talks to herself and laughs out loud at the voices in her head every three minutes, no, seriously, every three minutes. While I can deal with strife from my dad, it’s a constant reminder that my father is still micro-managing my life, furrowing his brow and shaking his head in disapproval — now it’s over the information superhighway.

Why yes, I did just go there.

I can’t write anything about work, because employees read the weblog. Not to say there’s anything wrong with work, mind you, because there isn’t. It’s more of the realization of the fact that what I’m doing, the posturing and the awkward corporate small talk and the lunches and smoke breaks by myself is never gonna end, that this is the way life is going to be between 9am and 5pm for the next forty to fifty years.

So what now? Do I take another break? Do I stop LYD? Do I keep on nodding and smiling pretending I haven’t a care in the world, like what I’ve been doing for the past 25 years? Will I get over it in the next 3 hours and pretend that nothing has ever happened? Whatever happens, know this — one person sent me an e-mail two days ago, saying that my life was better than a sit-com. It was supposed to be a compliment. Well, you know what? I’m not a sit-com. Sit-coms get cancelled and get written up on Television Without Pity.

And yes, I just had second thoughts about posting this entry and realize the irony of the first paragraph. Happy fucking birthday to me.

Hullo Ernie,
Peace, love and many blessings to you, especially on your birthday.
I agree, it’s disgusting that some people see nothing wrong with being entertained by your (and others’) personal lives, without even having the decency to care about your trials. It’s a dehumanizing and utterly disrespectful attitude. It would be great if the human race as a whole would care more about mercy, respect and love, but as it seems unlikely that this change is going to come about soon, a weblog might not be the best place to reveal some parts of your life. Given humanity’s voyeuristic tendencies, it might be better to find a less public place. The best one I can think of is a group of friends, though I realise that’s not always possible.
Try a church, maybe. Despite the negative stereotypes, some are full of welcoming, nonjudgemental people. You will probably have to shop around, but it’s worth the effort.
Some people do read weblogs with a less peep-show attitude, though. Hearing about other people’s trials makes them feel less strange, more like they belong, because those trials are really close to their own. That’s definitely how it works for me.

Be encouraged, and here’s wishing you a way to express yourself without attracting the piranas of the world.

Whoops, I just realised that this was last-year’s rant. blurgle