:-)

2012-01-19T11:20:00.002+08:00

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?

2012-01-10T10:50:00.003+08:00

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.

2012-01-06T12:18:00.003+08:00

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.

2012-01-03T08:46:00.003+08:00

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

2011-12-31T14:20:00.000+08:00

i was just struck by how sweet she is. that eyes. that face. she was just so pure.

as far as i can remember, i don't think i've ever been to an orphanage, especially one with disabled children. the very idea of it scares me. new place. new environment. new situation. i feel like someone who has some degree of cenophobia, but not merely new things. the very idea of seeing kids who are helplessly lying around, unable to change their lives, unable to do anything for themselves pulls me into greater depths of gloom. i am not one to bounce back easily from depressive mood swings and so i rather send my well-wishes through a third party or through our boys in the snail mail service all this while.

however, i can't let my fear and apprehension hold me back forever, or more importantly, i can't let my fear and apprehension hold me back on educating my kids. they need to see, they need to witness with their very own eyes other children who are less fortunate and they need to cultivate their generosity and emphaty. no lesson is greater than living it.

i've put off visiting the place for more than half a year, but it was something that i wanted to do this year. yesterday morning, we gathered all the toys that they no longer played with, the books that they no longer read and with some money that they have saved from their allowance, we finally visited the orphanage.

before i went, i was afraid my cynicism will spoil everything. my hardness, my aloofness, my apathy. will i be very unhappy afterwards? will i cry? will i know how to interact with them? do i have to pretend to be nice? if you've ever seen the sweet, soft-spoken, patient, gentle and kind type, you'll know that i'm not it. but i've always let things run in circles in my mind for too long and thought about things too much. i decided to just go with the flow this time. que sera sera.

when i walked into the office, my cynicism in full gear as usual, a little girl on the floor, flipping through her magazine, waved at me. she had on a very sweet smile. it was like a scene from a typical donor's account. having read so many people's similar story, i was like living in a play-act. scene one, take one. she waved at me again when i was talking to the person-in-charge. i left the others and went to talk to her for a little while. i just couldn't resist her smile. at first i didnt know whether to converse in english or chinese, but i realise it didn't really matter. i liked talking to her, eventhough she has no idea what i was saying and i have no idea what she was saying. she said something, which i interpreted to be asking my name. i pointed to myself and said my name and i asked her hers. i heard her repeating the last syllable of my name softly. she couldn't quite tell me hers. she is 16 but is almost the size of a 12 year old. i have no idea how old her IQ is. her back bents forward as she sits on the floor because she has some back bone deformity. i talked to her a little more, and flipped the magazine with her. the man told me that they call her 'girl-girl' and explained to me patiently about her condition and the progress that they have had with her. i believe.

i looked up and saw my mother standing in the corner, lost and waiting. i stood up to leave and bid 'girl-girl' farewell. she waved back in return. i don't really want to leave. i want to spend a little bit more time with the girl that stole my heart with her smile. i can't remember the last time i've seen another smile so pure, with no hidden agenda or complications. i hope i will be back.

2011-12-30T09:28:00.000+08:00

goodbye 2011. 2012, can you hide in the corner and wait for a little while? i'm not quite ready to greet you yet.

2011 saw my eyesight taking a sudden turn for the worse. my hubby has jested that hyperopia will hit me when i turn 40. i was still shaking my head with laughter when i suddenly find myself holding my reading material 2 inches further. exactly at 40. it's like the warranty period on my eyes just ran out. sorry madam, you have hit 40, time for your eyes to start breaking down. and sorry, it's not covered in the warranty. you didn't realise that it was not under lifetime warranty? then you should have read the fine print, ~~dummy~~. the worse part is, my myopia isn't too hot either. i guess they forgot to tell me that. i can't see near and i can't see far. so, stand in between when i talk to you, ok? maaaaaaybe it's reading late into the night on the ipad. or the long hours in front of the computer screen. or the television to unwind. i seem to be moving from one lighted device to another. still, it's a lifestyle and it's not something that can change just because we want to.

2011 saw me saying goodbye over and over and over and over again. things are finally changing. life is impermanent, i get it, but i suck so terribly at change. outside i am cool, aloof, undisturbed but inside the little me is kicking, screaming and holding on to wall corners to stop from being dragged on to the next chapter. friends, relatives and even my nephew who i have watched growing up with my very eyes are all moving on. if i were to maintain a semblance of rationality, i will know that their one step away is one step closer to their future, and perhaps i should be glad for them. but not unless you drug the emotional 'little me' first.

2011 saw me breaking little traditions. i didn't bring her daughter for trick-or-treating this year as a result of circumstance. i see others physically moving away, but i myself am unconsciously taking one step further. did time soothe the wound or am i just hiding and pretending that it does not exist? i find myself needing an excuse to visit. did i need one then?my christmas tree is shorter this year. honey, i shrunk the tree. instead of the usual 3 parts, i only put up 2, and only because my daughter insisted on it. reflective of my mood for the holiday season perhaps. new year's eve will also be quiet and different this year. used to be warm with friends coming over and chatting through the night into the new year. this year, with all of them gone, i feel a little piece of my energy, my spirit, also gone with them. all i want to do is crawl into warm cozy bed and cover my head with the blanket. but i will not. i will find new traditions.

2011 saw me lost my son for several minutes and reminded me not to be lackadaisical about his presence. 2011 saw me holidaying with friends. it matters not where, when, how, why or what. it is always the who. i am one who craves human interaction. the sound of friends chatting, or simply being present, are soothing to my soul. 2011 saw a lot of frustration. life is more complicated because of one person. i am tip-toeing around her presence so as not to spark any fire or cause any turbulent waves. perhaps outside, in the dynamic world, but not at home where life should not be so tiring. but i don't like to dawdle on such and i turn the page in a hurry.

2011 saw a lot of people moving on. that perhaps is how i should sum up the year. the year of moving on.

2011-12-29T14:50:00.002+08:00

the person who gave me this

also gave me this

strangely, i'm more excited about the second gift than i am about the first. the feel of the paper. the smooth lined surface. the black sophisticated cover. pure empty pages. a fresh start for the fresh year. thinking of it makes me tingle.

the electronic photo frame, i have absolutely no idea what to do with it. it's just another thing occupying space. to actually put photos in and hook it up 24/7 means electricity and good money wasted. the power companies must be rubbing their hands with glee when the ~~smartass~~ inventor came up with the idea. i have another one just like that lying in a box at home, collecting layers after layers of dust. it seemed like a brilliant idea at first, but after the first two days, you remember the photos that you loaded and don't need to be reminded of it 24 hours 7 days a week.

so, i guess it must be really hard shopping for someone with a weird sense of priorities like me. i think simple is always better.

2011-12-23T11:38:00.000+08:00

2011-12-22T11:25:00.000+08:00

it's the very first time in my life that i've ever watched a football match from start to finish, without falling into a comatose state within the first five minutes. you can hardly blame me, the right left right left running up and down the field is like a hypnotic pendulum. the brain just turns off at the slightest suggestion of it.

i caught my very first live football match a few weeks ago. technically, we didn't really watch it to the full 90 minutes; we decided to leave 10 minutes earlier to avoid the other 39,996 people that would soon thunder after us like a huge herd of hungry wild boars. unfortunately, another 996 or so people had the same brilliant idea. i don't know if you have ever tried huge gathering of adrenalin-charged people but 996 people feels exactly the same as 39,996 people, especially within your immediate surrounding. you still get the push, the shove, the smelly armpits (thank goodness it was winter!) and the hot sticky stale air. it was still a mad rush to the nearest underground station, and we were still squashed closer than a tin of sardines inside the train. the people of london, i must say, are definitely more gentlemanly. my derriere and other body parts came off unharmed and unmolested despite the crazy squeeze.

anyway, back to the game. i am not, and have never been a football fan. i basically tune off when people discuss the game. some ladies watch football for the tall handsome players. me, i can't even keep up with where the ball went, forget about anything else that is above their quick skilful legs (er, let's keep our thoughts clean). i know that many are crazy, mental even, about the game. i can't find the passion within me. that night, however, i couldn't keep my eyes off the 22 players for even one minute. the whole atmosphere, the shouting, the sound of chairs clapping shut simulataneously when the crowd stands up to catch the action when they were attempting to score a goal, the singing, the pure exhiliration oozing from the air highly charged with energy. i've forgotten the last time something was so new and exciting for me. i can't tell who from who but watching them pass the ball from one to another, head butting it away from the goal, i was in total awe. as it lurked later into the night and the temperature drops even more, pulling on all my winter gears, and more, couldn't keep the chill away. trembling in my seat, rubbing my gloved hands together to keep warm, the crowd chanting and singing, bright stadium light making everything seem surreal. it's definitely one for the memory chest.

2011-12-20T10:34:00.003+08:00

it's that time of the year again. merry cheer, disillusionment, wariness and all that the season calls. time to fish out the cheque book and go through who is naughty or nice. not for well-behaving nieces and bratty nephews but wading through the humongous pile of letters that i have received and accumulated from charity organisations throughout the year.

life would be simpler if everybody was honest, if you get what you see. everybody knows right from wrong, yet they manage to exercise some kind of logic from practising what is correct, some kind of contorted delusion that they are virtuous. charity is such big money that all types of pests and scum hide themselves behind the apron, portraying themselves to be wondrous mother teresa's out to save the world. it's sad, it's pathetic that some will take money meant for others in greater need, and i wonder if there is any karma for them in the end, but that is just how the world turns.

some donation letters came in colourful glossy papers, pages after pages thick. the stamp and printing alone would have fed a few more mouths for the year. one purported to be contributing to third world countries; water and sanitation for cambodia, indonesia and.....malaysia. i have always thought that our government was doing that, albeit not the best job in the world, but i now learn that a well-known international organisation is canvassing for donations so that you and i can have better sanitation and water. no wonder everybody doesn't pay indah water. others do nothing more than visit international schools in the name or promoting education. what little they do is not strange, but to actually show it in the newsletter is a little strange. the least they could do was grab some sad looking children from the streets and take some pity-wrenching photos with them.

charitable organisations sprout like mushrooms, purportedly representing the blind, the disabled and the handicapped in malaysia. what have they done? where do the money go? everybody wants to be seen helping the needy, cream of the society heading the trustees of the board, datuks and datins acting as patrons of charities, lending a sense of credibility to its name. don't kid yourself that the rich do not cheat. each year you turn a little more cynical, a little more jaded with the things you learn, with the things you see. still, pages of the cheque books are torn, names scribbled and envelopes addressed. for the little that you can do, whether to assist the needy or simply appease your mind.

2011-11-21T16:12:00.001+08:00

cinderella can not eat. wise people say that when the elderly cannot eat, their time is near. it's inevitable, we all know. she has been claiming that she is going to die for more than a decade now and yet she had lived strong. now, suddenly we don't hear her profess as often, but her thin body says it all.

whenever i receive news such as this, i always ask myself the same question: has she ever been close to me, as if to summarise all our interaction in a lifetime with but one answer, and to gauge how much it will hurt this time. as if it can be so easily foretold. she was somebody to me, yes, but she wasn't exactly the type i fantasised. she never held me by the hand and led me to the park, never spent hours telling me stories, both fabled and real, she never bothered about my life, never asked beyond 'where are they now' and she never knew me at all. but still, she was somebody to me. she brought me cookies and candies whenever she visited, and i think she was the best somebody to me in the way that she knew how.

the last year has been less than lucid, and answers were as readily replaced by the same questions, again and again. yet i did not feel the tinge of annoyance like all others. i don't know why. i just felt comforted. perhaps, sitting there beside her, i could sense her grasping on, trying to still care, trying to hold on to the meaning of our words. and perhaps it was because she WAS still seating there beside me, in flesh and blood, and i could touch her cold hands that it felt right. i just wished that others had loved her as much and was as kind to her. it will only be too soon before their turn will come. if only others can also understand that, and spare the harsh loud words, and look at her one more time before she is gone. if only they can remember what she had done, her kind words, her generosity, her love, and smiled at her one more time, held her hand one more time before the sun sets.

2011-11-17T11:50:00.000+08:00

2011-11-02T15:59:00.000+08:00

when you give someone $14 to pay a bill, and that someone banks in $20 into the utility company's account at the nearest bank, forking out another $6 from his (yes, the male sex *rolls eyes*) pocket, simply because he can bank in through the automated teller machine, and then doesn't mention even one syllable of it, not even a peep, but quietly returns the bank-in slip to you, what can you call him? self-motivated? generous?

so many names spring to my mind, but i'll just call him ....an idiot! not everyone should exercise their brain, least of all those who do not have the entire picture and think too highly of themselves. i have a hundred reasons why his thoughtless and lazy action have messed up things but at this point in time, it doesn't really matter. all i can do is sigh, grumble in this blog, and go about with my rectification operation. it started out as a very simple instruction. take the money. pay at the utility company. return the bill. the ways that it can turn out however is countless. it just goes to show that a mind's a dangerous thing. if everybody in this world started exercising their power of independent thinking, without first having all the facts in hand, we will all be in chaos.

2011-11-01T10:23:00.001+08:00

every year i hear it, from different mouths and different places; we're apes to mimic the cultures of our western counterparts, halloween has no place in the pages of our lives. it's a little sad when you think of it, how these people have closed their minds to possibilities, formed judgements before partaking and shut the door to their hearts. it's pointless to argue about assimilation of cultures and introduction of new experiences. when people have closed their mind their ears are seldom open.
i've celebrated halloween for close to a decade now, and i don't know at which point of time it qualifies to be labelled as my culture. it started out as an excuse for a get-together of close friends with little kids, and nothing spells more fun than good food, a safe warm place to hang around and chat and an excuse to dress up for treats. seriously, what other time can you dress up in whatever your imagination fabricates? please don't start telling me stories of what happens in your bedroom behind closed doors, that is another matter altogether. we've had french maid, queen amidala from star wars, school girl, mickey mouse, 60's a-go-go girl, pirate and a whole long list of imaginary characters. we've done it through clear night skies and heavy rain. we've done it through our galoshes, umbrellas and mosquito repellants. every year, with an array of delicious food that each has contributed to the dinner table, we took a little time off to sit down, catch up with good friends and let our hair down for a little while. from my place, to my cousin's, back to my own on last sunday night.

the little one has his final year exams this week and so we couldn't carry out our annual trick-or-treating without him exchanging all his candies for the lessons in his brain. we decided to stay home and partake in the quiet affair that was going on in our block of apartment. a few households have signed up for trick-or-treating and we were one of them. came the bewitching hour, i dressed up in my white cloak, messed up my hair and "floated" out to greet the little ones who were ringing the bell for some candies. i was trying my hardest to keep on the scary solemn look whilst reaching my hand out beyond the grill door to beckon them closer. after they left, and behind the closed doors, i was jumping around with glee, like the madness that i am. lol. you don't know the thrill of being able to act scary and frighten the little ones without their mothers thumping on your head with a frying pan until you have tried it yourself.

so, really, when you say it isn't in your culture, do you mean it's not in your culture to let your hair down for a little while and have some fun?

2011-10-28T17:07:00.000+08:00

shovelled the older one out of bed today to keep me company for my sporadic 30-minute morning walk around the neighbourhood. i never did like the leery stares from strangers that hang around by the side of the road for no apparent reason than to freak you out with their trailing looks. maybe i am just delusional when released into the wild.

barely 2 minutes into our walk, we strolled straight into a dense fog. right in the early morning sun, a fog out of nowhere, so thick that you can barely see beyond. it would have sounded like a scene from a ghost movie if not for the smothering fume of pest control spray.. despite holding our breath and using our shirt as a filter when our breath could no longer hold out, we couldn't help but inhale some of the toxic fumes. why they are carrying out the spraying during rush hour peak traffic time when most people are on the streets, i assume they are trying to reduce the population of pests, as well as human residents, in the area to improve traffic conditions.

barely 15 minutes into our walk, we made a planned (hers, not mine) detour into the neighbourhood big M for her breakfast. i get the vague feeling that i have been conned from the word go. my morning exercise is very rapidly turning into a stroll to get her favourite breakfast. she settled on her breakfast menu in a jiffy; sausage mcmuffin (without egg), one milo ice and a cup of hot coffee for dear ole mummy to sip on whilst the little bunny gnaw at her food at the speed of grass growing.

apparently, mcd doesn't have 'service with a smile' on the menu anymore. we were offered it's latest introductory menu instead: 'service with a scowl'. there was some friday fashion thing going on: the man stacking the utensils was wearing a shocking pink plastic party hat whilst the fries man was wearing bunny ears. the lady behind the counter serving us was wearing the latest face-black-like-the-bottom-of-a-pan look from paris' winter fashion look. whilst we were halfway through saying our order, she turned her attention to her colleague. i looked straight into her eyes but it didn't bother her one bit. perhaps she's used to getting stares from people. our order turned into one sausage mcmuffin, with egg of course and the coffee turned into a cup of tea. they do magic with mcd breakfast now too! quickly we took a table and started on breakfast before she started pulling a rabbit out of the milo. no drama whatsoever. i seem to mellow with age.

the walk back took another 10 minutes. my half hour morning exercise turned out to be a one and a half hour outing with 25 minutes of exercise and almost an hour of dawdling in between. the day didn't turn out as expected but it was still a good break from the monotony. daughter and i had a nice time together to add to our little memory bank. this is probably the first and last time she will wake up at 8am to have a walk with me.

2011-10-27T15:10:00.000+08:00

i remember there was a time when her gift was the most precious thing ever. a beautiful glossy-paged story book from london with the most amazing pictures. i can't remember the name of the book, nor do i have the book anymore, but i still remember the awe and wonderment when i flipped the pages. a book like that was rare and a real treat to the eight year old me. my shelves were lined with enid blytons in black and white and pages so coarse you could sand the table. so, to the little girl back then, it was the most beautiful book in my possession.

now, so many years later, a branded handbag worth so much more than that book echoes with emptiness. is it because she didn't mean to give it to me but only upon seeing that i was around, sent someone to scurry down to her car to retrieve it that the sincerity is absent? i can't help but think that there are many more such gifts of convenience sitting comfortably in the back boot. or is it because it is not the first time?

has she changed? or have i changed? or is it because the time, the place and our roles have changed? life was simpler when a gift was just a gift and not innuendos of intention. perhaps, it has always been, and my mind was too childish to recognise it. then again, aren't all gifts a tool for exchange of your affection? so why should i look at this with a more cynical viewpoint that the others? perhaps because this was not an attempt at my favourable consideration. perhaps because this was more.

i know i shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, just in case i find things there that i do not like. a gift is a gift, whatever the intention. i should take it as that and be grateful for the things that are given. sigh. it's easier to be grateful when the things are less materialistic, and comes with less attachments. a simple hand-drawn card, a sweet text message, a voice of concern when you need it, a hug from a friend......these things touch me more.

somewhere in my closet, i have a bag. beautiful as it may be, i am reluctant to look at it.

i wish i am less of an idiot.

2011-10-26T17:09:00.000+08:00

facebook is the place where we can get all excited about finding friends that we have lost for many decades, names that we can barely remember and faces that have changed so much since we last laid eyes. it's really an invention that should win the praise of millions, just like steve jobs, only nobody is ever grateful for things that are still around. there is also the fact that millions of manpower hours are lost on cooking food we will never get to eat, farm produces that are only virtual and will never help the world poverty and poking people for no apparent reason than to remind others that we are still alive. those annoying parts perhaps we do not need.

through facebook, i've found many old friends, and many old friends have found me. people that have coursed through my mind on and off over the last few decades, i am finally able to look at their family photos, their vacation pix and know how they are faring now. it's like being able to scratch an itch somewhere deep inside, a peek at the pages that come after the 'happily ever after'. however, after the initial euphoria has died, you slowly realise, wonderful as it may be to finally see your best friends when you were in school, interesting as it may be to see how some of them have changed, that these people are actually strangers to you now. you may remember all too clearly some of the conversations that took place then, but it is no longer the same person that you befriended again on facebook. the little boy with the sweetest smile who had a crush on you for the longest time is now cold and distant after an unhappy divorce. the little girl whom you spent every school hour side by side with is a pleasant and sweet acquaintance at best. the friendships that you have lost to time, it is lost forever. if you turn back to look, nothing stands in place. only emptiness, a memory of what had been and a smile in reminiscent.

2011-10-25T10:31:00.000+08:00

a few days ago, i had lunch with someone from the distant early chapters of my life, someone i knew since i was 11 years old but rarely had much contact in between. i started by asking him a very simple question, which seemed to have confounded him; perhaps he was reading too much into it. does he know me at all? undoubtedly we have all changed over the years, and he does not know me now, but did he know me then? a strange question perhaps.

i tried to remember if i knew him then. faint memories fluttered by. guitar strumming melodies that i did not hear. long calls that lasted into the night. letters that have evaporated with time. laughters and voices. the cheekiest and brightest grin. i looked up from across the table and the grin was still there. those were the past but did i really know him? his principles, his values, his desires and his ideas? i shake my head a little, as if to clear up the cobwebs and dislodge memories tucked in some corner of the brain. i didn't know much of him, but i knew him. he was a nice guy. he is still a nice guy. someone with the correct values and principles, whatever they be. someone whom you can rely on and talk to. someone who is a friend.

2011-10-19T11:45:00.000+08:00

apparently, people from thailand eat bugs. cicadas, crickets, cockroaches, beetles, bamboo worms, silk worms and ant eggs. they fry them crispy and brittle and they are just like your favourite crisps or pretzel. goes wonderfully with beer.

well, we all kind of knew that. so, that's nothing new. but what i wonder is whether thai people really buy bugs from their neighbourhood market every week and eat them as part of their healthy wholesome diet everyday, or is this some huge gimmick to attract gullible tourists. for all you know, each time you buy one pound of those stuff, they are laughing so hard inside that they want to roll on the floor whilst pointing at you, and saying 'you guys really fell for that?'

i have some friends from thailand, and frankly speaking, when they visit i really don't see them salivate whenever a cockroach run past or hear the sound of crickets at night. i have also never seen them put anything that resembles such matter in their mouth. so, when you say thais eat cockroaches and crickets, how many percent of the population are you really talking about? 0.01? 0.00001? and how often are they eating it? whenever the blue moon pops up? i want hard convincing data. not that i'm going to pop one of those things in my mouth anytime soon. there's a reason they are known as pests. they are not your everyday poultries and sea products.

i put this theory to my cousin when she told me about thais eating these stuffs and she looked at me as if i was some crazy delusional maniac. but really, do most of the thais eat this everyday as part of their meal?

i'm gullible, but not that gullible.

2011-10-18T11:29:00.001+08:00

please excuse me whilst i grumble and bemoan, for what use is a blog if not to unload all the crap that you pick up in your day.

all i want is gas. simple, not that sweet smelling, natural gas. sometimes, when things are going your way, all your have to do is drop by the nearest gas shop, fill in a few forms, pay the money, make an appointment and mr. gas guy will come a-hooking up your gas connection. IF things are smooth sailing and your good karma meter is right to the top.

life for me is never that straightforward. character building i think they called it (rolls eyes). it started out just like everybody else, but when mr. gas guy came knocking, he said that the piping from the wall is not long enough to connect and i will need to contact miss management. which of course i did in a jiffy, and miss management promised to have it done in a jiffy. jiffy, in case you haven't looked at the dictionary for a very long time, means to forget about it and leave it for a couple of months. so, i harassed miss management some more and one fine day, she waved her wand and it was fixed. naturally, the next step was to make another appointment with mr. gas to get him to swagger his bottom over to connect the gas. i must give credit to mr. gas guy because he always call when you ask him to. nicely, of course.

so, mr. gas guy came today and connected the gas. hey presto, and i have fire. definitely easier than our ancestors, the caveman. the fire, however, was too small to cook with and pretty much too small to do anything with but stare at it and go 'ooooooo' and 'ahhhhhhh', like grandpa caveman. mr. gas guy said it was miss management's fault. she needs to modify the nozzle. let's skip the technical bits because i wasn't really interested on the how, why, what and when. i just wanted the solution. anyway, mr. gas guy said miss management will fix the problem, again, and they will come back after that. sigh. this sounds like a never ending story.

i called miss management, and she said that it wasn't her fault. it was mr. stovetop's fault. i have to call mr. stovetop directly and he will come and modify the nozzle, free of charge. after some sweet-talking and whimpering, miss management said she will call mr. stovetop herself, explain the problem and get them to call me. sounds like the beginning of another horror story. i don't get. the same problem probably applies to all the units there. why didn't they just get someone to come in and fix the piping AND the modifying in the very first place, instead of waiting for each resident to call them individually and settle the case one at a time. can you imagine how much petrol, car trips, manhours and time are wasted just for one simple thing? each installation takes so many trips by so many people but yet nobody does anything about it until they are asked. sigh. malaysia at it's best i want to say, but i'm told this happens the world over.

so, anyway, to end the story, mr gas guy then tells me that they can do the job. you probably want to clobber him with the head at his point, or at least i do. the catch is that it will cost me, instead of foc by mr stovetop. if you want to wait for mr. stovetop to call you, wait for them to turn up for their appointment, wait for them to actually modify it, call mr. gas guy and wait for another appointment again, wait for them to turn up again and wait for them to solve the rest of it. and you wonder why there is progress is slower in this part of the world. my head of hair is growing whiter as we speak. i do want gas sometime this century.

what can you do but pay the bugger? well, if you look at it one way, it's efficiency - helping you to solve other people's problem. another way to look at it is....thief!! do you get the feeling that mr stovetop, mr gas and miss management is in this whole big conspiracy? at $45 per unit, i think that they are raking up a fair bundle and enjoying abalone every night.

with all these running around, albeit not physically, who needs exercise? :-p

2011-10-14T16:13:00.001+08:00

today is 14th october 2011. it's a very special day. i need to mark it down in huge red letters on my calendar so that i will remember each year's 14th october. today is known as the international-everybody-ignore-me day. hurray!! yippee!!! break out the balloons and champagne and we'll have a grand party!!

no emails get answered. no sms receive a reply. i think it's the way the stars, moon and the earth are aligned today. i'm invisible today. i sent one person 2 smses, but he ignored me until i called him up and press him for a reply. i called another 3 times and she promises to send me a form by email, but until now.............4.09pm, i'm still waiting. i've been waiting since early morning. i've sent a few other texts but apparently they've been re-directed to the bermuda triangle. i've got a list (yes, i'm getting old and i need many of those) of 11 people who have not come back to me despite my many haunting reminders. sigh. i don't blame them. i blame the world, the stars and the galaxy. today is not a good day for working. and so, i shall be getting off work now.

i will also not be working on the 14th october of every year! :-p so bite me!

2011-10-13T08:50:00.001+08:00

tired of scrolling down and looking at beautiful women yet? (who am i kidding!?!?!)

anyway, let me tell you a story......

once upon a time, very very long ago, in a faraway land known as The Kingdom of Doongoos, there lived a very famous bag designer. Back then, there wasn't any job vacancy for bag designers because people carried their belongings with them in a piece of cloth, or hide, tied up with a knot and held up by a piece of stick.

i've even included an illustration for those lacking imagination. what a nice little blogger i am. as you can see, there wasn't really any need for a bag designer like him. he was a man ahead of his times. so, he was really more known as 'the-crazy-guy-who-goes-around-sketching-silly-little-animal-skin-thingy". quite a long name, i am sure you will agree, but that's how people back then give out names, so who are we to argue.

anyway, this little guy has a lot of pent-up frustration and anger, because his creativity and ingenuity was not recognised. trapped in his little dark cave, holed up with all the animal skin, he finally went berserk and wanted to carry out revenge on mankind. (insert crazy mad-scientist kind of laughter)

the little guy spent days and nights, and nights and days, and days and nights, well you get the picture, drawing and sketching, sketching and drawing....and then drawing and sketching some more. he finally came up with the masterpiece, the creation to end all creation, his tool for retaliation on all who mocked him!

are you curious what he came up with? wait, let me google for the illustration again.......

a handbag! ahhhhhhhhhhhh, not just any handbag mind you. a handbag with a handle that is too short for you to carry on your shoulder, and yet too long for you to hold on your hand. so, how do you carry it around? yes, like the beautiful ladies you were oogling over at the very top of the post, in a frozen v-shaped-arm manner! like a mannequin that escaped from the shop window.

in his crafty and cunning manner, he made every person who carried them look silly; one arm hooked upward in an awkward manner and the hand, empty waving around listlessly in the air. some try to hide the gawkiness by holding something in that hand; a handphone, a piece of tissue or a wallet, whilst others perfect the technique by holding their hand out elegantly like the queen, waiting for her subjects to kiss her hand. sticking out the last pinky is optional, depending on how delusional you are.

he sold the idea with such success that the ladies loved it immediately, and it carried on throughout the ages. nobody noticed anything wrong with the design and women scrambled over each other to get a piece of his designs. until this day and age, if you look closely you can still see some of his works on the street. and if you see one, just remember that little crazy man, eons of years ago, gloating and laughing wickedly, screaming in his dark cold wet cave......."REVENGE IS SO SWEEEEEEEEEET!"

2011-10-12T10:00:00.000+08:00

apparently, at age 40, your father still dictates what you should and should not wear to dinner.

sigh.

2011-10-01T12:04:00.000+08:00

doesn't it just incense you? well, it certainly does to me. burns me so deep that i just couldn't resist exploding here.

just received a mail from someone i know. a mail in our national tongue, complete with pictures of this poor little 4 year old child who is in the hospital who needs our most heart-wrenching financial assistance. the poor child's head is fixed in position with metal nails all round to keep it still so as not to hurt the neck further. he is suffering from a weak neck as a result of down syndrome. a most distressing picture, one that you cannot look at long without feeling depressed.

i am cynical, no doubt, but i remember someone saying somewhere that sometimes it's better to be deceived rather than to ignore. to believe that there could be a chance that it is a lie but still extend your assistance rather than sit back and be cynical and lose the opportunity to help. strange thing is that there is no mention whatsoever of where to donate the funds. no account number, no bank name. only the poor little boy's name. so, how exactly are you suppose to help? how are those heart-wrenching pictures circulated all over the internet suppose to help this child?

apparently, by forwarding the mail, you can contribute 1 sen. hello?!?!! how gullible can people be? how can anybody get any money, much less 1 sen, by hundreds and thousands of people circulating mail? i've seen so many examples of chain letters but i think this must take the cake in being the most shallow, most despicable, most contemptable. hurray, you win a title, whoever you are! you must be gloating in your seat. how can anybody ever circulate such a post in the hope of making it into a heart-wrenching chain letter? whatever happened to scruples and morals? forget that! whatever happened to human decency? whoever can exploit this situation must really be the bottomest of the scums.

searching through the internet, there is indeed this poor little child, whose case was disseminated all the way in 2008. that was 2 years ago. somehow, i don't think that poor child is still in that same position all these years. either he has gone for the surgery, or he hasn't. all these years and people are still circulating his photos. i wonder how does he feel about that? how will you feel to have your photos plastered all over the internet? for nothing more than just milking the pity cow.

the person who started the chain-letter is so despicable, but what of those that plainly forwarded them without giving it a second thought except to rid yourself of the guilt of not being able to do anything, or perhaps to cocoon yourself from such bad things happening to your own loved ones. this denial, this lack of responsibility for the things that you send to others, is what kept this mail circulating for 2 years.

dear people, please read and think before you hit the send button. this mail did nothing more than milk people of their emotions and serve no purpose except to.

2011-09-30T10:50:00.010+08:00

i know i'm anal by nature, but i didn't realise just how much so until i decided to google the proper way of using a paper clip. huh? did i lose you there? how many ways can there be to use a paper clip, right? well, hundreds, it will seem, or so google tells me. lest you forget there was the trade paper clip for a house story but that's not the point of mine. i'm talking about really using the paper clip as it should be; to hold papers together.

you arrange the papers and then you just shove the thing in. what gets under my skin is that some people use it with the small curve facing up, whilst i usually use it with the big curve facing up. you can really get the gist of how anal i am now, right? well, the thing with sticking the small curve up is that the curved tip goes inwards towards the paper, making it impossible to add a new piece of paper to the stack, unless you take out the clip again and re-clip it. it probably doesn't happen to other people much but i seem to wasting many minutes of my life taking out paper clips and re-clipping them just because some other people are not using the paper clip right. however, as i am not the authority on the proper way to use a paper clip, i decided to consult my best friend in the whole wide world; mr google.

it took me a little bit of searching because who else will also be so weird as to post something on the proper way to use a paper clip, but nevertheless, hard work pays off. however, i don't think i was quite prepared for what i found.

that one continuous piece of metal has 10 parts!!!! (just in case you can't hear it, this is the part where you visualise my jaw hitting the floor)

i will bet that you were yawning at this boring post a few seconds ago, but what do you know, you learn something new every single day. as long as there are weird obsessive people like me around you. lol. so, coming back to the proper way to use a paper clip, it will seem that the moon loop, which is the longer curve, is meant to "ensure the rear-side of the paper does not slide backwards", which means that the long curve should face the back!

i have been getting it wrong all these years and being pissed off at others when they are right. still, i wasn't convinced. how can someone design something so that you can't add more papers in without removing the clip and re-clipping it again? aha!! (that's where the light bulb above my head lights up in 1500kw) that's when i discovered that this little paper clip is really a nifty design. the person who designed it really is ingenious.....or are we really dumb for not knowing how to use it. paper clips should come with an instruction manual as thick as a phone book :-p

if you hold the paper clip with the short curve facing you, then proceed to attach it to the paper, you will have the curved point facing out, which means you will have absolutely no problem in adding more papers to the pile. however, if you are holding the paper clip with the long curve facing you, and attempt to attach the paper clip so that the short curve faces the front, then the pointed tip of the short curve will face inwards to the paper, making it almost impossible to add another paper to the front page. if you don't get my dribble, just play around with your paper clip and you will get it!!

so, now, not only do i know how to properly use the paper clip, i also know the names of the different parts of the paper clip. who am i kidding? besides the moon loop which i paid attention to, i didn't really bother about the other parts. still, that's one part more than almost everybody else. :-p see? you really learn something new when you read my blog!! :-D believe me, it's not something that you will be able to google for anywhere else in the world wide web! (insert reader's feeling of privilege here) :-p

by the way, i think the above is only relevant for triangular paper clips, which i think was invented just to annoy the hell out of me :-p

however, what really blows me away, is not the design of the paper clip, nor the proper or inproper use of it, but really how totally anal i am!

2011-09-29T09:54:00.000+08:00

i do not know, i am at a lost. there is no manual to living your life, you learn as you go and do the best that you can do. but why is there no manual to life? billions of people have lived their lives, billions more have documented them. why is there none that teach us the best way forward? why is there none that can teach me what to do?

i had a dream when i was pregnant, i had a hope. it was exciting being able to create something, someone, whose character, looks and behaviour are waiting to be molded by your very hands. daunting definitely, but finally i can put out there something that is right, something that is good. i can teach my child to be the best that she / he can be, to be a good person.

two kids, two very different characters. the same person teaching. why are they turning out to be two very contrasting person with opposing values and principles? i've taught the little one, not one time, not two times, but so many that i have lost count, copious that i am repeating myself like a broken record, endless that i am beginning to grow tiresome, values that i know to be correct. don't lie. don't be lazy. don't leave things until the last minute. don't take things that belong to others. don't be unwilling to work for what you want. don't take things and people for granted. don't waste things. values that form the very core of who you are and what you become. principles that are the skeleton of your character. but it's not sticking.

what am i doing wrong? if he was a piece of blank white paper to begin with, what he turns out to be should be what i have imprinted on it. yet he is turning out to be totally different from what i have written. if monkey does what monkey sees, we have tried our very best to talk the talk and walk the walk. we are nothing like what lies before my eyes. what can i do? where have i gone wrong? it is most frustrating that there is nothing in life that can answer my questions. the one thing that means the most to me, the one thing that is of any importance, and i am not doing it right. there is no going back, there is no second chance. i need to bring up my child into an adult with the correct principles. but not everything that you want to do so very badly means that you can do. i do not know how to do. no books in the world can tell me. no brochure, no class, no website in the world so big. each person is so different. please tell me what will work for him. everyday is one day wasted.

i have never brought up a son. for all i know, they reach a certain age and then they understand. the light bulb lights up over their head, their brain matures and all of a sudden, they know. what is right and what is not. what is important and what is smoke. but can i afford to leave that to chance? can i look back and just say that i have done my best and sigh resignedly? this child of mine, my very flesh and blood. how will i ever be able to look him in the eyes if so?

such is the anchor that weighs in a mother's heart.

2011-09-28T09:54:00.000+08:00

some think that i do not have a story to tell, that life is peaches and that the world is my orchard. Looking through from the other side of the glass, my life is short of nothing but perfect.

I do not deny that i wake up every day thanking the powers that be that i have my most prized possessions in the whole wide world; my loved ones close and safe and that is my only pre-requisite for a perfect world. however, everyone has stories to tell, be it dramatic or mundane. how can one go through life never touching others, never being touched.

i have stories to tell but i have none i can tell.

2011-09-20T15:24:00.003+08:00

if you are my friend, won't you tell me what is it that is so wrong with me? if i know what is wrong, i can at least try to change. but if i don't even know what is wrong, where do i even begin?

2011-09-09T16:37:00.004+08:00

my world is a quieter place recently. the days go on and the nights rush forward but it is less one warm friendly voice. one familiar friendship made comfortable by decades of interaction. one closeness that cannot easily be replaced.

a friend has moved away. i feel like it is the beginning of the end. we do not share the kind of friendship that sees girls bowing their heads close together in laughters over a secret shared, or chattering non-stop on gossips of others, because neither of us is like that. we do not talk to each other for weeks on end, sometimes months. yet the knowledge that the other is around, a phone call away, is more than comforting; it's assuring, for want of a better word. it's knowing that a friend will always be around. someone who has your back, someone you can trust. sadly, in this time and world, we cannot say that as often as we will like. how many 20-year friendships can you cultivate in a lifetime?

so many times we have spent counting down the hours to the end of the year and the minutes riding up to the new one; what started out as impromptu has turned into a ritual of sort. waiting for the clock to tick to midnight, trying hard to keep awake, initially just the few of us in the dark quiet night has evolved into a small party to say goodbye to an old year and welcome in the new one. spending the last few hours with someone you care about, it brings a glow to the heart and a meaning to the new year. it is saying, 'it's alright that the year has passed so fast, it's ok that i didn't do all the things i said i wanted to, i had a friend with me'.

this year it won't be the same. this year it will be a lot quieter. i don't want to see the same waiting up for midnight, the same counting down, the same street party and not have that friend beside me. i don't want to start the year with sad memories. i will need to be making plans to spend the new year in a new place and a new environment.

2011-09-05T11:02:00.003+08:00

do you believe in a miracle?

apparently i've asked that same question five years ago, for the same person, in the same situation.

the answer remains the same. i never did. very long ago, i've given up on supernatural events happening, once-in-a-lifetime marvels, just because you want it to so badly. bad things happen to good people, so deal with it. that's life and my black-tinted glasses view on it.

yesterday, someone fed me a little piece of hope. something i will never dare to conceive on my own. i could feel the wings of expectation flutter a little in my stomach. not enough to break through my thick walls of cynicism. could it be more wishful thinking on the part of the bearer of news? but yet i saw with my very own eyes the smile that greeted me, the eyes that turned slowly in my direction. was that for real or conjured up by more wishful thinking on my part.

i remembered tears falling a very long time ago, which i had to ultimately resign to involuntary body functions. too much time has passed. i had given up and accepted the fact. now someone is telling me that it's alright to hope for it again. the smile of a friend. the warmth of her sound. do i dare to even imagine? the echoes in my brain answer 'only in your dreams' ..........but i want to hope. i want to believe. i want to wait.

give me the strength to believe once again.

not knowing when to quit

2011-09-04T11:00:00.001+08:00

2011-08-29T09:49:00.001+08:00

the frustrating thing about life is not knowing the ending. not the final goodbye, which is inevitable, but the endings of certain stories. like whatever happened to certain friends in your distant past. or what happened to certain things that you have misplaced. it's not like a fiction story which has a proper beginning, and a proper ending to tie up loose ends. whether the good guy wins in the end, or the bad guy triumphs, such is the satisfaction of losing oneself in novel. there is an ending.

i was most frustrated for months when things started to disappear. besides being shovelled with all the blame which i had no way to prove one way or the other, it was most frustrating (there is no other word in thesaurus that can substitute frustrating because frustrating is ........well, so frustrating. be prepared to hear this word over and over and over again :-p) to not know what happened. where did the car key go? what happened to the document? where is our wedding tapes? yes. i am someone who can lose my wedding video tapes. so sue me :-p it's frustrating enough without that shocked look on your face, so let's swiftly proceed.

it's not like i'm leaving things in the most inappropriate of places. no phones in the shower cubicle, no wallet in the rice bins and no car keys in the freezer. i don't have alzheimer....yet. i leave them where they should be.....usually. but they disappear. that's the frustration that i am talking about. when you just want to hit your head against the wall because you will never know what ever happened to it. not for your entire lifetime. doesn't that just gnaw at you somewhere?

well, life is usually fair. even for us hardcore cynic. over time, after months of knocking your head on the wall, baring impossible circumstances, things that disappear will turn up .....one day. maybe's it's just me, maybe life likes to play with me like that, but my stories do sometimes have endings. like the document that was slipped between other documents. and like last night, the car key that was found between the gaps of the car seat. and with that my long-lost innocence is uncovered. justice pao would have glowed with pride. i can hear all the ooooooo and ahhhhhhhhh from his court. i can finally discard my scapegoat skin. and yes, i am broadcasting with glee. the satisfaction of having an ending AND having my innocence restored. so that i can rub it in for decades to come. :-p :-p life is sometimes good.

now, i just need to know where the damn video tapes went.

2011-08-26T09:32:00.002+08:00

just when you think you know it all, just when you believe you can scatter a few seeds of wisdom to others, you have to go right back to the very first rung of the ladder and begin again. such is life.

i forgot how to eat. i forgot how to drink.

i'm re-learning how to live my life again, from the very basic steps of eating and drinking. something that i've taken for granted that i know from the very moment i took my first breath outside the womb, but over time i've done it all wrong. a basic instinct for survival yet i don't know how to do it, and i'm paying the price now. i know if i don't reject all i know now and learn from scratch all over again, the price will be much dearer years from now.

it's a lifestyle that i've picked up from nobody knows when. i don't know when my clock started to tick faster than others, and time is that much limited for me. i don't know when i started to pour food into my mouth, not stopping to chew, nor waiting for it to cool. it feels like i'm always on a race against time. i don't know when i stopped having time to take a break for a sip of water. i've dispensed with all that i thought were time-consuming.

with a new page everyday, i have to remind and re-remind myself. to be aware of each mouthful i put in. to be aware of every hour that i'm not drinking any water. perhaps the knocking in my heart serves as a reminder. who would have known that the heart is not related to my heart skipping a beat, but my digestive system. i'm abusing my body and i know it. i know it but i suck at it. each meal is a test, each test is a failure. it's harder than i thought to unlearn 40 years of habit.

one day at a time.

one bite at a time.

2011-08-17T14:15:00.002+08:00

a lull of silence. the sound of absence. a sign not of inertia, nor of turbulence, but of convenience. sometimes when you switch your brain off, and live each day as it comes, one motion after the next, one chore after another, and you collapse in exhaustion at the end of the day on the sofa, with nary a thought that passes your mind, it's the simplest way to live. the days pass so fast, and so easily. life is uncomplicated.

is it the way to live though? to not think, to not stop for a moment and deliberate about life? at even any point in time? to just let life pass you by? it cannot be right, to let apathy grip you within its claws. as the words pour out, i can feel the warmth coursing through my veins once more. i am slowly relaxed by the therapy that is my writing. i never stopped to think that words could have such appeasing effects on my soul.

but for now, this is enough.

2011-08-06T12:03:00.001+08:00

an almost muted music playing in the air. my stomach satieted from a simple breakfast. a book about tales from nowhere in my hand, as i chewed and read about the adventures of a man to journeys far into the middle of nowhere. i can't help but wish i am more courageous, that i am more spontaneous. more of a lot of things actually, of which i am none. it's human nature to wish for things that you have not and are not. for me, i wish i am less afraid, of trying new things, of being unprepared and unsure, of not having a firm grasp on things. would life have been very different if i had let my heart rule my head? would i have been a better example to my kids to love more, to laugh more and to live more? sometimes i feel ashamed. for being a friend, a mother, a partner who lives so structuredly. i look on with envy at people who laugh the loudest, who danced with the most abandonment, whol lived the fullest. and i understand that it will never be me. i will not be happy living that life. i need my deafening peace and loud silence to survive. i need my quiet melancholic moments and everything to fall perfectly into place to be at ease. i need to be me. but still, every once in a while, i look at others and i wonder what it will be like to not be me.

2011-07-13T11:57:00.003+08:00

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7..........................!

8..........................!

9..........................!

10.........................!!!!!!

2011-06-24T11:15:00.004+08:00

as i stuck the key into the hole, there was a distant melody of a handphone ringing somewhere. someone's in the lift foyer, the thought immediately sprang into my head and just as quickly dissipated into thin air. my brain continued with its idyllic flow of aimless musings, as it usually do in standby mode, whilst i turned and locked the door behind me.

still deep in day-dream, i nearly jumped a mile high when i saw a figure squatting at the far end of the lift foyer. staring directly into the direction of the sun behind her back, i was barely able to make out the face and shape of the person. despite my earlier acknowledgement that there will be someone in the lift foyer, i still couldn't shake out the feeling that this was 'someone' beyond our realm. damn those scary japanese ghost movies and damn ringu! those things are usually portrayed squatting eerily in some dark corners whilst the victim walks unknowingly by. i felt like i was the main character in one of those movies. i could even hear the imaginary suspenseful music building in the background.

squinting, i barely made out a maid in yellow cap, busily punching messages into her handphone and glancing up to look up at me for only a split second. really? you couldn't do your texting, and frightening innocent yellow-bellied people, in some other obscure spots? i stopped believing in ghosts a very long time ago. strictly speaking, i do believe that spirits exist amongst us but i am also convinced that most of the time, they are unable to make contact with us or interfere with our daily lives, unless some special circumstance exist. therefore, i have stopped being afraid of things that go bump in the middle of the night and monsters under the bed for a long time now.

still, i couldn't help but take another glance at the figure by the window one more time as i entered into the lift, and wonder if she was really someone from another world. thank goodness she didn't roll out her foot-long red tongue at me :-p

2011-06-22T09:43:00.004+08:00

this is the third time. and the final one. when i heard her story for the third time, she has already left the world. six months from day 1, or did she even had that? someone i never knew the name of. someone i have never seen. but i was so close to grasping her hands and pulling her away from death's door. could i have done more? someone who was a total stranger, someone who doesn't even know i exist. how could i?

life toys with us in such cruel ways. there is no answer to the many hurdles in life, no magic book to show us the future and guide us through the present, no gprs to take us on the correct route. it was a miracle this time round; i had in my hands the answers. if someone was to give you a secret formula, a secret method that has been time-tested and tried out, 80% guaranteed to a path of survival, what rationale would you have to push it away? why would you prefer something else that takes you onto path unknown? what reasons will you have to choose death over hope? i will never ever be able to understand. however, what is the use of asking, of deliberating, of being frustrated? she is no longer here.

the ugly things that we see, the hard shoulders that we rub, the unpleasant experiences that we felt..... the little things that make us grow a little jaded, a little apathetic and make us build our walls a little higher. will i reach my hands out again with such passion? will be as distressed when i hear adversity? will i want so badly to help? i really doubt so.

once in a while, we all need a little angel to inspire us back onto the path of virtue. someone or something that shows us beauty lies still in the world. where do i find mine?

2011-06-16T14:05:00.008+08:00

knock knock. my heart is going knock-knock-knocking. the doctor says it's alright if you have a structurally sound heart, and apparently without actually seeing it by x-rays or scans, she knows i have a structurally sound one. sorry, did that not come across as sarcastic? well, it was. an ecg and a stethoscope tells her that, and god knows what other superpower she possesses. i assume i have a sound one by the way she sends me on my way and told me that i am alright, if i do not drop dead. ok, fine, i added the drop dead part. she just sent me on my way, without even telling me when i should make a second visit. one hundred eighty dollars for a few minutes of chat and a cold stethescope tapping across my chest and back. damn, i am in the wrong line. should have gone into medical.

frankly, i suspect that doctors know little about hearts skipping beats and doing tap dances in your chest. according to what's written on the world wide web statistically people have been known to live long and healthy if it's benign, despite that particular organ doing breakdances and street dancing every now and then. so my doctor was very certain, and dismissive, when she told me that i'll be alright if it's a benign ectopic heartbeat. IF being the keyword here. if it's benign. if you drop dead suddenly, then what do you know? it's not benign :-p

actually, despite all the talk, i'm not so worried about the drop-dead part. i'm so lazy it's not surprising that my heart will take the easy way out and beat one less time if it can. heck, it'll even skip 10 beats at a time, if i can still breathe and survive. however, it is very very uncomfortable. do you know the feeling when you are frightened out of your wits? when someone / something pops out suddenly from out of nowhere and your heart drops to the bottom of your chest? that's how it feels like, except that it happens every minute or so for a span of maybe 30 minutes to an hour, and then it disappears again, waiting for the next thing to trigger it off again. not a great feeling to have your heart crashing to the floor at supersonic speed and leaving you gasping for air, is it? most distracting and unpleasant.

yet doctors tell you that it's perfectly alright, without so much as the batting of her eyes. i don't know what's alright with my heart not beating every so often. she tells me to come back if it continues. it's continually happening for more than 3 weeks now. how else is it suppose to continue before she examines me beyond that stethoscope? one week, one month, one year, 10 years? she didn't say. doctors. when will they have more empathy for their patients beyond ...it's benign, so live with it.

2011-06-14T10:37:00.006+08:00

i feel like such a loser. a big failure the size of malaysia's soon-to-come warisan merdeka 100-storey building. less than one month after my tirade and drama-queen post about how i will not bow to the eyes and opinion of the general public about my lame handphone, i went out and got myself a new phone. sigh. i know, i know. such a hypocrite. such a faker. a fraud, a phony. there. i've said it all. now you can't point your wagging fingers at me anymore :-p

i'll like to think that what did me in was still not what others thought of my phone, as i have tiraded a few weeks ago. what really pushed me over the edge, and got me ready to throw my phone of the nearest cliff with angry swirling waves underneath is that it was not working like it was supposed to. forget that it records the lamest pixels of photos, eventhough that is really important to me because i use that feature a lot. it does still record images, blurry and sketchy as it may be. forget that it only allows me to record videos in periods of 1 minute blocks, and that i will have to upload all into the computer and use some fancy software to stitch them together. forget that there is no wifi connection on the phone. hello? you get what you paid for, right? fair's fair.

but when the person standing right next to me managed to get a signal and i didn't, not even if i moved around and waved my arms around like an idiot, not even when i do a backward bend and touch the ground with my head (not that i can actually do that) and not even when i flapped my arms like a chicken trying to fly, i have had enough. add that with 'message storage memory not ready' (in a whiny irritating voice.....mine, not the machine's) when i switch on the phone and try to access the sms service, essentially cutting off my texting services FOR THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES!! i really wanted to open the airplane window and throw the darn thing out. but of course, everybody knows that airplane windows cannot be opened :-p

funny how when you don't like something, you only concentrate on its bad points and forget all about its good side? pretty much like a man and his old wife, sadly. in all fairness to me, i didn't really forget. the reason i stuck with my phone was because i could receive calls all the time, as compared to the smart gadgety ones that were censoring my calls and choosing by its own smart-idioty brain whom i can talk to and whom i can't. when it can't even deliver that, that one saving grace, it's time to chuck it in.

recharging

2011-06-07T08:59:00.000+08:00

2011-05-30T14:45:00.003+08:00

sometimes i don't get it. i can still see her name printed in black and white. i can still see her signature in my hands. the ink looks so black and fresh, like it was just signed yesterday. i can just imagine her hunched over her desk signing these, one paper at a time. how can someone that feels so near be gone forever from the face of the earth? how can something that is still so vivid in my hands and mind vaporise from the world, never ever to be heard from or seen again for time eternal? i don't get it.

2011-05-25T11:39:00.006+08:00

i'm deliberating on how to start this post, i have been for days, but i've come no closer to an answer. it relates to a phone. my hand phone specifically. it's as rare as a dinosaur bone nowadays. not that it's ancient or belongs to the flintstones era, but it's highly unlikely that you'll see it on anybody's hand, bag or within a 500km radius of any sane people. it probably belongs in the museum, right next to the display of rattling bones.

what's so unusual about it, you may ask? well, even if you didn't, i'm still telling you. it's state-of-the-art, top rate technology ~~cheap~~ simple. yes, the most basic model that the brand carries. couple of hundred dollars at most. it even looks ~~cheap~~ simple. chauffeurs and maids won't even be caught dead with such a phone. which is such an irony to me. at this stage in my life, where i can get any phone in the market without feeling the pinch, and i am resigned to using one that i bought for my little boy a few years ago. heck, even he is using a cool looking red ferrari-shaped one now which goes vroom, vroom when it rings.

so, why haven't i switch over to the latest smartphone with all the gadgety stuffs and really hi-tech applications? this is the precise reason why i am writing this post. not for laying down the reasons, but for the looks and smirks that i have been getting by far. and the number of times that i have to re-tell my stories in order to justify why i am still using something that most people condone as inferior. it's pretty tiring, trying to beat down that little part of me that still cares about public opinions. once in a while, when the resistance is low, i actually get bothered about what people think and i don't want them to have the impression that i am el-cheapo who can't afford to buy a proper phone or her distant cousin, el-dumbo who is a technology-idiot. i actually delve into the long, and more than slightly boring story of how my handphone came about. gasp!! traitor!

most of the time though, i intentionally fish out my phone and place it in a highly visible spot for all to see, and to have them recoil in shock and disgust. and i use it in glee when others are fishing out their gold coloured blackberry-lookalikes and swiping their fingers on smartphones until they develop iphonfingernitis. i admit, one of the many reasons that i am still using my phone and and love it, is to indulge the defiant and rebellious side in me. i love it when all the usual thoughts and impressions leap into other people's mind, but they don't dare to voice it out for fear of sounding rude. they so badly want to know what the heck is wrong with me, but they are not able to satisfy their curiosity. the higher level they are in the hierarchy, the more warped their thinking. i can see it in their eyes, directors, bankers, managers, ceos. i feel a little like a devil. only if discrimination is in their hearts.

every once in a while, mobile phone operators will tempt me with their big colourful ads of smart phones and 'unlimited usage' in the newspaper. every once in a while, i look and wonder. however, when the minute is up, i still prefer my phone, and all it's antiquity. me and my phone. :-)

so, why do i prefer this phone anyway? i don't think that is the point of the story. besides, i don't fancy going through my whole long list of reasons just to satisfy anybody's curiosity yet another time.

2011-05-19T11:33:00.003+08:00

an amazing revelation just came to me. none of those heavy holy apocalypse or deity manifestation stuffs. i just realised that mistresses are more often than not ugly. yes, u..g..l..y. say the word mistress and the first thought that will come to your mind is some sex bomb with big boobs, low tops, bodies to die for and drop-dead beauty, forever in their sexy see-through pink negligee and furry pink slippers to match. at least, that is the image that pops immediately into my mind. i don't think yours will be too far away.

however, given recent statistics, mistresses seem to be the other opposite of the spectrum. more often than not, i am shocked, they are even less attractive than the spouse they are competiting against. not convinced? remember camilla against princess diana? really, who would have chosen her against the shy natural charm of our queen of hearts? besides prince charles, obviously of course. i suspect that he has serious short sighted issues, and when he finally saw clearly how she looked like up close in his arms, it was too late to turn back :-p. lol. beauty in the eyes of the beholder.

recently, arnold schwarzenegger announced that he had fathered a child with an ex-employee. did you manage to catch a glimpse of the lady? seriously? against maria shriver? what's wrong with men's vision? i do understand that men think with their appendages and not their brain some of the time but apparently, it affects their vision too. why would you want to cheat on someone you love or once loved with someone uglier? that makes no sense whatsoever. what makes it so irresistable to begin with in the first place? if it is not their beauty or drop dead body, then men must have more depth than we actually gave them credit for in the first place :-p hey, guys, this is actually in your defence. :-p :-p

this actually happens in real life too. i know more than a couple of people whose mistresses look pretty unattractive, and it's not from a woman's point of view. the first thought that comes to mind to anybody who knows is.....what the heck does he even see in her?!?!? thus, a note to ladies. it's not the pretty ones that you have to be careful of. it's more often than not the ordinary drab ones that both you and your spouse let your guard down on. it's also those that men find convenient.

come to think of it, i guess convenience is really an issue here. remember bill clinton? and arnold scwarzenegger. it's someone that's conveniently always hanging around, making opportunities difficult to resist. doesn't matter if it's good or bad, as long as it's convenient, heck chinese even have a saying for it!! i believe men are also an insecure lot. they are not going to aim for those ms universe lookalikes in case they fall flat on their faces and suck lemon in rejection, so that's why it's always the not-very-attractive ones that end up being mistresses.

still, it's pretty hurtful for the ego of spouses spurned. they secretly go in search of the competition and end up horrified. traumatised. this piece of thing??? he is choosing ....*splutters* this face over me?!?!? and then she goes into deep depression wondering what is seriously wrong with her because he rather choose someone so ugly over her, ending up with hours and hours of therapy just to accept that men are blind. this is drama penned by the liberty of the author's pen of course but i've actually heard similar response from a jilted spouse so it's not that far from the truth.

so men, if you want to cheat, at least cheat with a candidate for ms universe, or at the very least, ms world, to save the poor spouse from more heartbreak. not that this is an encouragement or ratification for extra-marital affairs! in the first place, i really don't know how they can bear to break up years and years of love and memories, just for one second of pleasure. all the hours and seconds that you have put into building up that household smashed and broken, your whole world turned topsy-turvy, your reputation, your image flushed down the drain, your wealth and fortune reduced by half. for a piece of someone else's CENSORED. really?

and remember ladies, look out for the ugly ones, not the pretty ones.

2011-05-16T10:20:00.004+08:00

would you shave off all your hair in return for a $100,000 donation to charity? that question popped into my head this morning for no apparent reason than to mess with my vegetable state of mind. where do all these questions even come from??!

maybe once, eons ago, when i was young and impulsive, and all gungho about life and saving the world, i could have said yes. but even that is a narcissistic pretense of being all selfless and generous. i was a gawky self-conscious kid who wanted the whole world to like me. i don't believe i would have gone around with a bald dome for a few months to prove that i am all noble and charitable.

now that i'm a 40 year old, seemingly more confident woman, oblivious to the opinions of others, whom i now know are even more insecure than i beyond the layers and layers of pretentious exhibitionism, will i?

you will think that i would at least consider the possibility, since i claim not to care about what the public thinks of me being an extinct and protected bald-headed eagle. life however gets more complicated as you grow older and your thoughts follow in tandem. the first response that comes to mind is, heck i have that money, why do i need to shave off all my hair in order to get more to give it away? i've already got it in my pocket and all i've to do is loosen the purse strings and issue a cheque. which makes me wonder why all the rich wives and spouses of filthily wealthy politicians are so passionate about making appearances in support of fund-raising charities. many famous charities are chaired by people who can drown in their own money, but yet they are trying to raise more funds. is it alright to do charity with other people's money but not their own? i'm sure they are also donating on the side, but really, how much, i do wonder. they manage to raise $100,000....$1,000,000 even, and that is still merely loose change for them. the cynical side of me have no doubt that heading charities are great publicities and feed wonders to the narcissistic ego.

famous people are good for raising public awareness for the charity, the innocent and naive side of me argues. that's why i usually like to throttle her, she pulls me, my mind and my opinions to very different extremes. why do charities need public awareness if one filthy rich person can fund it full-time? public awareness so that other people are aware of the goodness that one is doing? devil-angel-devil-angel. i change sides faster than doctor jeckyl and mr hyde.

the other argument against shaving my crown glory is what becomes of the $100,000. oh, i believe i can come up with a thousand reasons just so that i will not have to concede. my cynicism has reached a point where i am cynical even of my own intentions and actions. not very fun. i know for a fact that the victims of the charities will not receive $100,000 in full. fair enough, given all the operating cost and pockets of greedy people that it has to fill. in the us of a, some charities employ professional fund-raisers and give them as much as 94.3% for their fees. probably why i see so many people from all types of charitable organisations standing around with their stalls in shopping centres with people who don't look very kind and volunteer-like asking you for your money. how can i tell the difference? i think it was the dollar signs shining a little too brightly in their eyes.

what can i say? charity is big business.

so, will i or won't i? definitely not. i don't need to sport a bald shiny head to announce that i am already doing charity and i don't need to let the whole world knows which charities i support, how much and when.

2011-05-11T15:58:00.002+08:00

tired of people dissing on others. weary of name callings, back-stabbing and everything so negative. i just came away from a 2-day bread making course and i feel so tired. aside from having loads of completely newborn fresh information crammed into my brain within the span of 18 hours, sometimes with the aid of a foot jammed into my cranial area to further stomp it in, i am weary of interactions with superficial people. our head chef hates every single living thing in the world, by category. perhaps it's the french passion in him and that's how french people are. i read that somewhere.

still, being all optimistic and eternally 'high' seems superbly pretentious and 'dumb-blonde' to me. caught between a rock and a hard place i guess, that's neither here nor there. i don't need to be reminded of how dark the world is, how naturally selfish and bad mankind can be. what i need, is to be reminded once in a while that there is still beauty in the world, that life is still good, that under all the layers of grime and crap, that the underlying core of man is pure.

2011-04-25T10:27:00.000+08:00

2011-04-07T08:41:00.005+08:00

today morning, after the kids have gone to school and the hubs to work, i sat myself infront of the computer to check for updates on facebook, a routine i've practiced before i head off to the 'war-zone' myself. i typed a few cheeky comments in reply to daughter's posts and checked out some friends' updated status. then i came across jason kelly's latest post.

tears flow uncontrollably upon reading rie's last steps and the desolation that her mother is feeling right now, this very moment as i am typing these words, and probably will for a very long time. the loss of your children must be the worst nightmare for any parent and i shudder at the pain that she will have to endure for the rest of her life. when i think of that, and how hundreds of other parents are also experiencing the same heart-wrenching suffering in japan, i feel so helpless and hollow. my banter of only a few minutes ago feel so wrong and shallow.

i don't understand, and will never comprehend, how, and why one nation must bear such torment, such unfathomable sorrow. i've heard callous remarks by some that it's karma for all the pain that the japanese armies have caused during the second world war, but this is something that you will not even wish on your worst enemy. everybody, every single person in this epic disaster is innocent. there is no karma in thousands, and maybe tens of thousands, of people experiencing such horror, such pain, such torment. how do you live for the rest of your life with the image of having lost your loved ones in such a horrendous scenario? every single ticking of the clock, every minute of the day, the vivid images replay over and over again in your head. no life on earth should be worse than hell. yet they are so strong and so dignified in their grief. for that, the whole world salute them.

the 500 socks that we have hurriedly sourced, packed and shipped off seems like too small an effort, too measly a balm for their wound. should i send more? will it ever be enough? thank goodness for people like jason kelly, who braves the criticism of biting observers who have their hands folded infront of their body in dormancy. i thank him not only for the survivors who are receiving clean socks but also for people like me, who are able to do our very little bit for them, for giving us a chance to make the tiniest of contribution.

i feel very sorry for the survivors, but i am not stupid. i will not give cash donation (except for that one time to a temple which i figured if they don't forward the cash, it will still be to a temple after all) no matter how much i wish to help because i know, with so much certainty, that the money will never reach - no matter what organisation. the evidence is there for everyone to see. is there any report, ever, of any single survivor having received the money? has any government organisation received even a single yen? infact, the japanese government has not even made any request for cash assistance. so where the hell is the money right now? the hundreds, thousands and even millions that kind-hearted people have given out? there are a lot of very rich organisations and people out there right now, thanks to the japanese tsunami. if ever there was karma, perhaps these people should learn not to swindle from tragedy?

for me, after laying down my sadness here, i can turn off the pc with a click of the button and go about my day. for them, the survivors of the tsunami, they can never turn off the memories that are seared into their hearts.

2011-04-06T08:53:00.004+08:00

on some days, life is a tiring journey. there are days when nothing goes right, when everything is a struggle and you need more than usual to fight the battle. yesterday was such a day.

this can be a post of how taxing the day was, how one thing went wrong after another and how superficial people can be but i choose it to be about the light at the end of the day. when i look back at this post many years later, when the memories of the little hurdles in life are vague and inconsequential, i want to remember the things that made me smile.

it was a 12 year old, with the biggest smile that i have ever seen to greet me. i can't remember the last time anyone was that excited to see me for a very very long time. i started out disliking this little boy even before i have met him because he has trespassed what i viewed as my privacy. i slowly came around to realise that it was because of his devotion to the subject in question. he is after all only 12. children are so pure, so simple in their actions. the first thought in their brains is translated immediately by their mouth. there are those that feel children are too childish, too immature and that the age gap is too great for any communication. those adults have long buried their innocence and the magic that are in their lives. in his eyes, i see all things clear and candid. an apple is an apple, an orange an orange. jadedness is absent and enthusiasm brimming to the top.

i wonder, where else can i find such pureness besides associating with 12-year-olds. i search inside of my mind for another circle that is a mirror to my perfect world, where everybody is pure and simple and where love is all around. there exists no parallel in the adult world. one day these children, who are infront of my eyes all beautiful and guileless, will grow up too and be affected by the world they live in. they will also grow to be jaded and cynical. a child knows what is right and what is wrong. adults have grey expanse where things can be tolerated, where wrong can be changed to be right. sometimes i forget and my daughter has to remind me.

why do people have to be so complicated, so full of ulterior motives, so insincere? perhaps it is time that adults stop whining about how full of experience they are, how wordly and mature they believe themselves to be and take a page from the days of a child.

2011-04-01T10:36:00.004+08:00

if you keep very quiet, if your face is unreadable, people will come up with their own story. it's amusing to watch it unfold.

i sat there, a million thoughts running through my head while my mother sits in the dental chair. even when the body is stationary, the brain entertains you and brings you to wild and wondrous journeys. i kept myself amused trying to figure out what the various buttons meant on the dentist's state-of-the-art patient's chair, trying my hardest not to eavesdrop on the conversation that the dentist is having with his assistant. i watched them trying to mould a denture, which is most amusing, very much like me playing with playdough. i try my hardest not to grin, whilst i am clapping my hands gleefully inside, wishing i could have a hand in moulding and shaping. i am sure my mother will not be amused if i were to help shape her dentures. while i am wonderfully entertained, the dentist turned around and said to me, 'this process is very boring'. to which i am sure the expected answer should have been, 'oh no, it is very interesting' but how very cliche. i can't stand cliches and so i pretended not to hear him.

he resumed his task of trying out the mould, pushing and pulling, taking out and putting it back in. after a while, he turned once again and said to me, 'i am sorry for boring you', which strikes me as really odd. are dentists providing magic shows for entertainment on the side nowadays?i wanted to check myself out in the mirror to see if my face really reflected boredom but i resisted, wondering what on earth made him come to that conclusion. this is probably the part where i should have denied vehemently, 'oh no! i am wonderfully entertained. having the best time of my life actually' but again, i am not one for cliches. people sometimes put themselves down, or the situation, waiting to be reassured, waiting to hear something positive. for someone as recalcitrant as myself, they are probably in for a very long wait.
manners require me to reply 'nooooo', but that was as much as my wilful self will allow to conform to society.

he being all nice and polite, and i being such an ass, even if only inwardly. i can't stand hypocrisy, i can't help it. don't put yourself down if you don't really agree with it, and if you really agree with it, who am i to disagree with you :-p sigh. false manners are so pretensious, such hard work and effort. a page in the life of a cynic. i am horrible, i know it. and i'm not looking for people to disagree with me. :-p :-p :-p

2011-03-28T08:27:00.003+08:00

my husband calls it growing pains. i have no name for it, only a certain unsettling phobia for deaths and overwhelming anguish. that i am no different than any other people i am sure, for who likes pain and sufferings, but at this moment of my journey i am on the brink of caving. my strongest virtue is empathy and perhaps also my weakest link. i cannot help but feel the pain that others are feeling and when i see sadness in their eyes, i share the grief too. for the last two years, i have attended more funerals than i had in my lifetime and i remember all too clearly each and every, including the pain that i see in their tears. whilst i know the dearly departed and are somehow related, i cannot be said to be close. still i am very unsettled and it takes me a very long time to recover, to forget, which until today i have not been able to do. only now the memories of my grandfather's death 16 years ago are slowly blending into the blurry images of time. i am particularly slow in adapting to matters of the heart. i imagine the pain and the sadness of those left behind, the days ahead, and the long journey behind. i am so very grateful that i am not in their position but tremble at the thought that i will be one day. i jolt awake in the middle of the night and i try my hardest to divert my attention but thoughts are like the raging river with no way of reigning it in. life has its ups and downs and it needs one to balance the other. at the moment there is no balance and i feel i have used up my stock of happy thoughts and warm fuzzy feelings. i need laughters, i need smiling faces and inspirational words. i need silly people and caring voices. i need to recharge. in the meantime, everybody. pleaseeeeee............. stay healthy and happy.

socks for japan

2011-03-24T08:54:00.001+08:00

2011-03-08T09:23:00.002+08:00

i'm living in a vacuum of apathy and detachment, my brain frozen of all thoughts and emotions. it's a little empty, a little cold where i am. i distract myself with a multitude of activities and movements. words that form in my brain are short, clipped and to the point. gone are the flowery expressions, the complications, the passion. life is easier when you don't think about it. i was informed that someone close is ill, to which i greet the news with more aloofness. the walls are dense. nothing seems to get through.

2011-03-07T09:32:00.002+08:00

the first time round i was vastly disturbed. i wrestled with heavy emotions for days, knowing that someone out there, someone that i have never met nor know of my existence, was dying slowly and there was nothing i could do about it. someone that i have held my hand out to save but in the end, all i could do was stare vacantly at my empty hands. it won't be the first time that i watched someone die, perhaps this time not with my own two eyes. shouldn't someone do a little more, shouldn't someone have said a little more, i kept asking myself each time. this is after all a human life we are talking about. not knowing exactly when, the value of a human life has cheapened over time. comparing with pets in faux fur clothes and weekly spa visits, our lives have been rendered worthless, insignificant even.

with all the knowledge and experience that i have garnered over the years, i thought i was finally in the position to be of use to others, what little i could be. i don't know much but i was more than willing to share what i have learnt thus far in life. i watched one by one leave, and with each departure, there was a story, of what could have been, of what was done wrong and what was done right. my head still rings from the cold dark echoes of disembodied voices floating around like lost souls. 'do you want us to resuscitate?', 'it's just a flu', 'she is not moving, what should i do?', 'he was a very fit man', 'he's not eating'. that was all the wealth that i had to contribute back.

she was sick, with lung cancer. that was something i knew a little about, having walked down the road with a survivor once. i knew the formula, i knew the secret. i thought, during that moment in time, here was someone that i could save, even if not with my own bare hands, but with what i know. the doctor was 80% confident, and in that game it was miraculous odds. but the family wanted to gamble, they threw away that odds for ............something. what, i can not even begin to fathom! given a chance of survival, they didn't take it and opted for an alternative. what could they probably be seeking for? i was brimming with frustration for days. comprehension was beyond me. life is so fleeting, how can anyone choose for death? the patient wanted the chance to fight, she wanted to go for the treatments only to be told no, it's not the best choice for you. not even when the doctor was 80% convinced. my heart bled for her. not because she was ill, not because she was old, but because her family didn't love her enough. i shiver at her helplessness.

i know, and i understand, that outsiders will never appreciate the stories behind each tale. what were they thinking? what happened to make them come up with the decision, i will never comprehend. they must have their own justifications, of that i am certain. valid or otherwise, i cannot judge as a third party. i am trying my hardest not to judge, not to scream at them inside my brain and strangle their imaginary necks for failing to hold on to their mother's hand, for failing to take this most valuable opportunity of a second chance.

when i am told the story the second time round, i have grown jaded. apathy moves in to replace helplessness. i no longer try to convince anybody of what is the correct path. i don't even want to hear if i was right. sometimes there are no victory in being correct. i hope for once i am wrong.

2011-03-02T14:10:00.003+08:00

how do you answer when you are asked 'what's up with you?', or 'what's happening?'. i seem to be asked that a lot. probably because i have a tendency to hide myself in some dark highly top secret cave-like hideout, aka my house, so people are always asking what's new with me. people don't get why i usually meet the question with a blank stare. errr.....pretty much the same?

hello? that is probably the easiest question in the world and you can't answer that??! that is my antagonistic split personality asking.

perhaps because i am a complicated person. i don't think people will be interested to hear about the latest corporate strategic operation in my company, or maybe they would but i'm not at liberty to say. insider-trading and stuff. i don't think they are keen to hear the minute daily-grind details of the things my kids are up to these days. the most boring conversationalist in this planet must be parents, especially brand-new ones fresh from the stork's mouth. my baby pooped twice today, or she just learned to crawl! hard to muster the enthusiasm when most babies do that.

i'm not too crazy either about listing the recent places i've been since i last saw whoever it is i'm talking to. holidays are only fun and memorable when you experience it, not when you have to hear someone yakking non-stop about it. however, i answer when i'm asked and friends seem to ask me that a lot, for lacking of other topics to chat about, i presume. besides, holidays are just a distraction for me, not a lifestyle, so there really isn't much to talk about in that department.

so, what do i answer? how do most people answer? let me look through my calendar for a minute now......i walked the threadmill yesterday, i spent 2 dumb days at the panasonic stadium last week where i was glued to the seat for hours and hours on end, i was stuck in traffic jam for 2 hours on friday, i am watching reruns of 'friends' every night, i just completed one painting and is halfway through another. i want to pick up cooking, photography and a whole load of other classes but i'm afraid i don't have the time to commit. there's no gas in my place at the moment. i'm going to the justin bieber concert. all too insignificant to mention, and too boring to bring up. when you haven't seen someone for some time, it's hard to pluck an update from the air, without going through a long detailed explanation of each.

what do normal people answer, pray tell?

2011-02-28T08:47:00.005+08:00

I hate growing old. not because of the declining faculties, not because of the wrinkles, aches and pains. not because you become only a shadow of your past vitality and beauty. somehow, somewhere along the way, you lose your ability to laugh, at others and at yourself. it is not a voluntary action, it is not something that you consciously carry out, but as you grow older, you forget how to be silly. you forget how to laugh, even if you want to from every pore of your body. everything is so measured, so precise, so deliberately thought out. gone is the impetus haze of the youth, the melting into puddles of laughters over the silliest and smallest of things, the pranks, the fun. now, even the jokes in reader's digest manage only to wrangle a wry grin.

it's called growing up, some people would say. personally, i don't see any conflict between being a responsible tie-wearing adult and being lively. just because you are hitting the age, you have to conform to the stereotype of the boring mentally-slow grimacing aged? the last perhaps the result of hermorrhoids but there is no saying that you can't be a pain in the butt and still laugh? granted, all those weights on the shoulder does make one a little grumpy, grouchy even, but this is life. you can live it acting like the not-so-distant cousin of snow white's little dwarf or you can live it laughing all the way, responsibilities or not. it's called making lemonade with the lemons that life gives you. the 'r' word is merely another excuse for being mr grouchy.

that said, even with the right mentality, even with a mouthful of endorphins-releasing chocolates in your mouth, you still can't laugh till your belly threatens to split open. what exactly is the problem here? you can't cackle even if you wanted to. growing old checks in with a lot of accompanied baggages. cynicism, egoism, jadedness, pride, sensibility, apprehension, awareness. somewhere along the path, we exchanged all that for the age of the innocence. i am determined to be joyful, not just contented, but laughing silly like people a quarter my age. forget decorum, forget sensibility. the next person who asks me to act my age will get a cavemanlike clobber on the head with a club, and i have no intention whatsoever of dragging the comatose body back to the cave. however, even with the correct attitude to life, or at least correct in my own eyes, i still can't do it. how do you laugh to zero stimulus? how do you cackle at a group of stiff-upper-lids wearing designer wears and ties, discussing numbers and politics? how do you joke with others who cannot remember the sound of laughters?

2011-02-23T09:09:00.003+08:00

i had a little 12 year old sucking up to me yesterday. how cute was that. i felt like a mother-in-law. at 40??? hello, my mentality is barely beyond the teenage years either! i don't think i'm quite ready, but it's so adorable. my problem is, and has always been, that i take things way too seriously. i really should butt out and keep my mouth shut. industrial strength cellophane tape, anybody? there are so many things i wished i had never done or never said, or i wished i had handled differently. sigh, i totally suck at communication.

puppy love. well, i think it's sweet and cute that he is so devoted to little missy. good for him.

2011-02-22T09:08:00.000+08:00

seriously. this year i have to learn to shut up and butt out. like i will ever learn that. sigh. sometimes doing nothing is the best way to handle a situation.

2011-02-17T15:45:00.005+08:00

everything about bringing up a kid is hard. from sleepless nights and endless feedings to teenage rebellion and secrets. it's hard to adjust. one day they are totally devoted to you, needing you every step of the way, making life a little claustrophobic whilst you look at it pass you by through window bars. the next day, in the blink of an eye, they don't need you anymore, finding you a little in the way even, keeping secrets and private jokes from you. when did the best friend become the enemy?

there should have been little signs to prepare you, very much like the breadcrumbs that hansel dropped on his way into the woods. there should have been formal notifications: mum, i'm not going to be needing you in 2 months from now......encounting, 1 month and 29 days. as i've always lamented, there should be a manual on life. i wish i had been more diligent in keeping records and i've started even earlier for i hope when she is all grown up, this can be her manual of life. i don't know what life holds in store for me next, what rollercoaster of emotions. i'm not prepared, i will never be. who is ever prepared for life? i can only take one step at a time, one day at a time.

2011-02-09T12:17:00.005+08:00

i called the accounts department for enquiries on my account. after listening to my case, she referred me to the billing department. she will try to pass the line, she informed. after waiting for a few minutes, she said, i'm sorry, they are very busy at the moment. can you please call back?

there is no number that i can choose for the billing department for your automated operator, i replied. yes, there is no direct number to the billing department. thinking that she misunderstood me, since i wasn't asking for a direct telephone number, i clarified that i can't choose the billing department when i'm calling in. yes, you will have to call the accounts department and we will try to pass for you. (that is the part where my jaw hits the floor - like roger rabbit). by experience, you will be more lucky early in the morning or late in the evening. (she was serious! i am suppose to test my luck, very much like the jackpot gambling machine. honestly, i would rather use my luck on lottery tickets)

isn't there an e-mail address that i can send my enquiries direct to? the e-mail will only go to the e-mail department, not the billing department. my jaw can't very well drop to the floor two times, so i am only left with a big gaping hole where my mouth is. how do you even respond to something as senseless as that. i can't help but think that only in our country we will have a system as fool proof as that - a system to proof that the designer is a fool.

i've never thought that secretive invisible departments very much like the c.i.a. and f.b.i. will exist for billing department of a national telephone company. i wonder if they operate from some secret basement 100 feet from ground and is only accessible by a secret lift disguised as a letter box.

2011-02-08T14:38:00.002+08:00

pets are suppose to teach children about responsibilities, empathy and love. that's why we got them some pet fish when they asked for a dog and some dwarf hamsters when they again asked for a dog. it's not my fault that our condo doesn't allow dogs.

however, i don't think the pets are doing a very good job in educating the kids. they are next to being forsaken and forgotten. someone else has taken over the job of cleaning and feeding. inevitable. kids' attention span is as long as one episode of ben 10. that's why they split it into 30 minutes episodes and not dragging on-and-on-and-on like the korean dramas. after an attack of conscience, i wanted to return the hamsters to the shop, to give them a second lease of life and new owners who will remember to play with them. that's when the little one decided that he loves little hammies and can't bear to give them away. that's when his renewed enthusiasm for hamsters was unleashed and he gave them a second glance again. only to realise that one little hamster has a growth on her ear. i'm guessing it's a tumour. the little one is now crying for me to take her to the vet. seriously. her great-grandparents cost me like $10 each and i'm suppose to spend hundreds of dollars on surgery, medication and doctor? don't take me wrong, i'm very a very emphatic person; that's why i wanted to return them to the shop in the first place. i don't think that we should be keeping them isolated and caged, but to spend a bundle on this small animal whose lifespan extends only perhaps another few months more, i can't help but feel that it is money wasted. especially after reading that such pocket animals do not take well to surgeries with their small hearts and all. sigh. so, this animal finally taught my son to be emphatic, to be loving, to be caring, but i have to say no? i don't even know how to explain to him. there shouldn't be a price on a life, but in reality, i can't deny that there would be better use of that money. to say that its life is not worth saving is crude, heartless even. i have another 4 hamsters growing older each day. i never thought that there will come a day when there is a distinction between what is the right thing to do and what is ethically right.

2011-01-30T15:37:00.000+08:00

i am a romanticist at heart. looking out of the huge glass window of the van into the wet gloomy skies of taipei, i feel like i am infatuated with the city, at first sight. it's all about feelings; everything feels so right. a sleep romantic old soul with a modern technological side to it, so much like this writer.

the windows are fogged up. i use the back of my hand to rub against the glass. a circle of semi-clearness in the middle of foggy vision. this is my idea of happiness. it takes so little to be happy. the green shrubs, the mountain, the cold air, teardrops on my quitar playing into my ears. i want to remember everything.

2011-01-14T14:54:00.002+08:00

will frustration kill? did anybody die from frustration before?

there are so many people out there that talk the talk but doesn't walk the talk. i am surprised. i know that theoretically, i suppose, that there are always people who talk wonderful stuffs, flowery possibilities, amazing feats. i am not one to socialise well or blend with the crowd, simply because i have no interest in listening to one blow his horn, real or perceived. however, when real-life experience shows a 100% curvature towards people who cannot deliver but boast to the sky, i am a little miffed. not that i was expecting any result, but it was just one sentence extra to ask, so i did. i wasn't expecting any spectacular results, but it's strange how you can still be amazed when you were expecting nothing. kinds of fortify my already poor peception of mankind.

if humans don't work the way they are suppose to, that is even more true for technology. either i am running a string of bad luck or i'm being tested to the extreme by inefficient, erratic, impossible-to-deal-with electronics. a plus b do not compute c. not even after tens of thousand of people have used it. they should have figured out how to fix the bug by now, you will think. still, i guess that sounds about right. people who are not working right produces things that do not work right.

2011-01-10T10:09:00.002+08:00

each time i look back on the photos of previous years, the first thought that comes to mind is 'how young and pure i look then'. exactly how OLD and COMPLICATED am i becoming???!

2011-01-07T10:35:00.003+08:00

it will never be enough. men, as in humankind, will never be satiated. you give them $100, next year they will say that it is not enough and ask for more. you give them $1,000 and next year they will come back again and say it is not enough. you give them $1,000,000 and one year later, used to the luxurious lifestyle, they will once again come back and say that it is not enough. how easy it is to get use to abundance, to more. can one claim the same flexibility to less?

such is the greed of mankind. pleasure and satisfaction are short-lived, the desire for more will always return, sometimes with a vengeance. perhaps that is the basis for development, for growth, but never being satisfied means never being happy.

2011-01-06T14:24:00.001+08:00

it's not the first time that someone has told me that i'm so happy-go-lucky, and it definitely won't be the last. seriously, me? happy-go-lucky? funny how i've never thought of myself as that. melancholic, perhaps. melodramatic even. if only they know how difficult it is for me to put aside the little things in life that makes me sad. the only way i know how to deal with it is to push it out of my mind. no matter how much time has passed, the pain still lingers. the frustration, the denial, the sadness. i've just learnt to apathetic about the death of my granddad, i've just forgotten how phone calls in the middle of the night jars me, and he is dead for more than 16 years now. i'm slow in handling and accepting such matters of the heart. when i close my eyes, sometimes i can still see the final moment of my aunty, so morbid and dark. i try not to think of the loss of my closest and dearest friend, lest it brings tear to my eyes and brimming frustration to my heart. i can still remember the apprehension of visiting my grandma in the hospital, knowing what's inevitable but yet putting on a brave front. i remember all that which i do not want to remember.

however, i do not wish to live my life brooding, and being afraid. death is not as frightening as being the one left behind. it does not take courage to die, but it requires a lot to live. so, yes, to all those who do not see this side of me, the side that only my mirror sees, i am a happy-go-lucky person. to all appearance, i am.

2011-01-05T10:18:00.000+08:00

a friend asked me for a favour today that reminded me of what i am. unconsciously i have made a distinct separation between what i am and who i am. when your life is thus complicated you end up sounding like someone with split personality.

i try not to take offence. perhaps there is none to be taken. i don't know, i'm not sure. i don't have anyone to tell me that i shouldn't be feeling this way, that this is still considered normal. sometimes being what i am takes a toll on the spirit. it has it's perks, no doubt about it, but it's not as glorious and wonderful as everybody perceives.

it jars me slightly to be reminded of what i am. the last few weeks have been a beautiful escape from reality. i was who i am, not what i am. life was simple. escape is always transient

2011-01-04T12:02:00.000+08:00

civilities are such a bother. you receive something physical. that in itself should be the end of the story. happily ever after. that is, however, only the beginning of the modern-day war of civility, where each outperform the other in being more polite, more tactful, more well-mannered. the sender follows with a sms informing you that he/she has sent something to you. which in turn prompts one to send back a thank you sms and that serves as the cue for the sender to send back a you are welcome sms, to which you reply you are most kind, if you so desire, or if you do not wish to seem ungrateful. you get the picture, the story can be an endless one. meanwhile, the telcos are laughing all the way to the bank.

not one for exaggerated acts of civilities, i'll bet i have many people cursing behind my back for my lack of proper upbringing and manners. i also don't acknowledge when people give me instructions or information. most will send back a simple noted or a brief ok. i have to practically twist my arm and force my obstinate self to acknowledge selective smses when my rude alter ego so allows. most days i just keep stubbornly silent. i guess that is arrogance on my part, not something that i am proud of. however, despite this flaw in character, i adamantly refuses to throw away good money for simple acts of civilities which mean nothing more than idle chit-chat and wasting time. if you send me a sms, assume that i have received it for i have not known an occasion when my local telco have failed to transmit the message.

and yes, you there, i did not believe it when you told me that you did not receive my sms the other day. do i look like a fool?

2011-01-03T10:23:00.000+08:00

i have a love-hate relationship with that little dot down south. perhaps not so much hate but more like apathy but love-apathy doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

on some visits i feel very detached from the little island that had been my ome for 4 years when i was growing up. the fast paced growth and development has left everything alien and different, an unfamiliar faint resemblance to the home of my many memories. nothing is how or where i remembered it. faint shadowy ghosts linger around, not quite knowing where they belong in the new beautifully structured island of singapore.

this time round i love the island for what it is, and not what it held. the cleanliness, the orderliness, everything is as it should be. things work like they should and people behave with simple clarity. perhaps it is because i am merely a visitor passing through. perhaps my fondness lies in the uncomplicated guileless lifestyle i can lead there. the world is not perfect there. there is no reason it should be, there is no perfection anywhere, but it's a far cry from the complicated web we weave over here. this time round i love the little island for being my little shelter from the storm.

2011-01-01T10:16:00.000+08:00

not so much a new year resolution, more like a reminder for the new year. this year i must learn to slow down, to not feel so guilty for slacking a little, to take a breather at times and to love myself a little more.

2010-12-30T09:30:00.000+08:00

my uncle has left. he wasn't someone that i was close to but his name, his face has appeared sporadically throughout my 40 years of life. i was one of the little flower girls during his wedding, not that i can recall it vividly but the photos in the albums show me glimpses of my past where my memory fails. he was not close, yet i can't help but tear when i think of his departure.

i don't recall having one direct conversation with him, aside from work-related matters on and off. i have written his name many times during the course of working for my dad, yet i have never had a personal conversation with him. how can that even be possible? someone so familiar, yet so alien? i never knew him, i never knew the story of his life, now i will never have a chance.

it had all been too sudden, for me anyway. one day, very much like any other, when i was out shopping for groceries in the supermarket, my handphone rang. are you free to talk? uncle so and so has passed away. my body started shivering. this isn't how bad news should be relayed, so casually, so by-the-way. he had left. he didn't say goodbye, he didn't give anyone a chance to say goodbye. then again, as someone who didn't have anything to say to him for the last 4 decades, what would i have said to him? yet i can't help feeling like i wasn't given the chance to say my final goodbye, to bid him farewell to his journey on earth which, eventhough we had not walked together, we had grazed and we had enough destiny for him to be my uncle.

time has passed so fast, i have been so busy, one day so much like another that i can't even remember the last time i saw him. perhaps one year ago, perhaps two years ago, but i can still recall his face, his mannerism so vividly. it was like he has been around all this time. his absence wasn't really glaring, which is perhaps why his departure was. i was not mentally prepared to say goodbye.

at his funeral a sense of calmness overcame me. here, now, i will say my goodbyes, eventhough i have nothing much more to say than that. one cannot come into this world, walked all those footsteps, touched all those people and leave, without telling everybody close at least, without bidding adieu and thanks for the journey together. i did not fall into the 'close' category, that is without a doubt, but i was still relative. in my mind, every opening should have a closing, every hello should have a goodbye. how else do we close the door and move on?

we walked behind the altar for a glimpse of the body, for a final look at my uncle, to see him in the face and say a silent goodbye. i was shaken. did they put the wrong person in there? there must be some unwritten code that one should not stare at a dead body but i was pretty sure that was not my uncle in there. there was no faint resemblance at all. he wasn't even of the same built for goodness sake. realisation struck me. my uncle has been sick for a very long time. he was thin beyond recognition. he was a far cry from that energetic, fit image i saw in my mind. my heart ached. he must have suffered so much. this was perhaps better for him. i finally understood why he didn't want to say goodbye to anyone. i would have wanted to remember my uncle as he was then, happy and healthy. instead, now, when i close my eyes, i will forever see the final image of him, a sad suffering sick man, thin to the bones. i bid my uncle a silent goodbye, hoping that he is happy and healthy once again wherever he is.

my heart goes out to the widow, my aunty but i see her surrounded by her children. all grown up, all independent, well-behaved and very capable. they have also been suffering all these time. hopefully now they can move on, eventhough their hearts will throb with pain for a very long time.

2010-12-29T09:24:00.000+08:00

i'm sitting here cringing backwards into my seat, shutting my eyes and mentally preparing for the force that will throw me into the windshield and end my life, as cars zoom past me at 150kmh, or rather i zoom past them at 150kmh. i want to the driver next to me that i don't really mind arriving half an hour later, as long as i do arrive but i'm trying to refrain from making any sudden moves or sound that will bring the end closer faster. i keep telling myself that i have a long lifeline on the palm of my hand and that i'm going to live to a happy healthy 100.

he's texting and doing all kinds of things aside from driving and focussing on the road. his hands are not on the steering wheel! i want to reach out and grab the wheel but that may shock him into jerking the wheel to the right and the car straight into the divider. so here i sit, frozen in fear, having a little faith because we have made it thus far, but still frozen in fear.

did we just miss that car by a couple of inches?! close my eyes, quick!!

2010-12-28T09:21:00.000+08:00

my cousin told me the story of my dad when he was younger. my heart ached for not knowing the him that was then, the him that was passionate, the him that was so alive. the him that was flexible, so mischievious and so young. the him whose world revolved around more than just his work.

perhaps it had also been the same then, perhaps it is just my imagination. he is so one-dimensional now. perhaps all successful man are. perhaps this is what they call focussed.

2010-12-26T16:02:00.000+08:00

my alarm today morning is the sound of slippers slapping on the not so distant floor. someone is running a mini marathon in the living room. at 7am in the morning.

2010-12-23T16:00:00.000+08:00

whilst the cat is away, the mouse is out to play. the mouse cooks and eats, cooks and eats and cooks and eats. the problem is that the mouse has grown too fat and can't get back in it's hole.

2010-12-22T15:50:00.007+08:00

'tis a season to be jolly. and crazy. and knock your head continuously on the bedroom door. simply because no one works during the year end, and all phones are constantly busy, to the point that even the recorded machine operator voice sounds stressed and annoyed. it's no more 'our operators are presently busy, please hold on for assistance, your call is very valuable to us'. now they are saying 'our operators are VERY busy! please leave your name and number and we'll get back to you'. ya, right, i wasn't born yesterday, you know! they never ever call back. never.

everyone's trying to clear their remaining leave, so no one's behind any desk in any office. if, by a miracle, you actually find someone, her machine will not be working, because apparently machines need to clear their leave too. broadband, on the other hand, is slow as snail and all websites are jammed to the max because what are those people on leave doing? surfing the net! sheesh! that or sitting in their cars going round and round midvalley or one-u, looking for a carpark. apparently, they do this every single day too, judging by the traffic jam there everyday. this is causing me serious grief, santa.

the time before christmas should be quiet, and peaceful, and dreamy, with a warm drink on one hand and wood burning somewhere closeby, and i don't mean indonesia! christmas should be a time you reflect on what you have done for the year and what new resolutions you want to achieve for the new year. at this moment, i just want to scream my lungs out and use my forehead to make close contact with the door.

2010-12-14T13:58:00.000+08:00

you dress to the nines. spent hours and hours trying to make yourself look beautiful. manicured nails, styled hair, flattering make-up, sexy dress, stiletto heels and a glittering pouch. not half bad. you stand there with the rest of the beautiful people in the room. smile, the cameraman says. thousand-watt smile, click. you are frozen in time with a beautiful photograph. at least you think it's beautiful, because you never ever get to see the photo!!

why is it that people always ask you to smile, to pose and to take photos but nobody ever sends you the copy of that photo? for all you know, you look wonderful and someone is doing something really weird or distatasteful to that photo of yours. or contrary, you smile and you have this huge spinach stuck to your teeth. you'll never ever know, will you, because nobody ever shows you the photo you took with that killer-watt smile of yours?

not the first time, probably will not be the last. it will join the other lost photos in the sea-of-dead-photos. not just weddings or formal events. gatherings, birthdays, parties, anywhere that the camera will travel. i have half a mind to stick my tongue out the next time someone ask me to smile. there, you can freeze me like that for all i care. i don't ever get to see it anyway.

2010-12-13T13:25:00.002+08:00

are friendships suppose to be hard work? perhaps that is why i hang around families so much and i shy away from others. there must be other people out there who are not blood related that i can just shoot off my mouth without first weighing the consequences, deliberating the effects or trying so hard to sound witty and sweet, because the one thing i've found out about myself and that is i am not sweet. i am not the 'ohhhh, how are the families? we have missed you. you look gorgeous in that dress. where did you buy it? how is the little one?' type. i am also not the 'your little one looks so absolutely precious! so adorable' kind either, nor the 'how poor of you, you must be so sad. don't worry, you are a wonderful person, bla bla bla'. yawn.

any calls for cynic of the year and i will definitely be the first to line up, so you can bet i won't be saying sweet goo-gahs to your little kids and calling them little cuties of the year. i snarl, and i bite, but usually i can't, so i just keep quiet and paste a fake smile on. oh ok, so i do the occasional goo-gahs and 'you look wonderful in that', and it's always sincere, but my lack-of-practice 'sincere look' makes it seem otherwise. the snarl trying to escape from my repressed inner subconsciousness doesn't help either. if anything, i look unapproachable. i'll let you in on a secret, that is a survival technique.

we stood around after the first few minutes of greeting, hiding in some corner, carefully blended into the background. the initial euphoria of hello's, hi's and congratulation's have lapsed and we are waiting until we can hide our ackwardness behind the safety of a table. the socialites are working their way round the room, chatting with one group for half a minute then on to the next. tick tock tick tock, another 20 seconds to go, 10, 5.........*hits timer* tooooooot, sorry, i've got to move on to the next group of people. amusing to watch. we see many familiar faces but we keep our distance. whatever do you say after the first inspiration of witty conversation-starter? you stand around ackwardly looking at your feet, at the distant crowd, at the group of people beside you and you send out silent pleas of rescue with your doe eyes. i guess we are not 'people' people. especially not when i have an inch of make-up on, two caterpillar-related fake eyelashes ladden on my eyelids like a ton of dumb-bells and a kilogram of black pins stuck into my scalp like a voodoo doll. give me my shorts, my tee shirt and my loose swinging hair and perhaps i can act like a normal person once again. and perhaps i can actually smile sincerely too.

2010-12-08T11:10:00.004+08:00

seriously. i think i am the only one in my entire organisation that needs to issue a memo to let the whole world know that i will be going on leave. even the big boss doesn't have to do that. *rolls eyes*

i am considering taking out a one day advert on the local dailies next time.

2010-11-15T10:26:00.003+08:00

at this particular moment in time, i'm soaking up the ambience of my favourite jaunt, immersing in the blues and familiarity of the place. i feel like an episode of cheers, returning once again to a place that feels like an extension of my personality. it's been almost a routine to come every weekend; 3 items at $8.90 and a cup of british breakfast tea, with some cold milk, please. i didn't get my fix this weekend, time didn't permit but a twist of fate landed me back on the same exact spot, one day late.

i sit here, with my cup of tea and my book of tales, or more accurately, their book of tales, deliberating on the realisation that i have not had a deep thought in my mind for the longest time. since when had i shut my brain and put it in shallow mode, i can't really tell. one day melts into another, routine takes over. the way it is going, i'm not surprise if dementia greets me early.

a familiar tune from the 80s is crooning over the air, i stop for a minute to listen to the song that has not entered my mind for the longest time. it's true, old songs stir up memories. if only i can remember what those memories are. if only i can remember the name of the song :-p

i'm the epitome of the poor little rich girl, with no vision to inspire for, no goals to fight for. things come way too easy, yet i'm afraid of the time when it won't. one such day will come, it's inevitable. i try to find my own goals, my own dreams, but i think i've left it behind somewhere. in the interim i make do with some short impertinent ones, ones that i'm not really impassioned to meet. life is so and life goes on.

i'm all alone again in this lounge, everybody has moved on with their day. mine is beckoning but i'm hiding, reluctant to join the craziness, the shallowness, the meaningless, craving for another moment of escape. in this place time stands still, reality is separated by a window glass. i can see the real world beyond, but they can't see me. this is the way i like it.

my phone is ringing. one call, and i'm gone.

2010-11-11T17:17:00.005+08:00

my pink sneakers are alright, but when justin bieber wears his almost identical purple sneakers, he is so way cool, and she wants a pair just like his. hello dear daughter of mine, mine looks just like his, the only difference is that it is pink. why isn't mine cool?

*pout*

this is the warped perception of a teenage girl. this is what the mothers of teenage daughters have to put up with. :-p

2010-11-10T11:43:00.000+08:00

i spent the last 3 days trying to wipe out the memory of my computer and restart everything from a clean slate. over the years, we have accumulated too much deadweight that the computer was running laggard. erasing files, pictures and unnecessary programs just wasn't good enough, so i decided to restore the computer to day 0. the hubs said that i was wasting good time, that i could have paid someone else to do it and made better use of my time. ahhhhh, but the satisfaction of resurrecting something from the dead, and breathing back air to it a little by little, one driver by one driver, one program by one program, that is nothing that money can buy. now i've reconnected my link to the internet world again and my computer is whole once more, and i am one proud satisfied person.

2010-11-08T08:45:00.003+08:00

have you ever missed someone whom you see everyday? he is right there, infront of me most times, lazing around watching tele or hunched up in some corner playing his nds. yet i miss him so much that it hurts. not the him now, the one who is starting to have the coolness and rebelliousness of a breaking out teenager. not the wise mouth, smart talking youngster who never listens to instructions. not the one who has me screaming night and day to pick up his stuffs and do his homework, but the adorable little boy with the toothy grin. the one whose innocence shines out when he cracks silly jokes in the sweetest voice. the one who makes me smile and is so affectionate. someone sneaked in when i wasn't paying attention and made a switch. i am still me, but he is someone else now.

he is still my son and i love him, undoubtedly. but i missed the other one too.

2010-11-03T12:15:00.002+08:00

motherhood is a thankless job. that is a given. i dare say that none of us go around expressing our gratitude for the sacrifices that our mother has endured for us. nor wear our love on the corner of our mouth. we are that and we expect as much. it is in the mysterious manual of motherhood that they give you the day you signed up for it. no thanks required. still, it was a slap in the face when they dismiss your request ever so nonchantly, without so much as a second of thought. like the pesky mosquito, they swat away with a flick of their hand and turn their attention back to the tv. flushed down the drain in an instant all the running around that you have been doing, all the hours that you have put in. was it all worth it? love isn't a circle. what goes around doesn't come around. neither is it a business deal. you don't get back sixteen ounces of love for one pound of affection. i have a vague memory of my mother crying when i was a teenager. apparently i was giving her grief. how, why, i still do not understand to this day.
perhaps it does come a full circle, just not in the way we expect it to.

2010-11-03T11:55:00.002+08:00

life shouldn't be so tiring. but i am tired. work is draining all of my energy. it's not so much that i have so many things to do, eventhough the pile of work seems to be mushrooming at a nuclear-experiment-gone-astray speed. what tires me is interaction with inefficient people. there are hundreds and thousands of things to do. you call people up, give some instructions, pass work handled to the next person, and you move on to the next work on hand. however, the next person in line doesn't get back to you for days, weeks on end. the work doesn't get done, or it gets done and is sitting in somebody's drawer cultivating mold for yet another evil experiment. after a while, you realise that there is no feedback on the work that is supposed to be done. in other words, it comes back to your court. you have been standing still, motionless for weeks without knowing it, not moving forward, eventhough you have done everything that you are suppose to do. you call up the other person and try your hardest best not to shout or even raise your voice. in your sweetest voice, you ask what happened to the work. in the friction of a second, they remember the piece of mold in their drawer. sigh. and things get moving again. if you are lucky. if you are not, the response is an 'ahhhh, i'll get right to it', followed by another prolonged period of amnesia and things are still standing on the same spot.

this, times ten, times hundred, times infinity gets a little tiresome. i don't want to call them idiots. heck, i WILL call them idiots!! why are they attracted to me like moth to a candle. i can't stand mediocrity. i do not expect professionals, i do not expect experts of the highest levels. i just want people who can get a simple job done. why aren't people doing their job? i think it is the sweet syrupy voice with all the necessary courtesy. i should substitute that for the screaming of the shrew and some kick-ass attitude. i'm going to collapse from aggravation very soon.

2010-10-20T14:32:00.002+08:00

will someone who doesn't know love knows how to love? will it be a vicious cycle that is hard to break? like the one who was abused will abuse, will the karma of not knowing tenderness, understanding and communication be able to break free and give all that is true and sincere?

2010-10-18T14:37:00.000+08:00

randy pausch said it is not the things we do in life that we regret on our deathbed, it is the things we do not. how come i am cringing in embarrassment over the things i said in haste, not the things i said not? time and time again, you will think that i have learnt my lesson well. apparently, i'm a slow learner.

2010-10-15T10:48:00.004+08:00

four hours! my daughter asked me in amazement yesterday when i came home. you had lunch for four hours with your friends? my daughter is my mother now! she forgets that she has a full 7 hours with her friends everyday, for 5 days a week, whilst i meet no one day in and day out, travelling between one house to the other with no human interaction other than family members. i only have one 4-hours in months.

perhaps she has a mental vision of us eating non-stop for 4 hours, gobbling things down like turkeys. it is the human interaction that we all crave, i think. the chance to sit down and just chat about nothing in particular. what do we talk about for the 4 hours? topics ranging from morbid and serious dealing with reincarnation and sickness to senseless things like movies that we will see again and again, company logos, football (which just went over my head), crazy jokes and just mostly catching up on the latest with each other's lives. i can't remember half of the things we talk about. it is not the topic that is the focal point, it is taking time off to slow down.

sometimes even i wonder why my friends give me the time of the day. whenever i suggest lunch to catchup, the big bosses drop whatever they have on hand and give me the rest of the day. i feel honoured but why, i've often asked myself. i'm not the most interesting person to talk to, i'm not the most sociable and definitely not the most important. i'm regular run-of-the-mill-joe. lately, i'm not even funny. i think the answer lies in time. merely taking the time to just sit there, and talk about nothing in particular, sitting there whilst time drifts past, for us all who are trying so hard to live life right, it is really a rare opportunity. we all have our own fires to put out, our hurdles and obstacles, our own appointments to run to. rarely do we get a chance to sit down, do nothing, bother about nothing and just talk off the top of our brain. it doesn't matter if we have nothing to say, it doesn't matter if there is a lull of silence, being able to just sit there with no expectation, no pressure, no stress, it is why we have 4-hour lunches.

time is the most important thing that we can give others, in this day and age where everybody is so cold and always hurrying from one place to the next. where interaction is mostly through technology rather than good old face to face. time is the most precious gift. i feel blessed that i have friends, albeit the few, who will give me the time of their day.

2010-10-15T10:02:00.002+08:00

yesterday was a difficult day. i could feel the toll on my physical self. i was distracted, to say the least. i didn't want to see any of my family members, not because they had any hand to play in the way my moods were playing, but because i didn't want to wear a mask and pretended everything was a-ok. i was still angry, but she has always been who she is. there is nothing i can do to change that. it all boils down to tons and tonsful of frustration. frustration at not being able to do something very simple and natural, like showing care and affection to the family, frustration at not being able to stay away but not being able to go closer, frustration at how complicated things lie.

however, i learnt one lesson yesterday. one lesson that i've learnt time and time again but each time it feels like new. i've learnt to let go. que sera sera. so things cannot go the way it rightly should, or the way i want it to be, or the way that everyone wants. life goes on. the moment that i announce to everybody that all plans have been cancelled, i felt a release from all the things weighing me down. i felt a great liberation. in part it was the guilt of letting people down that was making me unhappy. many were looking forward to the plans we have made. all but one. for that one, we are cancelling everything. still, que sera sera. the decisions have been made, the complication dealt with, and now time to close that chapter. granted, some things will remain the same, for she is still who she is, and granted i will have to do things differently from now on. i may not be able to do the things that come natural to me, like caring and loving for those that i do, but you live life the best you know how.

2010-10-14T09:32:00.000+08:00

when did life become so complicated? why did life have to be such an intricate web of complexities? i'm a very simple person, with a very simple mind. my wants are very basic and it boils down to the very core of who i am, what i am. i just want everybody to be happy and healthy. on a perfect world, in a perfect situation, i love everybody. i exist on a very limited employment of my hard drive capacity. in other words, i don't keep much things in my brain. that explains for my happy-go-lucky attitude, the fact that i can sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, and also that my heart feels as light as a feather. it is the basis of my architecture. if i retain but one thing, small as a sand it may be, i cannot function. i cannot sleep, i cannot eat, i cannot rest. for my sanity's sake, i like life simple.

i have never once blogged about what frustrates me most. i have never once in all these 6 years mentioned her, who drives me nuts. her irrationality, her shrewness, her preposterousness, her shallowness, all the craziness that surrounds her interaction with me. for all her faults, i am still fiercely loyal, because she is someone close and dear, someone who is and should be regarded as blood. there is, however, no denying her wilfulness and the frustration that is compressed deep inside me now threatens to erupt. to let the world in on it will only be a betrayal, to bitch about her will only be graceless but i have no avenues for releasing my irritation. life is simple when you can just walk away, but is convoluted when that option is not available.

yesterday night, i nearly exploded. nearly. i've always kept my mouth quiet, unwilling to retaliate, not wanting to cause a commotion. i've taken in all her irrationality, her moodiness, but yesterday it seemed all a little too much. i wanted to give her a proper scolding, oh how much i really wanted to. to tell her how wrong she has been all these time, how unreasonable she had been. i clamped my mouth before it was too late to take it all back, and i feigned deafness once again when she insinuated and alluded.

i can feel the physical difference. my head throbs with vexation, my heart feels as if an elephant's butt is firmly planted on it, i can't breathe right and i couldn't sleep. it is strange how the mental mind physically affects the tangible body. what i really need now is a round with the sand bag to punch away all these pent up frustrations. failing which, i'm going for a run on the treadmill.

2010-10-11T11:14:00.002+08:00

yesterday i caused a car accident with my ravishing beauty.

i was at this '+' junction, waiting to merge into mainstream traffic. there was a car on the opposite lane, also waiting for his turn. it wasn't an extremely busy road, but it being a '+' junction, cars were going in all direction. there was an endless stream of cars, all moving very slow. soon enough there was a gap in the flow of traffic. i was in no hurry though, so i signalled to the car opposite that he may go first. he hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then he started to move forward, very slowly.

i have enough reason to believe that the guy behind the wheels was so awe-struck with my radiating beauty that he was blind to everything else. otherwise, my soft waving hand was like a hypnotising wand and the guy was rendered imbecile with my charm. one thing for sure, he was blind. he was moving at supernaturally slow speed and supernaturally slowly hit a car that was driving along the main road. it was like a slow motion picture, brought to you by mgm studios. crash, bang, boom. the young girl behind the wheels was shocked beyond words. how he could miss the car that was also driving very slowly, i have no idea. where else could his eyes be looking except at yours sincerely, because the last time i checked, the registrar of road transportation does not allow blind people to drive. the setting sun was reflecting off his windscreen so i have no way of verifying where his eyes were staring, or if he had any in the first place. perhaps to all purpose he believed that his grandfather owns the road, and he could take his own sweet time to cross it and the world will stand still for him. alternatively, he thought it was the red sea, he was moses, and the traffic will part for him to cross at his will. a million of theories, but no answers.

in a way i feel responsible, because i let him go first, because i am too beautiful, because i entranced him and he couldn't think straight. :-p

2010-10-04T10:25:00.008+08:00

people seem to be very crabby these days. is it the weather? is it the food? is it the economy or the politics? perhaps they are not getting enough action in the bedroom. headline: sexual frustration causes all types of social maladies.

one day not very long ago, i walked into the neighbourhood cafe to order a birthday cake. a distinguished looking caucasian man walked in to order 6 pieces of cake.

do you want 7 pieces, the lady behind the counter asked, seeing that there were exactly 7 pieces left of that particular cake. a perfectly normal question if you ask me, and a very entrepreneuring one. sell off the leftover pieces so that you can release the space for a new cake. very commendable, and if she was my employee i would have earmarked her for promotion.

the man, apparently with a lot of pent-up issues, in his pants and in his head, replied in a very agitated voice, "6 pieces mean 6 pieces!". he didn't raise his voice though, i give him that much. i turned to have a better look at him, at this well-dressed man, seemingly an expatriate with a high level position, and wondered why a simple reasonable question could spark off such irritation. a single 'no' wasn't good enough for this smart-looking man, he had to let the woman know that he can count. i never knew a situation when one didn't mean one, two didn't mean two, three didn't mean three, but apparently he did.

she asked meekly after a minute or two, "would you want that separately packed?" with the most arrogant yet indifferent look, he just gave a shrug. some people think that standing behind counters for 8 to 9 hours a day is a bliss, and having rude gruff customers is the icing to their day. forget common courtesies like thank you's and please's, expressing your request in a simple decent way was apparently asking for ice from hell.

i learnt that day not to judge a book by its cover. i've always known to respect people who are lower in the social hierarchy but never thought that the idiom goes both ways. a beautiful red apple doesn't mean there are no worms wriggling inside.

2010-09-29T12:56:00.005+08:00

it's quite scary the number of scams that are going around. if you are not on your toes, for even a split second, someone may just be lurking around to cheat you, hit you, deceive you or whatever else they have up their sleeves. you could be doing anything; withdrawing cash from the atm, window-shopping, picking up kids or even just strolling around, you could be the victim of an elaborate well-thought out scheme to hustle you of your personal effects, or even you! your physical self.

the scams are endless, infinite. the ones that are exposed in the newspaper are immediately replaced by more imaginative ones. there is no contest to the imagination of mankind, especially when his boundless wit is used on illegitimate means. i've heard of so many, i've seen quite a few myself, but personally i know of one most elaborate con-job that is not often spoken, yet to be exposed but is probably the most widespread and threatening.

i'm talking about babies. you know, those big-shinny-innocent-eyed, chubby-rosy-cheeked thing. those that you can spend hours after hours looking at them doing absolutely nothing except sleep. the ones that melt your hand when they utter a single 'goo-goo' or wrap their hand around your finger. the irresistible, adorable, cute little babies. it is a well-thought out scam. really. exceptionally angelic packaging, enchanting audio, an enchanting package all in all to lure you into the trap. into what exactly? firstly, diapers and diapersful of shit! who in their right mind will want to clean up someone elses' bum and vomit if not for that aforementioned charming packaging? then, a verrrrrry long spell of sleepless nights, guaranteed to transform you into the not-so-distant cousin of the panda. it cries, and you drop everything and come a-running. sounds like some evil plot where you have been hypnotised into a deep trance and is at the beck and call of this thing yet? your life goes on hold for a couple of years, whilst this little thing grows up, possibly trashing whatever material things you may have; computers, cars, walls, clothes and definitely the thickness level of your wallet.

well, if you think that this is the extent of its control on you, you have already been scammed. you are looking at a lifetime of endless worries, back talk, insolence and aggravation. at some point in your journey of parenthood, you are bound to have the thought of 'is there a return policy for this?', however fleeting it may be, and let me tell you right now, right here, that there is no return policy. no exchange either. you are stuck with them for life. you didn't think about that when you were staring at the dark bottomless pool of black innocence and they were batting their eyelids in all sweetness, did you? you spend countless and countless hours supervising their homework, nagging good manners, etiquette and all the good virtues in life, only to realise in the end that they do not necessary practice what you preach, especially when you are not around. you threaten them, you cajole them, you bribe them, you scold them. they have transformed you into a shrew, a gangster, a nagging old woman and a mother who will always be worried about her children. always. all these because they were once a cute,irresistible,adorable little baby. would you have got into all these if babies are disgusting looking things?

if, one day you stop and think, that this is all worth it, that when they are happy, healthy and playing blissfully, that all this has been worthwhile, that you do not need to get back anything for all that you have done and given out, as do all parents, you have truly and totally been scammed. :-p

2010-09-17T10:10:00.006+08:00

birthdays are always nice, if nothing more than that people are generally nicer to you than on normal days. you get to exercise your 'comeon, it's my birthdayyyyyy!' prerogative, blink your eyes a couple of times and it gets people moving. even the hard-core lazy bones ones.

they ask you what you want to eat, but you still don't end up screaming 'Japaneseeeee' because you know they are not maniac over sobas and unagis like you are, and there is only so much japanese food a normal person can take before they explode, japanese people not included. they ask you what you want to do, and they shuffle alongside you in the shopping centre like zombies, eventhough you don't patronize your favourite shops or see your favourite things incase one of them does turn into an actual living dead. they give you hand-made birthday cards and write the sweetest things, which kind of make you feel like you are reading your own eulogy, except that you are still alive and kicking, which is always a good thing. they fill your facebook page with the same exact two words, 'happy birthday', and you have to think of a thousand of different witty ways to reply to that. thank you for all the heartfelt brain stimulation. they bake your favourite cookies and name the receipe after you but they don't tell you what that name is, leading you to suspect that they say the same thing to every girl out there, and they crush you with bear hugs, all the time maintaining that cool tough rebellious and definitely aloof teenage exterior. they ask you whether you want to eat your red egg on your english birthday and call you 'girl', transporting you in the blink of an eye to your sweet childhood days when everything was easy and simple.

birthdays are always good, and the age is only a number game. 12 o'clock feels like the bewitching hour and very much like cinderella, everything is transformed back to the way it was.

2010-09-13T10:23:00.005+08:00

tick tock tick tock. the clock marks each second with a slight movement of its hand. time has never passed more slowly than when you are waiting for news on the health of your loved ones. to top that off, you are thousands of miles away. the agony of not knowing, not being there, of waiting and hoping, of not being able to take things into your own hands. i have never known such torment. you laugh, you play, you walk, you talk and you eat, just like any other day, except you have a 10,000 pounds weight sitting comfortably on your heart. everything pales by comparison.

the day after i left, the nightmare began. she started out with a weak, listless voice over the phone. i felt guilty for not being there already. the next day, someone called with news that her blood sugar reading hit the roof. what?! she was never a diabetic in all her regular annual blood checks. something is wrong somewhere. the news got worse with each passing day. her ca19.9 reading has just passed the borderline. i feared for the worst but hoped for the best. i was hesitant to speak to her over the phone, afraid even, that my voice will betray what we were all trying to cover up. she has been complaining of a loss of appetite and discomfort in the her abdominal region recently. she has lost some weight. suddenly, for no apparent reason, now her blood sugar and pressure is sky high. piecing all the puzzles together, i am fully aware of what the picture shows. i have been down that road before. yet i could do nothing except to continue playing, eating, walking and talking. my hands fidgeted with the handphone the entire day. i wanted to call, to know what was the lastest development every other second, yet i was afraid of disrupting some important meeting. i waited. i was restless. i said a prayer with every step i took.

finally, the report came. there was inflammation. where? why? what? how? emergency surgery was scheduled. i don't know if i was relieved that it wasn't something related to oncology or distressed that she will have to undergo surgery in the next few hours, and i wasn't even there beside her. sure, it was a small operation. sure, it was routine stuff for the surgeon. but what if? there is always the what if, and i wasn't arrogant nor naive enough to ignore the possibilities.

everything went well. however, even when she rose from the anesthesia and called me back, i couldn't rest easy. the nights are the worse. she was gasping for breath from the lack of oxygen supply in her blood. i didn't dare to talk more. it was going to be a very long night.

i am blessed that the story had a happy ending, as happy as a successful operation can be anyway. by the time i returned, she was once more waiting at home for me. everything seemed surreal, like i imagined the entire incident in my delusional brain. when i came back, everything was back to the way it was. except for that 4-inch gash on her abdomen, surrounded by an entire patch of bruised blue-black.

i'm used to being over-worked and over-demanded. i have accustomed to being the solution for each problem and task. suddenly, it was taken all out of my hands and i was left weak and helpless, not even able to look in from afar. life sometimes mock me to show me how i am blessed but i am left with my energy drained.

2010-09-06T09:24:00.000+08:00

the day that nobody remembered.

it started out as a day like any other, but deep in my heart was a sinking feeling because i knew that nobody remembered. it is not such a big deal, i kept telling myself, but i felt myself disappearing just a little. into oblivion, into transparency. how do i describe the feeling of fleetingness, of immaterialism, when nobody remembers the day that you commenced to exist? it was as if nobody valued the significance of your existence; no hands to tie you back, no worth to weigh you down, and so you evanesce a little, fragmenting into a little twirl of entity and dissolving into the air.

it was my lunar calendar birthday, so nobody bothered to remember the date. "not like it was your real birthday". for the past 39 years, i had red eggs and vermicelli to mark the day, with the occasional lapse in celebration. 2 years ago, everybody forgot too. funny how you don't really remember celebrating it, until nobody does as well. this year i marked my birthday with a little tear, brushed away hurriedly with the back of my hand just incase anybody caught me crying. like a cry baby, even at 39.

i have never given much weighting to my real birthdays, being surrounded by interest-motivated people most of the time. i have received large bouquets of flowers, delicious cakes, expensive presents, and i cringe because i can never be certain of their sincerity. i take it with the grace and gratefulness that is requisite of the social game. however, it means nothing more than attempts to further solidify their position in the ladder of life. letting it all go to your head will be a receipe for suicide. many extends their well-wishes, some less, others more. who is real behind these walls of grinning smiles and nodding heads, i sometimes can no longer tell. for some, i know, it is nothing more than a run-of-the-mill business commitment. there is the occasional one, who gives something from the heart, from the hands, and you know, that this is a friend. however, i have learned to take that day with a pinch of salt.

which makes the chinese birthday all the more distinct. only those closest and dearest have privy to that information. only those who are most sincere and true. perhaps when you are setting yourself up for something like that, you are destined to fall the most painful. life is that cruel. what you don't care for, you have plenty. what you value, you have none. it hurts. no doubt about that. but what can you say? you can't force people to remember. you can't make people value you more. you take what you get, and you move on.

and so, it became a day like any other day.

2010-09-01T09:59:00.002+08:00

received a friend invitation in facebook today.

sooooooo?

received one from someone i do not know. no inkling whatsoever. her face, name, or anything else for that matter, does not ring a bell.

sooooooo? what's so special about that? at some point in their facebook existence, everybody receives a few of these invitations from 'very friendly' strangers hoping to increase their circle of friends, by a couple of hundred thousands. doesn't really matter if you are fat or thin, tall or short, pretty or ugly, as long as you are a human being. actually, i don't think that is a requisite either, as long as you have a facebook account and you qualify as one extra friend. apparently, some people out there are collecting 'friends' on facebook like i will collect stamps, and my daughter collects aluminium can tabs. go figure. the evolution of the hobbies of collecting to include modern technology :-p

well, the thing is this lady in question has only 4 friends. not exactly the high-flier in facebook. i don't know any of her friends. it sure does not help that her profile picture is a black and white creepy side profile in dark lighting. you can't see it here, because i won't repost it but brrrr, believe me, it gives me the shivers just remembering it. actually, the creepy part is that she has posted my profile picture on her wall! her wall of almost nothing short of a few posts, and i am on it grinning in a kawaii way. how creepy is that?

?!?!??!!? what is that all about? please kindly interpret what does all this mean for me? i seem to be the only other race in her group of 4 friends. i get friendly, but i seem to be singled out for very peculiar reasons that even i do not comprehend. freaky.

2010-08-24T09:34:00.007+08:00

our side of the world is becoming less and less efficient, because we tolerate mediocrity. we accept the flaws in people, as we rightly should, but even lame excuses and feebly -covered laziness are part and parcel of the deal. it has grown to the point of being so in your face. yes, i am lazy, yes i am not willing to lift a single finger and get off my metaphorical big butt. soooo?

somewhere out there someone expects me to stay at home 24hours a day, and that person isn't even my hubs, until he sees fit to visit. he assumes, in that empty echoing brain of his, that i have nothing better to do than sit at home and lay my golden egg. without even asking what i do for a living, what type of lifestyle i live and what my schedules are like, he assumes that i will be at home, waiting, pining, anticipating his arrival.

gasp! who can be so righteous, so full of himself, you may like to know. a charity organisation, would you believe? i am trying to donate the sofa that we have grown to love and adore to someone else who may still be able to extract many more years of good use from it, seeing that it is still in very good condition. i vetted potential candidates as i didn't want it to be abused by those worms missing cardiac organs and conscience, who milks charitable intentions for their own personal profit. finding a respectable organisation, i emailed them to see if they can pick up the sofa. what is the condition of your sofa??? three question marks! she must be a very inquisitive person. i commiserate that many people genuinely mistake their organisation as dumping ground for whatever rubbish they have brewing at home, but that is another kind of worm which i do not want to go into. i send her photos of my sofa and she was apparently satisfied. can you please pick it up on 24th morning? ok, i will make the arrangement on 24th morning. please kindly read carefully. not 'i will arrange for the pick-up on 24th' but rather i will make the arrangement on that morning only. i know not how to answer to that. i emailed her again on 23rd morning; can you please ask them to come before 10.30am? she did not reply. apparently, charity is a very busy organisation.

i woke up bright and early today morning to give a last clean-up and a lingering look to the sofa. i have not heard from them since their last email agreeing to make arrangements. what arrangements exactly, i am apparently not authorised to know. it is top secret stuff, this sofa recycling business, lest people may come and kidnap the sofa.

i called her but no one answered. i tried again later. they will come before 12pm. can you let me know around what time? before 12pm. only now i understand that it takes rocket scientist discipline to come up with the scheduling of charitable pick-ups. i'm not asking for the timing right down to the seconds and milli-seconds. the approximate hour will do as i have to make a trip back home to be around for them to pick up. they will need detailed complicated calculations to come up with a decent answer, with theorems, algebraic equations and formulas. apparently, all people who will like to donate their stuffs to charity are people who have nothing better to do than shake legs at home.

so, i joined the group of well-meaning people out there and shook my legs until 11am, when i still haven't heard a peep from them. there goes my morning, but this is for a good cause, lady, so pipe down. by 11.20 i know they will not be turning up before 12, as the good lady says. i called again and asked for the lorry driver's contact. lorry drivers have a very esteemed position in the charitable organisation's framework, it would seem. as you have often heard, it's not what you know but whom you know. in this case, it is the lorry driver! so people out there, don't look down on the small people. *shaking index finger* so i called him. before 3pm, he says. why do i have the funny feeling i am being given the run around? sigh. before 3pm? yes, before 3pm.

so, now i have nothing to do but continue to shake legs until 3pm? at this rate, i will have very skinny and toned thighs. however, as i have grown rather attached to my elephant thighs, i threw in the towel. i actually went out and did some other productive stuffs. gasp! the nerve of me!! when they see fit to appear ala david copperfield style. i will then do my harry houdini too.

who knew charity can be so complicated?

2010-08-20T10:49:00.004+08:00

coming down with a bug.

why is it coming down and not up? is it because you are feeling down when you are sick? or is it because you lie down when you are not feeling well? i want to be coming up with a flu! *sniff*

feeling sick sucks. people ask you where are you feeling unwell? duh, the whole body! from head to toe. sick and yet you have to conduct indepth analysis of your sickness. please do not bother me if you are not handing out t.l.c.'s.

*grumpy mode on*

2010-08-19T11:11:00.004+08:00

the stupid alarm clock rang. i turned around, ready to hit the off button on my alarm, only to realise that it is coming from the other side of the bed. 6 o'clock. crazy as i sometimes am, i am still not deranged enough to set the alarm to ring whilst the sky is still dark out, the roads quiet and no soul is stirring. even the imaginary cock is fast asleep in his warm hut. however, someone in my household is a full-fledged member of an asylum and wakes up at the same time every day. the looney, however, is nowhere to be found. barely conscious, i rolled over and tap the source of my irritation.

i still have another half hour before i have to join the legion of semi-conscious zombies. come on, sleep! just when i was about to fall back to sleep, the darn alarm clock ring again. oh noooo!, i whined to myself. peering with slitty eyes, i realise that it is again not my clock. why are there so many alarms ringing in the dead of the night, and no one is waking up?!?! what's wrong with my room, the den of haunting alarms?! an unseen hand stirred and reached out to stop the alarm. no one woke up. sigh. one minute later, my own alarm rang. by then, i've already thrown in the white towel and was ready to wake up, lest another alarm ring in the cursed room.

there really is karma in this world, so people beware. whatever you do, or not do, will come around and haunt you. many eons ago, so long that it seems to be the dinosaur era, i was a pig. in that i really need my sleep. not that it did anything to help my case for beauty, but it was something that i needed a lot of nevertheless. one less hour of sleep, or even half an hour for that matter, and i will fall sick. sleep came before anything else.

apparently, i've over-used that quota for the rest of my life. i've dried up the number of hours i can laze in bed and vegetate until the sun shines down my bum, or the my mother breaks down the door. by contrast, i now have to wake up whilst the sun is still snoozing and whilst the cock is dreaming of sexy hens. no more excuses, sleeping beauty.