hello......haven't seen you around for a very long time.

i am once again reminded of how much i love the art of writing, the expressing of emotion, the penned description of images so rich that one can conjure up the vivid images in one's mind.

not too long ago i contacted an old blogger friend who wrote so beautifully that it inspired but who has since deleted his account. i told him how i missed his writings, but i think he must have thought it was him that i missed for who would love writing with such passion. but i do, i really do.

beautiful writings stir dormant feelings that have been buried under the many layers of tedious repetitive everyday life. it brings flutter to the slumbering heart and awaken a zeal that was once tempered. it inspires, it dreams, it stimulates. writing records my stories, witnesses my steps and empowers my mind. without it, my thoughts have been short and flitted everywhere, like the beautiful butterfly darting here and there but never staying long enough in one place. without it, i have been lost and don't know what to think.

i want to start again, but it is not easy. to write, i need to have some time of my very own. some time to think, some time to reflect, some time to stop. i have missed that part of me for a very long time.

we meet again today. hello.......how have you been?

L.O.V.E.

it is a lofty proclamation, to say that i will be loved greatly, or not at all. no half loves, no faltering loves, no one's bench warmer, no one's substitute. when i was much younger, i chose to leave when i felt i was no longer someone's greatest love, or when i realised i never was. my mind was filled with fictional fairy tale loves. it was all or nothing.

many many years down the road, i can no longer say such arrogant words. i can no longer choose how i am loved, only how i love. i can give 110% of myself, and only shrug my shoulders, steel my heart and move on when i receive cold words and colder indifference. in the silence, i look back and i realise that i have only one who loves me so devotedly. throughout my entire span of 47 years, everyone i know, who knows me, only one single person takes such great effort to love me. and for that i am very very grateful. that one such person does exist in my life, that my happiness makes a difference for someone in this world. for otherwise my life would have been so cold, when i look back from my deathbed i would never know for what i have lived.

to say the word love is so easy. to believe that you do is even easier. being by someone's side every day, is that love? by doing what you would normally do anyway, is that love? i have since learnt that when say you love someone, ask yourself, what have you done for that person lately? are you sorry you couldn't do more? such is love, to give of yourself without asking for anything more than their happiness. i never had parents who thought the world of me, family who treasured me, people who thought the world of my mere existence. if i were to drop dead tomorrow, how many would shed a tear? how many would still shed a tear 10 years down the road? i don't want to know the answer for i fear that i will falter in my love. i don't want to know the answer for it should not be the reason i love. i love because i do.

life is tiring

i'm tired today. i don't know why some people think that it is okay to be mean to be me, to use words that hurt, intentionally or unintentionally. i think i try to hard. and maybe that is suffocating to some. or maybe they don't see that i am trying hard, and they can't feel it. so that is why they are lashing out.

sometimes i hurt, and i want to give up. to disregard or to just ignore. but i can't. i can't be cold just because they are cold to me. i can't hurt just because i am hurt.

life is complicated. and i'm tired.

the boy

he is cold and aloof, apathetic and indifferent. he is sullen and keeps to himself. he doesn't talk when he comes back, he doesn't talk in the morning, he doesn't talk when he wakes up. he is moody and a teenager. you ask him a thousand questions and he grunts a reply. i could whack some sense into him, or at least some manners, but i really don't think that is the way to teach a child. i could nag, i already do, but a parent has to know when to open and shut that gaping hole in the face and so you choose your battles. i don't know how to bring up a son, i never understood the male species. you ask too many questions, they tell you to chill. you don't ask any questions, they say you don't care. sometimes you want to shout in their face 'and how much did you care for me?' but you probably can't stand the reply. when he is cool, he can be very cold. when he is chatty, he can be very warm. what goes on in the mind of a 16 year old boy, i will never know. i never knew when i was 16, i don't think i will know when i am 46. babies should come with an instruction manual.

..........the moment he opened his mouth and uttered a single sentence to me, all the anger and frustration of the day melted into thin air. such is the relationship of a mother and a son.

with you

when was the last time my mother brought me to the hair salon? i haven't the faintest recollection. when did i start going to hair salon on my own, telling the stylist how i wanted my hair done on my own. looking back it seems strange that i made the transition from going to the salon with my mum to by myself without even realising it, and now not even being able to remember no matter how hard i try. was it when i came back from singapore? when i was in secondary school? or when i went into college? i can't even seem to remember where my mother brought me to cut my hair when i was little. now that i am starting my journey of many 'last's, i wonder as i am sitting on the salon's swivel chair with my daughter on hers next to mine, and she going off to university very soon, when will be the last time i bring her to a salon. will it pass by without me noticing it once again? will it happen without much fanfare and notice, as with all things so inconsequential such as this? with the passing of all memories so small and sweet like this, every day things that many take for granted, sitting quietly beside each other without a word, comfortable with each other's company, time moves on no matter how we fumble and grasp at the trickling of its passing, only looking back once in a while with longing and nostalgia

insulted by a F

signing off on the year end accounts today. i just began to notice that there is a capital F behind my name, in brackets. uh...why? since i don't think i failed in my role as a director of the company, yet, i can only assume that the F must mean that this particular person by the name so and so (yes, that is my name, Ms So And So) is of the female gender. again, why? there isn't any M behind the other director, who is a male, so why this gender bias? i assume this means that by default it is a he, unless otherwise specified. have you heard of anything so prejudicial? on so many levels!

first (i can't even choose which is my first point of peeve), why does the gender of the director even matter in the financial statements? if 'she' signs, please take it with a pinch of salt? or are we so few and rare that every effort must be made to identify those rare specie and protect them? nobody has given me special treats, air-conditioned rooms and specially-grown bamboo so i don't feel very protected at all. i feel alienated and targeted for some strange reason that i have not been informed of.

secondly, the default is male. why? if there is a F behind the woman's name, shouldn't there be a M behind the man's? i do understand that the working society is predominantly male and there is more chance of hitting a male director than a female if you were to throw a rock in the city center, but if you deem it necessary to highlight the gender you should do it for both. our identity cards carry the gender of both male and female, they don't just state if you are a female and omit if you are a male. by being silent for the male gender, one is saying the default is male unless otherwise specified. i feel like i am carrying some kind of sign behind my name to advertise that i am carrying some highly contagious deadly disease. if i ever find out who is behind this great new law and i get to have the wonderful opportunity of meeting up with him (i can only assume that someone who came up with such a ridiculous idea must be a he, as with all the stupid prejudiced remarks that have been uttered by our nation's ministers and law-makers), he will never hear the end of my grumbles.

what is our country coming to? secretly, quietly, all these crazy people with prejudiced and unbalanced mentality are changing our world in the most perverse ways. people who think that it is alright to ask women to wear longer skirts or pants, to stay a metre away from the nearest male specie, who deem it alright for rapists to marry their victims....the stupidness is endless. i think our country can very well try for a record in the guinness book very soon.

do i know you?

i received 2 wedding invitations this week. bombs, they call it. i get faintly annoyed when i receive wedding invitations from people that i am not close with, not to mention those that i hardly know, as i am sure most people do. when someone you know well finds their other half, you feel happy for them and are grateful they have found someone to spend the rest of their lives with. but for people whose last names you don't even know, it is a little difficult to muster that type of passion for random strangers. it is pretty obvious that their intention is to rake in a little bit more income to finance the wedding and honeymoon and i scoff at such blatant display of motive. ha! there, i scoffed, but still, i understand them and accordingly, i send my best wishes in the form of cash.

however, it gets a little ridiculous when i don't know the names on the wedding invitation. the invitations somehow manage to find their way into my hands, sometimes a little mysteriously and it bears no name of the sender. the clue is in the name of the bride, bridegroom or the parents and perhaps i am suppose to solve it nancy drew style. oh no! that reference shows the age of this writer. i should make the comparison to sherlock, ie the benedict cumberbatch one and not sir arthur, which would have been even more ancient. anyway, like a fool, i had to go around asking people do i know so and so (father), or so and so (bride), or so and so (bridgegroom), like a dementia patient unsure of who and what they are supposed to know. the yardstick perhaps should be that if i would not recognise any of the names on the wedding invitation, it is not appropriate to send one to me?

'tis the season

how was your chinese new year? i seem to be getting that question a lot recently. is it just a customary way of extending greeting, or can they perhaps sense a little difference from within me? a little more detached, a little less mirthful, a lot more stressed.

as we grow older, the festive season is no longer about getting together with your closest relatives, laughing and giggling, receiving red packets, eating delicious food and wearing pretty clothes. it seems to be an endless list of chores, one after another, check boxes to tick before the 15 days of the lunar new year is over. in fact, the seemingly endless things to do starts before the end of the year, stretching all the way until the 15 days of the lunar new year is up. one duty after another, stacked up on ends into one high tottering tower of tension. today is the 5th day, and i still have more than a handful of things sitting prettily on the list.

meeting old friends and busy relatives should have been gratifying but everybody wants to talk, nobody wants to listen. the little games they played should have been fun but they were all so engrossed with materialism. the rich aunty who was not satisfied with a RM200 lucky draw. the guards and cleaners who rotated work station every 15 minutes so that they can get more red packets. the captain whose service was unabashedly motivated by a red packet. where does the spirit of the chinese new year fit into all these?

but isn't it the same every year? this endless list of customary things to do. this eternal greed. this shallowness. this isn't the first year, and barring any unfortunate events happening to me for the next 365 days, this will not be the last year. why is this the new year of discontent? why does the ugliness that escaped the pandora's box seem especially glaring to me and ruffles my feathers so? even as i sit on my wicker chair, swinging right and left, with the chirping of the birds and the din of the traffic intertwined, i don't have the answer to my questions still. perhaps this is what i needed. an escape. a sanctuary to hide for a little while and immerse in my thoughts, a shelter to introspect and reinvigorate, away from everybody, away from all the demands and expectation. perhaps i am weary.

chinese new year wasn't all bad. there were the friends who showed sincerity and enthusiasm. the sweet man who bought lunch because it was his first time meeting me. the nice couple who was heartfelt. the old friend who was modest. the relatives who came from afar to say hello once a year. the husband's friend who tried to make me feel less awkward. the dear friend who wished me better late than never. the kindest in-laws. and the lovely friend who asked me how my chinese new year was.

ghost

sometimes i forget the beauty of life. like right now. i can't see beyond the ugliness enveloping me. i try to live my life so diligently every day, so hard, so sincerely. one cannot control how others act or how others think but i live to satisfy my conscience, at the very least. to be there for everybody as much as i physically possibly could, to fulfil my duties in the various roles of my life, to love and to listen.

but nobody sees it. even worse, nobody feels it. i stop, i stand in bewilderment, i falter in a daze. i am lost. then why do i live my life so onerously, i ask myself. why do i take the hard road? when none seems to appreciate. when none acknowledges. if i am giving and no one is receiving, what am i doing? if i love but someone doesn't feel it, what was i feeling? what does that make my life? what does that make me?

why

i don't get it. i thought as you grow older, you grow wiser. you understand things. but i don't understand how some can blatantly lie, or rather tell the opposite of a truth, right in your face. at the dinner table. both times, different people. are dinners cursed? or is it normal for families to tell lies and i am the naive idealistic one?

the lies are not of paramount importance, which makes it even more confounding. i get lies to cover up lies. i get lies to hide some important facts. i get beautiful white lies to let others feel better. but lies that nobody gives a damn about.....why? and families at that. why? why say you don't know, when you very well know. why say you didn't, when you did. it wasn't like either of the answers had any consequence. if they lied so that i will not know the real them, then who are those that i know of as my family? who and what lies inside the physical embodiment of those i know as family?

if i can't even believe the words that come out from family, whose words can i believe in? if i can't even trust family, who can i trust? what is my life without belief and trust?

sometimes i believe that this world was never meant for me.

exhaustion

some days i'm so tired from what life throws at me. sometimes i can struggle on and i work late into the night, even after a full day of running around and pleasing everybody, because the pile of work will still be there waiting for me come what may. i have to care for the one that was thrusted into my life, i have to care for the one who is on summer holiday, i have to deal with a string of things going wrong in the house, i have to care for my mother in pain, and then my ailing father, i have to cook for a household of 12, i have to make sure others have their meals, i have to deliver my end of the work for the office, i have more on my plate than anyone can sanely juggle.

other days i'm so exhausted that i can barely hold my eyelids open. i thought i could do no more, that i am on the brink of collapse. i thought that i could take in no more, i have done all that i could with my two hands and super-woman capability. i thought that i will go berserk if i have to juggle more. but life throws a fast ball and i am left with little choice but to struggle on and do more.

i'm tired to the bones. i'm exhausted. i''m stressed to the max. but i'm grateful that i can be there for her. i am thankful i am given the chance to love her and care for her, to show her that she means the world to me. sometimes i am frustrated, because she is frustrated, and she in turn takes out her frustration on me. but i know i'm just tired.

i'm tired because those around me are falling down one by one and i only have one pair of hands to catch. i feel like the energizer rabbit who is running low on power. i'm babbling. i'm drifting. i'm too tired to think.