another rant? this place is after all the one where i come in to shout, to scream, to hide and to download, so humour me.
they forgot. after 36 years of existence, countless friends, numerous relatives and a handful of precious ones, they forgot. my chinese birthay. oh, it's very easy to remember the other one, with the flip of the table-top calendar and a scribble of the pen, it takes but mere effort to remember one's english birthday. to even fail that miniscule effort is pathetic to say the very least. yet, that's okay by my books because you label your friends by that very action, or lack of action. those who can hardly be bothered about wishing me a simple greeting definitely will not have more concern about my well-being on other days. i do not grieve about the lack of love from people i don't love.
the chinese birthday, on the other hand, requires a little more work, but still no rocket-scientist task, which is usually only expected from very close relations. it is more than a little depressing to realise that after 36 years of existence, nobody has bothered to make that little effort. which perhaps goes to show your weight in their life.
a husband of 12 years. a partner of a span so long i've since lost count. when you come to the realisation that even someone like him has never bothered to note down a date that is so much a part of you, it's very hard to ignore the ache that vibrates from the very core. with all his talk of love and actions, in all the 17 years.....it never come across him to take a few seconds to pen down a fact that will probably be erased the moment my mother passed on. taking for granted that someone will always be around to shoulder his responsibility of loving me. a detachment from the very things that mean so much to me. how do you go on and pretend that it is alright?
a brother since i have taken my very first breath in this world. a sister-in-law that has become a part of us. little nieces and nephew that i have spent countless hours lavishing love and entertained. a little boy and a little girl who cries 'mummy' and spoke of a love so great. a mother-in-law that i once thought loved me more than my own family did. all of them forgot. a more accurate way to say it will be, all of them didn't bother. to them, it was just one more day, no different from the rest. no love communicated.
the solitary red egg. the significance so great within its thin shell that cannot be contained within. the fingers slightly marked by the reddish tint, so filled with love, an action so simple yet conveying so much affection. a quiet wish. to the person taking a gingerly bite of the tender white flesh to have so much that is good in his/ her life. a silent hope that he/she will understand the love behind the action so pure. when you have just come to realise and appreciate the very significance of the simple tradition of love, it's excruciating to realise that people around you do not hold you in such high regard.
the realisation was slow but days before, i knew that they would have forgotten. deliberating, musing, i wondered about my choice of reaction. i'm too old to sulk, to scream, to cry even. not that it will bring back the attention of those i love. if i rant, if i shout, they will perform to please, but an action prompted by guilt, is that what i wanted?
having anticipated their impassiveness, i tried to approach the day as equally detached as i could. still, i couldn't stop the splotches of tears that threatened as i made my own red egg. as i took a bite into the love that only i myself had for me, the saltish drops streaked down and acted as condiment for the egg.
realisation for him came a little too late, when he saw me preparing the egg. he tried to make amends but how do you rectify a situation like that? the pain that came from disregard. he cooked the longetivity noodle that usually followed the solitary red egg. without prior preparation, taking whatever he could from the fridge, the past-its-expiry noodle tasted of cockroach droppings. still, i kept my mouth shut. what does it matter how it taste like? it has since lost it's meaning. there was no point in me twisting the dagger of guilt into his consciousness. there will be no joy for me in seeing him hurt. so, i ate the noodles quietly. i couldn't keep the hurt from my eyes nor the pain from my face. but i kept the words from spilling out of my mouth. words will not be able to fill the gap impassiveness has created. words will not be able to turn back the clock of time.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Friday, September 07, 2007
when will she return
she always had these strange bizarre ideas. when halloween was still just a western fad unfamiliar to the local shores, she started her own community halloween walk. when there was a reason to party, she'll be jumping all over the place to be the one who organises it. any reason to have a little fun. a movie under the stars? she's holding the mats and is the first one at the queue.
that girl was me. i was that girl.
but lately, that little girl is all quiet. i don't know when she left. i didn't even realise her silent departure. everything is like a playback from the black and white silent movies era. along the way, she lost her spirit. did the departure of her friend bring away her spirit? or was it the recent string of events unfolding before her eyes? perhaps it was a combination of all things, one after another. i don't know, i can't tell at which point exactly the world was muted.
i long to hear her laughs again. i'm waiting for her to return.
that girl was me. i was that girl.
but lately, that little girl is all quiet. i don't know when she left. i didn't even realise her silent departure. everything is like a playback from the black and white silent movies era. along the way, she lost her spirit. did the departure of her friend bring away her spirit? or was it the recent string of events unfolding before her eyes? perhaps it was a combination of all things, one after another. i don't know, i can't tell at which point exactly the world was muted.
i long to hear her laughs again. i'm waiting for her to return.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
happy birthday
the sky is so blue.
i can't get over what a clear and beautiful day it is supposed to be. the weather warm, the cloudy haze gone; it belie the melancholy that rest inside of me. everyone is going about their activities as normal, as if the significance of today escapes them....which is of course, true. some have forgotten what today is, what it is supposed to mean. then again, it probably doesn't mean much, except to us selected few.
today was meant as a celebration of life, for the glory of 36 years of living. we gathered to wish her a very happy birthday. which is such an irony. my wish is not as greedy, i only wish she can look at me and smile. the smile that i once took for granted. the smile that greeted me everyday when i didn't know to appreciate. i ask for one second longer, one minute if i may, or an hour if i can, a day, a lifetime....what does it matter? just one more time for me to tell her i love her. and that the world is quieter without her.
i can't get over what a clear and beautiful day it is supposed to be. the weather warm, the cloudy haze gone; it belie the melancholy that rest inside of me. everyone is going about their activities as normal, as if the significance of today escapes them....which is of course, true. some have forgotten what today is, what it is supposed to mean. then again, it probably doesn't mean much, except to us selected few.
today was meant as a celebration of life, for the glory of 36 years of living. we gathered to wish her a very happy birthday. which is such an irony. my wish is not as greedy, i only wish she can look at me and smile. the smile that i once took for granted. the smile that greeted me everyday when i didn't know to appreciate. i ask for one second longer, one minute if i may, or an hour if i can, a day, a lifetime....what does it matter? just one more time for me to tell her i love her. and that the world is quieter without her.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
action and reaction
and the story continues.......
what happens after you give in to exorbitant demands? someone ask for a ridiculous raise and having no other alternatives, you succumb to the arrogant ultimatum. yes, without any doubt, you'll feel used, cheapened, taken advantage of and a whole range of other unsettling feelings, the least of which being annoyed.
looking at the other side of the scale, i was surprised that the beneficiary of the demand reacted in a very grateful manner to the raise. it was as if the demand itself was a cry for self-validation and the very acceptance of the demand a confirmation of her self-worth. she is at once trying hard to please as well as working to prove that she is indeed worth that amount of money. however, with that crude exercise in power, her efforts are now falling onto hard ground; her betrayal unreversible simply by any pretty words or efficient output. perhaps over time, it will soften the heart?
then again, i believe with time, the enthusiasm will once again dampen and the short-lived effects of the temporary gratitude will pass. how fast the human mind forgets. she will revert back to her usual self in the blink of an eye. things will operate as before, the only difference being the extra money being twisted out of me.
it's not the quantum. it's a small sum if you look at the whole picture. perhaps i shouldn't wrong someone who is merely seeking for a livelihood. to each his own survival.
nevertheless, it proved to be an interesting lesson in human behavioural study.
what happens after you give in to exorbitant demands? someone ask for a ridiculous raise and having no other alternatives, you succumb to the arrogant ultimatum. yes, without any doubt, you'll feel used, cheapened, taken advantage of and a whole range of other unsettling feelings, the least of which being annoyed.
looking at the other side of the scale, i was surprised that the beneficiary of the demand reacted in a very grateful manner to the raise. it was as if the demand itself was a cry for self-validation and the very acceptance of the demand a confirmation of her self-worth. she is at once trying hard to please as well as working to prove that she is indeed worth that amount of money. however, with that crude exercise in power, her efforts are now falling onto hard ground; her betrayal unreversible simply by any pretty words or efficient output. perhaps over time, it will soften the heart?
then again, i believe with time, the enthusiasm will once again dampen and the short-lived effects of the temporary gratitude will pass. how fast the human mind forgets. she will revert back to her usual self in the blink of an eye. things will operate as before, the only difference being the extra money being twisted out of me.
it's not the quantum. it's a small sum if you look at the whole picture. perhaps i shouldn't wrong someone who is merely seeking for a livelihood. to each his own survival.
nevertheless, it proved to be an interesting lesson in human behavioural study.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
quantifying attachment
how do you quantify an eight-year old relationship? an eight-year period of trust, friendship, acceptance and of seeing each other through some significant events in their life.
my domestic helper has been with me for 8 years and seen me through the birth of both my children and moving of two abodes. without realising it, she has become a part of the family. she has unconsciously became a part of my life, my lifestyle. the tales of what we do for each other will be a never-ending roll of destiny.
recently, however, she found a way to quantify this long and deep relationship. she asked for a 30% increment to renew her contract for the 9th year. not a single cent less.
i can't help the sense of betrayal that creeps in over me. whilst an increment is definitely due, a demand for an excessive quantum reeks of extortion. insisting on sticking so firmly to the figure and not accepting even a little less portrays her obvious discard of all feelings towards our relationship. a little sad at realising that to her it is merely a job after all. how can you see someone day in day out for eight years without growing an attachment to them? if only it had been so easy for me to reign my feelings.
with that one sentence, everything changes. 8 years of attachment trampled and insulted. all feelings thrown out the window. invisible strings of affection reduced to merely figures on a piece of paper.
how cold the world is. how materialistic people are.
my domestic helper has been with me for 8 years and seen me through the birth of both my children and moving of two abodes. without realising it, she has become a part of the family. she has unconsciously became a part of my life, my lifestyle. the tales of what we do for each other will be a never-ending roll of destiny.
recently, however, she found a way to quantify this long and deep relationship. she asked for a 30% increment to renew her contract for the 9th year. not a single cent less.
i can't help the sense of betrayal that creeps in over me. whilst an increment is definitely due, a demand for an excessive quantum reeks of extortion. insisting on sticking so firmly to the figure and not accepting even a little less portrays her obvious discard of all feelings towards our relationship. a little sad at realising that to her it is merely a job after all. how can you see someone day in day out for eight years without growing an attachment to them? if only it had been so easy for me to reign my feelings.
with that one sentence, everything changes. 8 years of attachment trampled and insulted. all feelings thrown out the window. invisible strings of affection reduced to merely figures on a piece of paper.
how cold the world is. how materialistic people are.
Friday, August 10, 2007
out of grasp
sometimes life isn't about what you can make of it or what you want it to be. there are things beyond your control...things that you can only take a deep breath and swallow.
i can't stand to be victimised. i'm not one of those poor little things that you will see on tv which will bear the brunt of everything, whilst not daring to let out even a single peep. i'm the type to shout when i'm beaten, the one who kicks back when i'm hit, who will fight back......but there are times when life doesn't accord you that luxury.
i find myself being forced into a position where i have to live a lie for someone else. telling a lie is something that goes against the very principle of my life. i can tell it as good as the next tom, dick and harry...but i want to be able to sleep at night, to have a heart that is as light as the lark. so, i choose not to. but i have been thrust into this situation. a situation i have no way out of. and i'm wilting inside this hell-hole.
a situation where i feel nervous when the other person fucks up.....because the stakes are too high. i've always believed 'to each his own'. everybody has different believes, different opinions, different taste, different needs, different priorities and different ways of doing things. there's no right and wrong and we shouldn't judge. still, for whatever you choose or whatever you do, it's your right...as long as you are prepared to live with your choices. now, i realise no man's an island. life's filled with contradicting theories. what if your choices hurt others? can you live with being happy at the expense of others' misery? i don't want to be feel guilty about other people's shit. isn't it enough that i have my own? everybody knows, don't complicate lfe.....but sometimes, that is out of your hand. other people complicate it for you.
it's no longer about my life and what i want to do with it. it's also about the people around me and what i can live with. i feel cornered and so helpless.
i can't stand to be victimised. i'm not one of those poor little things that you will see on tv which will bear the brunt of everything, whilst not daring to let out even a single peep. i'm the type to shout when i'm beaten, the one who kicks back when i'm hit, who will fight back......but there are times when life doesn't accord you that luxury.
i find myself being forced into a position where i have to live a lie for someone else. telling a lie is something that goes against the very principle of my life. i can tell it as good as the next tom, dick and harry...but i want to be able to sleep at night, to have a heart that is as light as the lark. so, i choose not to. but i have been thrust into this situation. a situation i have no way out of. and i'm wilting inside this hell-hole.
a situation where i feel nervous when the other person fucks up.....because the stakes are too high. i've always believed 'to each his own'. everybody has different believes, different opinions, different taste, different needs, different priorities and different ways of doing things. there's no right and wrong and we shouldn't judge. still, for whatever you choose or whatever you do, it's your right...as long as you are prepared to live with your choices. now, i realise no man's an island. life's filled with contradicting theories. what if your choices hurt others? can you live with being happy at the expense of others' misery? i don't want to be feel guilty about other people's shit. isn't it enough that i have my own? everybody knows, don't complicate lfe.....but sometimes, that is out of your hand. other people complicate it for you.
it's no longer about my life and what i want to do with it. it's also about the people around me and what i can live with. i feel cornered and so helpless.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
little pieces
day in, day out..wondering what to cook, what to put on the table. such a tedious process. takes away all the passion i had for cooking. cooking under the pressure to please is quite exhausting. i'm not the type to conform, to do what others do, to live the life of a billion other housewives. i'll wilt.
8yo likes to talk before she closes her eyes for the night. whilst i'm nagging her to keep quiet and go to sleep, she'll tell me little pieces of story from here and there. i'm such a bad mother. she's sharing with me a part of her day and i'm reminding her that it's past bedtime and that she'll feel sleepy tomorrow if she doesn't get enough sleep. motherhood - always torn between what's correct and what's best. next time, i'll have to remind myself to shut up and listen to her precious little stories.
6yo walks and talks (if not scream) in his sleep. must be heriditary. i'm famous for my midnight escape attempts too. have to check everynight that the doors to the balconies are locked. visualising his little body falling 25 stories down freezes me with fear sometimes, yet i cannot stop my mind from conjuring up those gruesome images. blame it on my over-active imagination.
i've always thought i never learned the word 'independent' despite all those years spent away from the family. my days alone didn't make me stronger or tougher, as did those other children in similar circumstances. but now, after all those years, i realise it made me into a very individual person, without my even realising so. a person who can't stand to conform. a person who needs her space. a person who can't stand to be one of the herd of sheep. or is it just old age and eccentricity?
no, don't answer that.
8yo likes to talk before she closes her eyes for the night. whilst i'm nagging her to keep quiet and go to sleep, she'll tell me little pieces of story from here and there. i'm such a bad mother. she's sharing with me a part of her day and i'm reminding her that it's past bedtime and that she'll feel sleepy tomorrow if she doesn't get enough sleep. motherhood - always torn between what's correct and what's best. next time, i'll have to remind myself to shut up and listen to her precious little stories.
6yo walks and talks (if not scream) in his sleep. must be heriditary. i'm famous for my midnight escape attempts too. have to check everynight that the doors to the balconies are locked. visualising his little body falling 25 stories down freezes me with fear sometimes, yet i cannot stop my mind from conjuring up those gruesome images. blame it on my over-active imagination.
i've always thought i never learned the word 'independent' despite all those years spent away from the family. my days alone didn't make me stronger or tougher, as did those other children in similar circumstances. but now, after all those years, i realise it made me into a very individual person, without my even realising so. a person who can't stand to conform. a person who needs her space. a person who can't stand to be one of the herd of sheep. or is it just old age and eccentricity?
no, don't answer that.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
sis
i miss having a sister.
not that i had one.
when i was growing up, just me and my older brother, i did wish for a little sister. someone for me to boss around, or at the very least, to follow me around like a little devoted puppy (haha). i had an inborn need to guide and teach, and so i unleashed it all on my cousin sister, willing or reluctant partner that she was. it was rather boring, just me and myself, but i had plenty to keep me amused and i rather enjoyed my own company.
in my teens, i made friends fairly easily and had many close friends that replaced the need of having a sister. i didn't miss having another person to argue about ownerships or hearing the nags of mother to share. my brother and i were so different that we mostly kept to ourselves during those period of raging hormones and puberty.
later, in my 20s, the absence of a sister figure still didn't mean much as i was too busy with my life, too sure of my ownself for the need of any validation from others. what with adjusting to life with another person and childbirth, i had more than my hands full most of the time.
only in my 30s am i missing my imaginary sister the most. someone that i can talk to and pour my heart out. someone who would understand without the need for me to justify the reasons for my feelings. someone who will always stand on my side, against everybody else. someone who will understand what i am going through and empathise. someone who will hurt when i am hurting. someone who will stand up for me. someone who will love me because i am me. someone who will tell me the hard truth simply because it is the truth. someone i can tell everything in the world to and will understand. someone that i can rant and rave to without coming under the criticism of the public eye.
when i was growing up, i never could bond with anybody. parents were simply meant to be censoring tools to over-excessive enjoyment and provision of adequate needs. brother was never around even to be a source of annoyance. friends separated by a wall of geographical mobility....friends whom were often more interested in telling me their woes than listening to mine. when i was growing up, my diary replaced the role of a sister.
sometimes it feels like me against the whole world. one solitary figure standing against it all. whom do i rant to? who can i tell what's eating away at me? who can i bitch to? i don't want to be the nice person always. i don't want to be strong. i want to cry, i want to shout, i want to whine....but who understands?
perhaps i should start writing a diary again.
not that i had one.
when i was growing up, just me and my older brother, i did wish for a little sister. someone for me to boss around, or at the very least, to follow me around like a little devoted puppy (haha). i had an inborn need to guide and teach, and so i unleashed it all on my cousin sister, willing or reluctant partner that she was. it was rather boring, just me and myself, but i had plenty to keep me amused and i rather enjoyed my own company.
in my teens, i made friends fairly easily and had many close friends that replaced the need of having a sister. i didn't miss having another person to argue about ownerships or hearing the nags of mother to share. my brother and i were so different that we mostly kept to ourselves during those period of raging hormones and puberty.
later, in my 20s, the absence of a sister figure still didn't mean much as i was too busy with my life, too sure of my ownself for the need of any validation from others. what with adjusting to life with another person and childbirth, i had more than my hands full most of the time.
only in my 30s am i missing my imaginary sister the most. someone that i can talk to and pour my heart out. someone who would understand without the need for me to justify the reasons for my feelings. someone who will always stand on my side, against everybody else. someone who will understand what i am going through and empathise. someone who will hurt when i am hurting. someone who will stand up for me. someone who will love me because i am me. someone who will tell me the hard truth simply because it is the truth. someone i can tell everything in the world to and will understand. someone that i can rant and rave to without coming under the criticism of the public eye.
when i was growing up, i never could bond with anybody. parents were simply meant to be censoring tools to over-excessive enjoyment and provision of adequate needs. brother was never around even to be a source of annoyance. friends separated by a wall of geographical mobility....friends whom were often more interested in telling me their woes than listening to mine. when i was growing up, my diary replaced the role of a sister.
sometimes it feels like me against the whole world. one solitary figure standing against it all. whom do i rant to? who can i tell what's eating away at me? who can i bitch to? i don't want to be the nice person always. i don't want to be strong. i want to cry, i want to shout, i want to whine....but who understands?
perhaps i should start writing a diary again.
Monday, July 23, 2007
i want
i want....
...to just sit at the nearest cafe for a cup of coffee...and a breather.
...to light up a match and set fire to this pile of work infront of me.
...to lie down in bed with a good book and fuzzy teddy bear.
...to throw away all the clocks in the world.
...to go out shopping in the weekday when there is no noisy crowd and rude pushes.
...watch a kite flutter by......but there is no kite for miles around.
...to talk to a friend.
...to stop blaming myself for all things that go wrong.
...to eat all that i can eat without gaining a single gram
...to laugh again.
...to meet with friends until the wee of the night.
...to hear the sound of the waves and feel the sea breeze blowing against my face
...to sit by the window, watching the raindrops fall and listening to soft romantic music, alone with my thoughts.
...to just sit at the nearest cafe for a cup of coffee...and a breather.
...to light up a match and set fire to this pile of work infront of me.
...to lie down in bed with a good book and fuzzy teddy bear.
...to throw away all the clocks in the world.
...to go out shopping in the weekday when there is no noisy crowd and rude pushes.
...watch a kite flutter by......but there is no kite for miles around.
...to talk to a friend.
...to stop blaming myself for all things that go wrong.
...to eat all that i can eat without gaining a single gram
...to laugh again.
...to meet with friends until the wee of the night.
...to hear the sound of the waves and feel the sea breeze blowing against my face
...to sit by the window, watching the raindrops fall and listening to soft romantic music, alone with my thoughts.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
old news
if i'm not making sense, it's cos i'm tired. if i'm ranting, it's cos i'm over-loaded. if i'm writing here, it's cos i'm seeking for an escape. a temporary one.
i've got too many balls to juggle at the moment. my brain is too tired to even come up with the words my heart want to express.
when you don't take offence, everything is dumped into your lap. it's also my fault. i'm born with a impaired gene; one which makes me HAVE to do everything, one which makes me HAVE to please everybody. psychoanalysts say it's because you want people to like you.....i'm not so sure about that. i guess it just seems like the easier alternative.
when a situation arise, everybody's most concerned. everybody flocks to the scene, asking, caring, trying to help. when the situation persists, people's interest are no longer there. nobody cares anymore. it doesn't matter who dies, who needs help, how the people at the scene standing-by are ready to drop from sheer tiredness or however dire the situation has become. nobody's interested anymore cos it's old news.
happens everywhere. in all situations. when people fall sick, in the politics, in the house, marriage....every situation where the situation gets stale. it seems....nobody like old news. old is gold? that's only for the fools.
i've got too many balls to juggle at the moment. my brain is too tired to even come up with the words my heart want to express.
when you don't take offence, everything is dumped into your lap. it's also my fault. i'm born with a impaired gene; one which makes me HAVE to do everything, one which makes me HAVE to please everybody. psychoanalysts say it's because you want people to like you.....i'm not so sure about that. i guess it just seems like the easier alternative.
when a situation arise, everybody's most concerned. everybody flocks to the scene, asking, caring, trying to help. when the situation persists, people's interest are no longer there. nobody cares anymore. it doesn't matter who dies, who needs help, how the people at the scene standing-by are ready to drop from sheer tiredness or however dire the situation has become. nobody's interested anymore cos it's old news.
happens everywhere. in all situations. when people fall sick, in the politics, in the house, marriage....every situation where the situation gets stale. it seems....nobody like old news. old is gold? that's only for the fools.
Friday, June 22, 2007
missing so much
arrrrrrghhhhh! i'm going crazy! has anybody ever died from missing someone too much? i can't stand this! this sitting here, unable to do anything but miss her somemore.
missing her so much, what can i do? i took a walk back to her place. it has been uninhabited for so long, that so many crap is growing on it. it drives me crazy to see her place desecrated! i want to clean it for her...but i don't have the key.
she's crazy, i'm too sensible. she's open, i keep everything inside. she has the best EQ i know, i hold down the fort on the IQ part. she balances my life, brings a little craziness and a little spontaneity to my measured precise world. with her, i learn to open up, a little at a time, telling her things even when she's not interested in hearing them. she seeks me out like a guided missile even when i neglected her. she makes the word 'bitch' sounds like a term of endearment. she makes me laugh and groan at her whiny complaints. there is no one in the whole wide world that is like her, no matter how hard i looked. she makes grouchiness and brusqueness seem so sweet. in her crudeness, you can feel real warmth.in every other friend that i make, i measure them against her....but how can you measure up against a friendship that lasted 22 years?
for a little while, i couldn't understand why i hated sweet people. sacharrin sweetness brings a shiver to my soul. now i know. i want her bitchiness back. her bitchiness makes me feel sincerity.
writing about her feels like a betrayal. but it is the only way that i can take a walk back in my memories and hold her hands. i can't shout, i can't cry. all my actions and words have to be so precise and measured, so that i don't end up hurting others.
missing her so much, what can i do? i took a walk back to her place. it has been uninhabited for so long, that so many crap is growing on it. it drives me crazy to see her place desecrated! i want to clean it for her...but i don't have the key.
she's crazy, i'm too sensible. she's open, i keep everything inside. she has the best EQ i know, i hold down the fort on the IQ part. she balances my life, brings a little craziness and a little spontaneity to my measured precise world. with her, i learn to open up, a little at a time, telling her things even when she's not interested in hearing them. she seeks me out like a guided missile even when i neglected her. she makes the word 'bitch' sounds like a term of endearment. she makes me laugh and groan at her whiny complaints. there is no one in the whole wide world that is like her, no matter how hard i looked. she makes grouchiness and brusqueness seem so sweet. in her crudeness, you can feel real warmth.in every other friend that i make, i measure them against her....but how can you measure up against a friendship that lasted 22 years?
for a little while, i couldn't understand why i hated sweet people. sacharrin sweetness brings a shiver to my soul. now i know. i want her bitchiness back. her bitchiness makes me feel sincerity.
writing about her feels like a betrayal. but it is the only way that i can take a walk back in my memories and hold her hands. i can't shout, i can't cry. all my actions and words have to be so precise and measured, so that i don't end up hurting others.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
who stopped first?
ever get yourself in a situation where you close yourself from others because you thought they didn't care? you stop taking the initiative, making the next move....because you feel that they have not taken any steps down the road of friendship? you wonder...were you intruding? you stop calling, they stop calling. now you'll never know if they never cared...or they were just going through a rough patch.
i seem to get myself into that situation a lot. i get tired. i stop walking. pretty soon, i turn around...and the friendship is in the past.
i guess that is not the way friends should be. then again, don't two hands make a clapping sound? can you clap with one hand?
i seem to get myself into that situation a lot. i get tired. i stop walking. pretty soon, i turn around...and the friendship is in the past.
i guess that is not the way friends should be. then again, don't two hands make a clapping sound? can you clap with one hand?
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
what do you like most about yourself?
a long long time ago, someone asked....what do you like the most about yourself? i would look at myself in the mirror, checking out my eyes, nose, hands, legs....all parts of my body to see which i am most contented with.
looking back, my vision somewhat clearer with age now and not clouded with all things material and short-lived, i realise that i loved my laughter the most. which goes hand-in-hand with that smile. the one with all my teeth showing. it is what i find most attractive about myself.
it is also what i miss the most now.
why is it that we find laughter more elusive as we grow older? will i grow into a sulking, pouting old nanny? i want there to be creases at the corner of my eyes, fine lines that remind us of how happy our lives had been. i want to hear the gasping sound of my own perverted laughters.
is there less to laugh at now...
or is it just me?
looking back, my vision somewhat clearer with age now and not clouded with all things material and short-lived, i realise that i loved my laughter the most. which goes hand-in-hand with that smile. the one with all my teeth showing. it is what i find most attractive about myself.
it is also what i miss the most now.
why is it that we find laughter more elusive as we grow older? will i grow into a sulking, pouting old nanny? i want there to be creases at the corner of my eyes, fine lines that remind us of how happy our lives had been. i want to hear the gasping sound of my own perverted laughters.
is there less to laugh at now...
or is it just me?
Saturday, June 09, 2007
with love, we can win the battle
i averted looking into the eyes of the people in the room, picked a spot and walked straight to it. comfortably sitted in the corner of the room, slowly.... i looked around.
the people there looked like any other......like you and me. a little thin perhaps, some of them. then again, why shouldn't they look like us? after all, cancer is not selective in its choice of victims. it is a little humbling, and a little depressing, to know that all the people in the room, save for the family members accompanying them and the staffs, are all cancer patients. even that young boy, who had a whole bright future ahead of him...until cancer struck him.
overheard snippets of conversation...."yes, but to hear that it has spread.......", "....i rather take only one week's medication. i need to find a place to hide these medicines from the children."..... it leaves a sour taste in the mouth and a heavy rock in my heart. :-( people like you and me, with families who love them so, who will be lost if they leave....
they all have that same determined and courageous glint in their eyes. some a little beaten, some a little tired, but all with the same confidence and acceptance in their stride. by comparison, i look even more lost. perhaps they are doing a very good disguise of hiding their fear?
my glance rested on an old lady. she was accompanied by an old man. he looked strong, not in physical strength but in his soul. he looked like he knew what he was doing, where he was going and why he was staying. i'm glad that she has a companion to walk down this long and frightening road with her, to be her pillar of strength when she falters.
some came with an army of family members. blessed are them, to be surrounded with so much love at this time of need. i'm quite sure that love makes a difference in fighting this battle.
others came alone, sitting quietly for their turn at the chemo machine. physically, i'm sure they can manage it. however, mentally, wouldn't it be better if they knew that there was someone out there waiting for them, someone who cared whether they won the battle, someone who will be devastated if they gave up? where was that someone in their life right now? slaving behind an office desk? tied to commitments by ball and chain? anger bubbled within me. i looked away.
the people there looked like any other......like you and me. a little thin perhaps, some of them. then again, why shouldn't they look like us? after all, cancer is not selective in its choice of victims. it is a little humbling, and a little depressing, to know that all the people in the room, save for the family members accompanying them and the staffs, are all cancer patients. even that young boy, who had a whole bright future ahead of him...until cancer struck him.
overheard snippets of conversation...."yes, but to hear that it has spread.......", "....i rather take only one week's medication. i need to find a place to hide these medicines from the children."..... it leaves a sour taste in the mouth and a heavy rock in my heart. :-( people like you and me, with families who love them so, who will be lost if they leave....
they all have that same determined and courageous glint in their eyes. some a little beaten, some a little tired, but all with the same confidence and acceptance in their stride. by comparison, i look even more lost. perhaps they are doing a very good disguise of hiding their fear?
my glance rested on an old lady. she was accompanied by an old man. he looked strong, not in physical strength but in his soul. he looked like he knew what he was doing, where he was going and why he was staying. i'm glad that she has a companion to walk down this long and frightening road with her, to be her pillar of strength when she falters.
some came with an army of family members. blessed are them, to be surrounded with so much love at this time of need. i'm quite sure that love makes a difference in fighting this battle.
others came alone, sitting quietly for their turn at the chemo machine. physically, i'm sure they can manage it. however, mentally, wouldn't it be better if they knew that there was someone out there waiting for them, someone who cared whether they won the battle, someone who will be devastated if they gave up? where was that someone in their life right now? slaving behind an office desk? tied to commitments by ball and chain? anger bubbled within me. i looked away.
Monday, May 21, 2007
for the love of it
blogging is tiring.
exposing yourself to people that you don't know. people who are ready to judge you on a few mere sentences. people who believe they know you like the back of their hand because of the stories that you have told. people whom you have no inkling about.
it's a fair game when other bloggers drop by and read your stories....you can stop by their blogs for a little chat too, get to know them a little more and exchange tales, develop a friendship that is superficial at worst. sometimes, that scale is not as balanced. people that you have never seen, never heard and most certainly never known acts presumptously, classifying you into categories based on only a single aspect of your life that they know.
i like meeting people....but it's frightening when strangers drop by and act like we have known each other for centuries. perhaps i'm old-fashioned. to me, friendships are those developed through time, through thick and thin and through good and bad. friendships are when both sides are giving. i don't know what i should or shouldn't write anymore. i don't know what i should say. i don't want this blog to be superficial...but i'm wary. this is how the real world turns an idealist into a cynic.
it's tiring when you have to defend your own thoughts, explain your actions. some doesn't listen, they just judge. i blog to balance my life...to leave the sadness behind. everybody who reads has their own interpretation, their own views, tempered by their own lifestyles, who they are. it's tiring to justify myself to others, especially when i'm already so low.
blogging used to be comforting. now it's treading on scary.
sometimes i wonder.....why do i still blog?
i know. because i still enjoy writing.
exposing yourself to people that you don't know. people who are ready to judge you on a few mere sentences. people who believe they know you like the back of their hand because of the stories that you have told. people whom you have no inkling about.
it's a fair game when other bloggers drop by and read your stories....you can stop by their blogs for a little chat too, get to know them a little more and exchange tales, develop a friendship that is superficial at worst. sometimes, that scale is not as balanced. people that you have never seen, never heard and most certainly never known acts presumptously, classifying you into categories based on only a single aspect of your life that they know.
i like meeting people....but it's frightening when strangers drop by and act like we have known each other for centuries. perhaps i'm old-fashioned. to me, friendships are those developed through time, through thick and thin and through good and bad. friendships are when both sides are giving. i don't know what i should or shouldn't write anymore. i don't know what i should say. i don't want this blog to be superficial...but i'm wary. this is how the real world turns an idealist into a cynic.
it's tiring when you have to defend your own thoughts, explain your actions. some doesn't listen, they just judge. i blog to balance my life...to leave the sadness behind. everybody who reads has their own interpretation, their own views, tempered by their own lifestyles, who they are. it's tiring to justify myself to others, especially when i'm already so low.
blogging used to be comforting. now it's treading on scary.
sometimes i wonder.....why do i still blog?
i know. because i still enjoy writing.
Friday, May 18, 2007
friends
the blogosphere is a strange place.
when the world is cold and unfriendly, when your friends are not many......you turn to the blogosphere. people from all races and places drop by, hanging on to every word that you say, faithfully tuning in day afer day to the crap that you write. when you are happy, they are there, cheering you as you go along. when you are down, they turn up in troves, with words so touching to support you on your journey.
as time goes, you believe. you think of them as your friends. they probably know more about you than any other friend you have.
then you realise. most of them haven't actually been listening. most of them don't really care. they read....but they don't listen. you disappear for a few days. they let you be. some turn up, looking for new updates. some move on. some don't even realise you are gone.
then the cold truth hits you....it's all a mirage. the love is not really there. you can't tell the difference from those that really care or those who wants some entertainment to pass the day. friends shouldn't be like that......
a friend will call me when i am down. a friend will call me when she doesn't hear from me. a friend will know what's best for me and pull me out for some company even when she knows i don't want to see anybody. a friend will try to make me laugh when she knows i am down. a friend can feel it when i am down. a friend will scold me when i need scolding. a friend will not leave me alone.
when the world is cold and unfriendly, when your friends are not many......you turn to the blogosphere. people from all races and places drop by, hanging on to every word that you say, faithfully tuning in day afer day to the crap that you write. when you are happy, they are there, cheering you as you go along. when you are down, they turn up in troves, with words so touching to support you on your journey.
as time goes, you believe. you think of them as your friends. they probably know more about you than any other friend you have.
then you realise. most of them haven't actually been listening. most of them don't really care. they read....but they don't listen. you disappear for a few days. they let you be. some turn up, looking for new updates. some move on. some don't even realise you are gone.
then the cold truth hits you....it's all a mirage. the love is not really there. you can't tell the difference from those that really care or those who wants some entertainment to pass the day. friends shouldn't be like that......
a friend will call me when i am down. a friend will call me when she doesn't hear from me. a friend will know what's best for me and pull me out for some company even when she knows i don't want to see anybody. a friend will try to make me laugh when she knows i am down. a friend can feel it when i am down. a friend will scold me when i need scolding. a friend will not leave me alone.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
that's just life
i'm tired. so tired. tired of fighting all those battles. tired of engaging in yet another war. but that is life, isn't it? after one hurdle, we get another, to test our will and strength.
the strength of a person is measured by how fast they stand back up after they fall......i, for one, fail desperately. for years after i received that middle of the night phonecall informing me of my grandfather's death, i freeze whenever the phone rings again late at night. that was my first experience with death. looking back at all the times i fell, i never seemed to have learnt how to let go....even after so long. perhaps it's part of life. perhaps that is what makes us who we are.
when i was young, my primary concern centered around myself. what should i do? what should i eat? as i grow older, my world expanded. to those around me; first my boyfriend, who later became my husband. just me and him, in our little world. loving and caring for him was easy, albeit it took a period of adjusting. it was no longer what i wanted, but what we both can do together. accomodating just one other individual in the plans and my thoughts was easy. then came the babies......life is no longer for yourself. every minute of every day, you have given up your thoughts, your time, your soul to caring and providing for them. they will not grow up fast enough....yet they seem to grow up too fast. motherhood is full of ironies.
as you age, and perhaps this is the worst part, the people around you age as well. people whom you never have to worry about, suddenly have to take center stage. you fight their battles for them. you hold them when they need comfort. this is the cycle of life. they were there when you need them, now it's your turn.
i don't know how other people do it, how they stand back up after each fall. it's not so much physical exhaustion, as much as mental. you think life is tough now....it gets worse. it's almost like there is someone with a twisted sense of humour up there.
but perhaps that's just life.
the strength of a person is measured by how fast they stand back up after they fall......i, for one, fail desperately. for years after i received that middle of the night phonecall informing me of my grandfather's death, i freeze whenever the phone rings again late at night. that was my first experience with death. looking back at all the times i fell, i never seemed to have learnt how to let go....even after so long. perhaps it's part of life. perhaps that is what makes us who we are.
when i was young, my primary concern centered around myself. what should i do? what should i eat? as i grow older, my world expanded. to those around me; first my boyfriend, who later became my husband. just me and him, in our little world. loving and caring for him was easy, albeit it took a period of adjusting. it was no longer what i wanted, but what we both can do together. accomodating just one other individual in the plans and my thoughts was easy. then came the babies......life is no longer for yourself. every minute of every day, you have given up your thoughts, your time, your soul to caring and providing for them. they will not grow up fast enough....yet they seem to grow up too fast. motherhood is full of ironies.
as you age, and perhaps this is the worst part, the people around you age as well. people whom you never have to worry about, suddenly have to take center stage. you fight their battles for them. you hold them when they need comfort. this is the cycle of life. they were there when you need them, now it's your turn.
i don't know how other people do it, how they stand back up after each fall. it's not so much physical exhaustion, as much as mental. you think life is tough now....it gets worse. it's almost like there is someone with a twisted sense of humour up there.
but perhaps that's just life.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
my secret cove
leisurely...i took a stroll, with my heart so heavy and my mood so down. i walked here and there, not knowing what i am looking for. i looked aimlessly at people drifting by. i look around to see where my wandering footsteps have brought me...to this place that looked at once empty yet familiar. tired, i sat down for a little while. it felt like home. i took off my load and let my guard down...just for a little while. a little place to be me, a little place to hide.......my secret cove.
i never thought i will revive this blog. if felt wrong to be writing personal feelings in the other one, almost as if i am burdening others with the loads in my soul. i know some of my readers are uncomfortable with my personal posts, glaring from the obvious lack of comments in the 'heavier' ones. some people do not want to know, frankly do not even care; deep emotions make them uncomfortable. which is fine actually. to each their own, i always say.
i have not been able to write about my personal feelings for some time. perhaps it is because of the closeness with my readers. perhaps it is the increasing transparency...
i need a place to be able to voice my feelings, to let it out and leave it there. i need a place to balance the outwardly smile and joyfulness i portray, a place to be melancholy and dark without hurting anyone. this place is ideal because it is deserted and forsaken. it is a place where few visits and no one listens.
this place doesn't shout for visitors. bloggers, that have now become friends, are not obliged to feel that they must come. in turn, i do not feel that i have to smile...except perhaps when my heart smiles.
i never thought i will revive this blog. if felt wrong to be writing personal feelings in the other one, almost as if i am burdening others with the loads in my soul. i know some of my readers are uncomfortable with my personal posts, glaring from the obvious lack of comments in the 'heavier' ones. some people do not want to know, frankly do not even care; deep emotions make them uncomfortable. which is fine actually. to each their own, i always say.
i have not been able to write about my personal feelings for some time. perhaps it is because of the closeness with my readers. perhaps it is the increasing transparency...
i need a place to be able to voice my feelings, to let it out and leave it there. i need a place to balance the outwardly smile and joyfulness i portray, a place to be melancholy and dark without hurting anyone. this place is ideal because it is deserted and forsaken. it is a place where few visits and no one listens.
this place doesn't shout for visitors. bloggers, that have now become friends, are not obliged to feel that they must come. in turn, i do not feel that i have to smile...except perhaps when my heart smiles.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
obituary
gather round, everybody. there's a party going on here today. pick up a glass of champagne. feel free to let down your hair, shake your bottom and go crazy. we are drinking to the death of 'why so kaypo?'.
yes, this is the last and final post in here.
let's toast goodbye to that stupid name. i admit i took like 5 seconds to come up with that pathetic name. i don't even know what it is suppose to signify. one thing for sure; it's easy to remember. i guess i was hoping for some idiot to ask me the name of my blog, to which i can reply....(all together now...)......"why so kaypo*?". never happened though. *shaking head sadly* which is a given since people who knows about my blog already knows the name and those that don't know of its existence, i have no plans of enlightening them. yammmmmmmm seng
let's not forget that stupid nickname that went hand in hand with the blog. it started out with 'mslenglui' which was obviously connocted because the only people who seemed to call me so were those in the morning market. how pathetic. an obvious ploy to get more people to see the beauty in me. hah! then was 'me' which is equally sad, if you ask me (pun intended), confusing bloggers from all walks of life. it was supposed to signify that i am 'me', what you think you see is what you get, no packaging, no frills. plain and simple. let's toast goodbye to all that stupidity and senselessness. yammmmmmmmm seng
let's give another toast to all the happy, and silly, memories in here. yes, yes, i will forever remember being called 'ghost', 'long-winded' and other unkind adjectives. *grins* nahhh, they were sweet memories. yammmmmmm seng
ok, how about another toast to all the friends that i have made here. this blog wouldn't be what it is if not for you guys. does this sound like an oscar speech or what? it's not like i'll be getting an oscar award anytime soon, so indulge me, ok? my friends in the blogosphere. i'm so proud to say that. for all those who were so sweet to me and said the sweetest things, a toast to you. yammmmmmmmmm seng
hey, you there in the back! no making out in this party. go get a room or something. sheesh! i think that about wraps it all up. a final toast to this blog. YAMMMMMMMM SENG!
byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
i'm still writing though. for those who can't get enough of me, please hop over to my new place (or should i say places). it is still renovation in progress, so watch out for all those loose nails, saw dust and all, but i was a little sick of commuting to and fro the old and new place. see you there.
in case you are wondering where, it's all there - in my profile.
*incase annie is blur (which is a given), kaypo means 'to be busybody / nosy'.
yes, this is the last and final post in here.
let's toast goodbye to that stupid name. i admit i took like 5 seconds to come up with that pathetic name. i don't even know what it is suppose to signify. one thing for sure; it's easy to remember. i guess i was hoping for some idiot to ask me the name of my blog, to which i can reply....(all together now...)......"why so kaypo*?". never happened though. *shaking head sadly* which is a given since people who knows about my blog already knows the name and those that don't know of its existence, i have no plans of enlightening them. yammmmmmmm seng
let's not forget that stupid nickname that went hand in hand with the blog. it started out with 'mslenglui' which was obviously connocted because the only people who seemed to call me so were those in the morning market. how pathetic. an obvious ploy to get more people to see the beauty in me. hah! then was 'me' which is equally sad, if you ask me (pun intended), confusing bloggers from all walks of life. it was supposed to signify that i am 'me', what you think you see is what you get, no packaging, no frills. plain and simple. let's toast goodbye to all that stupidity and senselessness. yammmmmmmmm seng
let's give another toast to all the happy, and silly, memories in here. yes, yes, i will forever remember being called 'ghost', 'long-winded' and other unkind adjectives. *grins* nahhh, they were sweet memories. yammmmmmm seng
ok, how about another toast to all the friends that i have made here. this blog wouldn't be what it is if not for you guys. does this sound like an oscar speech or what? it's not like i'll be getting an oscar award anytime soon, so indulge me, ok? my friends in the blogosphere. i'm so proud to say that. for all those who were so sweet to me and said the sweetest things, a toast to you. yammmmmmmmmm seng
hey, you there in the back! no making out in this party. go get a room or something. sheesh! i think that about wraps it all up. a final toast to this blog. YAMMMMMMMM SENG!
byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
i'm still writing though. for those who can't get enough of me, please hop over to my new place (or should i say places). it is still renovation in progress, so watch out for all those loose nails, saw dust and all, but i was a little sick of commuting to and fro the old and new place. see you there.
in case you are wondering where, it's all there - in my profile.
*incase annie is blur (which is a given), kaypo means 'to be busybody / nosy'.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
application form
to: all readers
from: me, who else
re: application for leave
i have been infected by somebody's melancholic introspective bug. i realise that i no longer know why i am writing and for whom i am writing. this place no longer feels right and i don't feel i belong. the love for writing and story-telling is still there, but this does not seem like the place for me to do it anymore. perhaps i have been too caught up with the number game. how do you detach yourself from something as part of the game as that? i want to revel in the process, not the end-results for why else will i still be here?
maybe all i need is a break. maybe all i need is some time away.
will be back.
see you around.
from: me, who else
re: application for leave
i have been infected by somebody's melancholic introspective bug. i realise that i no longer know why i am writing and for whom i am writing. this place no longer feels right and i don't feel i belong. the love for writing and story-telling is still there, but this does not seem like the place for me to do it anymore. perhaps i have been too caught up with the number game. how do you detach yourself from something as part of the game as that? i want to revel in the process, not the end-results for why else will i still be here?
maybe all i need is a break. maybe all i need is some time away.
will be back.
see you around.
Monday, January 22, 2007
seeking pleasure
honestly speaking, i cannot remember the last time i had another person of the same sex climb on top of me. it has been a very, very long time.......too long.
i am not one for such tendencies but it was all purely for the pursuit of pleasure. last weekend, i took a little time off, disappeared for a few hours and went seeking for some indescribable ecstacy. it wasn't something that i would announce to the family, for obvious reasons. i felt a little guilty, indulging in pleasures such as this but i have suppressed my natural desires for far too long and believe that i should finally succumb to it, wicked as it may seem.
this is not my first time. i've had other encounters with those of my same sex but i must admit, they are definitely much more satisfying than any i've had with my man. she knows how to give me pleasure in ways that a man just wouldn't understand, touch me in places i needed to be touched. her hands were smooth, my body ached for her gentle yet firm touch.
for that one hour, with nothing else on my mind, i was hers whilst she pushed me to levels of blissfulness that i never knew existed. i soaked in languid bliss, not bothering about what the outside world may think of us. closed away in that dark room, all that mattered was how she made me feel.
you and i, we are not naive people. we all know what i am talking about.
the expert touch of a masseuse. working out those tight knotted muscles. what an absolute bliss!
i am not one for such tendencies but it was all purely for the pursuit of pleasure. last weekend, i took a little time off, disappeared for a few hours and went seeking for some indescribable ecstacy. it wasn't something that i would announce to the family, for obvious reasons. i felt a little guilty, indulging in pleasures such as this but i have suppressed my natural desires for far too long and believe that i should finally succumb to it, wicked as it may seem.
this is not my first time. i've had other encounters with those of my same sex but i must admit, they are definitely much more satisfying than any i've had with my man. she knows how to give me pleasure in ways that a man just wouldn't understand, touch me in places i needed to be touched. her hands were smooth, my body ached for her gentle yet firm touch.
for that one hour, with nothing else on my mind, i was hers whilst she pushed me to levels of blissfulness that i never knew existed. i soaked in languid bliss, not bothering about what the outside world may think of us. closed away in that dark room, all that mattered was how she made me feel.
you and i, we are not naive people. we all know what i am talking about.
the expert touch of a masseuse. working out those tight knotted muscles. what an absolute bliss!
Friday, January 19, 2007
madness
i step out for half a freaking day.
the phone rings incessantly.
the boss calls.
he wants something PRONTO!
i have to go back.
i am in all the time, cultivating spiderwebs on my rotting body and nobody calls. the phone is dead. i take one freaking foot out and the world is looking for me.
it's a freaking crazy world.
**************************************
i talk to my bro on the 3G, eventhough he is like ten steps away, because it's free.
like i need to see his face when he asks me .............what was it again?
**************************************
i look at my feet and wonder why i am wearing heels that are at least one size larger.
what was i thinking of when i bought the shoes?
that my legs will swell?
for that matter, did i bring my brain with me when i went shopping?
the phone rings incessantly.
the boss calls.
he wants something PRONTO!
i have to go back.
i am in all the time, cultivating spiderwebs on my rotting body and nobody calls. the phone is dead. i take one freaking foot out and the world is looking for me.
it's a freaking crazy world.
**************************************
i talk to my bro on the 3G, eventhough he is like ten steps away, because it's free.
like i need to see his face when he asks me .............what was it again?
**************************************
i look at my feet and wonder why i am wearing heels that are at least one size larger.
what was i thinking of when i bought the shoes?
that my legs will swell?
for that matter, did i bring my brain with me when i went shopping?
whimsical
there you go!
someone was telling me that there isn't any pigs in this place.
huh?
oh!
you mean pics!!
*shrugs*
works out to be the same.
pics of pigs!
Thursday, January 18, 2007
ambition
i have a strange friend.
he has been asking me the very same question for the few years that i have known him. from the start, he asked me "if you hadn't sold your soul to your job (ok, maybe he didn't phrased it that way), what would you have liked to work as?". i don't know what triggered his persistent line of questioning, perhaps he sensed the unfulfilment(?) in my present job.
that would be a very difficult question to answer, as i have been with my present employer for more than 10 years now. i recently had to chuck my second date-chop and request for a third one (those in the line will know that a date chop has a ten-years running series on it). it does not directly translate into my working for 30 years with the company (that would mean i started working for them at the age of 5!! gasp!) but it does shadows my roots in that place.
i have long since forgotten what my ambition was, or perhaps have buried it so deep that i do not even know how to locate it. my friend's very peculiar persistence has triggered me to ask myself the same. what was my ambition? the one topic that i had to write over and over again in essay composition classes, no matter which level in the school. had i known it was going to be all bullshit, i would have written about some glamour job like miss universe or food-tester for the emperor.
i think my very first ambition was to be a teacher. yes, i like to lord over other children and torture them with endless list of homeworks, make them stand on tables and whip them with a cane. no, i think it was more for the satisfaction of feeling all-important and clever, a desire to guide others and make them understand. i will be the one patiently teaching my younger cousin whilst others have given it up as hopeless.
the miss malaysia (or more accurately, miss hongkong as it was more popular back then, though i have no idea how i can even qualify seeing that i am definitely born and bred here) bit did float around in my head for a little while, though i had to give that up very fast when i realise my features were nowhere considered attractive and my height stopped reaching for the sky, or should i say never even bothered to.
when i started talking marathon sessions on the phone and win all arguments with any adult (except the one that permitted me to open my cage and fly out into the blue sky), i was not-very-nicely given the suggestion of becoming a lawyer. yes, i like to argue, for the sake of arguing, or sharpening my quick reflex wit if you like to put it in a nice manner. that one never took hold as i didn't quite like having the future of people's life on my hands. i cannot imagine the guilt trip i will go through if someone was to hang because i had not done enough *shudders*.
that was all a very long time ago. all swept beneath the imaginary carpet. if you were to ask me now what i will like to be, i will be hard-pressed for an answer. there are just too many jobs i will like to try, all not highly-ambitious i'm afraid. i would love to be a part-time receptionist, wearing a damn short and sexy skirt with my bimbo voice going, "good morning, this is xyz company. who will you like to speak to?". perhaps a highly-motivated waitress, "yes, and will you like to try our beautiful creme brulee with that?". or that idiot that pushes people into trains cramped beyond imagination, just so that the door will shut, like in japan. i wouldn't mind spending a week or two organising events, closets and even as a highly-perked nanny, no, the word should be au pair.
however, my friend would have none of that. only one job, he said. only one? i scratched my head but i couldn't come up with an answer. then it came to me out of the blue. i know what i will want to be. not when i grow up but perhaps in another life.
i want to be a translator. not for the embassies or some big-shot businessman, or beautiful celebrities and important presidents. i want to be the translator for those illegal dvds, who seem to **** up the subtitles all the time! "the german take no can't" ?!?!? what craps? what german? there is no german in the plot?! or "u r not suppose to do that". what is this? text subtitles?!! *groan*
i can imagine the satisfaction i will have on the job. i will call all my friends and tell them, "eh, you watching that new movie ah? hey, i wrote the subtitles you knowwwww". i will have first-hand privilege of watching new movies before they hit the shelves. ok, perhaps i will not be able to brag about my job since it is associated with illegal copyright but translating is not criminal, is it? i just wrote the subtitles for some hard-hearing old man who couldn't understand the muffled speech, so sue me! ahhhhhhhhh! i can imagine the gratification on that one, the pleasure of finally reading words that match the conversation on the screen.
they should be so lucky to employ me.
he has been asking me the very same question for the few years that i have known him. from the start, he asked me "if you hadn't sold your soul to your job (ok, maybe he didn't phrased it that way), what would you have liked to work as?". i don't know what triggered his persistent line of questioning, perhaps he sensed the unfulfilment(?) in my present job.
that would be a very difficult question to answer, as i have been with my present employer for more than 10 years now. i recently had to chuck my second date-chop and request for a third one (those in the line will know that a date chop has a ten-years running series on it). it does not directly translate into my working for 30 years with the company (that would mean i started working for them at the age of 5!! gasp!) but it does shadows my roots in that place.
i have long since forgotten what my ambition was, or perhaps have buried it so deep that i do not even know how to locate it. my friend's very peculiar persistence has triggered me to ask myself the same. what was my ambition? the one topic that i had to write over and over again in essay composition classes, no matter which level in the school. had i known it was going to be all bullshit, i would have written about some glamour job like miss universe or food-tester for the emperor.
i think my very first ambition was to be a teacher. yes, i like to lord over other children and torture them with endless list of homeworks, make them stand on tables and whip them with a cane. no, i think it was more for the satisfaction of feeling all-important and clever, a desire to guide others and make them understand. i will be the one patiently teaching my younger cousin whilst others have given it up as hopeless.
the miss malaysia (or more accurately, miss hongkong as it was more popular back then, though i have no idea how i can even qualify seeing that i am definitely born and bred here) bit did float around in my head for a little while, though i had to give that up very fast when i realise my features were nowhere considered attractive and my height stopped reaching for the sky, or should i say never even bothered to.
when i started talking marathon sessions on the phone and win all arguments with any adult (except the one that permitted me to open my cage and fly out into the blue sky), i was not-very-nicely given the suggestion of becoming a lawyer. yes, i like to argue, for the sake of arguing, or sharpening my quick reflex wit if you like to put it in a nice manner. that one never took hold as i didn't quite like having the future of people's life on my hands. i cannot imagine the guilt trip i will go through if someone was to hang because i had not done enough *shudders*.
that was all a very long time ago. all swept beneath the imaginary carpet. if you were to ask me now what i will like to be, i will be hard-pressed for an answer. there are just too many jobs i will like to try, all not highly-ambitious i'm afraid. i would love to be a part-time receptionist, wearing a damn short and sexy skirt with my bimbo voice going, "good morning, this is xyz company. who will you like to speak to?". perhaps a highly-motivated waitress, "yes, and will you like to try our beautiful creme brulee with that?". or that idiot that pushes people into trains cramped beyond imagination, just so that the door will shut, like in japan. i wouldn't mind spending a week or two organising events, closets and even as a highly-perked nanny, no, the word should be au pair.
however, my friend would have none of that. only one job, he said. only one? i scratched my head but i couldn't come up with an answer. then it came to me out of the blue. i know what i will want to be. not when i grow up but perhaps in another life.
i want to be a translator. not for the embassies or some big-shot businessman, or beautiful celebrities and important presidents. i want to be the translator for those illegal dvds, who seem to **** up the subtitles all the time! "the german take no can't" ?!?!? what craps? what german? there is no german in the plot?! or "u r not suppose to do that". what is this? text subtitles?!! *groan*
i can imagine the satisfaction i will have on the job. i will call all my friends and tell them, "eh, you watching that new movie ah? hey, i wrote the subtitles you knowwwww". i will have first-hand privilege of watching new movies before they hit the shelves. ok, perhaps i will not be able to brag about my job since it is associated with illegal copyright but translating is not criminal, is it? i just wrote the subtitles for some hard-hearing old man who couldn't understand the muffled speech, so sue me! ahhhhhhhhh! i can imagine the gratification on that one, the pleasure of finally reading words that match the conversation on the screen.
they should be so lucky to employ me.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
sympathy
a little while back, someone i know did something very commendable, something very charitable. she went off with a group of people around the streets of kl, distributing food to the homeless. something that i wish i will do instead of sitting here comfortably on my behind in this comfortable room, passing opinion like a high and mighty queen. she saw a side of the city that is not normally open to the eyes of the public, or perhaps it is, to those who choose to see.
she witnessed homeless people of all age, race and gender, blind, handicapped and even small children accompanying their drug-addict parent. there was a lady who looked like she had acid poured over her face, without a distinct nose or eyelids and a lipless hole for a mouth.
it is a given that such a scene will tug at your heart, bringing out sympathy even in the coldest of soul. it will serve as a reminder to all of our own fortune, which is often forgotten and unappreciated.
i do feel the same. however, my thoughts cast back to those that we deem as fortunate from what we see and know.
those who, to all appearance, seem like the luckiest person on the world but are fighting their own demons within. those that have all the material spoils they could possibly ask for but are trapped in a hell that others will not begin to understand. people who will not invoke sympathy from a bystander's single glance but is fighting for the very simple act of living every day of their life. people whom a donation or a free meal will not even begin to alleviate their sufferings. people whom others will never be able to do anything that will lighten their misery.
is their story any less sadder than those lying homeless in the streets? these people who will never invoke sympathy simply because there is no visible signs. people who think death is an easier alternative than living their lives out everyday. or is it just a sign of the weak? surely, that option in itself takes a lot of courage. who knows what demons they have been battling and for how long. what possible hell could they be living in that death seems like a sweeter alternative? like leslie cheung, the infamous singer who took his life when faced with depression, we'll never understand what they have to go through every minute of the day. hopefully, i'll never have to know.
my heart cries also for these souls. people who bleeds from the heart but you cannot hear their cries or see their misfortune. people whom you will never ever even begin to understand their plight. people with whom the whole world will never know to sympathise. people whom others will never understand.
she witnessed homeless people of all age, race and gender, blind, handicapped and even small children accompanying their drug-addict parent. there was a lady who looked like she had acid poured over her face, without a distinct nose or eyelids and a lipless hole for a mouth.
it is a given that such a scene will tug at your heart, bringing out sympathy even in the coldest of soul. it will serve as a reminder to all of our own fortune, which is often forgotten and unappreciated.
i do feel the same. however, my thoughts cast back to those that we deem as fortunate from what we see and know.
those who, to all appearance, seem like the luckiest person on the world but are fighting their own demons within. those that have all the material spoils they could possibly ask for but are trapped in a hell that others will not begin to understand. people who will not invoke sympathy from a bystander's single glance but is fighting for the very simple act of living every day of their life. people whom a donation or a free meal will not even begin to alleviate their sufferings. people whom others will never be able to do anything that will lighten their misery.
is their story any less sadder than those lying homeless in the streets? these people who will never invoke sympathy simply because there is no visible signs. people who think death is an easier alternative than living their lives out everyday. or is it just a sign of the weak? surely, that option in itself takes a lot of courage. who knows what demons they have been battling and for how long. what possible hell could they be living in that death seems like a sweeter alternative? like leslie cheung, the infamous singer who took his life when faced with depression, we'll never understand what they have to go through every minute of the day. hopefully, i'll never have to know.
my heart cries also for these souls. people who bleeds from the heart but you cannot hear their cries or see their misfortune. people whom you will never ever even begin to understand their plight. people with whom the whole world will never know to sympathise. people whom others will never understand.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
questions unanswered
for as long as i can remember, i have been the youngest.
i was the youngest in my family as i was growing up. a position that didn't bring along the necessary spoiling and pampering but more of the trappings of never being able to do anything or go anywhere i wanted. it is an unwritten rule in the household; never listen to the youngest. sheesh!
when i was schooling, i was a year younger than the average classmate for every year after secondary four. eventhough it was just a difference of 12 months, i felt pretty small then; both in terms of size and importance. sheesh!
the pattern persisted to the uni-days. i was like the youngest child, presumed sweet and innocent, the little baby for everyone to keep an eye on. they were 3, 5 or even 12 years older than i. i listened whilst they talked. i learned whilst they taught me about the lessons in life. nobody listened. sheesh!
when i first started working, i had no equals. no one my age or even remotely close. it was stiffling, and sombering, working with people an entire generation older. forget about jokes, you don't even smile unless absolutely necessary. i tried valiantly to grow up faster, to look older, or at the very least, more convincing to them. sheesh!
when i ventured into post-degree course, it went without saying that i was going to be among the youngest in the group. somehow, somewhere, i have accepted that i will be the youngest among my peers. it didn't matter, as long as i proved to excel in my performance. sheesh!
however, one day when i wasn't looking i grew older.
just when i assumed i will always be the youngest, i became the oldest. just when i thought i will remain the smallest, i grew up. i look around. everybody else is younger. what happened to those older than me? where did they go?
why do i still feel so young then?
when will i start feeling old?
i was the youngest in my family as i was growing up. a position that didn't bring along the necessary spoiling and pampering but more of the trappings of never being able to do anything or go anywhere i wanted. it is an unwritten rule in the household; never listen to the youngest. sheesh!
when i was schooling, i was a year younger than the average classmate for every year after secondary four. eventhough it was just a difference of 12 months, i felt pretty small then; both in terms of size and importance. sheesh!
the pattern persisted to the uni-days. i was like the youngest child, presumed sweet and innocent, the little baby for everyone to keep an eye on. they were 3, 5 or even 12 years older than i. i listened whilst they talked. i learned whilst they taught me about the lessons in life. nobody listened. sheesh!
when i first started working, i had no equals. no one my age or even remotely close. it was stiffling, and sombering, working with people an entire generation older. forget about jokes, you don't even smile unless absolutely necessary. i tried valiantly to grow up faster, to look older, or at the very least, more convincing to them. sheesh!
when i ventured into post-degree course, it went without saying that i was going to be among the youngest in the group. somehow, somewhere, i have accepted that i will be the youngest among my peers. it didn't matter, as long as i proved to excel in my performance. sheesh!
however, one day when i wasn't looking i grew older.
just when i assumed i will always be the youngest, i became the oldest. just when i thought i will remain the smallest, i grew up. i look around. everybody else is younger. what happened to those older than me? where did they go?
why do i still feel so young then?
when will i start feeling old?
Monday, January 15, 2007
a magical journey
for all those i met.....
in 3 hours, 43 minutes and 22 seconds
i was taken on a miraculous journey
where strangers were transformed into friends
and names evolved into identities.
alphabets that were just names when arranged
became people with emotions and a past
words that were cold and distant
became a warm invisible touch by a friend.
in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
stories that were told day after day
turned into letters from a friend
telling me how his / her day went.
whilst reading his posts,
i visualised
him sitting there, as if telling me
with his very own voice, and the flick of his hair.
the face lingers, the feelings remained
is this all in my head
or did we just become friends?
in 3 hours, 43 minutes and 22 seconds
i was taken on a miraculous journey
where strangers were transformed into friends
and names evolved into identities.
alphabets that were just names when arranged
became people with emotions and a past
words that were cold and distant
became a warm invisible touch by a friend.
in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
stories that were told day after day
turned into letters from a friend
telling me how his / her day went.
whilst reading his posts,
i visualised
him sitting there, as if telling me
with his very own voice, and the flick of his hair.
the face lingers, the feelings remained
is this all in my head
or did we just become friends?
not another meme
my fingers are stiff, my brain rusty.
it has been the longest time since i was last tagged. it is probably an honour to be remembered and tagged again by the much revered and oh so mighty ah pek but this one that he has just served me proved to be the most difficult by far. true, it will be easy to just whip out any answer from the dusty old bag i call a brain, but as a mark of respect to this man, i think i should stop and ponder for a little while.
this is also probably the most boring tag i have received. who the hell cares what your favourite movies are? it's not like any of you are going to a movie with me soon and will like to find out the genre of my likings, so what does it matter which movies i adore? most tags reveal something about the "tag-ee" but i seriously can't imagine someone telling me 'oh yes, now i know that you are a shallow air-head because you like stephen chow's movie' or 'better stay clear of you, you have a potential murder streak because you like to see house of wax' (definitely not paris hilton's version, ok? gagggggg!.)
nevertheless, i shall plough on, lest i am being reminded of being long-winded. i don't know where he gets the idea that i am a movie-fan but he is amazingly accurate. a movie-fan may not be the correct description. i call myself a movie-dumpster. i take in all types of movies; thriller, romantic, comedy, drama, action, chick-flicks, whatever you have as long as i have time to spare and a correct setting; both of which are increasingly difficult to come by of late. the only type of movie that i absolutely can't stand is those where every single freaking person in the movie dies in the end. or those that have every possible misfortune befall the actor / actress. she lost her parents since young, her sibling died trying to save her from a car-crash which left her disabled anyway, the boy she loves turns out to be her blood-brother, she has cancer.... ?!?!?!?!? what's the point? let's just have a bomb drop on all the characters at the very start of the movie and kill all of them! saves my tears and the nerve-wrecking moments.
the problem, and therein lies the difficulty, with this tag is most movies go in one side of my brain, run havoc in there for a few milli-seconds and leave the other side, without so much as a trace of its existence. i forget totally great movies in the blink of an eye. sighhhhh! i have problem remembering which movies i really like. so, for the purpose of this tag, after spending the weekend deliberating on it (see how serious i am!), i shall choose movies that have somehow managed to stay with me, despite the test of my dementia-racked brain.
since i have been going on and on, i shall cut it short here. want to know what's so good about these movies, or what it's all about? go watch it then! haha! no pics, no synopsis. sorry.
1. the romantic - Moments to Remember (korean)...*sniff*
2. the thriller - Memento (killed lots of brain cells trying to remember the last sequence)
3. the recent comedy - The Pink Panther (yes, the 'stupider' the better)
4. the supernatural - The Sixth Sense (the ending just stays with you)
5. the trials and tribulations of ms. me - ok, that one is not out yet. it will be one day, you just watch out for it. i can't think of anymore and i'm sick of trying. so ah pek, four only, ok?
usually, i will tag others with glee, with a revenge. this time however, i shall spare you. let's wait for another more interesting tag, shall we?
it has been the longest time since i was last tagged. it is probably an honour to be remembered and tagged again by the much revered and oh so mighty ah pek but this one that he has just served me proved to be the most difficult by far. true, it will be easy to just whip out any answer from the dusty old bag i call a brain, but as a mark of respect to this man, i think i should stop and ponder for a little while.
this is also probably the most boring tag i have received. who the hell cares what your favourite movies are? it's not like any of you are going to a movie with me soon and will like to find out the genre of my likings, so what does it matter which movies i adore? most tags reveal something about the "tag-ee" but i seriously can't imagine someone telling me 'oh yes, now i know that you are a shallow air-head because you like stephen chow's movie' or 'better stay clear of you, you have a potential murder streak because you like to see house of wax' (definitely not paris hilton's version, ok? gagggggg!.)
nevertheless, i shall plough on, lest i am being reminded of being long-winded. i don't know where he gets the idea that i am a movie-fan but he is amazingly accurate. a movie-fan may not be the correct description. i call myself a movie-dumpster. i take in all types of movies; thriller, romantic, comedy, drama, action, chick-flicks, whatever you have as long as i have time to spare and a correct setting; both of which are increasingly difficult to come by of late. the only type of movie that i absolutely can't stand is those where every single freaking person in the movie dies in the end. or those that have every possible misfortune befall the actor / actress. she lost her parents since young, her sibling died trying to save her from a car-crash which left her disabled anyway, the boy she loves turns out to be her blood-brother, she has cancer.... ?!?!?!?!? what's the point? let's just have a bomb drop on all the characters at the very start of the movie and kill all of them! saves my tears and the nerve-wrecking moments.
the problem, and therein lies the difficulty, with this tag is most movies go in one side of my brain, run havoc in there for a few milli-seconds and leave the other side, without so much as a trace of its existence. i forget totally great movies in the blink of an eye. sighhhhh! i have problem remembering which movies i really like. so, for the purpose of this tag, after spending the weekend deliberating on it (see how serious i am!), i shall choose movies that have somehow managed to stay with me, despite the test of my dementia-racked brain.
since i have been going on and on, i shall cut it short here. want to know what's so good about these movies, or what it's all about? go watch it then! haha! no pics, no synopsis. sorry.
1. the romantic - Moments to Remember (korean)...*sniff*
2. the thriller - Memento (killed lots of brain cells trying to remember the last sequence)
3. the recent comedy - The Pink Panther (yes, the 'stupider' the better)
4. the supernatural - The Sixth Sense (the ending just stays with you)
5. the trials and tribulations of ms. me - ok, that one is not out yet. it will be one day, you just watch out for it. i can't think of anymore and i'm sick of trying. so ah pek, four only, ok?
usually, i will tag others with glee, with a revenge. this time however, i shall spare you. let's wait for another more interesting tag, shall we?
Friday, January 12, 2007
apply within
one cup of coffee is one cup too much.
i'll come back to that in a bit.
i survived yesterday's meeting and return to my place in front of the computer in one piece. i double-checked and can definitely confirm that the strange specimen indeed did not possess eight tentacles and two heads. he did have a peculiar tendency to call attention to his non-existent six packs, though. (if i did not get in trouble for the 'boy' reference thing, i'm sure to get it for this one. haha.) there was a rather unnerving moment when the strange specimen metamorphosed into 4 other of his species, making a grand total of 5. well, i guess it's better to hit me all at once whilst i am still mentally prepared before i make the quick escape into elusiveness again.
ok, back to my first sentence.
i have a job opening in my organisation. anyone who is on the lookout for a change in his / her job or perhaps something on the side to fill your free time, kindly read on.
the official designation is termed as "head director". the job scope in itself is pretty straightforward. your only responsibility is to smack the head of your employer, namely me, should i engage in the highly undesirable act of ordering a cup of coffee. the task itself, however, requires some finesse. the smack should not be so hard that my eyeballs will pop out but it should not be so soft that i will ignore it and continue with the undesirability. you are given room for exercising your power of judgement and may smack me senseless if i obstinately persist in ordering a cup of coffee. as such, i believe it is a highly satisfying and enjoyable appointment.
the pay is non-existent but perhaps i can offer you a cup of tea in return. however, this will also depend on your strength of smacking. smack too hard and i will forget all terms of employment. the hours are flexible, the benefits restricted solely to the satisfaction of having to smack my head and my gratitude. anybody with relevant experience and total dedication to the work may submit their cvs here.
i have resorted to opening up a position for the above post since my brain has absolutely refused to listen to my cries for no more coffee. yesterday's tall (read 'small' in starbucks' terms) brew of the day has left me disoriented and restless.
i need to recuperate.
i'll come back to that in a bit.
i survived yesterday's meeting and return to my place in front of the computer in one piece. i double-checked and can definitely confirm that the strange specimen indeed did not possess eight tentacles and two heads. he did have a peculiar tendency to call attention to his non-existent six packs, though. (if i did not get in trouble for the 'boy' reference thing, i'm sure to get it for this one. haha.) there was a rather unnerving moment when the strange specimen metamorphosed into 4 other of his species, making a grand total of 5. well, i guess it's better to hit me all at once whilst i am still mentally prepared before i make the quick escape into elusiveness again.
ok, back to my first sentence.
i have a job opening in my organisation. anyone who is on the lookout for a change in his / her job or perhaps something on the side to fill your free time, kindly read on.
the official designation is termed as "head director". the job scope in itself is pretty straightforward. your only responsibility is to smack the head of your employer, namely me, should i engage in the highly undesirable act of ordering a cup of coffee. the task itself, however, requires some finesse. the smack should not be so hard that my eyeballs will pop out but it should not be so soft that i will ignore it and continue with the undesirability. you are given room for exercising your power of judgement and may smack me senseless if i obstinately persist in ordering a cup of coffee. as such, i believe it is a highly satisfying and enjoyable appointment.
the pay is non-existent but perhaps i can offer you a cup of tea in return. however, this will also depend on your strength of smacking. smack too hard and i will forget all terms of employment. the hours are flexible, the benefits restricted solely to the satisfaction of having to smack my head and my gratitude. anybody with relevant experience and total dedication to the work may submit their cvs here.
i have resorted to opening up a position for the above post since my brain has absolutely refused to listen to my cries for no more coffee. yesterday's tall (read 'small' in starbucks' terms) brew of the day has left me disoriented and restless.
i need to recuperate.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
freaking out
i haven't been updating for a couple of days, discounting my filler poetic attempt post, that is. that's because i'm busy silently freaking out. yes, i'm tearing out precious handfuls of hair and bitting nails like a woodpecker. i'm suppose to be meeting up with another one of those strange specimen from the blogger species and it's freaking me out silly. he's too busy to surf the blogosphere these days, so i'm free to write whatever i want :-p.
blogging has always strike me as wondrous. a place where people will actually shut up and listen (except for those weirdos out there who talk absently to their own monitor whilst reading blogs). a place where races, religion, sex and age does not matter. a place where you meet people you will never meet in your ordinary world, simply because of the above invisible boundaries.
what does a 30...what again (....doing quick mental calculation. sorry, the part of the brain responsible for storing how old i am seems to be permanently warped)....oh yes, 35 years old woman have in common with a 23 year old.....do i dare say it?.....boy. hahaha. that will piss him off if he reads it. which is why it's imperative that we quickly move on. not much, i will say. aside from the obvious fact that they both belong to the same 'oink-ing' and 'grunting' animal sign in the chinese horoscope. 23 seems like a very long time ago to me. then again, my mental capacity probably is still hovering around that level, hence the seeming ability to communicate with him. for that matter, i think he is much more mature than i.
anyway, i digress. since i'm on the subject, what does this woman have in common with a disillusioned 50 year old, a grumpy mid-life-crisis (heehee) 35 years old (or thereabout), a humsup (try as i might, i couldn't find a better english word to adequately translate this) 40 plus, a kind and sweet...errr, i have no idea how old is she, a witty, beautiful and foreign 30+, another sarcastic but really very sweet 20+?.....(what is it with ladies, i seem to have no idea how old they are), a funny and crappy 20+, a poetic 34 .........this will go on forever if i'm going to list all of you so please do not be offended if i move on (i'm already getting myself in much trouble with the above descriptions, as it is). the only thing we have in common is a blog.
behind this blog, we hide ourselves and reveal as much, or as little, as we want to. we seem to communicate, but it's all mostly one-way. we seem to know so much about each other, by virtue of the things posted, but it may be scratching the surface. yes, sometimes we are even thrusted with strange pieces of information such as their sexual preference, disturbing habits and even family-planning process (kakaka) but it could all very well be the creative power of the pen, or in this case, the keyboard. people that we call friends, which we know next to nothing about. people that we think we know everything about, but have absolutely no inkling whether it's true.
so, what is freaking me out? the fact that this unmasking is irreversible? or the fact that i will no longer have a blog to hide my identity behind? definitely it is not the actual prospect of meeting the man, for the last time i checked, he does not have 8 tentacles or two heads. maybe it's the fact that i will no longer be ms. me but someone with an actual identity, name and face.
someone hand me a prozac, please. i want my safe haven.
blogging has always strike me as wondrous. a place where people will actually shut up and listen (except for those weirdos out there who talk absently to their own monitor whilst reading blogs). a place where races, religion, sex and age does not matter. a place where you meet people you will never meet in your ordinary world, simply because of the above invisible boundaries.
what does a 30...what again (....doing quick mental calculation. sorry, the part of the brain responsible for storing how old i am seems to be permanently warped)....oh yes, 35 years old woman have in common with a 23 year old.....do i dare say it?.....boy. hahaha. that will piss him off if he reads it. which is why it's imperative that we quickly move on. not much, i will say. aside from the obvious fact that they both belong to the same 'oink-ing' and 'grunting' animal sign in the chinese horoscope. 23 seems like a very long time ago to me. then again, my mental capacity probably is still hovering around that level, hence the seeming ability to communicate with him. for that matter, i think he is much more mature than i.
anyway, i digress. since i'm on the subject, what does this woman have in common with a disillusioned 50 year old, a grumpy mid-life-crisis (heehee) 35 years old (or thereabout), a humsup (try as i might, i couldn't find a better english word to adequately translate this) 40 plus, a kind and sweet...errr, i have no idea how old is she, a witty, beautiful and foreign 30+, another sarcastic but really very sweet 20+?.....(what is it with ladies, i seem to have no idea how old they are), a funny and crappy 20+, a poetic 34 .........this will go on forever if i'm going to list all of you so please do not be offended if i move on (i'm already getting myself in much trouble with the above descriptions, as it is). the only thing we have in common is a blog.
behind this blog, we hide ourselves and reveal as much, or as little, as we want to. we seem to communicate, but it's all mostly one-way. we seem to know so much about each other, by virtue of the things posted, but it may be scratching the surface. yes, sometimes we are even thrusted with strange pieces of information such as their sexual preference, disturbing habits and even family-planning process (kakaka) but it could all very well be the creative power of the pen, or in this case, the keyboard. people that we call friends, which we know next to nothing about. people that we think we know everything about, but have absolutely no inkling whether it's true.
so, what is freaking me out? the fact that this unmasking is irreversible? or the fact that i will no longer have a blog to hide my identity behind? definitely it is not the actual prospect of meeting the man, for the last time i checked, he does not have 8 tentacles or two heads. maybe it's the fact that i will no longer be ms. me but someone with an actual identity, name and face.
someone hand me a prozac, please. i want my safe haven.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
memories
i'm busy clearing up some work today. so, i'll just share a page with you.....
not now
not today
but one day, some time ago.....
going thru some old thing,
i picked up a piece of paper, crumpled and old
the water in my eyes begin to sting
as it brings back memories trapped within its fold.
of things said and promises made
that was never given the luxury of time,
can't turn back the clock, it's too late,
so in my head it replays like a mime.
restlessness awash as i'm unable to grasp
on to people who means so much
i witness with hopelessness as time lapse
and their presence become but a memory as such
dreams shattered, it's so hard to move on
the absence in my life of someone who truly cared
it's irreplaceable, i'm told, once they're gone
someone whose soul to you they once bared.
memories that run so deep, it's footprints on everything burrowed
is but a dull ache in the heart now
words that so badly wanted to be said, swallowed
they're all but playing in my mind now.
not now
not today
but one day, some time ago.....
going thru some old thing,
i picked up a piece of paper, crumpled and old
the water in my eyes begin to sting
as it brings back memories trapped within its fold.
of things said and promises made
that was never given the luxury of time,
can't turn back the clock, it's too late,
so in my head it replays like a mime.
restlessness awash as i'm unable to grasp
on to people who means so much
i witness with hopelessness as time lapse
and their presence become but a memory as such
dreams shattered, it's so hard to move on
the absence in my life of someone who truly cared
it's irreplaceable, i'm told, once they're gone
someone whose soul to you they once bared.
memories that run so deep, it's footprints on everything burrowed
is but a dull ache in the heart now
words that so badly wanted to be said, swallowed
they're all but playing in my mind now.
Friday, January 05, 2007
coffee
why do i like coffee?
they taste absolutely vile. it's bitter, like those traditional chinese medicine brew. the ones i had at the modern kopitiam taste even worse than the chinese concoction. no amount of sugar or honey can cover up the taste in my mouth, which leaves my face contorted in the most unpleasant response. those at the chain coffee outlets are even worse; they leave me with a headache and a scratchy throat.
the after-effects are not even orgasmic. i don't get the reported 'high' or the sudden burst of alertness. if at all, i become even more paranoid and edgy.
so, why do i order the same thing, over and over again, despite the many unfinished cups and bitter experience? why do i ask for it automatically, like someone who has been hexed?
aside from the fact that my mouth obviously works faster than my brain, i think it's the rebellious side in me that's responsible for my lapse in better judgement. drinking coffee is like a cry against the pleasant side of me, which is pretty much like tea. i go down well, soothe the throat and gets comments like 'she's so sweet' from people. eventhough i believe they say that because they have nothing else nice to say about me, it still ticks me off. me, sweet?
if sweet is being silent so that people can talk on and on and monopolise the conversation, i'll raise my hand up in a jiffy. the way i figure it, i let most people talk. at the end of the talking marathon, with an appropriate nod from me and a 'hmmm' here and there, they realise they don't know anything about me. nothing to summarise me as a person. so, i'm called sweet....for lack of a better description.
so, coffee is my rebellion against sweetness. against the obedient, loyal and gentle side of me. i can't very well kick the dog by the side of the road, or slap the crying baby, so i drink coffee. it's my way of telling the world, i'm not really nice. you just don't know me yet.
they taste absolutely vile. it's bitter, like those traditional chinese medicine brew. the ones i had at the modern kopitiam taste even worse than the chinese concoction. no amount of sugar or honey can cover up the taste in my mouth, which leaves my face contorted in the most unpleasant response. those at the chain coffee outlets are even worse; they leave me with a headache and a scratchy throat.
the after-effects are not even orgasmic. i don't get the reported 'high' or the sudden burst of alertness. if at all, i become even more paranoid and edgy.
so, why do i order the same thing, over and over again, despite the many unfinished cups and bitter experience? why do i ask for it automatically, like someone who has been hexed?
aside from the fact that my mouth obviously works faster than my brain, i think it's the rebellious side in me that's responsible for my lapse in better judgement. drinking coffee is like a cry against the pleasant side of me, which is pretty much like tea. i go down well, soothe the throat and gets comments like 'she's so sweet' from people. eventhough i believe they say that because they have nothing else nice to say about me, it still ticks me off. me, sweet?
if sweet is being silent so that people can talk on and on and monopolise the conversation, i'll raise my hand up in a jiffy. the way i figure it, i let most people talk. at the end of the talking marathon, with an appropriate nod from me and a 'hmmm' here and there, they realise they don't know anything about me. nothing to summarise me as a person. so, i'm called sweet....for lack of a better description.
so, coffee is my rebellion against sweetness. against the obedient, loyal and gentle side of me. i can't very well kick the dog by the side of the road, or slap the crying baby, so i drink coffee. it's my way of telling the world, i'm not really nice. you just don't know me yet.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
another chance at my resolutions
crash, boom, bang........and 2007 is here!
despite the fact that i tried to slam the door in its face and locked, double-locked and even padlocked the front gate, the very stubborn and persistent new year is finally here.
i dragged my semi-conscious brain to the nearest countdown celebration during new year eve and joined the throng of merry party-goers, who were all waiting for the 5.....4.....3.....2.....you know what i mean. to add to the mood and transform myself from a sleepy zombie into another merry-maker in the crowd, i downed a bottle of heineken. stayed stubbornly sober though. i knew i should have gone for the half-dozen-bottle deal.
despite the fact that i tried to slam the door in its face and locked, double-locked and even padlocked the front gate, the very stubborn and persistent new year is finally here.
i dragged my semi-conscious brain to the nearest countdown celebration during new year eve and joined the throng of merry party-goers, who were all waiting for the 5.....4.....3.....2.....you know what i mean. to add to the mood and transform myself from a sleepy zombie into another merry-maker in the crowd, i downed a bottle of heineken. stayed stubbornly sober though. i knew i should have gone for the half-dozen-bottle deal.
another new year, another year older.....so to speak. i'm not particularly worried about the 36 years old part. i think i have made a fairly good trade with confidence, wisdom and empathy for a few wrinkles here and there. okay, maybe i didn't get such a good deal with the lacking lustre skin, the losing elasticity bit and the lower metabolism, but i'll take it any day rather than the ditzy, confused and oh so sensitive age. wait a minute, i think i kept the ditzy part...... oh well.......nobody's perfect.
having had a few days to mull over my new year resolutions, which i didn't really bother to actually, i shall list them here. i'll just make them up as i go along.
1. to be happy. this was last year's and it shall be this year's again. as a reminder, so that i don't pull myself into one of those bottomless spiralling pit.
2. to listen. i thought i have always done a very good job.....but last year, i realised i was only hearing. perhaps it's a little too late for some party concerned....this is one of the hardest resolution, what with a million things going on at the same time and everybody pulling me apart with their demands, making me tired to the soul, but i shall endeavour.
3. to pay a little more attention to what my body needs. when there are a thousand cries, yours will be the last to be heard. i need a little time to attend to this aging structure before it gets up and abandon this silly soul.
4. to love a little more. for those nearest and dearest, sometimes i'm too tired to be there for them. this year, brand's chicken essence shall be my best friend as i strive to work with them, play with them and just be there for them.
5. to read. i love reading. i have a whole bookcase of unread books. lately i have been reading short meaningless trashy stuffs just to fill in the need but it's just not satisfying the soul. resolution 4 and resolution 5 will probably conflict....
6. to finish what i have started. i have hundreds of little bottles and packets of all sorts, from creams to conditioners, from perfume to snacks. i also have a list of courses which i have enrolled in but never got around to finishing. i didn't get around to accomplishing this resolution last year, so i'm determined to achieve it this time.
6 resolutions. same as last year.
i have one wish though. please don't throw me anymore curve balls this year. pleaseeeeeeeeee. whoever or whatever is the almighty powers that be presiding high up above, i beg of you to not to give me anymore high hurdles and brick walls.
i have a weak soul.
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