reflections

when i try to look back on the year, i come up empty. sure there are photos to remind me; visiting the states with sister-in-law, celebrating cael's birthday, going to perth and sydney with my parents, reunion with friends and cousins, celebrating dad's birthday in phuket, jack's family visiting. but yet it still leaves an empty feeling. like i've wasted yet another year. what do i want to do with mine? what makes a year worth living? what fills up the soul and heart? these are questions that i need to ponder for 2013. if going abroad is not the answer to the question, then is staying? does the answer lie within me? what do i need to do? charity? nurture the soul and the spirit? i hope this time next year my reflection will be more fulfilling.

p/s: i've forgotten to mention the passing of a dear friend, june. she is so very sorely missed. 2012 was also about regrets - of not meeting up with her when i still had the chance. may she rest in peace and her memory in our hearts.

christmas eve

so many years ago we tried prego hilton for christmas eve diner. we didn't like it. so many years later, we try it again. we still didn't like it. why did the lesson not stick? overpriced and not the least bit delicious. sometimes we are more entranced with the idea, the illusion, the imagination. to us christmas eve dinner should always be cosy, warm, dimly-lit, good music playing softly in the background, several courses of western meal served slowly over the night so that we can chat and bond. prego fits that. perhaps next time we'll learn to pay attention to what's inside, rather than just skin deep. still, christmas is just not christmas if we're having chinese seafood, steamboat, thai food or japanese. i guess i'll never learn....it'll be even better with chestnuts roasting  over the fire, marshmallows bobbing up and down ina  cup of hot chocolate and snowflakes falling outside the window. i'm a die-hard romantic - so sue me!

1 dream down, gazillions more to go

a bowl of wanton noodle - so many years in wanting. i've finally had the chance to try it. it was good, not spectacular, not amazing, definitely not on par with it's fame and name. but finally being able to achieve one dream - that is what it's all about *-*

choice

making something from scratch is so satisfying. attending an event which is a break from the routine is so memorable. if only the path of my life taken was the one after my heart. i'm not without dreams. i'm not without passion, i have since comprehend. i'm just without choice.

dustbusters

26 days since the maid has gone back for holiday. 25 days left. it's a good time in my life. finally getting the workout that i so badly needed. if there's something dirty in your house, who you gonna call?

DUSTBUSTERS!! =D

everywhere

the sesame seeds on a hamburger bun is pretty much like the sand on the beach. amazing how 50 sesame seeds can turn into thousands that get to every possible (and impossible) places!!!

bright side of things

sometimes life bring us on unexpected detours to tell us to slow down and look at the beauty around us. so, don't whine and grumble when you have to go out of your way; take a sip of coffee and enjoy the view.

cuppa tea

once a year the cousins find time to actually sit down, let our hair down and just chat. it is beautiful moments like these when we actually reach out and touch the lives of another. if only people are not so skin-deep, or am i being my virgoan critical self again? i really can't begin to understand how a drawn line purporting to be an eyebrow can be preferred in the name of beauty to the actual hairy one. shouldn't one be allowed to be oneself? after all, it's what makes us individuals. perhaps what really pissed me off was that i, or rather my investment, was made to be gossip fodder. anything better to talk about?

yummilicious

such fun to create beauty that you can eat. a box of cupcakes that come from the heart to a sweet young lady.

forgiving and forgeting

when fate comes knocking on your door, you must learn to let go of those weights that were pulling you down. you'll only have that one chance in your lifetime to make it right. if you insist on clinging on to your unhappiness, you may just end up with them for the rest of your life. i may not have exchanged it for a best friend in return, but at the very least i regained a friend.

learning to let go

i've come to a certain realisation. and that is i have sucky friends. well, friends that suck if such a term does not exist. about the two things that i really am passionate about in my life are my family and friends, and both sucks. sigh. when your destiny is such, you live with it and move on.

i guess many won't share my opinion that my family sucks, and in a way they are great. but in so many other ways, they SUCK. the problem is if i whine about all that's wrong about them and perhaps get the problems off my chest, i start to develop this abhorence about myself and my own character and values, so i'm pretty much stuck with just one word - SUCK (which is kind of nice to say because of the way it rolls off your tongue and you put every decibel of frustration behind it as you expel the word).

as for friendship, i'm not someone who is automatically warm and genuine to every single breathing soul out there. i do not have such magnitude for compassion to embrace superficial, conceited, ostensious and a huge variety of people. as such, i have a handful of friends, but good friends i consider them to be and that is the way it is for me. it sucks when those so-called good friends apparently do not regard me as such, or actually do not even hold any regard for me at all. for years i've borne the anger, the resentment, the frustration at these 2 friends who abandoned me in times of need. i've asked myself, was it me? what did i do wrong? was i not clear that i need their help? was there a major event in their lives that made them forget me and all the moments that defined our friendship? well, apparently not. they just forgot.

after so many years, out of the blue, he spoke to me again. he doesn't even have a tiny inkling that things are not the same. but i have let it go. the grudge for it was too long and too tiring to continue being angry for an extended time. the friendship for i have accepted that not all friendships are bilateral. no one can turn back the clock of time or undo things that have been done. we learn to move on.

the memories of good times tainted with disdain, regard spoilt by indifference. when i look back and think of the memories, the person that i see in my mind's eye is no longer that who is infront of me. that person in my mind is and will always be my good friend.

monday blues

sometimes, with the right group of people, sitting down for a cup of coffee is therapeutic. actually letting yourself stop and take a break from the madness of the rat race, from the despondence of life, telling yourself that it's ok if life pulls me down, let me rest for a while and i'll be on my feet again, all that re-energise you. i listened to how a friend nearly suffered a depressive breakdown, how life's tough...but in the end we're all tougher. in the end we don't remember the words spoken, but we feel lighter.

red

my first tomato turned red! and ended up in my stomach. not super sweet. i much prefer the process of germinating it from seed, watching it grow taller day by day, turning the pot ever so slightly each day so that all the leaves can catch the rays, fussing over it when it was ill, rather than the end result. often it's the journey that counts.

post-birthday

a friend brought me to s.wine at publika and bought lunch. it was a porky day. 

good food again? good ambiance and good friends. by the 3rd day, i wonder if there is any other better way to celebrate rather than marking it with food. still, for lack of a better idea, one's got to eat - so eat with gusto one shall.

nature's gift to me for my 41st birthday - hyperopia.........long-sightedness *_*

another year

another year older. more regrets. more time wasted. more searching. for what exactly? for my lost soul? for the meaning of life? for the passion that is supposed to grip me so tight that my days will be re-energised and i will jump out of bed everyday? i'm no longer 21. or even 30. what do i want from life? i still don't have the answers. will we be able to find our answer at the end of our days, or will we realise that this is all there is. what do i want? what do i like? what makes me tingle?

i'm a very simple person, with the most basic of needs. i need human interaction. or how should i put it? not just any human interaction. some drains me. i was talking to someone this morning who plainly drained all my energy. simply because her insincerity blankets everything she says or do. she talks, but she doesn't listen. she doesn't even hear. to see the two at action, it's like a battle of the words. one is talking about something and the other something else totally different. and not just simple short sentences at that; each launching into their own long tales, pulling every cell of your body poles apart with the calling of their voices. everybody's talking, no one's listening. what a din you can imagine it is, regardless of the volume of the conversation, if you can call it that.

most days i find myself yearning to reach out to another soul. sadly, there isn't any that will listen with the purest of heart. one with no agenda. one with an open ear and a friendly shoulder. i need inspiration, i need warmth, i need friendship and i need love. not that of a man and a woman but love for everything and everyone. but life is so ugly and human is so ugly. it drains me so.

lifeline

"tell me a joke", she texted.

there was no reply. only deafening silence.

5 hours later came the reply, "are you alright?" as if he knew that something was not quite right.

those 3 words in itself was a balm to the pain, a lifeline to her that was drowning. she doesn't know how much longer she can hang on to her sanity. it gets harder and harder each time to return to status quo.

"better. don't need the joke anymore". who knows that retail therapy really does work, eventhough this time it was more out of necessity rather than indulgence. still something to take the mind out of it is always good, if only for a while. "then again, wouldn't mind having something to laugh about. tell me your best joke when you have the time".

"want to talk about it?"

"nah. just climbed out, don't really want to jump back in".

"whenever you need a shoulder just let me know. though it's going to be a little hard cos i'm in europe now".

"will need a very long neck then. lol. must be feeling better, i'm making my own jokes".

some things you just want to remember. from now until eternity. simply because it's moments like these that make you feel that there is still warmth on earth. was it an automated response to a drowning soul? was it a superficial reply or a sincere concern, the harsh practical voice can't help but nag in a whisper. she can no longer tell which is which. it shouldn't matter, she scolds back angrily. why are you making yourself miserable? take it as it is. the warm voice of a warm friend. it is what you need. in life you see what you want to see, what you need to see.

the sound of a sigh

the sound of her mother's sigh reverberates within me even 24 hours on. in that quiet room where everybody just stood looking at her and stroking her arm, not knowing what to say, the quiet sigh of her mother was deafening. the single sound spoke so much. it spoke of all the unsaid nights that her mother has spent crying by her bedside. it spoke of all the heartbreak, all the broken expectations and vanished hopes. it tells of so much sadness, endurance and fortitude. it gave us a glimpse of her hopelessness, her anguish, her torment. how can anyone of us understand how crushing it is to see your child lying there so helplessly, so powerless, so bleak a future. a cruel inhumane thought flitted past my mind, and i was ashamed of it. but for her family, for her daughter, for her even..........wouldn't it be a better alternative? i do not know which path is less painful but i believe both will be as devastating. to be in a place where either path is as grievious.......how cruel the world can be sometimes.

friendship

a friend i have lost. and sometimes i wonder, is it another that i have found? eventhough we have been friends since primary 5, more than 20 years ago, i don't think of him as more than an acquaintance. if we were to sit down, i doubt we have much to talk about. definitely not that which is closest and deepest in our hearts. such is the distance that has come between us. once we have been very close but i guess as with all friendship, we have to work hard merely to maintain it. life and everything else just got it the way and neither of us bothered.

anyway, when i lost my friend so suddenly, his first reaction was to ask me how i was. i don't know how he knew (that her death will mean so much to me) or was it because he never knew (that she and i never had a chance to be closer). i was hit bad, and it was touching that someone knew. someone asked.

life is weird like that. for the second time in my life, sympathy wasn't forthcoming where you wanted it, where you expected it. someone somewhere, when you were least expecting it, hands you a life line and tells you that you are not alone. is it real or just a mirage in my dire thirst for empathy and warmth, frankly i don't care. even if i'm imagining the sentiment behind it, i'll still continue forth deluding myself......because i need it.

another 365

yet another year. another 365 says without hearing her voice. that familiar sound calling me bitch, in the most endearing way that only she could with a profanity.

time past so fast, but perhaps not so for those closest to her. last year her father gave me hope. i saw in my mind's eye her slowly talking to me and acknowledging my presence the next time i visit. but 365 says later there she still lies, sometimes tensing her limbs and shaking uncontrollably, as if in frustration at being unable to verbally interact with us.

i look at her and i have so much i want to tell her. what exactly? my mind draws a blank. why is it that i have this pressing feeling of having so much to say to her.....but not knowing what is it that i really have to tell? i just know that i miss her so much and i just want to talk to her.

this year isn't the best of years. another close friend has been taken away. perhaps not the closest but still she was a bright star in my life. someone who had brought a smile to my lips many times, someone different from others and someone who had meant something to me. i'm still trying to get use to the vacuum she left behind, to her absence from now and ever after. the only way i've learnt to handle all this sadness in my life is to put it in an air-tight box and hide it in a deep dark corner of my heart, never to take it out, never to look at it. sometimes something will remind me of my loss and like today, the emotion overcomes me and blanket me with sadness. but tomorrow, i will return it back into the box and keep it in that dark corner again and i will be alright again.

lost

why is it that i seem to have lost the endless flow of words, sometimes romantic in its eloquence, sometimes melancholic in its depths? my fingers hover uncertainly over the keyboard, words stutter as they form in my brain. i am now no longer able to write as beautifully as before, perhaps because i have ceased to reflect. what good has come of the moaning, the whining, the stopping in my track and turning back.....life pays no attention. i can be happy, ecstatic even. i can be miserable, unsure and self-questioning. life doesn't even blink an eye. i've thought it best to just rush headlong into life, throwing myself at her....or is it him.....and just living in the moment. i don't dare to look back. my heart hurts at all the people who has left me behind. the hardest part of growing old..er is trying to accept the fact that some people are no longer in your life. the mourning for the living is as deep as for the dead. i don't dare to look into the future, i know what's waiting for me and i grow cold at the thought. i live in the present.

is it me or it is them?

what is it with singapore and friendships? this is the third friend that i am losing to that little dot down south. is it the island or is it me? does it have a bermuda triangle-like emanation that cuts off all communication along with melancholic whim of affection?

friendships are so hard to come by, what more good ones. the older i get the more they are slipping through my fingers. friendships build over a long period of time, trust built over layers of communication. when i look at what they have given up, without so much as the bat of an eye, all our history and past, i feel the tugging at my heart. but i am the only one mourning. for what then? if it is only one-sided, was there ever a friendship in place? why do they not feel this way, i ask myself so many times.

it's not the distance, what with modern technology like facebook, twitter, whatsapp and whatever. there are more choices to ignore people by now as compared to the snail mail days. and yet the friendships survived the golden age. perhaps it's because of these vast modern distractions that people no longer feel the need to connect, to reach out and touch each other anymore. who needs friendship, i have a 24 hour idiot-entertainment-box.

i've wondered so many times that it's like a broken record in my head. is it me? what is wrong with me? is there something wrong with the core of my very being. am i not enough of a friend? or am i a dinosaur who treasures friendship amongst the space-age inhabitants?

i feel like shouting, i feel like screaming, i feel like taking a cast iron pan and knocking them on their head. hey! what happened to our friendship?, i want to yell. why do i not matter to you anymore? remember the times we talked? remember the laughter we shared? my fingers are itching to reach out and ask them why. with just a few taps of the keyboard, it won't be a weight at the bottom of my heart anymore. but what is the point? what will their answer matter? for whatever reason they have given up on our friendships, that friendship has now dissipated into thin air and carried away by the wind.

unloading

life is tiring enough handling all the senseless chaos and mundane fire-fighting day in day out without the hordes of selfish, greedy and rumour-mongering people to bring further stress into life. sometimes i wonder if it is possible that others also live the life that i do or is it just me and my over-sensitivity that is finding it difficult to digest. life will be so much more beautiful with a little more sprinkle of tolerance and a dash more of love. yesterday i listened to sis-in-law rambled incoherently at the dinner table a little too wildly and a little too loud about her 'future daughter-in-law'. how the latter hid in the toilet when she came home to see her. only thing is her son is 16, the girl is not in a relationship with him and doesn't reciprocate his feelings, he is right next to him and humans do go to toilet at one point in their lives or another. i guess all mothers are insanely jealous when their sons have replaced their girl on the pedestal but with all our years of wisdom and experience, we probably can dish out a little subtlety and tolerance. i do agree that she is not worth it, but still respect will not be lost. a little respect for someone else's daughter and for her son. yesterday i lived through another day of mother harping on my back, nagging and grumbling on how i was cooking it wrong, despite the fact that she was the one asking me to cook it, despite the fact that i was the one who taught her how to cook it and despite the fact that i was not cooking it any differently from the other hundred times, despite the fact that it was the not the first, nor the last, that she was harping on me. it's just getting worse with the days. but it's all part of life, of growing old, of how things are meant to be. i understand and know right down to the bottom of my soul all the preachings about how it's a blessing to be able to cook for her or help her, how it's wonderful that i have this time with her and i do feel it whole heartedly. doesn't stop it from driving me up the wall though. yesterday the rumour monger was hard at work spreading more chaos and tales from deep inside the crypt of her mind. how much more can i take, someone who turns tales around, who tries to poison others with her lies, i don't know. i believe i can always live another day. and then another day after that. and then another day after that. life goes on, despite how tiring it sometimes can be. yesterday i battled with the usual fires, putting out problems that sap at my energy. the stupid handphone just kept ringing, incessantly whining, bringing me more chaos that i care for. how i hate that thing that mankind call a modern convenience. to whom indeed? yesterday the hubs made an off-handed remark that showed how little he appreciated how much i am doing, and how tired i am. wasn't the first time, nor will it be the last. when we return home, and both daughter and i collapsed on the sofa side-by-side, exhausted from the day's flow of events, the question 'you look so tired' floated in the air, but it was directed only at my daughter. how a single simple sentence can sound so sweet, if directed at the right person. how one word that acknowledges you is all that it takes to make everything alright. how it floated to the ears of the wrong person and did not become the balm that it could have been. i can only put it down to men and that's how men are, rather than harping on it, rather than letting it wedge a splinter into my heart. i'm pretty good at that. letting things flow over me whilst i remain still like a statue, unhearing, unfeeling, unhearing, unseeing. yesterday i sat and listened for the longest time to father share a part of his thoughts. by that time of the day, i was so tired it was all i could do to stop myself from yawning, but i nearly lost the fight against my eyes closing. nearly. it was something that he doesn't do very often, share the big picture with us. being with us heart and soul was also not something he does often, unless the talk turns to business. it wasn't so much that he was passing his knowledge, as hubs seem to see it, and definitely now why i was listening. but a man sometimes need to share, sometimes need to talk and let out all that is inside, and few can be in the position to listen. especially when that man is a head of many corporations and have the big picture in his head that others are not privy to know. i think of it as theraphy session for the health of his soul.

when i think about it, there are so many things wrong with my family. and i wonder if others have families like that, or am i living in an episode of a prime-time drama. i wonder if others have parents who love the son more than the daughter. i wonder if others never listened to their children. i wonder if other parents never spent time with their children whilst growing up. sometimes i forget how my childhood was like, but the pictures that i remember in my mind are all me being by myself, of them rushing here and there, or relaxing, it doesn't really make a difference, by themselves, whilst i am alone. how my childhood differs from that of my children. yesterday i had more than a fair share of chaos. but here i am today. and today is another new day.

puppy

many many years ago, never in my wildest dream will i dare to imagine that i will one day be able to have lunch with him. just that hand's length away from him, talking about casual things in life, chatting, joking and laughing. once upon a time, my dream was just to be able to find him again and know how life has been for him, if he went on to become the doctor of his ambition and whether his eyes still twinkled like so. that dream came true, someone found his contacts and i thought that was where the story ended. but sometimes the powers that be smile kindly down at me.

that day, that lunch was more than i could ever ask for. actually, it was the second lunch. the first, some years back, was too awkward, too forced, too unreal. it left me with many regrets. this time round, maybe because i was caught off-guard by his eleventh-hour invitation, i had no time whatsoever to run it through my head. i'm usually better when i don't use my over-analytical brain :-p

lunch was simple, the conversation casual. we talked about our lives, past and present. perhaps it was age that mellowed me. what struck me was that he seemed to understand. that it was easy talking to him. i guess some things never change, no matter how many years in between. i can't even remember clearly the things that happened, many memories have been erased with time. i doubt he can remember too. we were both too young. whilst he was my first puppy love, sweet and memorable, i was nothing more than a passing fancy. still, it was alright. it didn't really matter. life is about our memories, our feelings. just because it was not earth-shattering and deeply etched in the heart for him, it does not make the memory any less sweeter.

what that one and me had was sweet memory, in my mind at the very least. and now, a casual friendship. neither wants anything more. i have a word of thanks, but only in my heart. thank you for staying so pure and good. thank you for staying you.

hope

i thought things like that only happens in movies and make belief. the story of a boy being taken against his will brings the nation, the world even, together as one. in every corner of the world, voices unheard murmuring, praying, hoping for the safe return of one boy. a boy that they have never even met. nayati "is a story about compassion, about friendship, about unity and love". it is the story about how one boy brought the whole world together, regardless of race, culture and their differences. that is how the world should be. the world will be so much better if we all just concentrate on that love.

last night, i think many people all over slept a little better, knowing that the world is alright again. that an innocent 12 year old is once again back in the arms of his family. that there is indeed justice and hope in this world and moral degradation has not crept into every nook and crevice. that moments of hope and inspiration like this do happens once in a while. just as long as you believe.

yesterday, i learnt not to give up hope. when i heard the news of nayati's kidnapping, that night i had a dream. i mean the actual one when you go to sleep and not the martin luther king's type. i dreamt that i found the little boy as he was walking home and i brought him to his family. the dream reflected my inner longings, my hope or perhaps it was my brain consoling me that everything will be alright. i read the updates faithfully, clicking on the refresh button every few hours. i thought i knew deep in my heart that the parents were in negotiation with the kidnappers. perhaps it was the way the father worded his updates, or rather the way he chose not to reveal too much suddenly. i thought i knew, and i was hopeful. however, days passed and every day i counted. one 24 hours, two 24 hours, three 24 hours...........as it grew nearer to 168 hours, the light of my hope slowly dimmed. surely if they had been contacted, they wouldn't have left the boy out there for so long. my daughter kept on to her faith. she believed, but perhaps it was because if her innocence, her naivety. then again, perhaps it's because of my cynicism that i gave up so easily. yesterday, nayati finally came home, and the world rejoiced with him. yesterday it was a beautiful day again. because of one boy. a boy who taught us it was alright to hope, and that sometimes wishes do come true. a boy who taught us not to give up on the world and to continue loving.

who would have thought i will receive a flower today....from my brother, nonetheless. throughout my life, i can only remember one other moment like this and that was 26 years ago.

life is so full of irony. i woke up today morning and decided that at age 40, i should be considering putting on makeup on a daily basis. doesn't really matter if all i do everyday is transit from one four-walled room to another four-walled room, hardly seeing another living thing on the way. it's just another part of growing older. little did i know that i will indeed be meeting many new faces today and little did i know that i will be removing my my makeup in the hospital tonight.

it has become such a routine that i scamper inside this intangible space to let out the steam of frustration threatening to explode inside the pressure pot that is my life, to lick my wounds and bandage it up in darkness so that i am once again ready to face the world, with a smile on my face and a wiggle in my walk. it is becoming harder as i age to maintain that youthful optimism and pensive depression catches me once in a while when i'm unaware. now being happy and staying happy is something that you actually have to work hard at. perhaps it's the decreasing serotonin in the body, perhaps life has become more complicated.

however, for this blog to be a physical reminder of my days passed, i don't want it to contain just the sad times, the angry moments, the unhappy ones. to read through it one will think that my life holds only despondent days. how bleak that will be. i have to remind myself to write about the good times too, the ones that make me glow with warmth, or what resembles that despite the aloofness that is seizing my mind.

every weekday i have to wake up at 6.30 a.m. 6.45 the latest. weekends are the only time i have the luxury to sleep in and close my eyes to the knocking and calling of the world. i can turn up the air-cond, pull down the blinds and close my ears to everything except the rumblings of my stomach. that's why it's such an irony when my eyes automatically pop open at 6.09 a.m. last saturday and 5.25 a.m. on sunday. wild horses couldn't open my eyelids on weekdays but on weekends, the pair of smart-alecks, coupled with my uncooperative brain have a mind (pun intended :P) of their own.

i'm someone who needs her beauty sleep, or rather WAS that someone. perhaps it's old age, but i needed at least 10  hours sleep each night before my brain can function when i was younger. the words beauty sleep reminds me of a certain someone. someone who knew that about me much more than others did and constantly reminded me that i should get more beauty sleep. someone who cut out comic strips from the newspapers every week and sent them to me by post just to cheer up my days. someone who thought of me and how i was doing every so often. perhaps more than my dad. someone who always remembered my birthday and there was always a card in the mail waiting for me. someone that i wished i had treasured more. someone that i wished i had visited more. someone i should have said my last goodbye to. eventhough he couldn't see, even if he will never know, i should have flew that 13 hours to accompany him on his last journey. if not for him, then at least for myself.

the young is always carefree and aloof, untouched by the cruel cold hard grasp of reality. if i had known then what i know now. if i was less self-centered then and thought a little more of others. if i had appreciated his gestures then like i do now. now that he is not here anymore. you realise as you grow older that there aren't that many people in the world who really gives a damn. many wear it at the corner of their mouths, oh, i'm so sorry for you, how are you doing?, you can always talk to me......but few really mean it. it's just the etiquette of life. the action of few really mirrors the love in their heart. why must being young be so callous?

i don't have his letters or the comic strip clippings anymore. in my mind, i can still imagine them. i can't remember if it touched my heart then and kept me warm during the winter. i would like to think that it did.

how is it alright for the world to become a cold empty place, echoing with the sound of nothing but silence? no more the sound of laughters, of little feet running so busily, of adults chatting about anything under the sun, of biscuits crunching and of soft drink cans opening. yes, nostalgia is indeed hitting me full blast, or perhaps old age reminiscence?

when i was little, memories of my chinese new year was just that. adults gathering into different social groups chatting about whatever holds their fancy. delicious arrays of sweets, cookies and tit-bits on the table that seem to be more alluring than the main buffet table. mothers not bothering if the children are feasting on the food or the cookies because they have too much on their hands. red packets that frankly we never cared too much about because we never get to see the daylight of the cold hard cash anyway. groups of visitors coming and leaving. my favourite part was dipping my hands into the cooler box filled with ice-cubes, cold water and soft drinks. many other people of my age share similar memories. of the good old times.

it doesn't really seem that long ago, but life has certainly changed so much. now, nobody is around for the chinese new year. say the word and people actually shiver at the idea of the money to fork out for the red packets, or the stress of holding such a gathering and the noise and crowd. such grumpiness for the start of a new lunar year. or is it just the people around me?

it should be the time for catching up on a whole year of someone else's life, the time to let down your hair and forget about work for a little while, to see how big your little nieces and nephews have grown or so-and-so's daughter. remember? the one that you were so close with in college donkey years ago but can't even spend one minute to catch up with in the past few years? if not during the new year holidays, then when? it's the time to peel open some kuaci, to sit around with your nice clothes on and do nothing more than play cards, eat sweets or munch on some mandarin oranges. these days, people fall over themselves in a rush to the line at their travel agents for the fastest flight out of here, be it to japan, australia or even timbuktu. then again, to each his own, i always say. after 364 days of hard work, some may just want to get away from it all. who am i to say?

visiting friends and relatives seem to be a distant memory of the past. our generation seems to prefer 'escaping' from the new year. so, will our children, the generation thereafter forget the customs and the meaning of a traditional new year ?

a new year passed is another 365 days gone. how did we mark it?

looking back, this blog has evolved over the years. from starting out as a curious foray into the mysterious world of blogosphere in 2006 to writing for my readers in 2007, then metamorphosed into  an outlet for my emotions in 2008, and continued simply for the love of writing and the elegance of the written language. now, from 2011 onwards, my blog is for writing so that i will remember my past.

i am making an effort to pen down thoughts and happenings as a blanket of emptiness creep stealthily to cover my past. i am losing memories as fast as i am making new ones. is that normal? to forget both the not so distant past, and also the distant past. i know that to forget the former and not the latter whispers of the symptom of early dementia, but to forget both? is just a sign of brain degeneration? i so badly wanted to ask the doctor that was sitting before me last weekend, but as he was neither looking into my file nor discussing my health, i held back. my memory loss is becoming worse, i acquiesce. there isn't much i remember, except memories that are recounted often over the years. my mother has a better memory than me, and that is speaking volumes since her recollection isn't that hot either. rather than indulge the hypochondriac in me, i believe that i can't remember almost everything because i am tired most times and have a list of to-do's and to-remember that is longer than me from head to toe. so many different things to bear in mind, all happening at different times, different places and different people. even obama has an assistant, several at that.

as i was in the car this morning, it hits me like a tidal wave. something that i have forgotten. a friend that i seldom see was to come to malaysia over the christmas holiday. she wanted to meet up, and we agreed on the date. no...... contrary to what you are thinking, i didn't forget the meeting. i would have written it down on my calendar so there was little chance of that happening. instead, my mother wanted to go to thailand over the christmas break, so i had to break the meeting. i told her i will inform her again if i were to make it. in a twisted turn of events, thailand reported bomb scares so the folks were wondering to go or not to go. perhaps it was this ding dong back and forth. to go. not to go. to go. not to go that made my brain go into overdrive. when they finally decided not to go, i forgot to inform my friend and re-book another day for meeting up. the whole thing totally slipped my mind! only now 2 weeks later, the whole thing suddenly pops into my head from nowhere. and i spent christmas in the most unimpressive, boring and quiet sort of way. it would have been so nice to have met up with her. i can just kick myself in my head with the thickest and heaviest of boots. i didn't even get a little twitch of memory over christmas weekend. it blows my mind how i can totally erase it from my memory then. 

sigh. another page of the life in this cheese-holed brain.

i tried to take today morning off. 4 hours. just 4 freaking hours but my hand-phone have been ringing non-stop, and with each ring bringing me nothing but more frowns. i don't remember exactly when it started but i have this deep-seated desire boiling inside of me to hire a professional killer and 'erase' my handphone's existence from the face of the earth. i remember the days when nobody carried hand-phone and i said things like, 'i seldom switch it on'. ha! now i NEVER switch it off! the last time i chose not to bring it around with me, i was reprimanded by the man who gave birth to me and called 'irresponsible'. sigh. we even use the handphone to call someone who is inside the room, behind closed doors, just a couple of feet away. such is the ludicrious way our lives have become. we are the modern slaves, not of our companies and its relentless working hours, but of our so-technologically advanced, so-sleek and efficient mobile phone. who cares if it's iphone 4s or nokia n-whatever, it's still basically a ball and chain.

back to slacking off. it has been so long, too long, since the last time i slack off work. it's too easy to just go to wherever i work and spend the whole day just sitting behind the desk. work is endless. i don't need to see anybody, i don't need to talk to anybody. life is simple. the only thing i have to do is put out fires and tackle the huge pile of endless paperwork infront of me.

i stole 2 hours yesterday. i was doing nothing much, but there was this sense of liberation, of loosening the shackles around me and lightening the load on my shoulders. not of peace of mind or tranquility because there was still that nagging feeling of guilt that i should still be sitting on that chair, behind that desk, rather than doing nothing productive. but it is because i was doing nothing productive that it felt so good. i can't creep back to my work table because it is not here. i can't do anything but nothing. if it had just finished raining, and i was sipping my coffee at my local coffee bean, then it would have been perfect.

this year's resolution. i need to find more time to slack off. i think i said that last year but i can probably count the number of times i did on one hand. heck, on half a hand even.

mourning

for so many months i've asked myself: will i cry? we've known for months that this day will come soon. i was inwardly appalled that everybody was so cool and detached about the whole thing. if the shoes were on my feet, i'll be crying endlessly until my eyes are puffy and red. i tear even at the very thought. how can everyone be so oblivious to the eternal farewell of someone who gave birth to you. it made me wonder what type of person she was and what type of life she lived that no one will mourn her death. if my life was so, was it a life wasted? if no one misses you, did you existed?

i can't judge them for i don't know their story. only my own. she was my grandmother and she brought me biscuits and sweets everytime she visited. and that was the extent of her closeness to me. she has never done any other grandmotherly stuff with me and she never cared anymore than that. or did my memory forget? perhaps that was how all grandmothers of that era was like. i remember her but i don't remember her. is that why her life was so bare - are our lives measured by the lives we touched? she is my grandmother and i mourn for her. i'm sadden that i'll never be able to look forward to her visits anymore, nor hear her voice. regardless of how aloof others are, despite our little interactions, i'm still left with a heavy heart. may you rest in peace =(

2012. first day of the year. braised pork knuckle in 13 herbs, marinated overnight. can't wait to see what the rest of the 364 days bring me :-P