Initiallyyours - Archived Blog Post

[initiallyyours]

I doublt [sic]very much you'll get anywhere even with the success of your "project".

- a line in an e-mail my dad sent to my just today regarding a film project I'm working on


For most of my life, my dad hasn't really been in it. I remember him having a finger in one of his ears and reading up on stock market stuff while I practiced the piano. Such a sad image to remember my dad by. It wasn't until I was in high school that I actually found out what my dad did for a living. How sad is that?

Him separating from my mom didn't make things easier either. He still comes around the house every once in a while, but we don't ever get too deep in our conversations. He's more focused on me going to school --> getting a good job = life. So when I decided to go into music and also not to school, the lectures came flooding in. He suddenly began talking to me -- but about how I was going to waste my life doing something that doesn't pay well. I guess that's all that matters in his definition of "life".

So I wrote this song, and completed it just a few days ago about him. I hope to get a recording of it sometime, but in the meantime, here are the lyrics.

You Will Never Know These Words​

I'm finding out,
It's blinding now,
The truth coming from your eyes.
And now these rusted words,
Have come too late.
They wilt away,
Lost in the sand.

But nothing holds true,
And time slips away.
I can't buy my childhood back,
'Cause you sold it all,
For ten a piece,
And now I'm hollowed out of memories.

CHORUS:
I know you by an empty seat
And though you're not here I'm on my knees.

I'm a troubadour,
Scowering,
Far and wide
For someone to hear my song.
But all I come across
Is only loss.
It's all I've got,
It seems that's where I belong.

These trenches run deep,
Vast in their size,
Scraping 'cross the land.
How can you abandon
The canyon
And all you left in me?

CHORUS:
I know you by an empty seat,
And still, you don't hear you just believe,
If all of my flaws are smoothed out,
I'll be the perfect man.

Oh you'll never see,
What I can be.
So take another step away
Into the opposite
Of you and me.
Let's leave this all behind.

We're on two different trains,
The rest of our lives.
But just tell me this:
How did you abandon
the canyon
You cut into my life?

CHORUS:
I know you by an empty seat,
Your hands in your ears so tightly.
The thing that really hurts the most is
You will never know these words.

You will never know these words
You will never know these words
You will never know these words
You will never know these words

I'm finding out,
It's blinding now.
But your rusted words
Have come too late...

 

[initiallyyours]

I'm just going to quickly whip up something before I start work tomorrow at 7:00am (on Smallville!)

I was reading one of my favourite novels, Leave Myself Behind by Bart Yates, which I haven't read in a while now. For anyone who hasn't come across this fantastic book, I won't go into the details too much but it's about a 17 year old boy named Noah, who, after moving to a new town, meets J.D. And of course, things ensue between them.

Complications have to arise, naturally. J.D. is hesitant about any sort of thing with guys and at one point tells Noah he doesn't think they should do anything again but just stay friends. Noah doesn't take this very well and calls J.D. a coward for running away when they both know J.D. wants Noah.

Upon reading this part in the book, I drew parallels with my own love life. About 3 months ago, I broke up with my boyfriend because he basically told me that he would never come out and had no intention to, despite the fact that I was and it strained our relationship, to say the least.

It is only looking back on that breakup that I really see that he was hurt by this separation. He said he "didn't want things to go sour like this" and told me how he was starting to come out (ie. to my friends whom I told that he was gay, not him telling them). I, on the other hand, had had enough of the lying and the hiding behind closed doors. It is safe to say I probably didn't feel as sad as he did.

Fast forward to just a few weeks ago. I found myself unable to get over him successfully. There were moments when I thought I had done it but somehow or another, things would remind me of him or he would suddenly pop into my head or I would fantasize and sex and the last time I fucked him (bluntly put). One night, I told him this (minus the sex part) and things didn't go as well as I had hoped.

It wasn't as if I was hoping he'd run back into my arms. Instead, he told me he was already getting over me and reiterated the reason we broke up in the first place -- being that he could never come out and hence wasn't the right guy for me. I told him he could very well be, if he even had the slightest thought of coming out, but he refused. His parents would be devastated (whose parents wouldn't be?!) and though he didn't say it, his reputation as a important member of the university's School of Music would be questioned.

I didn't give him the choice to pick me or his closeted life but he picked nonetheless. When i asked him what HE wanted, he simply said, "I don't know." It is only now that I see how afraid he really was, which is a true shame. He always puts people ahead of himself, but in this case, coming out is a personal choice. You don't do it to please other people, or else you'd be in the closet for life, which is what he's doing.

Back to the novel. *SPOILERS!*


J.D. eventually talks to Noah again and is willing to make the sacrifice to break up with his girlfriend and be with Noah, even though his parents would probably beat him up (along with the kids at school).

Maybe I'm dreaming too much into fiction. I wish I had a J.D. I feel like my story (the one with my ex) hasn't ended yet.

It wasn't supposed to end up that way. He was supposed to reconsider coming out, but nothing I can do or say to him can change his mind, and I won't force him to.

Where did the story go wrong and why does it haunt me?

I hope in time he will see what a scared little boy he is.

 

[initiallyyours]

For those that actually read this (probably just Sam and the Nice fellow), I wrote a song recently called "You Will Never Know These Words" and I posted the lyrics here. I had some time today to record stuff for my youtube channel and I managed to get a recording of me playing/singing it.

I do start almost crying in the song and my face gets all scrunchy-looking (that's how you can tell). Anyway, it's about my dad, in case people might be wondering.

About two weeks ago, I performed this song live and was on the brink of crying, but made it through alright. I guess it really shows how songs can make me (or people in general) cry.

Enjoy?

 

[initiallyyours]

I know I don't usually talk about home life (do I? Hmm...) and when I did, I would be posting it on a blog that my friends and I share. But apparently one of my friends finds that I complain too much, which kinda hurts, but it's just how I deal with things: by writing.

Anyway, here I am, at 10:59 in the morning, having just taught my cousin her weekly piano lesson. My mom was in the kitchen, the adjacent room to us, on the phone with my sister (who's living in Birmingham right now). It wasn't until near the end of the lesson, when neither of us were playing, that I began to hear what my mom was saying.

Okay, so it's not like she was saying homophobic slurs or anything, just talking about my current situation (living at home, not at school, technically haven't been fired from my job, but they haven't called me in). I'm applying at Berklee College of Music in Boston for next year, and she was telling my sister how she doesn't think I can get into Berklee because I applied at UBC (University of British Columbia) this year and didn't get accepted because I fucked up my audition, but I think it's a good thing because the courses there aren't for me. And my mom has this idea that UBC is the center of the universe, that it's this magical place where you go in for 4 years and come out super smart and prepared, a place that ANYONE can go because UBC has absolutely everything!

Of course, that's not true. It frustrates and angers me whenever I have a conversation about school because she can't look past my not getting into UBC or her twisted view on it. She told my sister how she thinks that if I couldn't get into UBC, that how could I get into a school like Berklee? Which makes sense, seeing as how Berklee is a pretty well-known music school, but it hurts that my mom doesn't have any faith in me. Apparently, my Performer's Diploma at RCM means shit to her, even though it's taken me, oh, about 10 years.

She's (and my father, for that matter, although he doesn't live with us anymore) constantly putting me down, citing every example where I've "failed" as a reason that I'll fail in life if I don't do as they say. "You want to work at Future Shop the rest of your life and earn minimum wage? How're you going to live on that? How are you going to put food on your plate? What about your family? How are you going to provide for them?"

I wish I could just get a record deal or something so that it would show 1) I have enough musical talent so that UBC can rim my ass and 2) that I can make a living doing what I want. Sigh... my audition's in December. I hope it goes well.

if anyone has read this far, thanks. If not, well, I just needed to write/type.


Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

That is the question.

A few months ago, I bought a stuffed teddy bear for my ex (he has a collection of stuffed animals on his bed... it's cute), thinking he would probably like it.

I haven't seen him in about 2 months and spoken to him since. The times I've tried to contact him, he hasn't replied, and I even gave him an ultimatum; I'll stop trying to contact him unless he wants to talk to me. Otherwise, it's goodbye.

Nothing. I got nothing.

He's still on my MSN list (blocked, of course) and it just frustrates me that he's suddenly become this way. He's always had the decency to at least respond to a few messages but now, it's like he's cut me out (even though he hasn't blocked me on his list).

So right. The teddy. I bought it for him as a Christmas present, but I'm not sure if I should still give it to him. It's kind of pointless for me to keep it, but if I do give it to him, that would imply me trying to contact him again, and possibly getting nowhere.

Thoughts? Opinions? Rants?


~~Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

Ever since I was young, I never really got support from my mom; I learned to motivate myself and do what I wanted. Pretty soon, I began to tell my mom less and less about what was going on in my life until I don't really mention it now, despite the fact that I live at home.

One of my most painful memories of us together was in the second grade, when I brought home a spelling test for my parents to sign. Although I was an excellent speller, I got one word wrong (I spelled "bonnet" as "bonett") and hence, was reluctant to show it to my mom. Eventually, I handed it over to her, nervous about how she would react, and told her that I needed her to sign it. She looked at the test and told me to get a pen. But when I retrieved it for her, she didn't sign her name; instead, she asked me how to spell "Not good enough" on it. So, through tears, I spelled it out.

Ironic, isn't it? I had aced countless spelling tests but out all of them, that was the only one we actually had to take home to get our parents' signature.

I was 7 years old. Did my mom honestly think I was the perfect child?

I wonder if she really knew what she was doing to me. It's easy to blame her for the somewhat rebellious attitude I have now, not to mention how low my self-esteem was during my teenage years. But when I really needed support, she would seem to always insult me or something to that extent.

Earlier today, while I was waiting for one of my piano students to show up, she asked she could borrow my bus card to go to buy a travel mug for my sister (she didn't want to drive because it might be hard to find parking. Or as I think, she doesn't want to spend time looking for a space.) When I told her I might be meeting a friend after teaching and needed it, she snapped at me and muttered to me (and later, herself, as she walked out of my room) that I wasn't good for anything and that I should eat shit (in Cantonese).

All because of a bus card.

She's just like my twin sister -- when things don't go her way, she flips out and goes crazy. It's one thing I can't stand about my family.

The double-standard is another thing my mom is famous for. She preaches to me about how I shouldn't swear (which I rarely ever do anyway, and mostly she's not even around for it) but today she tells me to go eat shit; I'm not allowed to raise my voice when I'm angry, but she's yelled at me all my life; I tell my mom when I think she's crossing the line and she tells me I'm rude. It seems that nothing I ever say ever gets into my mom's brain.

I could rant about this longer, but it'll only make me angrier. I think she's still angry at me over the bus card incident, which is fine, because I don't really want to talk to her anyway.

Sigh.


Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

In less than 24 hours, I will be in Seattle, on my way home from what will hopefully be a successful audition into Berklee College of Music.

For a few months now, I've been practicing and preparing for this audition. Of course, the road hasn't been easy, even getting up to this point. The whole idea of going to another country to study for a several years wasn't received too greatly by my dad, and there was even a time where I wasn't sure I got everything into the school (ie. transcript credentials) on time, which would lead to me not even getting in, which would lead to my audition becoming pointless. And then my mom and I got into a car accident today (we're both okay, though she's shaken up and my back's just beginning to hurt a bit).

But alas. Despite everything, the audition must go on. The thought of me in a room with people judging me from not too far away kind of scares me, but more than anything makes me nervous. I can only do my best, and hope things turn out alright. And if not, well, there's always Plan B.

The bus leaves at 5:50 tomorrow morning (ugh...). And it'll be about five hours until we get to Seattle (oh yeah. The closest audition city is Seattle and I'm going with my mom). That should be fun.

I hope things go well. Wish me luck!


Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

After several months of preparation, it all came down to half an hour of time from Berklee's representatives, who would judge the crap out of me (and everyone else) and deem if I was worthy of their almighty school.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't put Berklee on the biggest pedestal, but I have spent a couple hundred dollars with fees and sending transcripts in, not to the mention the bus ride down there. So I better be damn good.

The day started at 4:40am. Fast forward through all the morning routine to getting picked up by my grandpa (since my mom's car was wrecked from the car accident) and him dropping us off at the bus station. Our bus left the station at 5:50 with 5 passengers (including me and my mom) on board.

Fast forward past several stops and passing the border. We've made it to Seattle, city of... the Space Needle and... what else? Anyway, our first challenge was to get to the Experience Music Project, where my audition was held. I had printed out a map and bus routes of downtown Seattle so we began a short walk to the bus stop. When we got to the street, my mom asked someone about the bus fare, who told us, then further informed us that you pay the fare when getting off the bus because downtown was some sort of ride-free zone. All this info confused us greatly, so when we got on the appropriate bus, we sort of us just sat there looking like we knew what was going on.

The bus ride turned out to be only a few minutes long and before we knew it, we were at the building (which, coincidentally, is right next to the Space Needle). My mom asked the bus driver for a transfer for getting back after (on the advice of the person we asked before) but he told us it was better if we paid for one when we got on the bus after, which left us confused again, and the bus driver probably hating us. Ultimately, we decided not to buy the transfers and walked into the building.

For those that haven't been to the Experience Music Project, it's better than any building in Vancouver -- better in design and modernness. Designed by the imaginative Frank Gehry, the exterior is short of wondrous, with it's ripples and whatnot. Anyway. This isn't a review of the architecture.

Right. So we got in and proceeded to look for the correct room, which we found quite quickly. However, my stomach was being mean to me and I found myself looking for a different room. After relieving myself, my mom and I decided that since we had an hour and a half to kill before my audition, it might be in our best interest to find some food.

Unfortunately, the only visible restaurant nearby was McDonald's, located conveniently across the street. Though my mom has no problem eating from that grease factory, I'm too concerned about the clogging of my arteries to even consider stepping foot on the premises. Instead, I made us search for another place to eat, and about a block away was this small cafe. The owner was a middle-aged Asian woman, of which we had seen very, very little of in Seattle so far (Asians, that is). We ordered some food (some of the vegetables were undercooked) and left. My mom wanted to get something hot to drink and despite my hatred for the place, we went to the McDonald's across the street.

At this point, it was nearing noon, so we went back into the EMP and proceeded to sign in, where we were greeted by two chicks who appeared to be students. One took me out of the room and to the start of my audition to Berklee...

TO BE CONTINUED.


Haha

 

[initiallyyours]

On the way to my audition warm-up room, I was asked by the chick about what song(s) I would be playing and how I felt at the time. I really wasn't sure how to feel -- although the months of preparing were probably supposed to have made me confident, the possibility of anything happening made me slightly apprehensive. Plus, according to the audition requirements, I was going to be playing some blues, which, up until I started applying, I had never played before.

The practice room I was shown was awesome; the wall was one giant black and white photo (of something which 1) I can't remember and 2) I wouldn't know what it was either). There were couches and even a few beanbag chairs around. I really wanted to just lounge around and not have to worry about this audition. And of course, there was a piano, err, keyboard (full length and weighted, nonetheless) in the room as well. A binder sat at the piano, open to some page of music. She flipped through the tabs and came across number 8: sight reading for piano. She told me I had 15 minutes to warm-up, look over the material and that she would be back to get me in a while. Before she left, she commented (with excitement, I might add) on my buttons on my bag, particularly one of the silhouette of Mickey Mouse with rainbow colours filled in. "Where did you get gay Mickey?!" she asked. I told her one of my friends got it for me awhile ago at Disneyland. She nodded and replied how ironic it was that Disney featured gay things when they don't really have any gay characters. Good point.

I was finally left alone to practice, which I did for several minutes, playing both my Gershwin piano prelude (number 1) a few times and a part of an original song I wrote ("Empty"). The sight reading material in the binder ranged from simple to more complex music, of which the latter was played in swing. I'm not really one to brag, but my sight reading is probably the strongest technical thing I can do, and all three were pretty easy to figure out, so I began to relax. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard after all.

Several minutes later, the other chick came and lead me out of the room to a connecting room -- an auditorium. I quickly wondered whether or not my adjudicators had heard me practicing... I suppose it wouldn't have mattered anyway.

My two audition judges (I dunno if there's a term for that) seemed pretty relaxed and friendly. There was a grand piano on stage, with wires and equipment running everywhere. I sat at the piano... and what an awesome piano it was. It just looked so... grand. And shiny. I quickly snapped out of my hypnotic trance when I was asked by one of the guys what I would be playing, and I told them and handed over my copy of the prelude. I sat down at the piano again and took a breath.

At my home, I have an upright Yamaha piano, that really makes dynamics... well, dynamic; if I bang on the keyboard, it'll be loud. There have been pianos that I've played that don't seem to get any louder however much I bang on it, which is frustrating at times. Unfortunately for me, I played on one of those pianos. Fortunately, I didn't play nearly as badly as I thought I might. A few slips here and there, but overall, alright. When I finished, my heart was pounding, which was interesting.

Next up: my original song. Despite me applying for their film scoring major, I chose to perform the first song I ever wrote, a song called "Empty" (it's posted a few entries back on this blog and apparently my favourite Sam likes it too ). So off I went to play that. They had to cut me a tad short because of time, but it was alright. When I finished, I felt as calm as if I had been playing at home, which was also interesting.

Fast forward through the dreaded improvising -- of pop and blues genres -- which I did alright in. I think. I hope... and ear testing, including intervals (missed one only), rhythms (aced!), and sight reading (alright), and I was shooed out to do the interview part of the day...

TO BE CONTINUED


muahaha! One more, I promise.

 

[initiallyyours]

I left the auditorium, a tad confused as to where I had to go next but figured I had to go back to the same check-in room. Back there, I was escorted again by one of the girls to the room adjacent, divided by a only a wall. My idea of the interview part consisted of four or five stern-looking middle-aged people, sitting behind a table and asking me questions and making me sweat.

There was one lady behind a really small table with a Mac on it. I walked over, and we did the introductions thing, right before she told me that it was an informal interview, which made me relax (well, just a little).

I've been to job interviews where the interviewer has asked me really formal questions, and most of the time I feel like I have to answer really formally and formality makes me... not uncomfortable, but I have to work harder to make my answers sound good and when I'm put on the spot like that, especially if the question is phrased like that, I can sometimes just not think of anything. So it was really a relief when we were simply conversing with each other and not really an interview.... though we did talk about me for a lot of it.

There isn't much to say about what happened; there were the basic questions ("Why did you choose Berklee?" "How did you get your start in music?") and at one point, she went to my myspace page and had a listen to some of my music ("Forgotten Memory" and "Child's Play"), which was interesting, during which I was trying not to cringe at my own singing (and seeing if she was doing the same).

And just like that, it was done. The only thing I wish I had said to her was that I have an ARCT Performer's Diploma from RCM because I don't quite remember if I had mentioned that in my application. For now, it's just a matter of time.

The acceptance rate into Berklee is about 30%, so one in three make it in. I don't know about other people's abilities and I don't want to get my hopes too high or seem overconfident. Come March 1st, my life will either continue here in Vancouver or be relocated in Boston.


Aaron

PS. Right. I guess I would have to post another thing to update on the results, so yes, technically, there will be one more of these, Mr. Nice Guy.

 

[initiallyyours]

Awhile ago, I posted the lyrics to a song I wrote called "Let Go" and recently, I recorded a video of me playing it for youtube and thought I'd share it for those who read this.







~~Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

A few days ago, I saw a posting on craigslist for yet another casting call for a short film. I don't usually read those ads (as I am not an actor so it wouldn't apply) and the ones that I do read sound kinda weird. This one was different though; it's about a guy whose boyfriend passed away and he realizes he's dying as well and this woman comes by and sort of helps him through it (I know I might sound a bit vague, but I don't have the whole script; just a synopsis).

At first, I was kind of surprised upon reading anything gay-related, then realized myself that in some ways, I'm like that guy; I may not be physically dying from anything, but I did sort of lose someone I really cared about (he's still alive, but we don't talk -- or rather, he doesn't want to talk to me).

I sent an e-mail to the job posting and told them a bit about myself and the guy that responded back apparently went to the same school I did (Vancouver Film School), albeit in a different program. He attached a couple pages of the script for me to read during the auditions... which were the next day (today).

Now, like I said, I don't consider myself an actor; he last real speaking role I ever did was in the school play at my elementary school, so it's been a while. This isn't to say I don't appreciate the art; I've been told I should do some acting because of my weird, random personality sometimes (ie. laughing out loud when I haven't said anything), and after reading the lines given to me, I found it actually not as hard as I thought... but still, it was hard to convey this character.

Anyway, long story short, I went in to audition, was almost late, and delivered my lines to the director dude (who also went to film school); he made me run through it twice, which I didn't take as a good sign at first, but then again, he was just doing his job. After the second time, he said, "Nice." which I took was a good sign, seeing as how I've never done anything like this before.

It'll be a few days before they make up their minds about casting; apparently, there were around 20 or so people that auditioned, most of which probably have wayyy more experience than me, but hey, I'm happy I even got to audition. I don't have any plans to be a working actor. I'll just stick to writing and music for now.



Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

1. I didn't get into Berklee. Not a huge surprise, but I was sort of hoping I'd get in since I'd like to get a new start somewhere else, but oh well. When I told my mom, the first thing she told me was, "I told you so." Great. So nice to know I have supportive parents. Onto Plan B it is then.

2. I didn't get that role I auditioned for. Not even a surprise, though it would've been cool to be in the actor's chair for a change. I still had fun prepping and auditioning though. Maybe I should keep going with this.

3. Still don't have a job. I've been looking for one since January and it's hard! Plus, I'm really picky about where I work and what kind of work I'll be doing, so that probably contributed as well.

4. Some good news though: my short film from film school will be screening in Melbourne this month! And in Grenoble in April! That's pretty cool, as I wasn't expecting people to be so warm in receiving the film.

5. I saw the same bus driver cutie again on Tuesday but I didn't talk to him. He did grin at me when I got on, so he recognized me, but I made a vow to myself that next time I will talk to him, even if it means missing my stop.

6. On that related note, I've been thinking about my ex since... well, since we broke up last year. It's hard for me to imagine how we got from then to now, where he no longer talks to me. I know he's only doing it to help me get over him, but it's not working. I think about him every single day and even though I also want to get over him, nothing seems to help. There are days when I feel lonelier that usual without him, without anyone. I hate that feeling.

In movies, there's always that scene where a guy (or girl) goes and finds his girl (or guy) and confesses that he (or she) was wrong, that he made a mistake and they were right for each other, blah blah blah... and they end up together again and live happily ever after. Seeing those scenes come up time and time again, I guess I believed that if I were to ever do the same, that it would work.

But things aren't that simple.

My ex and I called things off because he wasn't out and I am, and every time I was with him, I was always the "friend", which I learned to deal with, even if it kind of bothered me. He believed that what I wanted for him to come out, which he couldn't do -- to anyone, apparently. I can sort of understand that.

But that's not what I want. It would, of course, be good if he could come out, but everyone deals with it in their own time.

What I want is hope. Pure and simple.

Hope that someday, the image of me and him, standing over the kitchen sink while I tease him about his pink polo shirt, or walking down the street, hand in hand, or him teaching our kid how to play the piano -- any of these will ever come to see the light of reality.


Is it still foolish of me to continue to hold onto those dreams when he told me to wash them away?

 

[initiallyyours]

A few weeks ago, I saw the same bus driver three times in one night, which hasn't happened before, let alone with any guy. We exchanged "Hey!" and "See ya later!" but not much else. I thought he was really friendly and kinda cute too. I only saw him one other time after that, and even though I tried hard to stay near the front door and talk to him, I instinctively walked back and took a seat. After that, I swore to myself that if I ever saw him again, I would go and talk with him.

Not really having anything to do and recalling the last time I saw him, I picked up my jacket and keys and headed out the door. There was a bus in sight, just a few minutes away. As I waited patiently for it to arrive, I wondered if it would be him... and it was.

Luckily for me, he engaged me in conversation right away ("I haven't seen you in a while!"), and it went from there. We talked about all sorts of stuff, and at one point he asked if I was seeing anyone. I told him no, and when I asked about him, he said he and his "partner" were going through a lot of stuff, and there was a lot of negativity between the two of them, and he was at a crossroads sort of point in his life (I guess that means he's having doubts about his relationship?).

Anyway, the bus went all the way downtown, then back up, and we were still talking (as a sidenote, I've never taken the bus all the way around), about all sorts of stuff. He was really easy to talk to, and I was actually kind of surprised how easily we got along. At one point, he asked me something... I can't remember what... and I said, "Honestly... I wanted to try and find you." And he smiled and blushed and got all embarrassed about it (he even said so). It was kinda cute.

A little later, he took out a pen and started writing something on a transfer, which he handed to me. He told me his name was Kelly, and that he doesn't have a cell phone, and he got a computer only recently. He had written down his e-mail address, and told me to send an e-mail to him sometime, and of course I said I would.

So yeah. I've already sent him an e-mail... the whole thing is really strange to me. No one has ever given me their e-mail address like that. It felt so odd, something that would happen to someone else... but not me. That being said, I'm really happy it happened and glad I talked with him.

I guess we'll see how things go...



Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_CaieoJl-Yqc/SdxH1ZPaoxI/AAAAAAAAAGg/LMZ2jOWZEqQ/s1600-h/AaronNewspaper_Mar25,09.jpg

Lookie! It's for the show I will be playing tomorrow. It got printed in the local GLBT newspaper in Vancouver, Xtra West, who are the ones putting on this cool series.

I'm really excited to be playing my first real set, as I've been doing 15 - 20 minute open mic things for the past two years, and I've always wanted to take my time to play my stuff. I've invited just about everyone I know (well, everyone I still keep in contact with); the Bus Driver can't make it out, which sucks. I'll be uploading videos of the performance after, so that people didn't get a chance to come can see it.

Yay!!!!!! It'll be an awesome show!



Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

A couple weeks ago, I got the opportunity to play my first real show at a local cafe in Vancouver. My sister filmed the whole thing, which was nice of her to do. All the videos are up on youtube (first starting with "Empty" and ending with "Almost Here"), but I thought I'd post one that was written and dedicated to the first guy I was with last year (who I've written about previously on this blog).




Comments? Opinions? Scathing criticism?



Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

For almost 3 years, I've been teaching several kids how to play the awesomest instrument ever. Even though I've been playing it for 15 years (and I'm 20 years old), I started off not really knowing how to teach it; sure, I've been playing it for a long time, but that doesn't necessarily make me a teacher.

I first started with one student; the daughter of a friend of my mom's from work. I approached my first student with caution, not quite knowing how to handle teaching, let alone teaching piano, let alone again teaching an 8 year old girl.

The first question I ask my students after meeting them is, "Why do you want to learn piano?" I find it important to know their reason to take up a new instrument. For the most part, the answers were across the board; I've had a total of 5 students (not all at the same time). "I don't know" seemed to be a popular answer; the student I've had the longest told me it was because she wanted to learn music, which I thought was a pretty cool answer.

One by one, though, my students stopped coming, all for different reasons. Two, including my cousin, were moving to a different area of town. A brother/sister pair simply stopped coming, even after I phoned them. My mother would tell me later that it was because their mom knew I was gay and I suppose didn't want her kids around me (quite frankly, I don't give an ass if they don't come, but with an absurd and moronic reason like that, I'm partly glad they stopped coming). The last one I've been teaching for a year now (or maybe it's two?).

Today was my last day.

I'm not retiring by any means, no. She's just starting to play some Grade 1 pieces, farther than any of the other students I've had. Her parents recently had another kid and also own a bakery, which now opens on Sundays. Her father told me that because of all this, they don't have time to help her out at home with piano (he's also somewhat musical as well) and encourage her to keep going; "I'm probably going to regret this but this will be the last day." he told me.

We played out the songs she's been learning, and then as a throw-away, I brought out my laptop and showed her all different kinds of music you could play on the piano -- Vanessa Carlton's pop-piano tinge on "A Thousand Miles", Zimerman hammering out Chopin's Ballade No. 1, piano drumming and sparse playing by the eclectic Jamie Cullum, Olivier Messiaen's strange and exotic Bird songs, as well as bizarre works like the 100 Metronome Symphony and Cage's 4'33. "There is nothing you can't do," I informed her. "There are no limits. You can play anything... you can write anything... don't feel the need to only play Classical music just because you play Classical songs. I started out playing those songs but it was in high school that I realized I could play all sorts of things, and I wish I had somebody to tell me that. So... just do what you want with the piano."

She may only be in the 4th grade, but years from now, I hope she'll remember my words, even if she's no longer playing piano. I really do. There is still a chance that if things with her parents ease up, she'll return for lessons. We'll see.

The next step from here is a little uncertain. I'm hesitant to try and attain new students -- not because I don't enjoy teaching (well, it's alright but it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life) but because getting to know kids and starting from scratch can take time. So far, I haven't taught a teenager or an adult, which I would imagine to be a totally different experience. School is also starting in May, which would leave me on a tighter schedule, but I've handled it before.

Looking back, it's kind of sad... but in a good way. I did my best to educate kids about music, which I'm now thankful I did.

I wish them all luck in the future.



Aaron

 

[initiallyyours]

... that the only guys who seem to be interested in me online are older, white guys. And I've accepted it too.

First of all, I don't have anything against older guys. They can be insightful and good conversationalists, and in this world of following-your-dick-to-fuck, they can sometimes not find anyone decent to talk to.

But in this world of what seems to be growing passiveness -- "If any of this interests you, shoot me a message", "drop me a line" -- it seems like everyone is waiting for someone to message them, but if no one's doing it, what the hell is the use?! The only ones that seem to make the effort are the horny ones, and they have a limited vocabulary, usually revolving around "top/bottom" and variations of "fuck".

I used to send messages here, there, everywhere; any guy I found somewhat unfueled by hormones and has even half a brain I'll send a personalized (or as personalized as I can with the info they have listed) message.

More times than not, I won't get a response. It puzzles me sometimes, especially if the other guy is similar to me: looking for a nice, intelligent guy, likes hanging out, that sort of stuff. And no message! Oh the irony. Not to mention stupidity.

At times, I wonder if it's the fact that I don't have any shirtless/naked pictures of myself to flaunt. After all, that's what being is, right? We're a shallow, vain breed and if we
don't see the goods, we're not interested.

I don't know what it is that about young, Asian men that attracts older, white men but I get a fair amount of messages from these kinds of guys. Perhaps it's the fact that I'm mature for my age (I say that with no egoism. Really. Just honesty) or that I spend the time my profile with correct grammar and spelling. And since I'm a polite enough guy to respond to each of these messages, they end up being the only guys I talk to.

Again, I don't have anything against these guys. But when they're the only guys you're talking to and none of the guys you're interested in are replying, it kinda gets you down after a while and leaves me believing no one, apart from those older guys, wants to date me.

There are a few decent guys who message me, I should say. However, majority of them end up not being interested in me that way, and I end up losing contact in them. They're single, kind, smart, single... but don't want to date me. They never say it explicitly or why, but it happens.

A guy messaged me who happened to be around my age and was/is actually intelligent, and ended up being my first (and only) boyfriend last year. It lasted all of 4 months and ruined me after...

My friends (as well as the guys who I talk with but don't like me) all tell me that I'll meet a nice guy who treat me awesomely, etc. etc. And all I keep wondering is --

Where are these guys?

My pathetic gaydar and lack of social skills prevents me from ever meeting and talking with them in public, and my online experiences have taught me that it's only a place where either dumb or dumbed-down people go to hookup or if not, be really picky about who they talk to.

So what do I do? I can't change the system, and I refuse to suddenly take half-naked pictures of myself in the mirror. I feel like the outcast of a ridiculous system.

And to conclude:

I've come to the conclusion that I will be the example that everyone compares to:

"You don't want to end up alone and miserable like that guy, do you?"

That's me.

 

[initiallyyours]

I started writing this a quite a while ago, then added some music but I couldn't figure out an appropriate bridge, so I ended up abandoning the song, something I do all too often.

Essentially, the song stems from my desire to leave town with a boy I really liked. We were never really given a fair chance to have a relationship (he's in the closet) and by leaving the city, we could have a real opportunity to be with one another. But until then, we're both too close and yet too far away from each other, too emotionally attached.... that's probably just me. I don't think he cares about me the same I way I do about him.

About a month ago, I played the piano part for a friend and she encouraged me to finish the song. So I went home, hammered an appropriate world, filled in some words, and completed the song.

The title is still a work in progress (I have something in mind, but I want other people's opinions as well). If you have a suggestion, feel free to leave one!


Untitled


Here lie the fragments of a broken yesterday,
And the soul of a boy cursed to live it.
"This is a headline in my mind," they all would say,
As the ties begin to curdle and they mutter, "I can't forgive it."

Salty hands, wiping down the rivers on your face
Before shoving them in pockets hoping no one sees.
Must be comfortable living in that little bubble,
And when I turn around to wave all I get is your back to me.

Chorus:

Blink once, I'm still here.
And once again, you're too near.
I wish we could disappear
From this town.

Black and white, the only shades that appear to you.
My heart is just a pawn in your little chess game.
Stare as hard as you want, but this ain't no magic mirror,
And in the end when I'm gone all you'll have is yourself to blame.

Blink once, you're still here.
And once again, I'm too near.
I wish we could disappear
From this town.

From this... town.

If there's a place that exists that we can finally go,
Take my hand, we'll board a train, or we'll never know...

[numerous "oh's"... (ad lib)]

Blink once, and we're still here.
And once again, everybody's getting nearer.
I wish we could disappear
From this town...

Or we'll never know.




Thoughts? Opinions? Scathing criticism?

 

[initiallyyours]

For a long time, I've been convinced that there isn't anyone else in the city that is like me, in terms of how I dress and my interest in the arts.

About a week ago, I was on the bus heading home from downtown. Sitting across from me was this Vietnamese, possibly Filipino guy, around my age, with a camera around his neck. Not a digital camera that every person has, but a real photography camera. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt under a dress shirt, and converse sneakers. It took me a second to realize he totally dressed the same way I do, which I don't believe I've come across yet (or else if i have, I wasn't paying attention). Not a lot of Asian guys dress like I do, so this was a welcome surprise. Add to the fact that he was pretty darn cute and now you have me crushing over a complete stranger.

Then, a few days after, I was on a different bus, heading to school when I noticed the Photographer was also waiting for the bus, armed with his camera. Again, he was wearing similar clothing, which was cool. I think we made eye contact a few times but I physically cannot hold a stranger's gaze (seriously) so I was looking around everywhere. Eventually, he got off before I did, and I was left with the memory of him in my head.

I'm painfully, morbidly shy when it comes to striking up a conversation with someone, especially a stranger. Although if I do see him again, at least I can ask him about his camera... hmm...