obituary

gather round, everybody. there's a party going on here today. pick up a glass of champagne. feel free to let down your hair, shake your bottom and go crazy. we are drinking to the death of 'why so kaypo?'.

yes, this is the last and final post in here.

let's toast goodbye to that stupid name. i admit i took like 5 seconds to come up with that pathetic name. i don't even know what it is suppose to signify. one thing for sure; it's easy to remember. i guess i was hoping for some idiot to ask me the name of my blog, to which i can reply....(all together now...)......"why so kaypo*?". never happened though. *shaking head sadly* which is a given since people who knows about my blog already knows the name and those that don't know of its existence, i have no plans of enlightening them. yammmmmmmm seng

let's not forget that stupid nickname that went hand in hand with the blog. it started out with 'mslenglui' which was obviously connocted because the only people who seemed to call me so were those in the morning market. how pathetic. an obvious ploy to get more people to see the beauty in me. hah! then was 'me' which is equally sad, if you ask me (pun intended), confusing bloggers from all walks of life. it was supposed to signify that i am 'me', what you think you see is what you get, no packaging, no frills. plain and simple. let's toast goodbye to all that stupidity and senselessness. yammmmmmmmm seng

let's give another toast to all the happy, and silly, memories in here. yes, yes, i will forever remember being called 'ghost', 'long-winded' and other unkind adjectives. *grins* nahhh, they were sweet memories. yammmmmmm seng

ok, how about another toast to all the friends that i have made here. this blog wouldn't be what it is if not for you guys. does this sound like an oscar speech or what? it's not like i'll be getting an oscar award anytime soon, so indulge me, ok? my friends in the blogosphere. i'm so proud to say that. for all those who were so sweet to me and said the sweetest things, a toast to you. yammmmmmmmmm seng

hey, you there in the back! no making out in this party. go get a room or something. sheesh! i think that about wraps it all up. a final toast to this blog. YAMMMMMMMM SENG!

byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

i'm still writing though. for those who can't get enough of me, please hop over to my new place (or should i say places). it is still renovation in progress, so watch out for all those loose nails, saw dust and all, but i was a little sick of commuting to and fro the old and new place. see you there.

in case you are wondering where, it's all there - in my profile.


*incase annie is blur (which is a given), kaypo means 'to be busybody / nosy'.

he

he was squatting there at the side of the road when i drove past.

blowing his nose into his hand.

then wiping his snot onto his shoe.

goosebumps filled my body.



thank you, sir for making my day.

the little one

i find myself increasingly unable to understand him, that smaller version of the male species. he is as different from me as the moon and the sun, purely because we are of the opposite sex. with the little girl, i could empathise. i could understand, put myself in her shoes and feel what she needs. with the little boy though, his reasonings go beyond me.

the female species are never meant to understand their male counterparts; how they justify their inactions or callousness, how they can suppress their innermost feelings but not the stirrings of their loins, how they say they love you but their actions shout otherwise. the species that we can't live with, yet can't live without. why do we subject ourselves to such torture, i will never even begin to understand. why are we attracted to them like the moth to the fire and then try with all the power of the world to change them in one way or another? in the end, the wise ones learn to live with it.

i'm digressing, as usual. with the little boy, i have to try harder to understand. i need to have more patience. if he is as alien to me now as a young adorable little person, i cannot imagine how i will cope when he is in his teens and independent, rebellious and wants his own way. i had hoped that my love will be all-encompassing and that it will be his lighthouse to guide him on the path to righteousness.

i'm not too sure.

satisfaction

i'm on an emotional high.

i feel like i've conquered mount kinabalu or even mount everest.

i'm exhausted but the feeling of satisfaction is overwhelming.

the body is tired, the stamina shot.

i look around me with pride.

the toys' room is finally clean.

blog in progress

i'm stubborn.

i'm stubbornly obstinate.

i'm obstinately stubborn.

i keep coming up against a brick wall with all these new html programming which is as alien to me as german or french but i refuse to give up.

day after day, i sit infront of my computer, tearing my hair out in frustration and sighing elaborate loud sighs.

however, i'm still here and i'm still trying.

condemned

i am soooo condemned. went shopping with my mother to the morning market for clothes. that was the nail that sealed my fate in the coffin of auntie-dom. *exaggerated sigh*

how trendy, how fashionable, how happening. *rolls eyes*.

friends

there are those that are your friends simply because you are sacharin sweet to them. the question beckons then will they still be your friend if you were passive?

application form

to: all readers

from: me, who else

re: application for leave


i have been infected by somebody's melancholic introspective bug. i realise that i no longer know why i am writing and for whom i am writing. this place no longer feels right and i don't feel i belong. the love for writing and story-telling is still there, but this does not seem like the place for me to do it anymore. perhaps i have been too caught up with the number game. how do you detach yourself from something as part of the game as that? i want to revel in the process, not the end-results for why else will i still be here?

maybe all i need is a break. maybe all i need is some time away.

will be back.

see you around.

seeking pleasure

honestly speaking, i cannot remember the last time i had another person of the same sex climb on top of me. it has been a very, very long time.......too long.

i am not one for such tendencies but it was all purely for the pursuit of pleasure. last weekend, i took a little time off, disappeared for a few hours and went seeking for some indescribable ecstacy. it wasn't something that i would announce to the family, for obvious reasons. i felt a little guilty, indulging in pleasures such as this but i have suppressed my natural desires for far too long and believe that i should finally succumb to it, wicked as it may seem.

this is not my first time. i've had other encounters with those of my same sex but i must admit, they are definitely much more satisfying than any i've had with my man. she knows how to give me pleasure in ways that a man just wouldn't understand, touch me in places i needed to be touched. her hands were smooth, my body ached for her gentle yet firm touch.

for that one hour, with nothing else on my mind, i was hers whilst she pushed me to levels of blissfulness that i never knew existed. i soaked in languid bliss, not bothering about what the outside world may think of us. closed away in that dark room, all that mattered was how she made me feel.

you and i, we are not naive people. we all know what i am talking about.

the expert touch of a masseuse. working out those tight knotted muscles. what an absolute bliss!

madness

i step out for half a freaking day.

the phone rings incessantly.

the boss calls.

he wants something PRONTO!

i have to go back.

i am in all the time, cultivating spiderwebs on my rotting body and nobody calls. the phone is dead. i take one freaking foot out and the world is looking for me.

it's a freaking crazy world.

**************************************

i talk to my bro on the 3G, eventhough he is like ten steps away, because it's free.

like i need to see his face when he asks me .............what was it again?

**************************************

i look at my feet and wonder why i am wearing heels that are at least one size larger.

what was i thinking of when i bought the shoes?

that my legs will swell?

for that matter, did i bring my brain with me when i went shopping?

whimsical

there you go!

someone was telling me that there isn't any pigs in this place.

huh?

oh!

you mean pics!!

*shrugs*

works out to be the same.

pics of pigs!

ambition

i have a strange friend.

he has been asking me the very same question for the few years that i have known him. from the start, he asked me "if you hadn't sold your soul to your job (ok, maybe he didn't phrased it that way), what would you have liked to work as?". i don't know what triggered his persistent line of questioning, perhaps he sensed the unfulfilment(?) in my present job.

that would be a very difficult question to answer, as i have been with my present employer for more than 10 years now. i recently had to chuck my second date-chop and request for a third one (those in the line will know that a date chop has a ten-years running series on it). it does not directly translate into my working for 30 years with the company (that would mean i started working for them at the age of 5!! gasp!) but it does shadows my roots in that place.

i have long since forgotten what my ambition was, or perhaps have buried it so deep that i do not even know how to locate it. my friend's very peculiar persistence has triggered me to ask myself the same. what was my ambition? the one topic that i had to write over and over again in essay composition classes, no matter which level in the school. had i known it was going to be all bullshit, i would have written about some glamour job like miss universe or food-tester for the emperor.

i think my very first ambition was to be a teacher. yes, i like to lord over other children and torture them with endless list of homeworks, make them stand on tables and whip them with a cane. no, i think it was more for the satisfaction of feeling all-important and clever, a desire to guide others and make them understand. i will be the one patiently teaching my younger cousin whilst others have given it up as hopeless.

the miss malaysia (or more accurately, miss hongkong as it was more popular back then, though i have no idea how i can even qualify seeing that i am definitely born and bred here) bit did float around in my head for a little while, though i had to give that up very fast when i realise my features were nowhere considered attractive and my height stopped reaching for the sky, or should i say never even bothered to.

when i started talking marathon sessions on the phone and win all arguments with any adult (except the one that permitted me to open my cage and fly out into the blue sky), i was not-very-nicely given the suggestion of becoming a lawyer. yes, i like to argue, for the sake of arguing, or sharpening my quick reflex wit if you like to put it in a nice manner. that one never took hold as i didn't quite like having the future of people's life on my hands. i cannot imagine the guilt trip i will go through if someone was to hang because i had not done enough *shudders*.

that was all a very long time ago. all swept beneath the imaginary carpet. if you were to ask me now what i will like to be, i will be hard-pressed for an answer. there are just too many jobs i will like to try, all not highly-ambitious i'm afraid. i would love to be a part-time receptionist, wearing a damn short and sexy skirt with my bimbo voice going, "good morning, this is xyz company. who will you like to speak to?". perhaps a highly-motivated waitress, "yes, and will you like to try our beautiful creme brulee with that?". or that idiot that pushes people into trains cramped beyond imagination, just so that the door will shut, like in japan. i wouldn't mind spending a week or two organising events, closets and even as a highly-perked nanny, no, the word should be au pair.

however, my friend would have none of that. only one job, he said. only one? i scratched my head but i couldn't come up with an answer. then it came to me out of the blue. i know what i will want to be. not when i grow up but perhaps in another life.

i want to be a translator. not for the embassies or some big-shot businessman, or beautiful celebrities and important presidents. i want to be the translator for those illegal dvds, who seem to **** up the subtitles all the time! "the german take no can't" ?!?!? what craps? what german? there is no german in the plot?! or "u r not suppose to do that". what is this? text subtitles?!! *groan*

i can imagine the satisfaction i will have on the job. i will call all my friends and tell them, "eh, you watching that new movie ah? hey, i wrote the subtitles you knowwwww". i will have first-hand privilege of watching new movies before they hit the shelves. ok, perhaps i will not be able to brag about my job since it is associated with illegal copyright but translating is not criminal, is it? i just wrote the subtitles for some hard-hearing old man who couldn't understand the muffled speech, so sue me! ahhhhhhhhh! i can imagine the gratification on that one, the pleasure of finally reading words that match the conversation on the screen.

they should be so lucky to employ me.

sympathy

a little while back, someone i know did something very commendable, something very charitable. she went off with a group of people around the streets of kl, distributing food to the homeless. something that i wish i will do instead of sitting here comfortably on my behind in this comfortable room, passing opinion like a high and mighty queen. she saw a side of the city that is not normally open to the eyes of the public, or perhaps it is, to those who choose to see.

she witnessed homeless people of all age, race and gender, blind, handicapped and even small children accompanying their drug-addict parent. there was a lady who looked like she had acid poured over her face, without a distinct nose or eyelids and a lipless hole for a mouth.

it is a given that such a scene will tug at your heart, bringing out sympathy even in the coldest of soul. it will serve as a reminder to all of our own fortune, which is often forgotten and unappreciated.

i do feel the same. however, my thoughts cast back to those that we deem as fortunate from what we see and know.

those who, to all appearance, seem like the luckiest person on the world but are fighting their own demons within. those that have all the material spoils they could possibly ask for but are trapped in a hell that others will not begin to understand. people who will not invoke sympathy from a bystander's single glance but is fighting for the very simple act of living every day of their life. people whom a donation or a free meal will not even begin to alleviate their sufferings. people whom others will never be able to do anything that will lighten their misery.

is their story any less sadder than those lying homeless in the streets? these people who will never invoke sympathy simply because there is no visible signs. people who think death is an easier alternative than living their lives out everyday. or is it just a sign of the weak? surely, that option in itself takes a lot of courage. who knows what demons they have been battling and for how long. what possible hell could they be living in that death seems like a sweeter alternative? like leslie cheung, the infamous singer who took his life when faced with depression, we'll never understand what they have to go through every minute of the day. hopefully, i'll never have to know.

my heart cries also for these souls. people who bleeds from the heart but you cannot hear their cries or see their misfortune. people whom you will never ever even begin to understand their plight. people with whom the whole world will never know to sympathise. people whom others will never understand.

questions unanswered

for as long as i can remember, i have been the youngest.

i was the youngest in my family as i was growing up. a position that didn't bring along the necessary spoiling and pampering but more of the trappings of never being able to do anything or go anywhere i wanted. it is an unwritten rule in the household; never listen to the youngest. sheesh!

when i was schooling, i was a year younger than the average classmate for every year after secondary four. eventhough it was just a difference of 12 months, i felt pretty small then; both in terms of size and importance. sheesh!

the pattern persisted to the uni-days. i was like the youngest child, presumed sweet and innocent, the little baby for everyone to keep an eye on. they were 3, 5 or even 12 years older than i. i listened whilst they talked. i learned whilst they taught me about the lessons in life. nobody listened. sheesh!

when i first started working, i had no equals. no one my age or even remotely close. it was stiffling, and sombering, working with people an entire generation older. forget about jokes, you don't even smile unless absolutely necessary. i tried valiantly to grow up faster, to look older, or at the very least, more convincing to them. sheesh!

when i ventured into post-degree course, it went without saying that i was going to be among the youngest in the group. somehow, somewhere, i have accepted that i will be the youngest among my peers. it didn't matter, as long as i proved to excel in my performance. sheesh!

however, one day when i wasn't looking i grew older.

just when i assumed i will always be the youngest, i became the oldest. just when i thought i will remain the smallest, i grew up. i look around. everybody else is younger. what happened to those older than me? where did they go?

why do i still feel so young then?

when will i start feeling old?

a magical journey

for all those i met.....

in 3 hours, 43 minutes and 22 seconds
i was taken on a miraculous journey
where strangers were transformed into friends
and names evolved into identities.
alphabets that were just names when arranged
became people with emotions and a past
words that were cold and distant
became a warm invisible touch by a friend.
in the blink of an eye, everything changed.
stories that were told day after day
turned into letters from a friend
telling me how his / her day went.
whilst reading his posts,
i visualised
him sitting there, as if telling me
with his very own voice, and the flick of his hair.
the face lingers, the feelings remained
is this all in my head
or did we just become friends?

not another meme

my fingers are stiff, my brain rusty.

it has been the longest time since i was last tagged. it is probably an honour to be remembered and tagged again by the much revered and oh so mighty ah pek but this one that he has just served me proved to be the most difficult by far. true, it will be easy to just whip out any answer from the dusty old bag i call a brain, but as a mark of respect to this man, i think i should stop and ponder for a little while.

this is also probably the most boring tag i have received. who the hell cares what your favourite movies are? it's not like any of you are going to a movie with me soon and will like to find out the genre of my likings, so what does it matter which movies i adore? most tags reveal something about the "tag-ee" but i seriously can't imagine someone telling me 'oh yes, now i know that you are a shallow air-head because you like stephen chow's movie' or 'better stay clear of you, you have a potential murder streak because you like to see house of wax' (definitely not paris hilton's version, ok? gagggggg!.)

nevertheless, i shall plough on, lest i am being reminded of being long-winded. i don't know where he gets the idea that i am a movie-fan but he is amazingly accurate. a movie-fan may not be the correct description. i call myself a movie-dumpster. i take in all types of movies; thriller, romantic, comedy, drama, action, chick-flicks, whatever you have as long as i have time to spare and a correct setting; both of which are increasingly difficult to come by of late. the only type of movie that i absolutely can't stand is those where every single freaking person in the movie dies in the end. or those that have every possible misfortune befall the actor / actress. she lost her parents since young, her sibling died trying to save her from a car-crash which left her disabled anyway, the boy she loves turns out to be her blood-brother, she has cancer.... ?!?!?!?!? what's the point? let's just have a bomb drop on all the characters at the very start of the movie and kill all of them! saves my tears and the nerve-wrecking moments.

the problem, and therein lies the difficulty, with this tag is most movies go in one side of my brain, run havoc in there for a few milli-seconds and leave the other side, without so much as a trace of its existence. i forget totally great movies in the blink of an eye. sighhhhh! i have problem remembering which movies i really like. so, for the purpose of this tag, after spending the weekend deliberating on it (see how serious i am!), i shall choose movies that have somehow managed to stay with me, despite the test of my dementia-racked brain.

since i have been going on and on, i shall cut it short here. want to know what's so good about these movies, or what it's all about? go watch it then! haha! no pics, no synopsis. sorry.

1. the romantic - Moments to Remember (korean)...*sniff*

2. the thriller - Memento (killed lots of brain cells trying to remember the last sequence)

3. the recent comedy - The Pink Panther (yes, the 'stupider' the better)

4. the supernatural - The Sixth Sense (the ending just stays with you)

5. the trials and tribulations of ms. me - ok, that one is not out yet. it will be one day, you just watch out for it. i can't think of anymore and i'm sick of trying. so ah pek, four only, ok?

usually, i will tag others with glee, with a revenge. this time however, i shall spare you. let's wait for another more interesting tag, shall we?

apply within

one cup of coffee is one cup too much.

i'll come back to that in a bit.

i survived yesterday's meeting and return to my place in front of the computer in one piece. i double-checked and can definitely confirm that the strange specimen indeed did not possess eight tentacles and two heads. he did have a peculiar tendency to call attention to his non-existent six packs, though. (if i did not get in trouble for the 'boy' reference thing, i'm sure to get it for this one. haha.) there was a rather unnerving moment when the strange specimen metamorphosed into 4 other of his species, making a grand total of 5. well, i guess it's better to hit me all at once whilst i am still mentally prepared before i make the quick escape into elusiveness again.

ok, back to my first sentence.

i have a job opening in my organisation. anyone who is on the lookout for a change in his / her job or perhaps something on the side to fill your free time, kindly read on.

the official designation is termed as "head director". the job scope in itself is pretty straightforward. your only responsibility is to smack the head of your employer, namely me, should i engage in the highly undesirable act of ordering a cup of coffee. the task itself, however, requires some finesse. the smack should not be so hard that my eyeballs will pop out but it should not be so soft that i will ignore it and continue with the undesirability. you are given room for exercising your power of judgement and may smack me senseless if i obstinately persist in ordering a cup of coffee. as such, i believe it is a highly satisfying and enjoyable appointment.

the pay is non-existent but perhaps i can offer you a cup of tea in return. however, this will also depend on your strength of smacking. smack too hard and i will forget all terms of employment. the hours are flexible, the benefits restricted solely to the satisfaction of having to smack my head and my gratitude. anybody with relevant experience and total dedication to the work may submit their cvs here.

i have resorted to opening up a position for the above post since my brain has absolutely refused to listen to my cries for no more coffee. yesterday's tall (read 'small' in starbucks' terms) brew of the day has left me disoriented and restless.

i need to recuperate.

freaking out

i haven't been updating for a couple of days, discounting my filler poetic attempt post, that is. that's because i'm busy silently freaking out. yes, i'm tearing out precious handfuls of hair and bitting nails like a woodpecker. i'm suppose to be meeting up with another one of those strange specimen from the blogger species and it's freaking me out silly. he's too busy to surf the blogosphere these days, so i'm free to write whatever i want :-p.

blogging has always strike me as wondrous. a place where people will actually shut up and listen (except for those weirdos out there who talk absently to their own monitor whilst reading blogs). a place where races, religion, sex and age does not matter. a place where you meet people you will never meet in your ordinary world, simply because of the above invisible boundaries.

what does a 30...what again (....doing quick mental calculation. sorry, the part of the brain responsible for storing how old i am seems to be permanently warped)....oh yes, 35 years old woman have in common with a 23 year old.....do i dare say it?.....boy. hahaha. that will piss him off if he reads it. which is why it's imperative that we quickly move on. not much, i will say. aside from the obvious fact that they both belong to the same 'oink-ing' and 'grunting' animal sign in the chinese horoscope. 23 seems like a very long time ago to me. then again, my mental capacity probably is still hovering around that level, hence the seeming ability to communicate with him. for that matter, i think he is much more mature than i.

anyway, i digress. since i'm on the subject, what does this woman have in common with a disillusioned 50 year old, a grumpy mid-life-crisis (heehee) 35 years old (or thereabout), a humsup (try as i might, i couldn't find a better english word to adequately translate this) 40 plus, a kind and sweet...errr, i have no idea how old is she, a witty, beautiful and foreign 30+, another sarcastic but really very sweet 20+?.....(what is it with ladies, i seem to have no idea how old they are), a funny and crappy 20+, a poetic 34 .........this will go on forever if i'm going to list all of you so please do not be offended if i move on (i'm already getting myself in much trouble with the above descriptions, as it is). the only thing we have in common is a blog.

behind this blog, we hide ourselves and reveal as much, or as little, as we want to. we seem to communicate, but it's all mostly one-way. we seem to know so much about each other, by virtue of the things posted, but it may be scratching the surface. yes, sometimes we are even thrusted with strange pieces of information such as their sexual preference, disturbing habits and even family-planning process (kakaka) but it could all very well be the creative power of the pen, or in this case, the keyboard. people that we call friends, which we know next to nothing about. people that we think we know everything about, but have absolutely no inkling whether it's true.

so, what is freaking me out? the fact that this unmasking is irreversible? or the fact that i will no longer have a blog to hide my identity behind? definitely it is not the actual prospect of meeting the man, for the last time i checked, he does not have 8 tentacles or two heads. maybe it's the fact that i will no longer be ms. me but someone with an actual identity, name and face.

someone hand me a prozac, please. i want my safe haven.

memories

i'm busy clearing up some work today. so, i'll just share a page with you.....

not now
not today
but one day, some time ago.....

going thru some old thing,
i picked up a piece of paper, crumpled and old
the water in my eyes begin to sting
as it brings back memories trapped within its fold.

of things said and promises made
that was never given the luxury of time,
can't turn back the clock, it's too late,
so in my head it replays like a mime.

restlessness awash as i'm unable to grasp
on to people who means so much
i witness with hopelessness as time lapse
and their presence become but a memory as such

dreams shattered, it's so hard to move on
the absence in my life of someone who truly cared
it's irreplaceable, i'm told, once they're gone
someone whose soul to you they once bared.

memories that run so deep, it's footprints on everything burrowed
is but a dull ache in the heart now
words that so badly wanted to be said, swallowed
they're all but playing in my mind now.

coffee

why do i like coffee?

they taste absolutely vile. it's bitter, like those traditional chinese medicine brew. the ones i had at the modern kopitiam taste even worse than the chinese concoction. no amount of sugar or honey can cover up the taste in my mouth, which leaves my face contorted in the most unpleasant response. those at the chain coffee outlets are even worse; they leave me with a headache and a scratchy throat.

the after-effects are not even orgasmic. i don't get the reported 'high' or the sudden burst of alertness. if at all, i become even more paranoid and edgy.

so, why do i order the same thing, over and over again, despite the many unfinished cups and bitter experience? why do i ask for it automatically, like someone who has been hexed?

aside from the fact that my mouth obviously works faster than my brain, i think it's the rebellious side in me that's responsible for my lapse in better judgement. drinking coffee is like a cry against the pleasant side of me, which is pretty much like tea. i go down well, soothe the throat and gets comments like 'she's so sweet' from people. eventhough i believe they say that because they have nothing else nice to say about me, it still ticks me off. me, sweet?

if sweet is being silent so that people can talk on and on and monopolise the conversation, i'll raise my hand up in a jiffy. the way i figure it, i let most people talk. at the end of the talking marathon, with an appropriate nod from me and a 'hmmm' here and there, they realise they don't know anything about me. nothing to summarise me as a person. so, i'm called sweet....for lack of a better description.

so, coffee is my rebellion against sweetness. against the obedient, loyal and gentle side of me. i can't very well kick the dog by the side of the road, or slap the crying baby, so i drink coffee. it's my way of telling the world, i'm not really nice. you just don't know me yet.

another chance at my resolutions

crash, boom, bang........and 2007 is here!

despite the fact that i tried to slam the door in its face and locked, double-locked and even padlocked the front gate, the very stubborn and persistent new year is finally here.

i dragged my semi-conscious brain to the nearest countdown celebration during new year eve and joined the throng of merry party-goers, who were all waiting for the 5.....4.....3.....2.....you know what i mean. to add to the mood and transform myself from a sleepy zombie into another merry-maker in the crowd, i downed a bottle of heineken. stayed stubbornly sober though. i knew i should have gone for the half-dozen-bottle deal.

another new year, another year older.....so to speak. i'm not particularly worried about the 36 years old part. i think i have made a fairly good trade with confidence, wisdom and empathy for a few wrinkles here and there. okay, maybe i didn't get such a good deal with the lacking lustre skin, the losing elasticity bit and the lower metabolism, but i'll take it any day rather than the ditzy, confused and oh so sensitive age. wait a minute, i think i kept the ditzy part...... oh well.......nobody's perfect.

having had a few days to mull over my new year resolutions, which i didn't really bother to actually, i shall list them here. i'll just make them up as i go along.

1. to be happy. this was last year's and it shall be this year's again. as a reminder, so that i don't pull myself into one of those bottomless spiralling pit.

2. to listen. i thought i have always done a very good job.....but last year, i realised i was only hearing. perhaps it's a little too late for some party concerned....this is one of the hardest resolution, what with a million things going on at the same time and everybody pulling me apart with their demands, making me tired to the soul, but i shall endeavour.

3. to pay a little more attention to what my body needs. when there are a thousand cries, yours will be the last to be heard. i need a little time to attend to this aging structure before it gets up and abandon this silly soul.

4. to love a little more. for those nearest and dearest, sometimes i'm too tired to be there for them. this year, brand's chicken essence shall be my best friend as i strive to work with them, play with them and just be there for them.

5. to read. i love reading. i have a whole bookcase of unread books. lately i have been reading short meaningless trashy stuffs just to fill in the need but it's just not satisfying the soul. resolution 4 and resolution 5 will probably conflict....

6. to finish what i have started. i have hundreds of little bottles and packets of all sorts, from creams to conditioners, from perfume to snacks. i also have a list of courses which i have enrolled in but never got around to finishing. i didn't get around to accomplishing this resolution last year, so i'm determined to achieve it this time.

6 resolutions. same as last year.

i have one wish though. please don't throw me anymore curve balls this year. pleaseeeeeeeeee. whoever or whatever is the almighty powers that be presiding high up above, i beg of you to not to give me anymore high hurdles and brick walls.

i have a weak soul.