Daily misery

…as always. Besides from the usual luxuries of not having to cook, do laundry and go to work, being home also puts much senses back to my otherwise critically-idled life. Family and friends laughed at my well-done, already-pushing-the-buttons belly, I laughed at the visible accumulation of white hairs on their head. They asked for US dollars, I said I’m broke. They asked when am I going to get married. I said I am gay. Life’s back home is different, yet not so different. It is good.

And everyone is well and healthy, which is probably the single, most important thing to me. My 4 lil’ princesses are turning into Vogue’s cover-like material, although it’s kinda worrisome that Nicoly, my youngest sister, at the age of just 10, seems to have already memorized the name of all the Taiwanese boy bands that appear on TV faster than she could on the math multiplication table. Come to think of it, it is actually not that hard as most of these retarded names are made up from a randomly selected alphabet and then appended with a series of integers (F4), or no alphabets at all (5566). If not, they will just use any word with three consonants (Fahrenheit, FIR). Someone needs to expose her to some Jimi Hendrix or Beatles’ love. I blame this bad influence on all my other three sisters.

As selfish as it may sounds, home always seem to be the first thing we, or rather I, think of when things aren’t going so well but ends up being the last when there’s a joyful occurrence. We gladly point our finger to the distance-ness and the inconvenience of being apart from each other and well, it’s just part of the growing up process.

Sheesh, I know I can do better than that.