Stupid Blogger & HTML Screw -ups
Apologies for the random HTML tags in my last blog..I don't know what happened..ARGH! I hate computers and HTML!!
Anyways, Just wanted to let you know that I have been an avid blog fan of this guy in sydney called Tommy Le. He was arrested in 2000 as one of the materminds behind the biggest music piracy program in Australia ( or sumn like that..), funilly enough he is a well respected DJ in sydney. Yes, You are wondering why on earth would you want to read the thoughts of a former crim...but as you will find he is a suprisingly thoughtful and HILARIOUS guy. I have been following his postings for the past year or so and everytime I read one of this posts it always makes me laugh. He also has a sentimental side as well..so have a look as it could make for some interesting reading...here is an extract from one of his old posts that really touched my heart...
September 05, 2005
Sins of the son
"Francis is coming top in the class for Maths and English but he needs to learn to participate more in class. He's very quiet. You must be very proud of your son Mr Le." Dad smiles and nods at my teacher not understanding a word shes saying.
I was embaressed of my Dad. I never wanted him to come to report days coz I was already having a hardtime at school and Dad being there just made it worse. Rainy days he would drive straight into the playground where the kids played and stared just so I wouldnt get wet. I hated it. I always hated being alone with him in the car coz there would just be an uncomfortable silence.
Dont know what to say to him, maybe coz I knew he wouldnt understand. Literally. I cant speak his language, my own language - Vietnamese. And its painful. The barrier that exists when you're not able to talk to your own parents about your day let alone about your problems.
They just dont understand who you are. And it hurts knowing that your own parents dont know what sort of person their son is. With Mum its a bit better but with Dad, sometimes I feel as though Im his greatest mistake. That Im stupid and unaccomplished. Its worse when people constantly remind you that you're a splitting image of him. That I must be as well spoken as him, as smart and quick witted as him. Im not. They say if you dont raise your son as a friend, you will lose him as soon as he becomes a man.
Well Im 22 now. Im a man. And I feel like Im losing my Dad. My first memories of him was him walking outta the door and me crying coz he was leaving. And he would open the door again and stick his head in and say he'll be back soon and that my uncle would watch me. And I'd still cry and eventually he'll stay home with me. My second memory is of him shouting at mum, and my brother and I running and hiding. He took the wardrobe, I always hid under the bed. He stormed into the room shouting and saying how no one appreciated the things he did for the family. And he tried to find my brother and I. And I remember him looking under the bed and spotting me. And his voice would soften and he would tell me to come out. And I was scared to coz I was scared he might hit me. The sight must have affected him coz I remember a tear rolling down his eyes.
Spending a few years in prison and escaping to come to Australia with 3 kids to raise with no qualifications, Dad had alot of stress on his mind. He suffered from PTS from the war and at nights I would wake up from my sleep from him shouting. When we got to Australia I was born. Dad was 30 and he only weighed 48kgs. To get a job at a factory back then you had to pass a physical and you had to weigh over 55kgs. He put rocks in his jacket just to pass the test.
My third memory of him was when I was around 6 and walking into the bathroom and finding him unconscious with a pool of blood around his head. He had collapsed and hit his head on the sink due to lack of sleep and overworking. I remember my mum screaming and the ambulance coming. And I was still embaressed of him coz everyone else's parents were doctors and lawyers and they had their own bedroom. And I slept in the same bed as my 2 brothers, and Dad worked in a factory making rubber stamps.
Nothing was more important to him than our education and the amount of hours my parents worked to make sure of that. The hours they put in at the factory dealing with racist taunts from other workers and coming home to make sure we did our homework. I understand that now. I appreciate that now. Im sorry. Im sorry for stealing money from your room. Im sorry for getting into trouble with the law. Im sorry for everything. For being a failure. Im sorry for being your son. The lasting memory I have of my Dad would have been 2000. His father, my granddad was diagnosed with lung cancer and only had a few months left to live. Granddad didnt know what was going on, and it was my Aunty and Dad's decision not to tell him. I couldnt imagine going through the days knowing your father is going to die, and him not knowing. Pretending that everyday is normal when its not. Pretending to be happy when they're not. Then the day came when my Aunty came over.
She walked through the front door first and said to my Dad "Ive told him" and then my Grandfather walking in behind her. After 2 weeks of bottling it in he broke down and cried in front of him. In the living room. I was in the kitchen and I started to cry. Hearing my Dad say that he didnt know what to do. That he was scared. I wasnt crying coz I was sad, but because I was happy. That for once they looked like father and son rather than two men trying to be civil.
If he could go back in time Im sure he would have done things differently. I dont wanna regret. I admire my Dad a great deal. Im not embaressed of him and that Im sorry for ever being in the first place. Im proud of him. I just wish he knew.....
Posted by Ace at September 5, 2005 02:34 AM ( www.ace.pimpfactory.com)
Better get back to doing my marketing qs and assignments ..ARRRGH!! >.<
P.S Im FINALLY going for my P's this friday ..wish me luck and if I fail ( prolli will) I WILL CRYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
Anyways, Just wanted to let you know that I have been an avid blog fan of this guy in sydney called Tommy Le. He was arrested in 2000 as one of the materminds behind the biggest music piracy program in Australia ( or sumn like that..), funilly enough he is a well respected DJ in sydney. Yes, You are wondering why on earth would you want to read the thoughts of a former crim...but as you will find he is a suprisingly thoughtful and HILARIOUS guy. I have been following his postings for the past year or so and everytime I read one of this posts it always makes me laugh. He also has a sentimental side as well..so have a look as it could make for some interesting reading...here is an extract from one of his old posts that really touched my heart...
September 05, 2005
Sins of the son
"Francis is coming top in the class for Maths and English but he needs to learn to participate more in class. He's very quiet. You must be very proud of your son Mr Le." Dad smiles and nods at my teacher not understanding a word shes saying.
I was embaressed of my Dad. I never wanted him to come to report days coz I was already having a hardtime at school and Dad being there just made it worse. Rainy days he would drive straight into the playground where the kids played and stared just so I wouldnt get wet. I hated it. I always hated being alone with him in the car coz there would just be an uncomfortable silence.
Dont know what to say to him, maybe coz I knew he wouldnt understand. Literally. I cant speak his language, my own language - Vietnamese. And its painful. The barrier that exists when you're not able to talk to your own parents about your day let alone about your problems.
They just dont understand who you are. And it hurts knowing that your own parents dont know what sort of person their son is. With Mum its a bit better but with Dad, sometimes I feel as though Im his greatest mistake. That Im stupid and unaccomplished. Its worse when people constantly remind you that you're a splitting image of him. That I must be as well spoken as him, as smart and quick witted as him. Im not. They say if you dont raise your son as a friend, you will lose him as soon as he becomes a man.
Well Im 22 now. Im a man. And I feel like Im losing my Dad. My first memories of him was him walking outta the door and me crying coz he was leaving. And he would open the door again and stick his head in and say he'll be back soon and that my uncle would watch me. And I'd still cry and eventually he'll stay home with me. My second memory is of him shouting at mum, and my brother and I running and hiding. He took the wardrobe, I always hid under the bed. He stormed into the room shouting and saying how no one appreciated the things he did for the family. And he tried to find my brother and I. And I remember him looking under the bed and spotting me. And his voice would soften and he would tell me to come out. And I was scared to coz I was scared he might hit me. The sight must have affected him coz I remember a tear rolling down his eyes.
Spending a few years in prison and escaping to come to Australia with 3 kids to raise with no qualifications, Dad had alot of stress on his mind. He suffered from PTS from the war and at nights I would wake up from my sleep from him shouting. When we got to Australia I was born. Dad was 30 and he only weighed 48kgs. To get a job at a factory back then you had to pass a physical and you had to weigh over 55kgs. He put rocks in his jacket just to pass the test.
My third memory of him was when I was around 6 and walking into the bathroom and finding him unconscious with a pool of blood around his head. He had collapsed and hit his head on the sink due to lack of sleep and overworking. I remember my mum screaming and the ambulance coming. And I was still embaressed of him coz everyone else's parents were doctors and lawyers and they had their own bedroom. And I slept in the same bed as my 2 brothers, and Dad worked in a factory making rubber stamps.
Nothing was more important to him than our education and the amount of hours my parents worked to make sure of that. The hours they put in at the factory dealing with racist taunts from other workers and coming home to make sure we did our homework. I understand that now. I appreciate that now. Im sorry. Im sorry for stealing money from your room. Im sorry for getting into trouble with the law. Im sorry for everything. For being a failure. Im sorry for being your son. The lasting memory I have of my Dad would have been 2000. His father, my granddad was diagnosed with lung cancer and only had a few months left to live. Granddad didnt know what was going on, and it was my Aunty and Dad's decision not to tell him. I couldnt imagine going through the days knowing your father is going to die, and him not knowing. Pretending that everyday is normal when its not. Pretending to be happy when they're not. Then the day came when my Aunty came over.
She walked through the front door first and said to my Dad "Ive told him" and then my Grandfather walking in behind her. After 2 weeks of bottling it in he broke down and cried in front of him. In the living room. I was in the kitchen and I started to cry. Hearing my Dad say that he didnt know what to do. That he was scared. I wasnt crying coz I was sad, but because I was happy. That for once they looked like father and son rather than two men trying to be civil.
If he could go back in time Im sure he would have done things differently. I dont wanna regret. I admire my Dad a great deal. Im not embaressed of him and that Im sorry for ever being in the first place. Im proud of him. I just wish he knew.....
Posted by Ace at September 5, 2005 02:34 AM ( www.ace.pimpfactory.com)
Better get back to doing my marketing qs and assignments ..ARRRGH!! >.<
P.S Im FINALLY going for my P's this friday ..wish me luck and if I fail ( prolli will) I WILL CRYYYYYYYYYYYYY!
posted by cookies @ 4:08 pm
2 comments
