Vickiepedia

I haven’t posted in a while, hoping that life would be better the next day, hoping that I’d be able to write something less angsty as time went by… But life just has to worsen every day; I have family troubles…

I’m very close to yelling at Dad, to tell him how I really feel about what he wants of Bro and me, to tell him how much he’s hurt me for saying what he said today. Except I respect him, I still have love for him; I won’t do that. Ironic. The respect and love he said he never felt from us.

Sometimes I wish I could just fall asleep and never wake up…

P.S. Rest in peace, my poor little hamster. You’ve suffered enough.

I’ve decided that I will no longer care what gender* my future partner is, as long as they aren’t afraid of insects of most sizes, and are always willing to do something about it without teasing me while I cower in the corner. That’d not be Dad, by the way, as he was kind of pissed off when Mum woke him from his nap, to realise that the “thing” I was so scared of was only a little moth sitting in front of my door. Understandable, why Dad wasn’t happy, but I couldn’t help myself either.

And if I do decide to look for a partner in Hong Kong; judging from the number of girls who have a similar level of entomophobia like I do… I think I might just end up with a guy.

*Gender — or species, for that matter…

I dreamt…

In the beginning, a lot of people (including myself) were in a mansion playing a massive zombie-shooting game. The people got tired of shooting the actual zombies, so they decided to pretend to be the zombies and be shot. A few of us refused to do that so we ran away and hid ourselves.

Our group got separated, but one girl kept following me. She hasn’t got a gun (what?) so she was hanging onto me the whole time. I ran everywhere until we got to a kitchen, there she started to cry for no obvious reasons. Annoyed, I told her to shut up in a not-so-nice manner but the ‘zombies’ already heard us.

As the first zombie walked in the room, I darted out and kicked him in the face (I didn’t use my gun?); then I realised that he was a Hong Kong celebrity. I was shocked and looked at the other zombies that wandered into the room. They were in fact all celebrities.

The dream jumped and I was in the same mansion on my own. I was running through glass doors after glass doors but still couldn’t find a way out. I saw a guard and wanted to ask him what this mansion was all about, but before I got to him, I woke up…

On another note, I’m very jealous of my family members.

My father:
He’s got a new car – a damn cool Mercedes-Benz. Now he gets to drive that shiny silver thing to work every day, while I haven’t even learnt how to drive. I’m 18 already, dammit.

My mother:
She’s invited to watch the Hong Kong vs Real Madrid football match free of charge tomorrow, and she gets to sit practically next to the football managers. Ssh, I’m planning to drug her tomorrow so I could disguise as her and go instead.

Last but not least, Jacky my brother:
His public exam (HKCEE, if that makes any sense to you) results are out, and they’re damn good. He’s secured a place in his own damn famous and popular school to read Hong Kong’s damn hard Physics and so.

As for myself… pathetic.

Father’s Day today, so I’ve been thinking about my family the whole day. And my ex-girlfriend, to be honest.

My parents, like all the other parents in Hong Kong, believed (note: past tense) in heavy discipline. Almost everybody has a thin wooden (or bamboo?) stick at home just to punish their child (maybe occasionally to fetch the unreachable rolled under the bed). What the parents did sure left a lot of psychological damage; I could cry any time just thinking about it.

Ugh, didn’t mean to badmouth my parents. I love them. If it wasn’t them, I wouldn’t have been me. I wouldn’t know how to play the piano and violin, how to speak, spell and write English, wouldn’t be interested in Science, Maths and Medicine, wouldn’t…

Wouldn’t have been a lesbian?

No. There’s nothing to do with them of me being a lesbian. My father was/is great. He doesn’t smoke, drink, swear, abuse or anything. My mother was/is fantastic, too. They’re just about the coolest parents I could find. And I’m not ashamed to be a lesbian.

Now that I’ve come out, I hope they’d soon be cool about my sexuality. Please be cool about it.

I was feeling all gloomy today until I called home to say “Happy Father’s Day”. Dad seemed to be in high spirits. He thanked me for the a-few-days-early card. I listened to him, and realised that he’s changed a lot since I went to England for my studies about two years ago. He, like he promised, is a lot less demanding and more gentle on his words. Or maybe he’s been changing all along, I just never noticed? Mum was right. If I were to choose between my girlfriend leaving and my father dying, of course I’d choose the former.

So, Happy Father’s Day. Also Happy Belated Mother’s Day. And Happy Brother’s Day.

Happy Family Day.

With exams coming up very soon, I should be up in my room working my arse off. I tried really hard not to come back to this computer room, but I just have to write this. Yes, I think the title gave it out. My family line of heart disease…

I have always been a healthy kid. Normal weight, normal height, healthy body, not too many illnesses; I did not have to go to the doctor’s much at all. So, although I do not have a religion, I thank gods/goddesses/spirits/fate for whatever I have got. I thought I was the luckiest person on Earth. Great family with good health.

I was wrong.

I was talking to my mother today on the phone, and she told me about Uncle Sam. My paternal uncle Sam collapsed and was taken to the hospital about a week ago. He had a heart attack, with one coronary artery (from my Biology, have not confirmed with my parents yet) blocked, and he needs a by-pass surgery.

Now you might have the impression of Uncle Sam being an enormous couch potato munching on junk food watching telly hardly moving at all. Sorry for stereotyping, but he is not like that. He is not too old, fifty-ish, normal weight, normal height, normal-ish life.

Yet he has a blocked artery.

I have watched several by-pass surgeries when I went to a hospital for work experience. High technology, several experienced surgeons working together, general anaesthetic, about four hours’ work and the patient’s heart start pumping on its own again. I have also visited the recover ward, where a cheerful old man walked around and showed me the stitches in the middle of his chest.

I am not worried about the surgery itself. Although it is not the most secure operation, the rate of surviving is actually quite high. And with my uncle being comparatively young, he should recover relatively fast.

I am worried about my dad ending up in the same situation.

Prejudice, yes. It is just not the same. An uncle that you hardly see (he lives in Northern Ireland, and me here in Southern England for my studies), and a father you grew up with.

A few months ago, my dad started to complain about the fibrillations in his heart. I thought it was just his heart being ‘moody’ or something, and did not treat it as anything too serious. He told me he knew what was happening. My parents are both medical professionals, so they knew what they were talking about. They knew that something was not right.

My father is a 46-year-old man, normal weight, normal height, eats a balanced diet, plenty of exercises (he plays football). He does not smoke, does not drink too often, does not snack much. I almost swore to everybody that he is the world’s healthiest dad.

No, he is not.

And to think my brother, my cousins, everybody in the family line might get it as well. Including myself…

It is not the first time I see the world’s unfairness. Talking back to the work experience I had, I also visited the out clinic, where patients first meet the surgeons. I remember so well this old lady with her husband. She was a petite woman, did not smoke, did not drink, leaded what seems to all a healthy life, no family history of heart disease. And she had it.

*sigh* Now you see why I do not believe in God, rather, fate?

I will stop talking here, before I go on into a controversial topic.