in need of medicine

friends. why do we seek out the company of some and shun others? for all sorts of reason; social standings, common interest, familiarity, even physical proximity to home. for me, the reason is simple. i am drawn to those who make me laugh. not that i will shun others who don't, but i find myself drawn to companionship that makes me exercise the gut muscle. laughters, who doesn't like to laugh. getting older, i find that i hear my own laughters less often. that once familiar sound which flitters nearby when i'm nervous, excited and most certainly when i'm happy, is like a distant relative now. it seldom comes for a visit.

is it more difficult to make me laugh now? no, at least i don't think so. i'm willing, even desperate to laugh myself silly over the smallest of thing but it seems opportunities are rare and far in between. quick, tell me a joke, i promise i'll laugh. i'll even tickle myself if it would help, but unfortunately i'm not ticklish. perhaps, that tells a lot about my frame of mind. joke books are read with an occasional snicker or more usually, a bored and impervious countenance. i even tell jokes with a straight face nowadays! i'm really scrapping the bottom of the barrel.

why is it so difficult to seek for laughters? of all my friends, i only know one or two who makes me laugh. and most definitely, not female. aren't women funny? is that why most stand-up comedians, and clowns for that matter, are men? maybe men are natural born jokers. ha. did you see that? even literally, my laughter has been reduced to a single 'ha' instead of the usual 'ha-ha'. life is pathetic. i need a dose of laughter medicine.

music in my life

a friend used to wonder, why is my choice of listening pleasure stuck in the 80s? reminiscing is fine but you should move on, you should listen to all the new songs out there, i was told. i feel like an old grandma knitting away in her rocking chair whilst the gramophone is playing nearby. i do listen to new music, whatever is playing on the radio but more often than not, i find myself switching to 105.7, the music for oldies. this is not where you insert your tease of my age, so please do resist.

i have been ruminating, why is it that i love the music of the 80s so much? is it as my friend said, it brings us back to our lives back then, simpler, easier, and looking back, always rosier? does it raise some memories from way back then, some beautiful frozen picture panels of our lives? a certain song attaching itself to a certain specific part of the past, like the first slow dance, the first kiss, the first date.

for me, it's nothing like that. when i was listening to music way back then, i was listening to music. not engaging in any other activities that would have brought back sweet memories. if i were to close my eyes when the radio played my favourite song, i can see in my mind's eye the me that was so long ago, sitting by myself in the room as the music played. is it just my infamous lousy memory or is it just a very lonely past, i don't have many memories that are associated to songs. some, but not many. the first time i slow danced with a boy - whom i didn't even have any romantic feelings for, i can't remember what was playing in the background. the second time, many many many years later - with another boy whom i bordered on dislike, i still paid no attention to the music. perhaps it was the companion, perhaps it was the ambience. it was neither romantic, nor worth remembering. all i remember is silence. are my memories mute? in which case, is it in colour? i can't remember the colours either. strange.

despite the lack of attachments of memories to the music, i am strangely attached to the music. for a while i didn't understand why. now i do. i like the music for its familiarity. for being a part of what i was, what i am now and what i will always be. for being a part of my past, my present and my future. that i find is the rarest of thing in this world that changes in the speed of light. friends that you cannot hold on to through the test of time. things that constantly innovate and update before you can even familiarise. life perpetually changing at a heady pace, before you can stand still for a moment and immerse in its warm embrace, the only constant thing being change.

i like the music of my past because it is the one thing that will always be there, the one part of my life that will not change and will be there when i need its familiar comfort. when the words in the air mirrors that which pass my mouth without even making a conscious effort to remember , it is like an old friend.

this is how a modern woman does it

today, this little housewife (why housewife? i'm not married to a house! ask any woman and you'll realise that none of us like to be called a housewife) was sent out on a mission. to look for something that the chinese call sang yee. sang yee? live fish, literally translated? don't think anybody will entertain me if i go around asking for that. all my fishes are live, missy, i'll have you know that!!, and off i'll be swatted with some smelly broom.

ahhhhh, but this little missy is no ordinary run-of-the-mill man-wife (that term is more appropriate perhaps ?). i'm a technologically advanced, modern, a-million-task-to-juggle woman and therefore, to google i turn. sang yee, or what is known locally as ikan haruan or snakehead fish. people in the know will understand that this fish is not commonly available in all markets. people will tell you that you can find it here and there, but you will most likely be knocking down empty doors because supply is usually erratic.

despite that, this is perhaps where other man-wives dash off to the local markets to hunt down this temperamental specie; temperamental because it can never be found when you want it but in abundance when you don't need it. i, on the other hand, continue googling. if my paternal grandmother was still around to see me, she would have probably given out a loud sigh and a sad shake of the head. ask that one to go pasar, and she sits her bum down infront of the computer, typing typing typing. play computer also can buy fish one meh?

i googled the local hypermarkets, which i know sometimes carry them. i called the biggest branch to confirm that they do indeed have stock. ikan haruan, oh yes, we do have. and off, superwoman dashed off to the nearest hypermarket to hunt down the fish. triumph? sigh, not quite still.

sometimes the human factor defeats all advancement in technology. the person who picked up the phone informed me correctly that they do indeed carry the snakehead fish, but she did not mention how many. one miserable one. i went all the way there for one miserable fish, which fortunately was still swimming when i got there, unlike its other fishy friends.

after paying for my purchase, i made my way to another supermarket. on the way there, i called them up to make sure they have stock. oh yes, we have ikan haruan, the lady who answered the phone said. zoooommmmm! they have my foot! upon enquiry at their seafood section, they have zilch. and that is not another name for the snakehead fish. i called the lady up again.

you told me there is snakehead fish here, but i am here now and there is no snakehead fish!

oh, after that, i asked and they told me they didn't bring it in today, she said.

?! (*@&@#^^@*)

and i gave her an earful. again, all advancement in technology is useless in the face of irresponsible, unreliable, inefficient human. i should have known when she answered the phone in that listless, bored voice of hers. a disinterested voice speaks volume, remember this advice well my fellow readers.

left with no choice, i made my way to another supermarket. this morning was turning out to be an expedition to supermarkets. can i apply for a job as one of those undercover people who rates supermarket service? i had to call another three supermarkets before i could find one that have stock of the fish. one lady who answered in the other supermarket actually made an effort to check with her colleague before confirming that their supply of the fish has not arrived, saving me a trip there. this is what service should be all about, not just shooting off straight from the mouth without confirming the truth. all too often, we get that here, people giving information without the need to verify its authenticity, without a thought of how it would inconvenience or be detrimental to others, without the need to be responsible for what they spew forth. and much too often, others start rumours just because they can, telling people what they THINK and treating it as FACTS. wars have been started just because of this culture of irresponsibility and apathy.

so, ends this story of how a modern woman does her marketing, with the application of technologically advanced tools and less dirty work. stay tune for the next time the man-wife is given another household task, and she attempts to include the advancement of scientific knowledge in its application.

explosion imminent

when your stomach is so full, to the brink of explosion, it severely affects your work performance. hence all those correction tape marks in my work today, boss. honest. nothing to do with my skill or professionalism. you eat too much, leads to your stomach being so uncomfortable, leads to difficulty in concentration with your belly in the way, leads also to sleepiness when the digestion sets in, which finally leads to all types of mistake in your work. *yawn* see? it's not my fault. it's my friend's. for buying me such a wonderful lunch.

haha. how ungrateful. there goes my free lunch from now on. :-p

...and they came in pairs.

looking at my facebook's friends list, i know 2 andrews, 2 annies, 2 garys, 2 ivans, 2 jackies, 2 noels and 2 stanleys. i feel like i'm collecting a noah's ark.

amazing discovery!

i have a new discovery that i will like to share with you. apparently, western women will not die from being knocked down by a car. i haven't discover the reason for their seeming natural immunity to road accidents yet, but i vow to never rest until i can uncover the truth behind their very well protected secret.

today morning, as my car was turning the bend, a couple of blondes were walking in the middle of the road. their confidence of exercising right in the middle of the road stems from their knowledge that they won't die even if a car was to knock them down at full speed. of course. however, being gracious and knowing that they are obstructing traffic, the lady on the left spied an approaching car with the corner of her eye, which has by now slowed to a crawl to follow the women, and slowly dragged her feet to one side of the road. she was insistent that she does not in any way alter the slow tempo of her exercise and so, was adamant about strolling slowly away. it is quite amazing. researchers the whole wide over will be most interested in dissecting these two breed of women in order to discover what is it that cause them to be so fearless in the face of death, or if indeed they are naturally protected from the forces of fast moving cars.

ring, ring........it's for you

still remember the good old days when you don't have this nagging troublesome bothersome thing by your side? that you are free to roam, without a care for time or place? that you don't need to have a thought for any other? and no whiny spoilt mega-attention-caller noise will shrill incessantly in your ear, demanding that you drop everything on your hands and listen attentively?

i am, of course, talking about my handphone. it doesn't get any more appealing just because i just changed to a pink one. it still demands my attention at the most frustrating of times; like when i am in the bathroom, when i am just about to fall asleep, when i am in the midst of enjoying my meal. of course, it doesn't ring when i am in a boring meeting, waiting for any divine intervention to come save me from dying a very slow and torturous death. the thing is evil, i tell you.

i do remember, the good old times, when someone asked me for my handphone number and i answered, 'oh, i don't usually switch it on', and it was fine, it was acceptable. nobody shrinks from you in a heartbeat as if you are some strange alien from another planet. nobody leaves their phone on 24/7 in that era (anybody commenting that it must have been a very long time ago can consider themselves dead meat). the other day, a colleague mentioned to me that he can always be contacted, that he leaves his phone on 24/7. my immediate thought was 'so? who doesn't? what's the big deal?'. from being a luxury, it has become a necessity, a part of the human anatomy even.

so, can you live one whole day without your handphone? can I live one whole day without my phone? i gladly can, and i gladly will, if i am not being seriously reprimanded as being irresponsible for not carrying my phone around like a new-born baby in need of constant nourishment. by my own flesh and blood nonetheless. he deems it irresponsible. sigh. i didn't see that coming. it's no longer normal to leave your handphone in your room and go down for dinner. it's not normal to exist independently without your handphone for a matter of few hours. people have to be at the beck and call of others within the blink of an eye. all these must be improving communication between people by a vast margin. but yet i don't see it.

i miss the ring-free days. i miss being uncontactable. perhaps that's why i love vacationing in the u.s. of a and japan. where they have a totally different type of tele-communication system than ours and our handphones are rendered useless. but then they had to come up with 3g!!! i will seriously have to consider spending some vacation time in some remote uncivilised uninhabitated island. to escape from the evil shrilling sound of ......THE HANDPHONE!

i'm a barbie girl, in a barbie world

i feel like a barbie doll today.

and my owner just rotated my leg 360 degrees.

both right and left.

umpteenth times

a peek into my day

was woken from my deep slumber by a faint toot-toot-toot sound emanating from my right side. when i begin to realise that the irritating sound plays no part in my dream, consciousness filter through the thick blanket of slumber and the details of my dream began to vaporise.

thus began my day. sleepwalked to the bathroom, emerged wide awake, prepared breakfast and lunch to feed the ever-hungry ones, hit their little bums to hurry them out of the door, sat down for a little brekkie myself with the other half, along with some side order of newspaper. when he was also off for another day's worth of paycheck, i decided to venture out on a little adventure of my own. to the gym i will go, heigh ho, heigh ho.

for all the 4, or was it 5, years that i have been staying there, i have never visited the in-house gym. walked past it many a times but the quiet, dark room has always been a little intimidating. if it was dark and quiet, it would have been fine. however, i can just imagine all these fit, beefy looking people in tight fitting clothes, without an ounce of fat on their body, looking every inch a mr universe, or a miss universe, working out side by side with me. gyms are not for beautiful looking people. they already look good enough, go out somewhere and flaunt it. gyms are for people with love handles, elephant thighs and jiggling bits to pant, pound, exert and sweat in order to look like them. they should ban all those already-fit looking people from the gym. return only when you start to look like one of us; the normal a-little-greedy, a-little-unfit, a-little-jiggly part of the population.

today i was ready for a little ackwardness, i have put on my thick-skin face. with a reader's digest in hand, so that i can suavely walk past the gym with my face deeply engrossed in the book should it be full of those fit beautiful creatures, i headed off for the gym. and to my surprise, it was dark and empty, as usual. with 240 units in the condominium, and an average occupancy of 4 persons per household, making a total of 960 people living in that place of dwelling, not 1, not a single soul, will come down for a little bit of panting and gasping at 8.30am in the morning. perhaps they are doing some panting and gasping already in their unit :-p.

so, i was left blissfully alone for my very first virgin visit to the gym in my condo, where i sweated a little, panted a little and overall did my body some good, even if only marginably better than my usual imitation of a couch potato.

by 9am, i was back up in my unit, resting on the sofa waiting for the body to cool down once more before i hit the shower. it was an energetic morning. after the good workout, at 9am in the morning, i was ready to...... drift back to sleep. smelly clothes and all. having woken up at 6.30am, i want to crawl back to sleep. so badly. but my day has begun and even if only in lethargic mode, i will continue. whoever says exercise makes you more alert?

:-p

a tale unfolds

funny how life is like a movie, or a thick novel. slowly the story unfolds, page by page, day by day. the scene changes, the characters changes, everything changes. over time, i've been telling a story in this blog of mine. perhaps not in such an obvious manner but now i link together the stories that were told.

http://2ching.blogspot.com/2008/03/of-life-and-living.html

http://2ching.blogspot.com/2009/03/whole-lifetime.html.

that was then. this is now.

we didn't know why, when, how, why and what . time revealed all. one year later, she was gone, all the mystery unveiled. now we know when, what and how. we still don't understand the 'why', why one can stand passively by the sidelines, watching her waste away a little each day. i don't think we will ever understand. still, it was their decision. we can sigh, we can grieve, we can say a million times over what a senseless waste it was, but ultimately, it was her life on her hands

now, 6 months down the road, he is being introduced to blind dates. it seemed like just yesterday that she left, that i touched her cold, still body for a pulse. the image is still too vividly stuck in my mind's eye.

yet, can you blame him? there isn't a correct or wrong length of time to grieve. here is a man who has always had someone to take care of him since his first breath on earth. first his mother, then his sister, and straight on into the laps of his wife. a man who never had to do any housework for even one day or even cook for himself. a man whose answer to a pile of unwashed undergarments is to buy some more new ones. is his a tale of a man blissfully sheltered all his life, or the sad story of one who has always needed others?

we laugh at the stories of his blind dates gone wrong. we gleefully accept that he needs someone in his life to take care of him. friends and families eagerly look for someone to hold his hand for the rest of the journey. have we forgotten? did we close the chapter on 20 years of marriage and a whole lifetime? perhaps one can love many at the same time, perhaps to love does not mean not to grieve.

i steal a glance at him. he does not look sad. he does not look lonely. perhaps he is a master of disguises. or perhaps only at night, when all is dark and silent, and the spot beside him on the bed is cold and empty. a whole lifetime together and it ends like this. only when it is dark and silent.

it would have been poetic to have just ended at the previous paragraph. but i see no joy in wishing for a man to pine pointlessly for someone who has gone. i do injustice in claiming that i do not see him grieve. grieve is his and his alone, he does not have to show, me or anyone else. 6 months down the road, he has a new lease on life. i wish him well.