is it me or it is them?

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

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

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

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

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

unloading

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

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

puppy

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

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

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

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

hope

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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