I swear. Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong era. I am an addict of classics. Anything from movies, musics, celebrites, antiques, to having an old-school mentality. If you call it precocious, I think that is okay too.
I still remember the time when I was in high school. I dreamt of owning my own bed and breakfast. Inside my inn, I would have a little theatre. And I would have my mystery play performed at my own theatre. Sounds pretty cool, isn't it?? Am I a dreamer or a visionary, or a little bit of none of the above.??!! (he!he! )
Anyway, I have been hesitant to write for a long, long, long time. Is it because I am insecure, or is it because I am not driven in life at all??? In any case, thank God for this "blog" era, I am able to validate my feelings once and for all. No more sitting on the sideline, no more "Waiting For Godot ", and no more wishing for some ethereal opportunities knocking on my door.
I am tempted to write my own autobiography here. To leave my mark so to speak. Hoping that my work or I will be discovered somehow, somewhere, sometime here on this blog site. If not, at least I can say that I have had 226 visitors who have known me and hopefully still COUNTING ( he!he!)
Let me see, how shall I proceed to write my own autobiography without sounding like the rest of the crowd. Eversince in high school, I really admire the artistic writing style of William Faulkner's " The Sound and The Fury". I firmly believed that to understand someone, you have to understand his work, and when you understand all of that, you will also begin to understand his soul. For they are all interwined.... like the mind, the body, and the spirit kind of philosophy . SO, HERE IT GOES.
MURDER BY SUICIDE. ( written back in high school days )
EXT STREET NIGHT
It is a STORMY NIGHT in front of a huge MANSION. There is a parked CAR on the road at the end of the driveway. In the car is KYLE QUINN, a brilliant yet cynical private detective (29) and CASEY KEATS, a bright-eyed sidekick (15) trying to learn the ropes.
KYLE.
I can't believe we ran out of gas. Didn't you care to even look at the fuel gauge once in a while?
CASEY.
well, I thought we had enough to make it to Albertville. It's just ten miles further down the road. I don't know, maybe there's a leak in the gas tank.
KYLE
Maybe there's a leak in your head. Have you thought about that? What kind of sidekick are you anyway? Luckily there's a house nearby?
CASEY
Yeah, a big house at that.
KYLE
Maybe we call call for a tow or something. C'mon.
Kyle and Casey proceed to get out of the car and walk up toward the DOOR, while getting quite drenched in the process.
I was born in Hong Kong in a family of 5 boys and 4 girls. Being #7 in the family, I cannot really decide if that was a lucky number or not. My father was adopted by a wealthy Chinese couple when they were still living in China at the time.I shouldn't say that he was "adopted" because in those days, adopting a "boy" was not only totally unheard of, but it was a totally impossible thing. What made it even more puzzling was the fact that my father was abandoned at the doorstep of this wealthy couple's house.
My father recalled that he doesn't remember anything about his biological mother other than the painful, uncanning realization that his mother said that she will never see him again.
Based on this new revelation, I realized that this is one piece of him that sets the momentum of series of tumoiled events that molded him to become this cold-blooded, male chauvnistic man that he is today. I always tell my friends jokingly that my father is a "rolling stone". I guess in this day and era, it may seem like a "cool" image for your father to have. But, little do they realized that painful experience during your childhood days can scar you, haunt you, and destroy you.
