Grey's Anatomy

Grey's Anatomy

Tuesday, 09.01.2007. 0058 hours.

There's a reason why I love Grey's Anatomy so much.

It's because I could identify with the characters.

It's a relief to realise that you aren't the only one to make idiotic mistakes and that smart-aleck surgical interns (real or imagined) could be human too. It isn't a pleasure but it's heartening to know that you aren't alone.

I empathise with Meredith Grey.

I know how it feels like to constantly be in someone's shadow. I know how it's like to feel you have potential but never seem to be able to grasp and reach it.

I also know how it feels like to be vulnerable and aloof and actually quite shy. And to always, always feel stuck.

And to try to salvage whatever you have left but seem to fail at it. To try to replace what you've lost with something mediocre and end up disappointed.

And I know how it feels to always seem to fall for the one person who's all wrong for you and end up in an emotional mausoleum.

I know how it's like to make reckless, foolish mistakes and have those mistakes constantly haunt and hound you. And having to pay for it, over and over again.

I know how it's like to be weak, to try to go but always end up staying.

And to cry when you finally learn to sever the ties that bind.

It feels like a little bit of me had died inside....

Loss of innocence. What could be more painful?

Then there's Geoge O'Malley. Who hasn't been George?

To yearn for something you cannot have. To fall for someone who doesn't see you. To worship from a far, far distance. To be so near, and yet so far away.

To be the invisible (wo)man.

And then, to settle for what is (you thought) second best.

And then to realise what you got when it is too late. And, to realise, too late, that what you had was exactly what you needed and wanted.

Christina Yang.

I know what it feels like to be her, too. To have to constantly fight for a dream.

To have parents that try to run your life. To feel that perceived oppression. To have to constantly prove yourself, time and time again.

To always guard your emotions, afraid to let the dam burst. To fight for what's rightfully yours.

To prove your worth, over and over, to someone who doesn't want to acknowledge it.

Ambitious, career-driven, proud.

To train yourself to be unfeeling and cold.

To be continually frightened to lose one's edge.

The higher the climb, the greater the fall. And oh! How painful to fall from such great heights. And the price you pay for it. I know what that means too.

Just as I know what it means to be stuck between East and West, Heaven and Earth. To want to believe, and yet to also spurn it.

Being stuck. How I hate the feeling.

Yes, I love Grey's Anatomy.

I see so many facets of myself revealed in them.

I can feel for their struggles. Their fears. Their successes. Their hope. Their despair. Their euphoria. Their sorrow.

Though, of course, I don't look half that good.

No one bloody looks as good as Isobel Stevens in a surgical ward after a 12 hour surgery. CHUH! :P

Sunday, 07.01.2007. 1817 hours.

Frustration. How does one describe it? You feel your chest grow tight, your throat constrict, you can't breathe, and your head starts to pound. And then you feel the tears come.

I don't cry much when I'm sad. It's as though sadness have to be held painfully inside. The fragility of that emotion cannot be expressed through tears. And so you hold it in, time after time again, until one day it all combusts. In the early hours of the morning. Always the early hours of the morning. Between dusk and dawn.

Wait. All my life I've been waiting. I don't know for what. And all my life I always seem to be waiting for people, or for something to happen. It sucks.

Saturday, 06.01.2007. 0115 hours.

I am a sentimental cunt.

My body the Tiny Tim

My body the Tiny Tim

Saturday, 06.01.2007. 0056 hours.

Went for dinner, came back about 8, called Mum, messaged some people, and then dropped off to sleep like a log.

It was unintentional. Then again, considering I had only approximately 3 hours of fitful sleep last night, and I was already getting sleepy after dinner, yeah, it comes as no surprise.

The shit part is, waking up to protein cravings. My body screams: I WANT MEAT! I WANT MEAT! I WANT MEAT!

And then it mewls pitifully. It's as though my body were a Tiny Tim, going: Feeeeeedddd mmmmeeeeeee............

How disturbing....

If I had a car, I'd go out for dimsum. On my friggin' own. If I had Maggi mee, eggs and sausages, and gas, I'd cook for one. But I don't.

Still doesn't stop my Tiny Tim body from going:
PORK! BEEF! DIM SUM! STEAK MEDIUM RARE!

Now to add to the list: SA-SHI-MI! Fish roe! Fish roe! Raw salmon! Raw salmon!

Hotdamn. I'm so very weird.

Food and Sex.

Food and Sex.

Friday, 05.01.2007. 1704 hours.

I've still got my cravings for:

1. Piping hot banana pancakes served with fresh strawberries and cream and balsamico. Chocolate optional.

2. Dim sum. Ha Kau! Ha Kau! Ha kau!

3. Bak kut teh.

DAMMIT.

Add to that, I've got my chocolate cravings now. Dark dark chocolate. Sweet with a tinge of bitterness for that edge. MMmmmmmmm..... Damn. Must be the time of the month. Mayhaps I am horny.

Hell yeah, I am.

As if in affirmation, I can feel it throbbing. A friend of mine mentioned over an elaborate dinner party. I am never happy doing it on my own. Ok, I can't tell the difference. Maybe she's right. At the rate this is going, it seems like an itch worth scratching.

DAMMIT. Again.

The Precipice

The Precipice

Friday, 05.01.2007. 1123 hours.

I know I'm not the only one. But at the very least, you've been honest with me so far as I can tell. And at least in this, I've entered with my eyes open. With my eyes wide open. I'm not sure, though, if I wanna know how many there are. I suppose I have no right to ask who it is that you love, though I have perhaps every right to ask who it is that you touch. And yet I'm not asking. Not yet, at least. Perhaps I'm not sure I want to know.

Jury's still out on whether accidents are mistakes. Just as, jury's out on whether loving someone and being in love with someone is one and the same. And yet, what's not to love about you?

You make me laugh. Your touch sears. You dug a hole and crawled under my skin.

You're dangerous. He may have filled me with longing, but you drag it out of me. You bring it to the surface. You make me yearn for something I do not know and hence cannot name.

I may have been climbing the mountain all this while but you take me to the peak, show me the view and then bring me to the precipice.

One shove, and I shall be falling, quickly, quickly into the swirling, churning vortex of darkness below. The abyss of unknowns. It beckons. Like a siren song.

Poetic Justice

Poetic Justice

Friday, 05.01.2007. 0218 hours.

What happened to the Golden Boys? The ones I used to really love pricking their overinflated balloons of egos? The ones who laid down the laws of ideal feminine beauty in 1999/ 2000?

You know, girls must have sleek straight, shiny hair, porcelain skin, and, regardless of height and bone structure, must not weigh above 45 kgs?

The ones, who were not particularly great or handsome, but, given the circumstances/ choices, otherwise bright, independent girls bent over backwards to try to please?

The ones I wanted to say:

GO BACK TO YOUR MOTHER
and
WHO FUCKIN' DIED AND MADE YOU EMPEROR to?

My girlfriends look stunnning/ gorgeous and better than they've ever looked now. Oh, we may not have men, but we look like swanky, sassy, sexy 20 somethings with the whole world just waiting for us to conquer.

There is NO GLASS CEILING. It's all in your head. Take the blue pill. You'll see.

The 'gits' and 'goons' have found for themselves pretty decent women. The 'gittettes' and 'goonettes' are fine, lovely, interesting, warm and funny girls I'd happily call my friends. And they're anything but plain. The 'gits' have done pretty darn well for themselves. I'm glad. I'm proud :)

In contrast, I met one of the Golden Boys the other day. He now looks at least 5 years older, and is fat and dowdy. He looks like somebody's father, and not in a good way. His woman ain't anything to crow about.

My theory? The 'gits' look for someone they're comfortable with, rather than someone to please them. And they found precisely that. Someone they're comfortable with, who pleases them.

Also: Justice is a Woman. And She is a Poet.

Let's toast to that. Happy New Year's!

Deja vu and the Four-Letter Word

Deja vu and the Four-Letter Word

Friday, 05.01.2007. 0209 hours.

Life comes full circle-the past comes back to haunt you. I've been having dreams. Disturbing dreams that I wake up sweating from. Dreams of people I knew. People I'm avoiding.

Deja vu. Is it possible that dreams can warn you of impending events? It's happened to me more than once. It's something I cannot explain. Something I myself only partially believe. And it's something I've not experienced for a good while. And yet it's happened again. And I'm once more left bereft of words.

So I was right about bulldozing/ mowing down my issues in contrast to running away from it. Because the past always catches up on you. I take neither pride nor pleasure in knowing that I am right. Running away may be the coward's way, but it's also the easier way.

I guess nothing in life worth having comes easy.

I wish it weren't so.

Life's a four-letter word, and she's never easy, is she?

The Writings of An Insomniac

The Writings of An Insomniac

Friday, 05.01.2007, 0154 hours

Happy New Year's.

The New Year's come and gone, and I spent it packing. And I slept past the fireworks. After all, the new year's yet another day.

Night after night, I lie in wakeful slumber. My body wearies, but my mind is awake. I am an insomniac. And it is not by my choice that my mind is most active in the still of the night. While the rest of the world sleeps, my brain starts to whirl. As my body tosses and turns in reluctance, my brain churns out its best ideas/ thoughts. It is as though, in protest of the whirlwind of daytime activities, it chooses the silence and tranquility of the deadness of the night to think.

I HATE IT. It robs me of my sleep. It exhausts me. It makes me HUNGRY. And there's nothing much left to eat. Night time cravings, for me, demand sodium and protein. And I've not bought anything in protest of FUCKWIT HOUSEMATES WHO EAT MY GODDAMN FOOD.

I HATE THIS. I need my sleep. The night is beautiful and all, but I need to sleep. I want to sleep.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge had it right when he wrote:

O sleep! 'Tis a wondrous thing,
Beloved from pole to pole,
To Mary Queen, the praise be given,
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven,
That slid into my soul.

Friday, 29 December 2006. 0052 hours.

Nothing I say or do would ever please him. Nothing I say or do is ever sufficient enough. I could never please him. I could never get it right.

I could never be who he wants me to be. I could never be his perfect ideal. How could I, with all my flaws? How could I, when I'm not sure what he wants?

What can I do to ever make him happy? What can I do to do him proud?

I can't have a relationship with a man. I don't know how. I can never be the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect girlfriend. How could I ever be the perfect wife and mother?

Why is it that the men in my life always end up breaking my heart? Am I really not good enough? Am I really that useless? Am I really that ugly, internally and externally? Am I really so full of flaws there is nothing good left in me?

I don't try hard enough. I don't make the effort. Everything I do. Everything I say. It's never enough. Never.

I don't look to the future. I don't learn from my past. I don't live in my present. I don't listen. I don't understand. I don't think. I don't learn. I don't get my priorities right.

I never do anything right. I never think of him. I never consider his hard work. I never consider his feelings. I am never fair enough to him, always only thinking of myself. Never. Never enough.

Always too little. Always too late. He is always right. I am always wrong.

It is always my fault. Always. Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.

I. Never. Get. Anything. Right. N-E-V-E-R.

Motherhood

Motherhood

Wednesday, 27 December 2006. 1936 hours.

When asked, why, in this time and age, I still intend to be a mother, I am stumped for words. I, in a rare moment, do not have anything smart to say.

How do I explain that call to procreate? How can I explain that very basic instint?

I want to feel life in me. I want to feel it fill me and stretch me to the brink, to the fullest capacity. I want to feel it grow in me and make me feel things that I would never feel for myself, or feel otherwise.

I want to feel fear and despair and sorrow. I want to feel courage and hope and a happiness so profound, I am without words.

How can I explain it?

I want to feel that powerful connection with another human being. I want to feel a love so moving, I would give my life for it. I want to feel. I want to feel my emotions and my soul touched by someone else. I want to feel emotions I have never felt.

No words could express what I'm trying to say. I can't explain myself, and I don't know how.

Yes, I feel the call of motherhood. I want to create a living, breathing, moving testament of my love with someone else. A life beyond my own. I know children would have a mind, a heart, and a body of their own, and there's nothing much I can do besides trying my best to instil core values in them. Hopefully, those values would outlast society's latest fads, and they would know what's best for themselves. The rest is up to prayer and faith.

But I also know that I am not ready for it. I do not yet have the mental, emotional and physical strength, or the finances to bring children into this world. I do not want to bear my children for them to suffer.

And thus, my eggs are rotting in their little shell, and my vagina is drying up.... (As my friend, V, would say, damn him :P....)

The Wedding, The Driver

The Wedding, The Driver

Wednesday, 27 December 2006. 1159 hours

***The Wedding

Went up to Ipoh for an ex-classmate/housemate's wedding, and it was quite an experience.

Well, he is Punjabi, and half the dinner was in a language I couldn't understand. The better half, apparently, cos the friend sitting at my table was translating it for Tracy and I and it was all about sex. Then again, said friend also has a tendency for cheekiness and practical jokes, so I can't be quite sure. But everyone Punjabi/ Hindi was laughing, or wearing a satisfied smirk, so it had to be good.

It was, otherwise, like a sit-down Chinese dinner, except that there weren't many Chinks around, there was free flow of alcohol (no Chinese dinner would have that. Chinks can't drink much for shit), the food wasn't Chinese, and there wasn't a Karaoke session (thank God! Though I think Punjabis could probably sing better than old Chinese uncles/ aunties). And there was Bhangara dancing from 10pm-12pm opened by the newly-weds. Which was sweet :)

Of course, being party animals and bloody drunkards, the younger crowd also had to have an after-party involving more whiskey and dancing :P And yours truly, knowing these people and having gone out with them often enough, was invited along. ;) But since yours truly and her girlfriends make them look cool to have hot chicks around, so why not, eh? 11 guys without any girls would look quite sad, no matter how well-suited up, tall, dark and handsome they were. 4 girls. (approx.) 11 very tall, very big boys. No wonder we never get picked up. HAHA. So we adjourned to the nearest club/ pub/ bar playing R'n'B/ hiphop and partied till about 4am.

Then we got hungry and went off to the nearest mamak for food. Which shredded my already near non-existent rep even more, cos now they not only know me as a drunkard, but a glutton as well. The pilot calls me the Half-Bhai, and concocted some cock-n-bull tale about how my Chinese ancestry must have had a scandal with India. How else does one explain the hair, the eyes and the ass? Yah, 'nuff said. Now I'm a glutton because after 1 roti pisang and half a plate of maggi goreng, I was still hungry :P Oopsss.... That's the Burger King incident all over again. I'd bet Tracy and Bren could remember.

It was good, though, to meet up with friends I have not seen for awhile, and catch up. Tiring, but good. Goes to show I'm not as young as I was anymore :) Spent Christmas in a car, nursing a migraine, keeping Ayako company and sending her off, and then sleeping as much as I could. Still woke up with a migraine, though. Hotdamn... I know it wasn't a hangover, though, cos I wasn't drunk.

***The Driver

Coming back from Ipoh, after sending Ayako off and on the way past Bangsar, I saw, fleetingly, in a car, someone I had been avoiding for more than a year. It was quite a shock to see him, and I turned away immediately the moment I realised who he was. I hope he didn't notice me.

It's strange how life throws you curve balls at times. And it's obvious how you can never really forget. Would it ever be possible for me, to no longer feel that jolt of fear each time I see his face? In reality or in my nightmares? When would I be able to get past it? Would I ever be able to?

Questions, questions, to which no one quite knows the answers.

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.

Very angry rant rant rant

LOOOONNNNGGGGG time coming. Well, sorry. Earthquakes and all that put my blogging on hold :)

Very angry rant rant rant

Thursday, 14 December 2006. 1946 hours.

This is gonna be a rant about my new housemates.

I CAN'T PUT UP WITH THEM. My patience is running low.

It's bad enough that they use my things WITHOUT asking (I don't really mind, but still, it'd be nice if they DID ask), they use my things, and eat my foodstuff.

Okaaayyyyyy.... but they don't bother washing up after. I've told them once to wash up and clean the kitchen after use, we had had roach problems before (not to mention it's disgusting...). I'm not talking about overnight here. I'm talking SEVERAL nights.

But today really pissed me off. They use my things, and DON'T bother cleaning up. And it's been in there for MORE THAN A WEEK. It's like expecting me to clean up after them. That's really poor form, you know? What, first you use my things WITHOUT asking, you EAT my food and use my toiletries, and you expect me to clean up after you as well? WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

I'm this close to bleaching my utensils in front of them, and then packing it up and putting it in my room. Not like I use it anyway.

We'll see. I put up a notice on the door to tell them to PLEASE WASH UP AFTER USE. I wanna see if they get the hint.

SOME PEOPLE. KNNCCB.

What's the measure of a (wo)man?

Maturity? Wisdom? Intelligence? Kindness? Physical perfection?

What's a person worth?

Beyond the superficiality of how this world judges us, how do we measure ourselves when it comes to what's important? In fact, what IS important?

Call me crazy...

Call me crazy...

Monday, 11 December, 2006. 1322 hours.

Call me crazy...

But I find that in every major decision in my life, for as long as I remember, if there's something that I need really badly, or want really badly, something has to be taken from me as a form of sacrifice or replacement. Checks and balances. Scales. The call of Nemesis.

Money may be lost, but there might be personal gain.

Emotions may be sent on a roller-coaster ride, but my career may stabilise itself.

Maybe it's just me, but I find that nothing in this life is free, except for the best things. The best things in life are always freely given. Love, especially, in all its forms. It may take effort and sacrifice to maintain, on both sides, but the effort is always freely given.

Agape. Phileo. Eros. The three forms of love. The best gifts of life.

L.O.V.E

L.O.V.E

I'm no expert on love. Having crashed and burned. And yet, seems like this year is a lousy year for some of my friends.

V, if you're reading this. What I think is this:

Love isn't supposed to be toxic.

It should bring you up instead of take you down.

Open the Bible and turn to Corinthians, Chapter 13. I think nothing expresses any type of love better than that.

Love is patient and kind... Take heart :) All isn't yet lost in this world :) And nothing is worth more than the life God gave you.

Make-Over

Make-Over

Thursday, 7 December 2006. 1226 hours

Here I am, typing to keep my fingers occupied in an upward position. See, I've just painted my nails. Aye, I am THAT bored. I remember now, why all my nail polishes are still so full after almost 5-7 years (some are dried now). I can't paint my nails for nuts. I'd end up taking a whole morning or afternoon, because... they get smudged/ chipped/ whatever. I have absolutely no patience for girly shit. And there's no such thing as quick-dry nail polishes. Well, none are quick-dry enough for me. I'd paint my nails, and go do something else ('cos what a waste of time to be staring at the ceiling), and the whole thing would get ruined. Now I remember why I went for manicures (if I needed to get my nails done) when I was working although they cost a bomb. Manicures are EXPENSIVE, and they force you to sit still for at least 2 hours. Gahhh.... SO MUCH EFFORT HAVE TO BE PUT INTO LOOKING PRETTY... And at the end of the day, if it's a dude you're dressing up for, he wants you without your embellishments anyway. So much for clothes and make-up. All he wants would be your naked body :P Am I Right, or am I RIGHT?

Which is precisely why I don't dress up for men. Dressing up is for myself. If I feel like going out the door in shorts today, and it's just to the supermarket (of course not to work la, siao meh?), I bloody hell will. If I feel like wearing a dress, I bloody hell will, too!! :)

Arghhhhh... This is crazy... So much work... I should pick up sewing instead.... BUT MY EYES.....

Btw, does anyone think tri-coloured toes weird? I kinda like how my toes look :P Oh come on, not like I'm gonna go anywhere or do anything serious anytime soon.... I wonder how lizard green with yucky-saccharine-pink would look on toes.... Hmmmm.... :)

Speaking of eyes, I got me new glasses. I've been getting headaches, and now I know why. My power has changed. Slight increase on the right, major decrease on the left. The optician was quite shocked I could read... Heheh... Well, I could, but I get headaches. My new glasses are, ermmm... funky at best, weird at worst :D Here's what my friend, Tim, said when he saw them: Are you sure you chose this yourself? Me: (knowing something nasty is coming-right-up, and bracing myself for it, defensively went) WWHHHYYYYYYYYYY???? Him: Oh, nothing, just making sure that the salesgirl didn't push it to you 'cos she couldn't sell it to anyone else... ARRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The things that boy says.... :'( cuts rrreeeeaaaaaaaalllllll deep, hunny, cuts rrreeeeaaaaaallll deep.... (Conversation not verbatim, but, it kinda went like that. As are ALL conversations here)

Well, boy, my other friends say it suits me FINE... SO THERE... *ppffffffttttttttt.....* You is just jealous I can pull it off :D (Now say nothing!!)

I tell all my girlfriends to NOT touch their hair when they're stressed/ frustrated/ heartbroken/ etc. etc. ... because women being women... the first thing they do after something bad is do something to their hair. And regret later. :P But knowing women, they never listen. And me having a vagina, I don't listen either :P especially to myself.

Yeah, I got me a new haircut. Spur-of-the-moment. In what Sham calls 'Cheras times 10', or Albert calls 'LALA-land'. Johor Bahru :P Oh, in my defense, I went with a friend, and she was getting her hair permed, too. So, what was I gonna do for 4 hours, huh? It was spur-of-the-moment for her, too.

Well, I wanted something long, and wild, and thick, and out-of-bed, 'cos I don't comb my hair getting out-of-bed, and if it already looks out-of-bed, that's the whole point, no? Ummm... anyone gets my point? Anyway, what I got instead is a Taiwan-ey, Hongki-ey, Jap-ey, Korean-ey, look. Maybe I should ask Anna Sui if she needs a new face for her 'Doll' whatever, range. Ok, I over-estimate myself, but you catch my drift. ARGH!!!!

Here was what happened (conversations all in Mandarin):

Me: I want something like that (points to picture)

Girl: (barely looking) Cannnn.....

Me: Please don't cut off too much

Girl: HUAAAHHHHHH.... Your hair very thick laaa.... A lot of hair, ohh..... (snips... snips....) take off your glasses arr...

Me: Ok....

Girl: How old are you ar?

Me: 25

Girl: (stops snipping and stares...) Har?

Me: 25...

Girl: I thought you aren't more than 20...

Me: Errrr....

Girl: You look so young... your overall appearance... attitude...

Me: Hur??? (to self: I dress normal what....(I was in jeans and baby-tees and flats that day))

Girl: *smiles* Well... You're very cute

Me: Uhhmmm... thank you. I permed my hair to look older. Want to start working, can't look so young. Have to look a little bit more mature.

Girl: *smiles* Ya, permed hair makes a person look slightly older

(many snips later)

Me: (puts glasses back on, looks to ground) Argh!!! (Looks at hair) Arghhh!!!!! wahhh... You cut off a lot lehhh....

Girl: Want to perm, must cut off ohh... Your hair very thick lehh... Don't worry, your hair still very long....

Me: (flips hair to front) (to self: SHITTTTT.... That's like 4' off!!!!! BIATCH!!!!)

Girl: I give you a lot of layers, if not your hair would be very 'pong'.

Me: Oh... (to self: yeah, it's cut already, not like I can glue my hair back on... sheeesssshhhh....)

(snips, and chemicals later...)

Girl: Well? Ok maa.... This is the latest fashion

Me: Mmm...... (to self: Yeah, in Taiwan, I know. I just went for Karaoke and my buddies were singing S.H.E and Fish Leong and I dunno what the rest of their names are... chinese names. OMG... I LOOK LIKE AN AH LIAN..... I IS LALA MUI!! Check it out! *sobs...*) *makes funny sound in throat*

Girl: Why? Nice maaa... Make sure you (blablabla on haircare.....)

Me: *sighs...* (to self: I look fucking 20....)

Girl: Curly hair suits you hor? Look sexier... I give you a fringe, ok? *giggles* You'd look so cute and adorable in a fringe!! (snips snips...)

Me: Whaaaa??? NO!!! I'm supposed to look mature, not cute.........

But it was too late... She snipped at Whaaaa???

And so.... Kesimpulannya, I can pass for SIXTEEN now... I have a fringe, I look like a lalamui (ah lian) like I came straight out of a Taiwanese MTV. My hair is so heavily layered, it's layered from the 1st half of the back of my head downwards. Yes, it feels lighter, and I can wash my hair everyday now. Sighs.. I just didn't envision myself looking like this.

My friend, Anne on seeing my new haircut: You look so cute!! Me:..... (-.-) Anne: (seeing the look on my face) Errrmmm... nice ah...? You look much fresher with this haircut Me: Yahhh... I look AH LIAN...

Albert and Gerald, on seeing my cut: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.... Me: *sighs...* Albert and Gerald: Who ask you go get haircut in LALALAND? Albert TO Gerald: Must be the LALA-ness got to her, so she also become LALA ady... Gerald: Ya ya... Must be... Me: Ummmm.... *annoyed look on face* Albert: I couldn't recognise you, you know... Me: *long looonnnnnggggggg sigh* Yes yes, okay. I know I look like lalamui now... Albert and Gerald: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... Albert: While you're at it, go and dye some LALA colour also la.. Might as well go all out... Me: UUURRRRGGGGHHHHHH........ (-.-)

Sharon, on seeing the new 'do: You look SO CUTE!!! Younger.... Me: AAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHH............ Not supposed to look like that..... Sharon: Now you and Chern can be gang-gang... She rebonded her hair. Me: Yaaa... The New Super Kawaii Wannabe Japanese Chicks...

*sniffs* Thank God they didn't see it right after I got it done. This was after a few shampoos already, and the curls have gotten more loose....

NEVERMIND!! The hair would grow. I'd look much better by January. It better be so...

:P So much for my make-over, hmm?

Oh, btw. OCs supposedly make ppl fat, but I am losing weight. Hmmm... Time to switch to Yasmin?

The low-down on my 3rd month on OCs? Doing nothing for my skin yet, but of course, I expected that. Wasn't taking Ocs for acne anyways. Does wonders for the cramps, though. And the bleeding. Though I was bleeding everyday that first month. Was probably borderline anaemic then :P It's fine now, though. Am not getting nausea, vertigo, migraine. Not getting depression, either. At least, I don't think so. Ro-A gave me crazy moodswings. Was slightly depressive. Compared to that, Ocs are a ride in the park. So yeah. So far, so good.

And I'm so not gaining weight. Though I AM craving more sugar than normal. Odd.... Mmmm... Chocolate cake (@.@)

Piercings, Orgasms and More Nonsensical Ramblings from an Extremely Bored Mind....

Piercings, Orgasms and More Nonsensical Ramblings from an Extremely Bored Mind...

Wednesday, 6 December 2006. 1739 hours

Yeah, you read that right. This is gonna be a blog on orgasms, both male and female :P People with delicate tastes please turn your eyes away now.

Okay. I dunno much about orgasms other than it's supposed to be bloody damn explosive earth-shattering mind-altering paradigm-shifting good. Better than fags and drugs, apparently.

Shit, I hope my parents, or brother doesn't read this. And I sure hope I don't have kepochi friends who would rat on me :P Blah, live on the edge for awhile, shan't I?

Now a guy friend of mine once said that he read somewhere that the female orgasm is a myth :) Women in the know, please let me know if that's true. I'd be quite miffed if I can never achieve 'le petit morte'. How can? No fair.... I want that grasping, moaning, groaning, sighing, gasping, screaming, eye-rolling, clutching, satisfying moment of complete and utter euphoria too! Ok, saying I'd be miffed is a gross understatement. But you catch my drift. I'd like to know where he got his literature from, so female sexologists around the world can shoot the fella :D

So, shall I run a poll? IS the female orgasm a myth?

Now why bring up the topic since said dude made the remark quite a while back? 'Cos:
a) I forgot about it. Oopsie daisie... My bad :)
b) A conversation I had last night.

Regarding b), there's more to it. Here it is:

Venue: Some fancy-schmancy Starbucks in some fancy-schmancy uptown place. (I didn't choose the place, k? Me brokums, not like Jar-O the rich ass :P) Ye-lah... no mentioning which, I dunwanna get stalked and get some sleazy dude saying: Let me show you a female orgasm, bay-beh :P

Time: 2230-ish hours, Tuesday, December 5th, Year 2006

Characters: Jar-O and the Double A's and Me (2 guys, a girl, and a confused identity (guess who?) :P)

We were talking about body piercings in interesting places. Well, actually, it started with talking about a scary girl we all once knew. She claims to give the best blowjobs in the world :P Though, ermm... one of the guys who once upon a time, not so long ago, used to do her says he'd tell her she was good to not hear her running commentaries in the midst of all that 'passion'. Guess he doesn't quite know the concept of 'white noise' :D

A the boyfriend started teasing A the girlfriend about probably not knowing what a blowjob is, which led to Jar-O saying his buddy should teach her. And Jar-O mentioning the different ways to enhance the pleasure of a blowjob. Ice, mint, hot tea, etc. etc. (oh come on, can't give 'em all out here on a public blog), and, yeah, piercings. See, I have a few very publicly kinky girl friends. A few would qualify as sarong party girls (Too bad they aren't around anymore. Could teach me a trick or two :P) One (not a sarong party girl, this one. At least, I don't think so) was, well, interesting. Super sexy and unafraid to show it. Kinky, and the world knows it. Tattoos down the inguinal area on both sides. Very sexy. Piercings. She has a tongue stud and she tells me the men she sleeps with thanks her for it. Mmmhmmmm... Yup. Keeps a box-ful of different types of her fave condoms by her bedside. And those colourful nice-smelling thingies for bath and play, too. Damn bedroom looks a wee bit like a boudoir. And I forgot, different kinds of lube. KY, Durex Play, Durex Hot, Durex Tingle, whatever. Oh, for condoms, she swears by Durex :P Actually, a few of those girls swear by Durex. Less 'accidents' apparently, and it's supposed to feel almost... 'natural'? :P So I mentioned what KinkyGirl told me, about tongue studs being very good for blowjobs. Which the boys agree with. But, they say having a tongue stud and not knowing how to give a proper blowjob would result in quite nasty accidents. :D Well, I could infer that. The penile glans is amazingly sensitive. Don't take a rocket scientist to know.

Tongue studs led to a conversation on other piercings. In uhmm... 'interesting' places. The Prince Albert, for instance. Somebody tell me how that's being done?

I remember being in the church toilet during sunset mass when I was 18, and meeting again, a girl I used to know in primary school. She told me she had a boyfriend (me: ok) who has a piercing at his genitals (the Prince Albert, I found out years later) (me: (stunned look on face)) and she had one at her clitoris as well.... (me: ok, right, I think my parents would be looking for me now.. (and makes a mad dash out of there)).

Apparently, these studs are pleasure enhancers for sexual encounters. Increases friction and what not. Mind-blowing orgasms. Yay, ok... But ermm... OUCH?? Wouldn't cockrings do? So cockrings can slip out. Well, errmmm... take the dick out when it's still hard, and don't leave it in there till it goes soft and flaccid? Besides, if a dick can fit in there, then surely one can take the cockring out? I dunno. But piercings just seem painful :P

Next: Uhh... I know these rings would have space for errrr... engorged moments, but hmm... those rings probably have sizes. How would the piercer know which size should be used? Unless the dude himself gives an estimate of how big his erection gets? Logically thinking, I doubt he'd pierce it when he's erect. Ouchieee.... Same goes for a clit ring, no?

So many questions :P Who can give me answers?

On a less provocative/ mind-boggling subject: Who wants to play 'Gotcha' on Ells the Smells? A the girlfriend and I would bet it'd be jolly fun :P And we'd bet he'd fall for it, too. HAHA....

Ohh... And I wanna shoot my new housemates. It's one thing to be using my things (I don't mind) so long as they clean it up. And it'd be nice if they asked. But it's another to go through my foodstuff and toiletries and just take and use whatever, you know? WWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRR............. Talk about insensitivity, Davi. Gah... Some people.

All that talk on sex. Maybe I should make my New Year's Resolution now :P

1) Leave the country and this State of the Nation before I go nuts, get shot, get imprisoned, get ISA-ed, or all of them at once.
2) Get laid :P Ok, this one is probably not gonna happen. NATO, you know? (No Action, Talk Only). Sighs... Besides, what's the point if I'm not gonna experience 'le petit morte'? Even a tampon the size of my little finger with the length of approx 1 1/2' hurt. Just ask Pantai Hillpark Phase *** Block * inhabitants :P Or my roommate then. She still laughs about my howling. BIATCH... And to think she was the one who told me to try it in the first place. *sniffs* And to think I was gullible enough to listen to her. ARGH!! Stupid me... Stupid... :P

I need new lingerie. a) They're out of shape/ They've got holes in 'em b) They don't fit right no more... :( But I'm broke. Going lingerie-shopping with friends who are buying them when you need your own is like being teased. So near, yet so far... Now you see it, now you don't... How? Oh man... I hate the feeling of being a poor bum. RICH BUM is good. Poor bum sucks.

Being teased. Like the ONE mark I need to pass exams. You know, sometimes I feel like Life is a Goddess/ Beautiful Woman (say, who looks like Jessica Alba) in a see-through gossamer gown with nothing underneath doing a naughty dance and being a cock-tease. DAMMIT.... And I'm like the man she's doing the dance for, and I can't bloody cum. At the moment of ejaculation, something clamps at the base, and you get backflow. Like that. Ouch... TORTURE. You get the picture? YUP... OH MANNNN.....

This has been a shitty year. And Lady Luck hasn't been quite a lady, blowing on other guys' dices....

Should I just stop whatever I'm doing and be: a) a personal shopper, or b) a trashy romance novelist? You know. Write satisfying trash like: As his pulsating, engorged manhood entered her warm, soft, moistness oh-so-slowly, pushing into her tightest depths in a pulsing rhythm, paced as she liked it, nice and deep.... (continue with your personal vivid fantasy here) :D Oh my... I'm howling with uncontrollabnle laughter alone in my room. My housemates must think I'm crazy :D Yes, I read text porn. It's mindless entertainment when I'm tired. You don't want to be debating political thrillers in your head after work, or after textbooks like Concise Pathology :) So I should be able to write it as well, no? Give Judith Krantz, Jackie Collins, Jude Deveraux a run for their money :D

Enough nonsense for one night. Good night!!

WORK WORK WORK....

WORK WORK WORK....

Tuesday, 5 December 2006, 1032 hours.

I talked to Bren on MSN yersterday, and she says I should start working and making something of myself :) Makes me sound like I enjoy being a bum. Trust me, ain't no fun being a bum with absolutely nothing to do. I can't cook, there isn't gas. I can't watch TV, there's none. I can't surf for porn :P I haven't the Internet. (Okay, I was kidding about the porn, but you catch my drift)

I wanna work, dammit!! But I doubt I'd be getting interviews soon. It IS the end of the year. Big bosses a.k.a decision-makers are probably holiday-ing overseas with their wife and kids (or mistresses the age of their kids :P), or shopping overseas (if they are women). It IS the school holidays and the Christmas season. I gather I'm gonna be jobless at least till January, when it's the start of the new fiscal and financial year. When the audits are all done, and they can estimate how much they can spend to hire new goons.

I know I need to work soon before I lose touch of scan techniques. How much pressure to apply, where to apply it, etc. I do love what I do.

I love the fact that ultrasound scanning allows me the freedom of isolation and yet I'm working in a team. I love being in a darkened room all alone with someone else, behind a million-dollar baby.

I love staring and making sense out of pixels and shades of changing gray dots on a monitor.

I love the adrenaline rush I feel when I hold a probe, wondering if I'd see anything fascinating or unusual, and the apprehension of making a mistake I cannot afford.

Lives depend on it.

I love meeting new people, seeing new faces. Something new everyday. I get bored fast :P

I love the knowledge that when a person lies supine on the bed, (s)he'd have to listen to me (MUAHAHA!) whether the person be male or female, king or beggar, father or son, saint or sinner. Medicine or disease does not discriminate. Muslim, Christian, Jew, Buddhist, Hindu, Scientologist (:P). All that talk on equality. At the end of the day, we're all gonna die anyway. Just a matter of how and when. And I love the fact that I'm part of that.

I love the fact that doing what I do, I can help assuage fears, or I can be part of the solution to a problem. And yet...

I love the fact that I get to ponder my own humanity. We may plan, but ultimately, it's God who decides. Nothing like the field of medicine to remind one of that fact.

It is in medicine that one needs Faith the most.

When you're 25 and single and at the threshold/ crossroads of life, you don't look too far ahead. The thought of death? It baffles your mind. You take each day as it comes, and hope it's better than the last. You wonder when you'd save enough to buy that dream house/ apartment you've always wanted, so you can decorate it the way you want, and fark lousy housemates. You dream of getting that car (so you can have a ride, regardless of whether or not you wanna pimp it, dammit!! One can only bear putting up with Malaysian public transportation for so long) and have enough to get you an Alsatian, and keep it. You don't even think of marriage, 'cos heck, mum!! I need me a boy first, and no, please don't matchmake me with a teacher in your school. I've had enough with teachers :P And I don't look like a horse's ass, so have a little faith, yeah? Kids? Perhaps, someday, but better make it fast, 'cos now that you have that scary Embryology book, you know, to a certain extent, how to calculate your risks. And dammit, you've got geneticist friends who'd be more than happy to tell you your eggs are wasting (nice way to put it) or rotting (SUPER NICE way to put it)... Fark 'em :P Death? Not really. Kinda hazy...

Until you come face-to-face with the reality of death. 27/28-year old comes in for a routine medical check-up, and gets diagnosed with end-stage liver cancer. You remember the face of the patient when he was informed of the diagnosis. You remember the shock. You remember how his yellow (jaundiced) face turned white at the idea of having only a few years at most to live. A thrombus (clot) in the portal vein? Clots are for fat, old uncles! Not for a relatively fit young man below 30! You think of all the chemo he has to go through to get through the next few years, how he'd need Palliative care, 'cos there ain't much anyone could do at that stage, how there's very little chances for survival, considering that there might be metastases elsewhere, and you think: SHIT... 25 and 27/28 isn't that far away... And then there's the 19-year-old girl with breast cancer.... And no, she hasn't got really large boobies, either. Another myth down the drain.... You freak out and go home and do BSE everyday for 2 months...

You go home, and stare in the mirror for awhile. Which is a feat in itself, considering you're one of those nuts who never combs her hair (you do digital perm for precisely that reason :P), never checks to see what kind of clothes you've thrown on on a normal day (jeans and tees and sneakers/ flats (have to walk mar...) is your informal uniform), and hardly ever, if not never, looks in the mirror before she walks out the door. That itty-bitty mirror is for applying make-up when the need arises (work (Customer Service, what... you get paid to look good and make assholes feel good)/ interviews/ clubbing/ hot date (rare :P)) But here you are, staring in the mirror, thinking: If I get diagnosed with cancer tomorrow and I die within a year (touch wood!) who'd remember me? Who'd remember my face? Who'd remember my laughter, who'd remember my tears, who'd remember my faves and my fears? Who'd remember what I've done? If I've done anything much in the first place?

You hardly check your breasts.. heck! You're too lazy. Your attitude towards them? Those things just happen to be there. Thank goodness they're small and don't get in the way much. Could be bigger... but... Oh well... You don't bother using push-ups, 'cos they're hot la, dammit... All that fake padding.... You don't like heat much... You'd rather sleep nude on sultry nights, except you have housemates :P Unless you have air-conditioning, different story. You like 'em bras strapless, 'cos you hate fiddling with the stupid straps. WHAT DECORATIVE STRAPS? NO STRAPS BETTER!! Yeah, you're one lazy lazy girl :P And those sunny-side-ups of yours are good enough for lactating when the time and need arises. If a man complains, you'd tell him to get a penis enhancer before you get a breast enhancer :D Big is good, no? Same same both ways :P You're so lazy, checking your breasts slips your mind the way taking those little OC pills do. Until something like that happens. And you're forced to think about it, and deal with the possibility.

I'm frightened of that. And yet I love it. The reminder of our mortality. That we may try to build/ reach for the proverbial Tower of Babel, but there's a Higher Power that we cannot avoid/ ignore.

Death doesn't discriminate. It'd come to us sooner or later. Whether by senescence (if we're lucky) or by some other means.

So yes, I wanna work. If anyone knows where a hospital is wanting to hire an ultrasonographer, let me know :P My email is just there.

One Mark!!

ONE MARK!!

I need one more mark to pass my exams fully. Am appealing. Gah... Pray for me. Place is driving me bonkers....

Fairydust and Birthday Wishes...

Fairydust and Birthday Wishes...

This is a blog on nothing, and on everything. Fragmented thoughts, loosely linked together by strands of associated ideas. This is the result of sleepless nights, of daydreams, of meditation, of the subconscious self, of floating on clouds, of fairydust...

Boredom. It has become my middle name. I blogged on December 1, but I changed my mind about posting it up. Too... personal. Strange how so much emotion can be expressed in so little words. Hmm...

I think I should start writing again. I wonder what happened to my short stories. Probably decomposing in some dumpsite somewhere. I regret not keeping them. Might have been interesting to read about what the me of a decade ago thought and felt, and see if anything has changed since then :)

Don't you think that: People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, and then repent? I find myself doing that, more times than I'd like to admit.

I'm quick-tempered. I've an out-of-whack guydar. Must be compensating for my right-on-the-spot gaydar :P I'm a stubborn, moralistic, arrogant, unrelenting, elitist biatch. Mmm... and I make mistakes I really don't fancy analysing too deeply, and yet I should, and I know I should. Methinks I need a psychiatrist.

Dont you think, too, that: The old heart needs to get itself broken a few times to learn how to love? My friend, A the boy (of the double As (:P)) said on Thursday that in most cases, men get more stable with every consequent relationship, whereas women get more jaded and cynical. I don't really know about that. I wonder what others would say about that statement?

I've wondered, and I wonder still: Is there such a thing as a love immunity?

Where's the love? 6 billion people in the world probably wants to know. It's everywhere. And yet it's as elusive and illusive as fairydust.

Written somewhere in Old Saint Paul's Church, Baltimore is this: ...Everywhere life is full of heroism.... Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is perennial as the grass... Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness... Strive to be happy.

:) I will most certainly try. I've the whole of the Desiderata pasted up on my wall for reaffirmation every day anyway :P I need all the help I can get.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAVI!!! One year older, one year wiser, one year of experience and maturity to garner your strength from :) And one year of gorgeousness. Plenty more to go! Some women age with grace and beauty :) You, darling, is one of them!

Musings: By Marina Mahathir

This came to me in an e-mail from a friend and this is interesting. Considering all that's been going on, I'm glad Marina is speaking out on behalf of a lot of silent people. Thank God for leaders like her :)

Musings: By MARINA MAHATHIR

LOOKING at recent developments, I think there should be a new association registered for the propagation of the shallow and superficial. It should be called, for short, the SS.

The SS is open for membership to people who have nothing better to do with their lives than look for monsters under their beds, enemies in their blankets or crosses in their buns. The first members of the SS are the people who believe that the path to hell is paved with ice-cream biscuits.

In case there are still people out there who only read the mainstream papers and therefore have been blissfully cocooned in ignorance, a group of defenders of the faith have lodged a report that a certain brand of ice-cream biscuits have (Christian) crosses on them, and therefore this is a grave threat to our faith. If any of us were unaware that all it takes is ice-cream to melt our faith, now we know.

The SS would comprise of people who really believe that their faith needs to be protected from confectionery, lipstick, books, magazines, songs, maybe even SpongeBob SquarePants. Everything should be scrutinized for their ability to creep into one's soul and destroy one's beliefs. Having laws that allow for this scrutiny would apparently show how superior and strong their religion is.

The SS are not in the least bit interested in any real issues that might truly be threats to their community. Not for them the trivial matters of poverty and hunger nor of people being bombed to death every day in Iraq or Palestine, or dying of diseases such as AIDS. Nay, these are unimportant compared to the dangers of ice-cream and lipstick.

In case anyone thinks I am making this up, some people might remember that in the days before the United States invaded Iraq, an e-mail listing out the brands of cosmetics one should not use because their lipsticks were not halal was passed around. Undoubtedly, several hundred thousand dead Iraqis later, those who boycotted those lipsticks feel very good now.

Let us not forget other SS members, those who should be conferred the special title Simple-Minded and Stupid, otherwise known as SMS. These are the sorts who believe every little message that comes into their hot little phones, no matter how unlikely.

Without even asking simple questions like "Is it true?", they pass them on as if they were, well, gospel. Even worse, instead of just relying on electronic gadgets, which one can always blame technology for, they pass on these messages verbally to other members of the SS, all of whom accept everything the SMS say is literally The Word of God.

The alleged Word of God is then borne into action by Korrupt Kombative Knuckleheads, otherwise known as the KKK. These will do things like throw firecrackers into churchyards, destroy temples and raid married people's bedrooms. Pretty soon we may find them dressing up in bedsheets and stringing up people they don't like on trees.

One thing about the SS, the SMS and the KKK is that they never take responsibility for anything. Unlike hijackers, kidnappers and terrorists who want to be known as people who do bad deeds, the Malaysian versions don't own up to anything. If SS or SMS talk about how Other People are bad, and the KKK then go and string up people by their necks, the SS and SMS simply put their hands up and say, "But I never told them to do that. I only mentioned these things in passing."

Thus they can pass out simpleminded but dangerous messages without having to take the consequences. Unlike Other People who are constantly being threatened with all sorts of Dire Consequences should they so much as open their mouths. This is how less than a dozen people talking peace and goodwill can be told to shut up in the face of 10,000 talking war and hate. It's the same sort of argument some Neanderthals make about cameras peering in inappropriate places; the victims shouldn't have worn skirts.

The sad thing is that an association like the SS would have so many members in this country. While those who are reasonable, moderate and tolerant are getting marginalized every day.

The voice of hate is these days so much louder than the voice of peace, love and inclusiveness. Just as we don't see the supreme irony of trumpeting our religious superiority while at the same time claiming that it only takes biscuits to destroy us, we don't see the irony of extolling ourselves as a superior race while at the same time insisting on crutches and handouts.

Pics from JB

Pics from JB

Here are some pics taken mostly from Danga Bay, JB :) Honestly, it was a rather disgusting beach, but what would one expect of a strait, having Singapore on one side, and Johore on the other :P Time to go to either the East Coast, Sabah, or back home to Kuching for some nice beaches. Hehehe... Danga Bay is rather commercialised, though. Kinda like the Waterfront of Kuching. Though the Waterfront wasn't as gross, last I saw it.

BUT... let it not be said that I can't cam-whore. For effin'ssakes, I take pics of internal organs, and have to utilise TGC and shite like that, I sure as hell can use a digicam and take pics of external things... Uhmmm :P *note: cam-whoring pics not here. wahaha!*

To prove my point, I hogged my friend's digicam for a day.... with permission, but of course. Me is no rude cow....


1) Views from Foon Yew High School, and opposite the famous Foon Yew Rojak Petis Stall-so named because the 'uncle' peddles his rojak outside Foon Yew HS :P ohh... Foon Yew HS is facing a beach, and this is the beach from where I am taking pics.


Dilarang meletak kenderaan... obviously we weren't paying attention :P


View of Singapore from across the Strait.


Probably the nicest part of THIS particular stretch of beach.


Another view of Sg. from here.


Leaving what I'd refer to as 'Foon Yew HS beachstrip' and heading towards Danga Bay (which is rather nearby). The car stopped long enough at the traffic lights to let me take a view of this pier/jetty.


2) Danga Bay


Little boat... oohh.. little moving boat :P


Danga Bay Festive Street Mall: a fancy-schmancy name for a shopping complex. They have some nice bargain stuff. But I was broke, so I bought nothing :)


A pic of the street :P


There were a few lovely ?Malay houses here, and this was the nicest. Outside this house were many lovely orchid plants, in a variety of shapes and colours. There were other plants, too. And it got me all excited :) Love orchids, especially. Was in Orchid House in Secondary School, was in a Department for undergrad, where one of the most famous and notorious professors in the faculty and university was famed for her studies on orchids. Damn lab was filled with orchid plants :) Not that I was complaining. Most importantly, my mom plants orchids :) Too bad that as I was about to take pics of the plants, it started to rain rather heavily, and we had to run for shelter. By the time we got out, which was the time I took this pic, the plants were all covered :(


Danga Bay gateway


We got all excited when we saw this bird. Oh, you know. We don't get to see it in KL :P I've seen it in Kuching, though. By the way, can anyone tell me what this is? Heron? Egret? Stork? Ibis? I could never really tell the difference :)


Rays of light...


Cloud formation 1


Cloud formation 2


Calm not-so-blue sea :P


Again, cloud formation... and a vessel... :P


Danga Bay restaurants


Danga Bay beach


Lone boat floating...


Sunset over Danga Bay


Of course, being where we are, we must take pics of boats...


Aahhh... Fancy-schmancy Danga Bay International Restaurants. Here's where the bold and the beautiful people of JB come to see and be seen during the night. :) And the young come to paktoh during the day :P Me? Being neither bold and beautiful, nor young, I'm just a wannabe in lime green patterned beach shorts and a purple tank top :P I know, I know... Colour so the clashing :P SO?


See the yacht in the distance? Minus the sails, yeah..


Foon Yew High School has a kayak-ing team!! Damn, I wished my school had one, too! I was quite green with envy :)


Have you seen a cloud with a halo?? I was quite entranced :)


Here's a close-up


3) Leaving Danga Bay


Supposedly, I was told, and do not quote me here, this is the Clock Tower of JB. Apparently, every self-respecting reasonably old city should have a clock tower :P


I think this is the Sultan Abu Bakar Mosque. :) I sure hope I read the sign right.


The Palace Museum, JB. According to my friend, the royal family used to live here. Now, well, people come here to jog. The palace grounds is quite a lovely place for some exercising, apparently. Breathe the air the royals used to breathe :P


The stairway of the Palace Museum

TADA!! The tale of 23 November 2006 comes to an end. That's all, folks!!

Malaysia's greatest ability...

Malaysia's greatest ability...

is to waste taxpayer's money....

Yerdeh said that this site would interest me.

http://www.michaelbackman.com/LatestAgeColumn2.html

She was most certainly right. It most certainly did. I reckon that's 'cos it interested her, too. We share similar sentiments on certain issues. Because that was exactly what I felt when about a month ago, I saw the news spread on the FRONT PAGE of local newspapers. Malaysia's first MALE astronaut (emphasis mine). WHOOPDEEDOOO!!! Malaysia SO Boleh, you know? When people are dying around the world, and schools in the interior of Sabah, Sarawak, states like Kelantan, Terengganu and Pahang have little/ NO electricity to go by (but must have at least ONE computer in the school. The irony...) we SHOULD rejoice for sending a Malaysian penis of a certain disposition out to space by another country's space programme. Because we are Malaysians. And we should do what the government says we should do. Bow, and we shall bow. Skip, and we shall skip. Eat dirt, and by Tuhan Maha Esa, we shall eat dirt. Be silent, and we be silent. Call Singapore ingrates, and we should.

The writer most certainly hit the nail on the head when he wrote about KLCC. And Cyberjaya/ Putrajaya. I feel no pride in those. Those are not OUR achievements. Putrajaya is a dead bogus administrative city. Cyberjaya/ Putrajaya does not even have graffitti on its walls. Not because the inhabitants are such loyal, caring subjects.... but because... WHAT inhabitants? There is almost NOTHING there. Besides some companies, government administration and some colleges.

I take no pride in Sepang. Or KLIA. Our architects did not build all these. Neither did our civil engineers. How many Malaysians were involved in these from conception to birth, or even growth and maintenance? For me, these were MAJOR excesses. We waste good money on stupid toys that are quite useless other than as a white elephant. What do we need a tallest building in the world for? So we can feel how much it shakes when there's an earthquake in Indonesia? Wastefulness...

Tell me I'm wrong. But I'm of the opinion that if men would stop comparing the sizes of their guns, literally and figuratively, the world would be a much better place. Women are too busy going through mood swings, and dealing with menstrual cramps, and childbirth, and looking after their spouses' needs, and the needs of the children their men helped spawn but forgot to bring up to have time or energy for such idiocy. And then they need time to look after their own welfare, too. Just in case that penis of a man she hooked up with dumps her old, lardy ass for a pair of younger tits and a bigger mouth. Men so love their blows, after all. They may have two heads, but they can only use one at one time. More wastefulness...

At least, without such idiocy, there'd be more emphasis on the important things. Education, Welfare, Healthcare. Basic Human Rights. Not whose GUN is bigger than whose. Friggin' 'ell.

When I was studying in Serdang, the university was the cheapest before my intake. For my intake, the fees were considerably more expensive than other similar universities. The computer system was totally fucked, but the money we spent on fees were being used for the 'beautification' of the administration building. Lord above, I was spitting nails. Ugly, humongous, white, immoveable cement balls all around the admin building. That was what I was paying good money for. And YET there is no correlation between the Treasury, the Academic Office and the Student Affairs Department. WONDERFUL. But the money is spent on imbecilic white balls. YAY! Can you feel my joy, just thinking about it?

This ridiculous penchant for wasting money is the precise reason why certain people should not be allowed to hold office and be in control of Malaysia's economy (re: previous post). It is obviously so deeply rooted that, if they have it in the level of the grassroots (universities), what wishful thinking does one have that it won't happen at cabinet level? (Which it did, btw. At the Ministry of Science and Technology (the latest folly) to be precise. (re: Malaysia's bogus space programme))

I rest my case, babydolls. I rest my case.

http://lets-goyang.com/blog/2006/10/04/people-that-peeve-me-off/

http://lets-goyang.com/blog/2006/10/04/people-that-peeve-me-off/

Yerdeh directed me to this URL, and wanted to know what I thought. I was about to post this answer on the person's comments, but thought I'd put it up as a post instead:

'well.... wow.... and they wonder why they're still poor? if every single Chink in M'sia left the country, cos we are 'immigrants', let's see how well the Malaysian economy would hold out. :) after 35 years, Bumiputras have 'SLOWLY gained back what has long belonged to them' to quote our 'brilliant friend' there. 35 years!! and it's still slow. what does that say about them, eh? ;) in that 35 years, how different Singapore with their 'marginalised Malays' have grown in terms of technology and economy! Do u hear Singaporean Malays making any noises about marginalisation? *yawn...* and the government complains about brain-drain. why stay in a country where lower life forms , like the idiot who wrote that letter, are being given superior treatment? why stay in a country that openly marginalises u and treats u like pondscum? there are times i feel so wonderfully appreciated... really... like now.'

You know, I have wonderful Muslim friends. They are brilliant, funny, smart. And they don't say stupid shit like that. Because they know that, in human relations, race and religion doesn't really matter. And I love them all: Madz, Hanie, Reza, to name just a very few off-hand.

I'd like to paraphrase Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice, when Shylock said:

Hath not a *insert race/ religion here* eyes?
Hath not a *** hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons,
subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means,
warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a *** is?
If you prick us, do we not bleed?
If you tickle us, do we not laugh?
If you poison us, do we not die?

Really, doth not the same blood flow in our veins? Doth not the same flesh cover our bones? So what if the colour of our skin is different? We are all human. We feel, we care, we hurt. Could we please stop the hurting? Please? What good does it do to us?

:( what's this place coming to?

:( what's this place coming to?

http://asia.news.yahoo.com/061121/3/2t8sl.html

This is terrible. I can't say much, being non-Muslim and all, but what is this place coming to?

I have to believe....

I have to believe....

that God walks with me every step of the way.

When I'm dragging my feet, he supports me still. When I'm down and out, and terribly fatigued, he holds me up.

I have to believe....

In Johor

In Johor

:) I is in Johor!! Woohoooo!!!!! ;) Will be sending postcards soon :P Much needed break from city life :) It was great to smell kampong air again :)

i was bored...

i was bored...

Just got back from a get-together with a couple of my coursemates and an O&G we know. Yeahh... a lot to think about now in terms of career prospect. It's quite daunting.So I decided to entertain myself...

Here are two tests I did :P

Your Career Personality: Detail-Oriented, Observant, and Hard-Working

Your Ideal Careers: Designer Family counselor Independent store owner Interior decorator Museum curator Nurse Preschool teachers Social worker Stay at home parent Teacher

The Quick and Dirty Career Test

You Are 54% Feminine, 46% Masculine

You are in touch with both your feminine and masculine sides. You're sensitive at the right times, but you don't let your emotions overwhelm you. You're not a eunuch, just the best of both genders.

Are You Masculine or Feminine?

Hrmm... So I was right... Am not much of a girly girl... :P

Fuck-me red shoes

Fuck-me red shoes

I've finally found me my perfect pair of fire-engine red fuck-me shoes. Peep-toe, approximately 4' high so I can actually walk in them, they're gorgeous, and I'm deliriously happy. A little tight, though, but a size larger causes my feet to slip. So I guess I won't be using them for anything more substantial than looking gloriously gorgeous :P Mmmm... ;) They came in a beautiful black, too. But I don't exactly grow money on trees, pity.

Doggie pics!

Doggie pics!

The long overdue pics :)


The Pups


China


Brazil


Afro annoying China :D


Afro annoying Brazil :D


Africa and Brazil :D

No photo of Africa (Afro) on its own cos it was too busy a) eating b) disturbing the other pups :P Heh heh...

Courage in the Face of Fear

Courage in the Face of Fear

Thursday, November 9, 0347 hours

This blog is emotional and ponderous :P , and partially inspired by recent events and long evaluation (a result of nothing better to do :P). I doubt the person who inspired it reads my blog, but even so, I'm writing it anyway :P I need writing's cathartic effect to exorcise some personal demons.
***

There are days when I wish I were five again. Running around full of zest for life. Life was a wonder to explore. Everything was fresh, new, uncomplicated. And fear was not in the dictionary. Now that I am older, there are so many things to fear. Was it experiences that taught me that? Or was fear an acquired experience in itself?

Fear. What's the ultimate fear? Possibly the fear of failure. What I fear is the intangible things. What I fear most is, yes, precisely that. The fear of failure. The failure to see what is there. The failure to see what is NOT there. The failure to do what is right. The failure to SEE what is right. The failure to let go when I should. The fear of failure. I fear it. I have fallen into a depression so dark and so deep, I'm still learning how to handle the ramifications of it. Sometimes, the incident that caused it still gives me nightmares, and makes me wake up in the still of the night, shivering in cold sweat. That fear. That fear has driven contless people to suicide, some mistakenly thinking suicide to be the braver option in comparison to facing harsh, cold reality.

But, I wonder, is suicide really the better option? Me, being a Catholic, might not be a good judge of that, my thoughts on suicide certainly having been coloured by my faith. Suicide, in the eyes of the Catholic Church, is gravely forbidden by the fifth commandment, as 'it is a grave offense against the just love of God, of self and of neighbour' (methinks). Didn't the Bible call our body the temple of God?

Personally, I think suicide a short-sighted solution. It is, quite possibly, the ultimate sign of cowardice. For instance, say if Person A wants to commit suicide due to something that happened between Person A and Person B, has A ever thought of how his particular actions might affect B? So A was temporarily insane when he contemplated suicide, and in a moment of pure selfishness thought it was the easiest way all around, but did he ever think to wonder of how B would feel should he have taken his own life? There's a sad but beautiful song called 'Whiskey Lullaby' that describes the consequences of suicide pretty well. If B were me, I'd have loved to be sarcastic and tell A: 'Please, don't murder yourself on my account, I'd hate to have your guilt and death burdening my conscience.' Yes yes, I is stubborn, arrogant, elitist, moralistic *bleep*. Not to mention tude and crude as well. I know, I know, poor A would probably have jumped off a cliff there, thinking: 'B HATES ME!! I HATE ME!!' :P

Hrmm... I really do think coming face-to-face with our own weaknesses and faults, admitting we're wrong, taking responsibility for the ramifications of our own actions, and trying to get help to help ourselves is a way more difficult, painful and courageous option.

THAT is courage in the face of fear. And that's what I'm working towards. I hope I'm getting there.

When I decided to take a hiatus from blogging on the counsel of a dear and trusted friend due to her concerns, it was quite painful to hear what she had to say. But I listened, I contemplated, and I learnt. I hope I'm a better person for it. She wasn't all correct about me, but I wasn't all correct about me, either :) She doesn't quite understand how I need my writing for it's cathartic effect, though deeply personal, but I know what she was trying to say about not putting it all out there and finding options for my negative 'qi'.

We all need time to heal. This year is a year of many losses for me. It's a personal 'cleaning out my closet' year. And my... what cobwebs I find :P But all is not lost, however. I counted my blessings. And they were good. I'm counting my blessings still. Hopefully by the end of the year, the proverbial 'ka-ching' of the proverbial cash register would register a net gain.

:) Always look on the bright side of life and do not hold grudges, I think. It only serves to eat you up inside and make you bitter, angry, resentful, hateful. And in the end you loathe yourself as much as the one you loathe. No good for personal karma :) So I learn to let go. Better to let go of something that's making you feel sad, learn from it, and move forward than to hold on to that sadness and stay in a rut, isn't it? Careful, though. Moving forward and looking forward are two very different things. I think Bren and June would agree. Hor? :)

When one has fallen to the deepest end of the pit, there's no more way to go, but up, right? When in trouble (end of pit), wallowing in self-pity (avoiding the issue, getting angry, feeling sorry for myself) has never done me any good. Two wrongs never made a right. I have to get my hands dirty, sort through my shit (climbing my way up and out) and struggle to set myself free (getting out of said pit). Not easy is an understatement.

But I take comfort in knowing that Christ Himself suffered in His Paschal Mystery (His passion and death on the cross for us). You think He had it easy? :P When He suffered and died, He was true Man, and experienced the same pain we would have felt. When He conquered His fears, thus conquering death, that was when the Incarnate Son in accomplishing His divine plan, became the embodiment of true God. Which is why Christians the world over proclaim Christ to be both true Man and true God. The way of the Cross is filled with thorns, and like Simon of Cyrene, we stumble and fall along the way. But I think we shouldn't be discouraged. I'm not exactly good Christian example. In fact, I think I suck. Big time. I do, sometimes, try to incorporate Christianity into my day-to-day living. 'Cos that's what it means to be Christian, to me. There's more to Christianity than MLM-type church-planting. Christianity should encompass every facet of living.

And certainly, from all that I've learnt and experienced so far, Christianity is never the easier option. It is a struggle. I may have my own differences about the Church's stand on many issues, and those who know me well know about my concerns regarding organised religion and absolutism in its purest form, but I do agree with their stand regarding the sanctity of human life, human dignity, and thus, suicide. We should have the courage to work through our issues. Don't take the coward's way out. We might get burnt a little for it, but we shall come out on the other side burnished and tinged with maturity, having gone through trial and purification by fire. Life is scarier than death, really. With life comes great power. And we all know the popular quote on power. With great power, comes great responsibility. And that is the scary bit, isn't it?

Wouldn't you agree, though? What is there to fear about death? Apart from the sorrow of leaving behind what we know and love, and worked for. And having those we leave behind who love us feel sadness that we've gone. For me, it is in death that we celebrate life. Because what do we leave behind in our deaths? What legacy would we have left? It is the memory of us that is carried on in the hearts and minds of the friends that we have made. That memory is what outlives us.

I know I am being morbid here, but hey, I'm weird, right? Like I told a friend, I'm normal enough to know I'm weird, but weird enough to not really care. I shouldn't let society's norms dictate what makes me happy :D I should find my own path, and go out in a blaze of glory! ;)

And I hope that at my death, I would have touched enough people in my life to be remembered with fondness. And my friends would give me a 'MOVING, SOULFUL EULOGY'... Yes?.... Girls?......... Ermmm.... Boys?.......... *deafening...... magnanimous....... SILENCE........* me: sighs..... :P

Currently listening to: Brad Paisley, Alison Krauss-Whiskey Lullaby

Currently reading: Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church

Currently craving for: Pork trotters in soy sauce and black vinegar :P

Losing my Connection

Losing my Connection

It's been said that if you love something/ someone, let it go, and if it comes back to you, it's yours. I don't know if it's true. What I do know is that it's pointless holding on to something/ someone that doesn't a) belong to you, b) want to be yours. What I do know, also, is that life is precious, and that time is short, and we should live life to the hilt whilst we can. Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctum! :) Easier said than done, no?

There are so many restrictions. Physical, emotional, psychological. There are so many voices in my head, sometimes I do not know who to listen to. One pulling me this way, another pulling me that way. There are days I wish I were the Indian goddess with a thousand hands. Other days I wish I had the power of omnipresence. But I don't, I am but human after all. And I make do.

Funny the twists and turns of life. Funny how you wish you could run away from your past, but it always catches up with you. Funny how you try to change yourself, but in the end, your essence remains the same, and you are still who you always were, and always will be. And how your closest friends could sometimes know you better than you know yourself. And how sometimes the people you just met could read you better than you'd like. And how you can't outrun yourself. Or lie to yourself. Funny how there are things you wish you could forget, and you thought you had put them behind you, buried deeply in the darkest recesses of your mind, in a proverbial oak trunk whose key you thought you had tossed down the proverbial Marina Trench, but drat that trigger-memory, because somehow, somewhere, something, sometime, they would come back to haunt you. The people you chose, the decisions you made, the path not taken... 'What if..', 'If only..'. These are the most painful phrases in the English language. Life throws us curve balls. How do we know we are making the right choices when it does?

And funny how you meet the people you thought you'd never meet again/ perhaps you wish you'd never meet again under the strangest of circumstances. What are the chances? What's the probability? In a train station, when the person normally drives. In a church, in the very pew you are sitting on, on your first day there, when you normally don't go to church, and the person, if you remember right, wasn't much of a church person either. In a mamak, with your friends. At work, in an industry so different from which either of you trained for. At a music festival. Walking home through a park, and the person was jogging. In a shopping complex. Is this place getting too close for comfort? Some reacquaintances are delightful, some are not.

Ghosts from the past. Would there be apparitions from the future? Deja vu.

Funny, too, how prayers are answered. I do believe God answers all my prayers. In His own way, in His own time. Perhaps not how I wish it to be, but in a way that makes me stronger. I have to remind myself always: do we pray because we want something, out of selfish reasons, as a means to obtain what we want, or do we pray because it's God's will we're seeking to fulfil? Filial trust. All faith is blind, therefore, it's important to choose wisely in whom to place one's faith. Am I wrong? I do not know. Someday I'll find out.

I miss my internet connection. It's the one thing linking me to human civilisation, sometimes :) Since I must make use of the Internet when I can, and be thankful of what I have when I have it, I shall blog when I can :) My blog-draught is semi-over :P No daily blogging, though. I shall blog when I have the chance, and when I damn well please :D

Doggie pictures not here. Will post it up when I can :)