life goes on

now it is just a waiting game............

the minute hand of the clock crawls past so slowly, like an injured soldier on his final breath, crawling to the line of safety.

when you are married for the longest time (since the time of creation, it will feel like :-p) you tend to take the company of each other for granted. you wake up and....well, basically, he's the one who woke you up with his noisy morning routines. fast forward to the end of the day and he'll dutifully appear at the doorway at the magical hour. you don't feel the need to seek him out during the day nor have any pressing need to talk to him.

well, life goes on...but something seems missing. nevertheless, knowing that he is well taken care of at the moment helps to take my mind off him.

a friend from my secondary school days called me up a few days ago. two minutes into the 'hello', 'where are you?' conversation, he proclaimed that he cannot stand to talk to me because i have already become too jaded. ??? how does one respond to something like that, short of kicking him in the butt which i cannot do over the phone? granted, i do feel that i have become too jaded as i have grown older..but for him to discover that in 2 minutes??!! is he trying out for the guiness book of records or something? perhaps he was expecting a more enthusiastic response from me upon hearing his voice, which was not forthcoming. dream on, fella......

countdown to the kids' party is down to the hours. someone just told me that we have 41+16 kids attending. ??? what is the 16? half-kids, half-adults? wouldn't it be clearer to just add them up and give me a total figure? i sure will like to know what criteria separates the two figures. i definitely do not look forward to having 57 little beings shouting in my ear. then again, it may help keep my mind of other things. i'll bring ear plugs, just in case.

i went looking for little goodies to add to the pinata yesterday and was searching high and low for this shop that i frequent but has since shifted. it was a relief when i could locate it but was disappointed to discover that they have not finish unpacking their goods. is there a point to this story? yes, wait for it. what i really can't believe is that the shop's sewer line broke and basically, the back part of the shop was swimming in faeces and god knows what kind of water. the amazing part is we (yes, there was another person as dumb as me) continued to loiter in the shop for what seems like eternity, hoping to find something that i can use. i seriously wonder if my brain is working. see faeces doing backstrokes in filthy water = get the hell out of there, somehow that did not equate in my brain. sigh! there must be something really wrong with my senses these days.

my wandering thoughts

second day back. i need to stay busy. when i have nothing on my hands, my mind will wander. what can i do? or more accurately, what do i want to do? there are lots to do....but i can't find the 'get up and go' to do it. lying in bed and hiding under the bed covers all day sounds very attractive.

my ear is itchy. is someone thinking of me?

i probably should do more in terms of helping out for the party preparation. however, i just can't seem to get my mind into a celebratory mood.

i need more sleep.......

another stuffy board meeting tomorrow. i don't have any excuse not to attend..plus my non-attendance is racking up, which means i probably should go. somebody lend me two matchsticks?

i wonder how HD is coping over there....

the longest week

finally, a moment to be with my thoughts, though i am not sure if that is a good thing.

it has been longest week of my life. i know i have always whined in the presence of my readers of how time fly past, knocking me senseless even before i am aware of it. i feel a little sorry for having said that now. now i know that only happy moments pass the fastest.

i looked at the paper, trying to make sense of the technical gibberish. having been kept waiting for hours, i am eager to return home to my family. the doctor appeared suddenly, speaking hushly and bringing me aside, 'did you read the report? there is something in her lungs'.

that was how it began.

it was closely followed by a flurry of activities; a long night of sleeplessness for all concerned, checking into the hospital and more medical procedures to confirm the diagnosis. my mil is the bravest person i have ever met and i am in awe of her inner strength. she is a woman who belongs to the older generation of selfless giving, loving and providing. in her heart, there is no space for her own well-being, only for those that she loves. no woman in this modern generation can mirror her inner beauty, and i am ashamed to say, neither can i.

if only money can guarantee health, we would have gladly exchanged all for a few more years of her life in the bat of an eye. the failed biopsy was only the beginning of the storm of bad news coming our way for the entire week. by this time, none of us could think properly. our brain was still numb from the shock of the initial diagnosis. no one saw it coming.

when the news reached the ears of my side of the family, everybody chipped in, offering help wherever they saw the opportunity. i have never been one to accept help in any form easily; i am very stubborn. however, this is way over my head and i am left with no choice but to accept all forms of assistance and advice. i need all the strength i can rope to help her fight this disease. those that i have always viewed with detachment as having a cold heart stood in the frontline, fighting it with me all the way. i can only offer limitless gratitude in my heart as no words that i can ever say will reflect the sea of emotions that i feel. so, i accepted it all quietly.

i have never thought of myself as a strong person. i cry at the soppiest movies, i sniffed when i read silly romance novels. however, in the past week, i have learnt to cut off my feelings. i know that if i break down, those around me will follow suit. i have to be the pillar of strength, and to provide cheer to brighten everybody's mood, as false as it all appears in my ears. strangely, it was not that difficult to be emotionally detached, as i am tired to the bone and when my body gets to rest, i ensure that my brain does not. this is not the time nor place for my brain to run free with its wondering thoughts. when i find myself thinking of all the 'what if's', i stopped it dead in its track.

i thought i was doing great. perhaps it was the tiredness. perhaps it was finally getting to me. after asking my cousin for another favour, for the countless times in so many days, and only able to offer her a meek 'thank you very much' in return, i nearly broke down with her reply of 'ka ki lang bian kong karm sia' (relatives, no need to say thank you) and an affectionate rub on my head. it was all i could do to stop my voice from breaking or the tears from spilling from the corner of my eyes. i have never been so touched by 7 simple words.

in times like this, we finally know who loves us the most.

i am given respite from all the stress for the moment. while i return to take care of the children and to attend to work, HD is holding the fort. the 8yo is crying every night and both of them are calling for me in their sleep. i have no other choice. when i am there, i worry about the children. when i am here, i worry about how he is holding up. i yearn to be by his side, taking care of him whilst he takes care of them. i want to hold his hand while he walks down this difficult road, to be his pillar of strength. however, i understand that by holding down the fort here, i am removing one of his burden, letting him do his filial duty in peace of mind.

i will continue to be strong here.

i miss him.

beesi bisee busy

the coffee place

was recently disillusioned with a book i bought: the starbucks experience.

it sang praises of the inner workings of the organisation; the personal services of the baristas, their professionalism, their cheer and their warmth - the coffee place with a heart. perhaps it was laid a little too thick in the book, so much so that it began to sound like a 'chicken soup' edition. somewhere in the midst of the book, the artificial sacharrin sweetness became too much and i laid the thick 'fiction' to rest.

today, i stepped into a local starbucks. the baristas confirmed that the book was a piece of fiction; the perceived warmth and 'heart' was all in the mind of the author. there was no smile for this beautiful lady, albeit there was the obligatory 'good morning'. my friend, who came later and was unfortunate enough to be of the opposite sex, didn't even warrant a greeting until much much later. so much for the personal touch.

i've never heard of any local baristas re-chanting their regular clients' distinct preference off the tips of their fingers. actually, a sincere smile would have been sufficient but it seems in this country, that in itself is a feat. for such an overpriced coffee, besides the comfortable ambiance, there should be more, don't you think?

there is.

my friend, who was having a croissant decided, nearly three-quarter way through, that it was not quite up to standard. yes, seeing that we were there so early in the morning, in all likelihood it wasn't freshly baked. infact, the problem seemed to be that it wasn't even fully baked. so, he, with his canadian upbringing, brought the croissant to the barista and complained, asking for a swap. hurray for him for having the nerve to do that in the first place, i would have rather squirmed into the ground (for that, i have made a mental note to have his number ready should i have any future problems with any merchandise or subsistence. who's the man to call? swap-busters!) the miracle was....he actually manage to swap it, for a donut even, with the croissant in its mostly-consumed state. the secret, it seems, is to complain infront of another client, a foreigner if you are so fortunate. (shhhhhhh, don't spread the secret now)

there is hope for starbucks yet.

now, if they can only remember to give me a knock on the head everytime i order a coffee. that would be THE personal touch.

in the middle of the night

wasn't up to blogging yesterday.

he kept me up the whole night, didn't manage to catch a wink, leaving me tired and listless the entire day.

typical of the male species...giving you attention when you least want it.

it was a rather hot night but i was already sleeping like a log when he woke me up with a little nibble. 'not tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow morning', i admonished gently. as is typical of his type, he faked poor hearing at that moment. he continued to mumble sweet nothings into my ear, hoping that his actions will get me into the mood of things. i opened one blurry eyes to catch a glimpse of the bedside clock...2 a.m.?! why is it that all stirrings must occur in the dead of the night?!

'get lost. i want to sleep'. i growled softly, knowing that it will do me little good. he is as stubborn as they come. he gave me another nibble on the neck. two can play at the game. i continued to pretend to sleep like the dead. he gave a rather elaborate sigh and nibbled a little farther down. should i just give in and get it over with? at least then i'll be guaranteed a few winks when he is done. problem is i don't feel very co-operative, having been woken up from my beautiful dream. i tossed and turned restlessly but it did not seem to lessen his ardour.

frustrated, i raised my hand and gave him a little swat. damn! i missed.

next time, i'll get you, you little pesky mosquito. must make a mental note to spray the room with insect repellant first thing tomorrow morning.

a rose by any other name

i know my readers are waiting with baited breath to see what topic this crazed woman will bring them today. ta dah! i'm here, no need for clappings and hurrays. put down that tooter and settle down.

shakespeare, or more accurately romeo, said "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet". (yes. *raise single eyebrow* it is imperative to quote some literacy genius to begin with in order to sound more intelligent).

i've never been much of a fan of my own name. when i was much much younger, i used to cringe at my chinese name, a name that my father gave me. i thought it sounded silly, whimsical. later, as i grew up, i realise that my name was most often used by ladies of the night, laundryshops, floor washing detergent and even china's most protected animal specie. however, instead of hating it even more, i have come to learn to love it. a name that sounds like melodious music when spoken, like the sweet voice of a chime when the wind blows against it, a name that is never forgotten once said. i like the sound it makes when it rolls of the tongue of close friends. i don't use it much though and i like the idea that only those closest to me knows of it. it's at once both affectionate and warm.

in turn, i detested my english name. a name that is as common as it is unrepresentative of my character. a name that does not speak of the uniqueness of my being. during the earlier schooling years, i must have changed my name a million times; from the asexual patrick to the alluring caitlyn. nothing stuck. slowly, but surely, i understood that the name my parents gave me is a privilege, an honour, as terrible as it sounds. whilst my chinese name would be more illustrative of the aspirations my parents had for their child, the english was also a badge of the love they had for me. for each name, there holds a story; a story of how it came about, how much thought and love went into the process of selection, how it portrays the desires and hopes of the parents in the meaning. in the end, i gave in and kept the name my father gave me, or more accurately, his neighbour chose for me. *rolls eyes*

for 36 years, i used that name. everywhere that i went, everybody that i met, i introduced myself using that name.

only until recently did i realise that i am spelling it wrong. my father spells it with an 'i'. i spell it with an 'a'. notes addressed to me are glaringly written with an 'i' despite my numerous reminder on the contrary. i can't decide whether he has confused the original spelling of the word or he has always meant for it to be like that.

i am a little too old to be having an identity crisis.

a wedding

it's early into the year and i have already been attacked twice by the marital invitation bomb. i have visions of monetary notes flying out of my wallet, sobbing whilst they are flying, flying whilst they are sobbing.

i cannot remember the last time i attended a wedding. there is a stage for everything in life and i believe most of my peers have long since stepped past the wedding age. however, it doesn't explain why i'm flipping to the obituary section of the dailies to check for familiar faces nowadays. i've always been a little too progressive in my thinking; i'm waiting for reality to catch up. anyway, the only weddings that i hear of nowadays are children of my parents' friends or colleagues, which makes it only mildly obligatory that i attend since i don't really know them.

i attended one such example over the weekend, invited by people that i honestly do not have much of a liking for simply because of their (or rather her) materialistic and rather fake character. so, sue me, i like sincere people. however, i don't hold my sometimes warped opinion against them and i attended with an open mind.

it was a beautiful wedding. perhaps what struck me the most was how happy the parents of the brides (not a typo, brides with a 's') looked; genuine elation and pride that glowed in their faces. they basked in the aura of the evening and i felt truly happy for them. perhaps weddings are a way of repaying parents for all the sacrifices they have made in bringing us up. it is their evening.

for a little while, when the customary speech was underway, i was transported to a wedding i attended a very, very long time ago. a wedding where my eyes blurred with tears whilst i watched her deliver a touching speech and witnessed her steps down the marital path. it was perhaps the only wedding ever to strike the chord in me. for ms amnesic here, the recollection in itself is an outstanding feat.

everywhere that i turn, everywhere that i go, things remind me of her. for a little while, i saw whilst she talked, walked and laugh again.

resolution revised

before you begin, i just want to confirm that there is nothing wrong with your eyesight. you can cancel that ophthalmologist's appointment you have just made, i have indeed made the text on this post smaller. when the post is going to be rather long, i shrink the text to make it look like it's not really that long and so, fussy readers won't accuse me of being long-winded. it's all an optical illusion. ta dah! ingenious, don't you think? *patting myself on the head*

i'm wondering......

(readers: what? again?)

yes, again. there's no crime to wondering, is there? what's a brain to do except to wonder in its free time.

as i was saying, i'm wondering. why i have managed to attract readers who seem to come in quite regularly to read my blog....but never seem to leave any comment. surely it means that they like what they are reading (though i have no idea what anyone finds interesting about a long-winded hallucinating crazy aunty) for otherwise they will not return but somehow, for some reason, they have nothing to say to the nonsense i write.

there must be something that you people want to say..is it me? is it the things i write about? i'm curious. i know of quite a few people who drop in, read and then poof!.. vanish. am i unapproacheable or something? or maybe conversations with me is not exactly the highlight of your day? i guess i don't really mind, but it stirred my curiousity. it seems to be a trend with this blog. it also feels a little strange, because somewhere out there, people know about me..but they don't give me a chance to know them. a little one-way street, if you think about it.

on with the post. (readers: wha?!?! after all that rambling, the post is only beginning...NOW?!) yes, yes. this blog is specially tailored to cultivate patience in my readers. consider this my contribution to society. ahem!

it's already the month of march in 2007. (duh!) this is not another post about how time flies, relax. i don't know when, i don't know how. somewhere along the line, i have shrunk the resolutions i have made at the start of the year to only 1. 1 miserable all-encompassing resolution. no. 6 to be more precise.

finishing up stuffs. i can't believe how much things i have started out and not finish.

1. slimming and facial courses that i have paid for with good money but did not complete *rolls eyes*

2. piles and piles of books that i have bought, and bought, and bought...and bought but never found the time to finish. (gasp! we have visuals this time!)

3. another equally unnerving pile of dvds of movies that i just have to see.....but are gathering dust at the moment.

4. truckloads of products, for every part of my body from head to toe, that i have not touched.



5. there is also that thing called work and filing which is slowly but surely taking over every inch of my desktop. now, that one can sit and stew for a little while longer :-p

6. i have a whole cabinet full of snack food. yummmmmmy crunchy snack food. it shall be my mission to finish all of it within this year. what a blissful resolution. then i definitely have to make use of my leftover slimming sessions at the slimming centre. killing two birds with one stone; how clever this little blogger has become :-)

my new resolution - to de-clutter my life. i know, with a dramatic sweep of my hand i can de-clutter my life in an instant but that's wasteful, isn't it?

so, if you see me with goo sticking on every possible surface of my self and my nose stuck between the pages of a book, you'll know i'm trying very hard to stick to my resolution.

ripples

life is a series of ripple effects. the effect of a single action carries forward into the lives of many others. something, somewhere that someone has done touches another and carries on gently, swaying the next fold until it fades into the edge of the pool.

events over the course of last year have changed me, but perhaps not in the better sense. looking back to the very first posting and contrasting that exuberant, excited person with the one that i see in the mirror now, with the sad looking eyes, i realise that i have changed.

somewhere along the line, i lost the patience to sugarcoat my words, to look valiantly for microscopic traces of goodness in people, to barricade my cynicism and to be that better person. hell, for someone who has never felt the need to cuss, i've said more than my fair share during the past year, though not necessarily in the presence of company.

the anger and the frustration that are turmoiling underneath the surface threatens to erupt every so often. what doesn't break you, toughens you, they say. perhaps it's just the age.... or the cynicism. i am becoming quite the tough bitch that i never thought i would be; hard to love and even harder to understand. i find it intolerable to subscribe to the norm and be that sheep in the flock. when people are rushing to sing praises of someone, i am strangely quiet. not that i don't share the view, but i don't see the need for same phrases to be repeated. though, at times, i see myself flatter someone with such ardor that i mock myself inside, laughing at the hypocrite that i can be.

my life is different from yours. it is surrounded with deceit, greed, hypocrisy and all the evils that the pandora's box had released. to see the blue sky, i have to push away many layers of smog. perhaps it is all an exaggeration, perhaps i am just disillusioned.

mathematical riddle

my 6yo received a party invitation yesterday. as with all other children parties, my immediate response was to grovel and beg the kind mother to include another, what would otherwise be a bored and lonely child, namely his older sister, for the party.

i texted, "can he bring his older sister?".

the mother was sweet enough to reply before i could even blink my eyes, "sure, just let me know how many people in total".

??!?!?!

my hand itched so badly. i had to control the urge to type "let me see, 1 + 1 = .......this is so difficult, can you lend me your fingers and toes?.......or perhaps a calculator? ....i believe the answer is 2."

die..... die, bitch!

once again, i trampled the bitchiness queen into obliteration and replied with a meek, "thank you. there will be two children attending".

once again, the mild-mannered mother won the day.

broadcast interrupted

it's official.

i'm wallowing in depression at the moment.

i'm cranky, irritable and frustrated.

i bite.

broadcast interrupted until my prozac medication begins to take effect.