Nemesis' Epiphanies for 2006
Nemesis' Epiphanies for 2006
Saturday, 23 December 2006. 0916 hours.
I had planned to blog about so many things. And yet when I sit in front of the computer, nothing comes. It's as though I can't put my thought processes into words.
But I'll try.
What have I learnt from 2006? It's the end of the year again, and time for year-end reflections. I'll be going to Ipoh for an ex-classmate/ housemate's wedding, and am attempting to paint my nails (just once, if it fails, I give up) so I need to keep my hands busy and occupied anyhow.
I'm at crossroads in my life. I don't know where I'm gonna go, I don't know where I'll end up. In fact, in a couple of days, I'd be jobless and homeless. And I don't quite know what to do. I'm getting insomnia again, and just a few days ago, several friends have plucked 2 strands of gray from my head of hair. SO WHAT? Well, the times I had gray hair were: 1) Form Six. 2) The final year of university. 3) Now. 2 strands. I'm under extreme stress. That explains the constant illness as well.
Why I'm jobless is obvious. Why I'm gonna be homeless is something I don't wanna get into detail. Suffice to say, my father and I have very different opinions and views, and this time, at least, I'm proven right. Except he'd never admit it, and I'm so frustrated that I am blogging about it. Why I agreed to let him put me in this situation is because I was too worn out to argue, and because if I had my way and things went wrong, I'd never hear the end of it 30 years down the road. My father is a stubborn, difficult man. He loves me, but he's stubborn. Yeah, that's where I got it from. So that's that.
Now that we've dispensed with that, these are my epiphanies for 2006.
Studying at a crappy place is taxing. There are many morons in this world. Try not to have an MD that's one. If turnover rate at a company is very very high, run like the devil's chasing after you for your life AND your soul.
Doctors are not God. In fact, 80% of the time, they have no idea. So ALWAYS ALWAYS get a second and third opinion until you're perfectly sure. If surgery's involved, get MORE. Don't let surgeons cut you up for no good reason. Those people are sadists, they're super knife-happy. No good. Good for them. No good for you.
LOVE is a four-letter word. LIFE is another.
There are people who always wanna see you fail. Very few wants to see you succeed. Count those your friends. Even less want to help you get there. Hold those close to your heart. Life is precious and time is short, and good friends get even more rare as time and the years get in the way.
All women need their sisters. Even if it's just for a cup of hot tea and chocolate cake. And talking about the most inane things. Because it's the company that counts. There are some things in life men will never comprehend. Even if they try. Some things are just understood by women. Call it women's intuition if you like, I say women live on a different spiritual plane. Perhaps the ability to hold life and birth it is the reason. I don't know. Maybe it's the flexibility of the (approx.) several cm vagina to stretch to an amazing extent to accommodate first a penis, and then a baby. Fuck if I know. I just know that women can see and feel things that men can't. It's the grasp of understanding that men are too dense for. Maybe it's just how we're wired.
Women and men view the world, sometimes, from the complete opposite end of the spectrum.
No one person should ever completely take leave of their senses due to another person. E.g. (so common this year) If a man doesn't want you, leave with your head held high. It's always better to be classy than crazy. I mean, for fuckssakes' (God too holy to be used in this instance), he doesn't want you. Even if you cut your wrists, all he'd do is say: 'OMG, thank God I stopped dating her. She's nuts. Oh well, pity though, she was a good lay (if you were).' Why be a past tense when you can be a future tense? I mean, seriously, if he were callous enough to be totally insensitive to your feelings, what makes you think your dying would make him a better man? Insensitivity doesn't change with death. The best revenge is to move forward. Get yourself a good man who happens to be a great fuck, and move forward with life. Then he'd say, maybe, to your current boyfriend: 'She's a great lay, isn't she?' And he'd say: 'Yeah, your loss, buddy. I hope your current is as good.' Maybe not. But there's always a possibility with the scenario. Dying or going crazy would relegate you to the forgotten realms and dusty cobwebby cabinets of his mind. Why punish yourself for someone else's idiocy? Say: 'You're a useless piece of shit, I want nothing to do with you. Fuck off and Have a nice life. I don't envy your girlfriend.' Then leave and don't look back.
Every experience is worth something. Bad experiences teach you to not repeat the same mistakes. Therefore, there should never be a moment of regret. Mistakes teach you to not take that path in the future. Life, after all, is one huge Multiple Choice Questions test, and most things would require the elimination process.
However, history repeats itself because no one seems to be able to learn from it.
Common sense is such a very uncommon trait.
Loving someone, and being in love with someone, are very different things.
Can we even separate love from lust anymore? Copulation shouldn't be a flippant act just for a passing need, shouldn't it be the ultimate expression of love and desire? Shouldn't it be between two individuals who care for each other?
No man can serve two masters at one time. Therefore, endowed by God with two heads, they can only use one at any one given time. And most of the time, unless stimuli isn't present, it is usually the one hanging from the lower half of their torso. For some, it is worse, as said half also happens to be sweeping the floor (metaphorically). I suppose we could blame it on gravity and bloodflow. Too much effort needed to send the blood all the way up against gravitational pull, so let's just send the blood to Head No. 2. F=ma, no? Which leads me to the next epiphany.
Men, especially those of a particular calibre, may want to fuck women the likes of Angelina Jolie, but would marry a housekeeping mouse who would never dominate them. For Asian men, especially Chinese men, said mouse would preferably be waif-like, smaller and shorter than they are, with long, straight black hair just like Ju-On's, and very fair skin. Said mouse would be soft-spoken and quiet unless spoken to, and giggly and simpering WHEN spoken to. Said mouse would rarely complain, would never dare to challenge his decisions and opinions, and would be content to be wife and mother and mistress of his kitchen and living room. The bedroom? Oh! That's Ms Jolie's domain. Mouse has no say because he keeps Mouse in the manner in which she wants to be kept. Men like that are afraid of strong, independent, opinionated women. Because their self-esteem is so rock-bottom that a strong woman is considered a domineering one. A domineering woman challenges his manhood. And they do not want to be challenged. They fear to be dominated. Well, what they don't realise is that strong, opinionated women may like to get their way on occasion, but they also like a man who could stand his ground. It's respect that they want, and it's respect that they'll give. And the rewards of being able to tame such a woman would be great. Women like this do not want to surrender to a conqueror. They would yield to a man who pursues them right. That dominating, scary Ms Jolie herself mentioned: 'I am always on top. I am begging for the man that can put me on the bottom, or the woman. Anybody that can take me down.' Now the man who achieves that is the man who'd know the definition of SWEET victory. Pups with their tails between their legs can just forget ever tasting that. They can go stick to their Ju-On housekeeping mice. After all, they deserve each other. Unless he's fuckingly filthily rich, or extraordinarily handsome, the Jolie types in this world wouldn't give them the time of day. And if he were so rich or so handsome, he wouldn't have a self-esteem that requires mice to stroke it right.
Why so bitchy? Because I don't understand how a particular guy who can't speak Chinese for nuts seem to only go for Chinku females who are the abovementioned type. This latest one can hardly string a proper sentence in English, and seem to not have much common sense. She'd sms me something like: 'I aslo not vry sure 4 it. Mostely like this. I dun knw. I knw hve go wrk. He say Christmas I go dwn. Cn u tell where u live?' at 3am in the morning. What the fuck? Can somebody shoot me now? Then again, he is 'aslo' the abovementioned type of male. I give up. And I rest my case.
Friendships are so brittle. But when a friendship goes toxic, it's time to cut your losses and run. And there are many types of toxicity. However, if the friend disses you in public snidely, takes you for granted, makes use of you, toys around with you, abuses your trust and friendship and constantly disappoints/ hurts you for no good reason because s/he knows s/he can without saying sorry and truly making up for it, that's really the sign to go. How much more obvious can it be?
How does it feel to have loved and lost someone who absolutely doesn't deserve it? It feels as though one were standing outside one's body, watching, as one's heart were ripped out of one's chest, twisted and yanked at the same time, and then tossed carelessly, while it were beating and bleeding still, into a tubful of liquid Nitrogen, and frozen to brittleness in the next heartbeat. The now brittle heart is then hurled against the far granite wall to splinter and crash to the ground. It is then stomped gleefully on until it is completely pulverised into dust particles. Then it is left there for the winds to blow helter skelter, and the sun to beat down on it, and the rain to wash it away till there is none left. That's how it feels like to care for someone who couldn't give a toss. And I'm not talking about a year. I'm talking about almost half a decade. Yes, I was retarded for awhile. My bad. And so, I tell myself. Never again. But the human heart is foolish, and when have I ever taken my own medicine? Or advice, for that matter? So I write this down, to remind myself. Perhaps this time I will. Maybe next time I'll be wiser.
And yet, it's funny how little things can remind you of people and places that you'd rather forget, or thought you had forgotten. I'd be lying to say the above episode is all over, and I'm much better. Yes, it's over, and yes, I'm better now, thank you. But sometimes, at night, I'd remember, and the tears would come. It's because I feel a sense of bereavement, of loss. Of the company, while it lasted. Of my innocence, and how that could never return. Of how things turned out. And I wonder. If things could have turned out different if we had done things differently. Silly, I know. Pointless, I also know. But we're human, and we can't help but wonder sometimes. To deny myself that, now that I'm moving forward, inch by slow, painful inch, would be denying myself my human emotions. And I don't want that. I don't want to be an insensitive, brittle female. I have blood in my veins still. It hasn't turned to either alcohol or ice as yet. Not to everyone, at least. How could I close my mind to the memories, when so much of my past is intertwined with it? So I just have to learn to live with it. But I think it's okay. It's okay to feel the pain, the loss. It's also okay to cry. Tears are the safety valves of the heart. At least no one is around to watch the private, bitter tears then. Or the quiet, sorrowful tears now.
I have my friends still. And though only the few in my private circle would know the actual events of what transpired, my friends are the ones who've kept me sane and held my fragile emotions together, though they might not know it. And I'll always be grateful. Those who've kept me company, cheered me up, listened to me when I spoke up, advised me when I was down, or just held me or sat with me when I wanted no words. Or scolded some sense into me. All of you, near and far, are precious. I love you :) Thank you for being around. Thank you for being here.
You may strive for perfection in yourself, but cannot expect it of others around you. You'd only be setting yourself up for disappointment.
Saturday, 23 December 2006. 0916 hours.
I had planned to blog about so many things. And yet when I sit in front of the computer, nothing comes. It's as though I can't put my thought processes into words.
But I'll try.
What have I learnt from 2006? It's the end of the year again, and time for year-end reflections. I'll be going to Ipoh for an ex-classmate/ housemate's wedding, and am attempting to paint my nails (just once, if it fails, I give up) so I need to keep my hands busy and occupied anyhow.
I'm at crossroads in my life. I don't know where I'm gonna go, I don't know where I'll end up. In fact, in a couple of days, I'd be jobless and homeless. And I don't quite know what to do. I'm getting insomnia again, and just a few days ago, several friends have plucked 2 strands of gray from my head of hair. SO WHAT? Well, the times I had gray hair were: 1) Form Six. 2) The final year of university. 3) Now. 2 strands. I'm under extreme stress. That explains the constant illness as well.
Why I'm jobless is obvious. Why I'm gonna be homeless is something I don't wanna get into detail. Suffice to say, my father and I have very different opinions and views, and this time, at least, I'm proven right. Except he'd never admit it, and I'm so frustrated that I am blogging about it. Why I agreed to let him put me in this situation is because I was too worn out to argue, and because if I had my way and things went wrong, I'd never hear the end of it 30 years down the road. My father is a stubborn, difficult man. He loves me, but he's stubborn. Yeah, that's where I got it from. So that's that.
Now that we've dispensed with that, these are my epiphanies for 2006.
Studying at a crappy place is taxing. There are many morons in this world. Try not to have an MD that's one. If turnover rate at a company is very very high, run like the devil's chasing after you for your life AND your soul.
Doctors are not God. In fact, 80% of the time, they have no idea. So ALWAYS ALWAYS get a second and third opinion until you're perfectly sure. If surgery's involved, get MORE. Don't let surgeons cut you up for no good reason. Those people are sadists, they're super knife-happy. No good. Good for them. No good for you.
LOVE is a four-letter word. LIFE is another.
There are people who always wanna see you fail. Very few wants to see you succeed. Count those your friends. Even less want to help you get there. Hold those close to your heart. Life is precious and time is short, and good friends get even more rare as time and the years get in the way.
All women need their sisters. Even if it's just for a cup of hot tea and chocolate cake. And talking about the most inane things. Because it's the company that counts. There are some things in life men will never comprehend. Even if they try. Some things are just understood by women. Call it women's intuition if you like, I say women live on a different spiritual plane. Perhaps the ability to hold life and birth it is the reason. I don't know. Maybe it's the flexibility of the (approx.) several cm vagina to stretch to an amazing extent to accommodate first a penis, and then a baby. Fuck if I know. I just know that women can see and feel things that men can't. It's the grasp of understanding that men are too dense for. Maybe it's just how we're wired.
Women and men view the world, sometimes, from the complete opposite end of the spectrum.
No one person should ever completely take leave of their senses due to another person. E.g. (so common this year) If a man doesn't want you, leave with your head held high. It's always better to be classy than crazy. I mean, for fuckssakes' (God too holy to be used in this instance), he doesn't want you. Even if you cut your wrists, all he'd do is say: 'OMG, thank God I stopped dating her. She's nuts. Oh well, pity though, she was a good lay (if you were).' Why be a past tense when you can be a future tense? I mean, seriously, if he were callous enough to be totally insensitive to your feelings, what makes you think your dying would make him a better man? Insensitivity doesn't change with death. The best revenge is to move forward. Get yourself a good man who happens to be a great fuck, and move forward with life. Then he'd say, maybe, to your current boyfriend: 'She's a great lay, isn't she?' And he'd say: 'Yeah, your loss, buddy. I hope your current is as good.' Maybe not. But there's always a possibility with the scenario. Dying or going crazy would relegate you to the forgotten realms and dusty cobwebby cabinets of his mind. Why punish yourself for someone else's idiocy? Say: 'You're a useless piece of shit, I want nothing to do with you. Fuck off and Have a nice life. I don't envy your girlfriend.' Then leave and don't look back.
Every experience is worth something. Bad experiences teach you to not repeat the same mistakes. Therefore, there should never be a moment of regret. Mistakes teach you to not take that path in the future. Life, after all, is one huge Multiple Choice Questions test, and most things would require the elimination process.
However, history repeats itself because no one seems to be able to learn from it.
Common sense is such a very uncommon trait.
Loving someone, and being in love with someone, are very different things.
Can we even separate love from lust anymore? Copulation shouldn't be a flippant act just for a passing need, shouldn't it be the ultimate expression of love and desire? Shouldn't it be between two individuals who care for each other?
No man can serve two masters at one time. Therefore, endowed by God with two heads, they can only use one at any one given time. And most of the time, unless stimuli isn't present, it is usually the one hanging from the lower half of their torso. For some, it is worse, as said half also happens to be sweeping the floor (metaphorically). I suppose we could blame it on gravity and bloodflow. Too much effort needed to send the blood all the way up against gravitational pull, so let's just send the blood to Head No. 2. F=ma, no? Which leads me to the next epiphany.
Men, especially those of a particular calibre, may want to fuck women the likes of Angelina Jolie, but would marry a housekeeping mouse who would never dominate them. For Asian men, especially Chinese men, said mouse would preferably be waif-like, smaller and shorter than they are, with long, straight black hair just like Ju-On's, and very fair skin. Said mouse would be soft-spoken and quiet unless spoken to, and giggly and simpering WHEN spoken to. Said mouse would rarely complain, would never dare to challenge his decisions and opinions, and would be content to be wife and mother and mistress of his kitchen and living room. The bedroom? Oh! That's Ms Jolie's domain. Mouse has no say because he keeps Mouse in the manner in which she wants to be kept. Men like that are afraid of strong, independent, opinionated women. Because their self-esteem is so rock-bottom that a strong woman is considered a domineering one. A domineering woman challenges his manhood. And they do not want to be challenged. They fear to be dominated. Well, what they don't realise is that strong, opinionated women may like to get their way on occasion, but they also like a man who could stand his ground. It's respect that they want, and it's respect that they'll give. And the rewards of being able to tame such a woman would be great. Women like this do not want to surrender to a conqueror. They would yield to a man who pursues them right. That dominating, scary Ms Jolie herself mentioned: 'I am always on top. I am begging for the man that can put me on the bottom, or the woman. Anybody that can take me down.' Now the man who achieves that is the man who'd know the definition of SWEET victory. Pups with their tails between their legs can just forget ever tasting that. They can go stick to their Ju-On housekeeping mice. After all, they deserve each other. Unless he's fuckingly filthily rich, or extraordinarily handsome, the Jolie types in this world wouldn't give them the time of day. And if he were so rich or so handsome, he wouldn't have a self-esteem that requires mice to stroke it right.
Why so bitchy? Because I don't understand how a particular guy who can't speak Chinese for nuts seem to only go for Chinku females who are the abovementioned type. This latest one can hardly string a proper sentence in English, and seem to not have much common sense. She'd sms me something like: 'I aslo not vry sure 4 it. Mostely like this. I dun knw. I knw hve go wrk. He say Christmas I go dwn. Cn u tell where u live?' at 3am in the morning. What the fuck? Can somebody shoot me now? Then again, he is 'aslo' the abovementioned type of male. I give up. And I rest my case.
Friendships are so brittle. But when a friendship goes toxic, it's time to cut your losses and run. And there are many types of toxicity. However, if the friend disses you in public snidely, takes you for granted, makes use of you, toys around with you, abuses your trust and friendship and constantly disappoints/ hurts you for no good reason because s/he knows s/he can without saying sorry and truly making up for it, that's really the sign to go. How much more obvious can it be?
How does it feel to have loved and lost someone who absolutely doesn't deserve it? It feels as though one were standing outside one's body, watching, as one's heart were ripped out of one's chest, twisted and yanked at the same time, and then tossed carelessly, while it were beating and bleeding still, into a tubful of liquid Nitrogen, and frozen to brittleness in the next heartbeat. The now brittle heart is then hurled against the far granite wall to splinter and crash to the ground. It is then stomped gleefully on until it is completely pulverised into dust particles. Then it is left there for the winds to blow helter skelter, and the sun to beat down on it, and the rain to wash it away till there is none left. That's how it feels like to care for someone who couldn't give a toss. And I'm not talking about a year. I'm talking about almost half a decade. Yes, I was retarded for awhile. My bad. And so, I tell myself. Never again. But the human heart is foolish, and when have I ever taken my own medicine? Or advice, for that matter? So I write this down, to remind myself. Perhaps this time I will. Maybe next time I'll be wiser.
And yet, it's funny how little things can remind you of people and places that you'd rather forget, or thought you had forgotten. I'd be lying to say the above episode is all over, and I'm much better. Yes, it's over, and yes, I'm better now, thank you. But sometimes, at night, I'd remember, and the tears would come. It's because I feel a sense of bereavement, of loss. Of the company, while it lasted. Of my innocence, and how that could never return. Of how things turned out. And I wonder. If things could have turned out different if we had done things differently. Silly, I know. Pointless, I also know. But we're human, and we can't help but wonder sometimes. To deny myself that, now that I'm moving forward, inch by slow, painful inch, would be denying myself my human emotions. And I don't want that. I don't want to be an insensitive, brittle female. I have blood in my veins still. It hasn't turned to either alcohol or ice as yet. Not to everyone, at least. How could I close my mind to the memories, when so much of my past is intertwined with it? So I just have to learn to live with it. But I think it's okay. It's okay to feel the pain, the loss. It's also okay to cry. Tears are the safety valves of the heart. At least no one is around to watch the private, bitter tears then. Or the quiet, sorrowful tears now.
I have my friends still. And though only the few in my private circle would know the actual events of what transpired, my friends are the ones who've kept me sane and held my fragile emotions together, though they might not know it. And I'll always be grateful. Those who've kept me company, cheered me up, listened to me when I spoke up, advised me when I was down, or just held me or sat with me when I wanted no words. Or scolded some sense into me. All of you, near and far, are precious. I love you :) Thank you for being around. Thank you for being here.
You may strive for perfection in yourself, but cannot expect it of others around you. You'd only be setting yourself up for disappointment.
3 comments:
Well said, Dida. :) Such a long hiatus from u, wer did u go? also, have checked out the phantom tickets for u, but lots of classes of tickets so u go c at d website,ok? it's on my msn nick.
also, chinks CAN drink. ;)
wow, man talk about super blogger! :) glad ur back with all your insights (good or bad) about life. Wish I could offer u a place to stay dida! Its really easy to say, but I really hope things start looking up for you soon! Fingers crossed and lotsa prayers for a new job and a new flat! God works in mysterious ways :)
*hugs*
:D
hehe....
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