Running with (Plastic) Scissors

So I just finished reading this book called Running With Scissors. It is easily one of the most interesting and funny memoirs out there. The thing I hate most about movies and books is the fact that after you finally get to the end, it leaves an empty feeling. Like you want to know what happens after you close the book. What happened with the friendship between Augusten and Natalie? Where's Bookman now? How did Augusten become a writer finally???

Anyway, the book inspired me to write my own memoir. But I feel like my life wouldn't be nearly as interesting as his. A lot of people (ok, maybe just a handful) have told me I should consider writing a book based on my life. Mostly because they find it interesting that I grew up in HK without parents and then shipped back here to New York and forced to live with these two strangers like it never happened. Or the fact that I live with a gambling addict for a father who deemed spending 10 dollars on a meal for his children a waste, but $3000 at Atlantic City was money well spent. Or the fact that despite my dysfunctional family upbringing, I remain loyal to my mother and feel that it's my responsibility to be able to take care of her and pay her monthly for raising me.

Still, it's no pedophilic story or reading turd as if it's a message from God.

Well, I'll see maybe I should start with this online diary thing.

I got trashed on Thursday night for work cocktails. The guy I've had my eye on who works on my floor once a week turned out to be a brit. And we ended up making out at a gay bar afterwards. Also, at the original bar, a Mexican staffer pushed me into the bathroom and made out with me. He sucked my neck really fucking hard and I am bruising. He tried to take my breasts out of my shirt and suck on them as well, but I escaped. Why do people always try to rape me? Is it because I'm asian and therefore submissive? Fuck that shit.

Anyway, the british guy told me his ex is a stripper. And he was in shock when she stole money from him. He kicked her out recently. I don't know what's more surprising, the fact that she stole $2,000 from a guy she lived with for two years or the fact that he's actually surprised a stripper would steal from him. He also thought it was great that I was intelligent enough to hold a conversation with him...compared to his ex's inability to talk about anything aside from being hot I guess. Once again, not so much a surprise as it is a half-assed compliment. It's not exactly hard to be smarter than a stripper. I wouldn't want to have sex with him though because the whole time i would be thinking "God, he used to do this to his ex and it would have looked totally different...that's probably what's going through his head right now". Yikes.

I just spoke with my ED and he seems to invested in my growth and my happiness with the group that I feel semi-badly for even thinking of leaving next year. I don't want to be in corporate america forever, this was always meant as a transitional thing for me, despite my parents finally being OK with my line of work. I decided to fuck everything and everyone who will only give me conditional attention/love. I need to do what makes me happy and being in corporate america does not make me happy. I love my team, they're great people...so I'm fortunate enough to not get the worst of corporate america. Still, I want to do my own thing, be my own boss and rule the world. I'll settle for being able to live in London and Spain 6 months out of the year. I yearn for this, but I also yearn for things for only a cushy job can give me. Hopefully things will work out for me. Seriously. I hope my karma is good enough for something great to happen for me....finally. I feel like most of my life, I have never caught a break. Or maybe I have and don't even know it. Well, my brother has told me once that he was very proud of me and in awe of what I've accomplished in life. I think that alone has made it all worth it. God, I can still remember how depressed I was after Alex broke up with me. It took major depression for my brother to tell me how he felt about me. I wonder what it would take for me to finally be able to tell him I love him no matter what he becomes or who he is. That him being gay has no bearing on anything. That he can confide in me because I'm his sister and I love him. I wish I could take all the pressures of being Chinese and gay away from him and bear that weight on myself.
Actually, I started this diary thinking I would write about getting trashed on Thursday and remember how when I was 3 in HK i had a beer at the dinner table every night. And then came to nyc and learned from D.A.R.E that smoking and drinking kills brain cells. So i swore off liquor and cigs forever. Until high school when I drank in school and thought that was 'rebellious' and 'cool'. Now I chain smoke while drinking like a mad woman. See, not interesting at all. Crap.