a passage in time lost

remember the scene where the two silver-haired old couples are strolling along the sidewalk, hand in hand, feets pushing forward unsteadily, his hands supporting hers, her hands acting as his pillar. or two aged couples, sitting on the swing, she taking a lick out of his ice-cream, he wiping the corner of her mouth for some that went astray. such devotion. such endearment. love that seems to last forever.

the older i am, the more i realise that such eternal devotion is nothing more than a sham. a myth portrayed to snare young, innocent and romantic folks. remind me to burn my mills and boon romance novels. a love that lasts forever is nothing more than a beautiful, and fictitious, facade for the benefit of the general public. sweep the dirty laundry under the carpet. all is beautiful and wonderful. nobody thought forever was going to be easy. but at least everybody goes in trying and fighting to keep it alive, not take underhanded hits and bail out when the alternative is younger and sexier. it's not fair.

i told a story last year. i thought they had another chance, another opportunity to really see what is precious. 25 years. quarter a century. that is a very long time. filled with so many memories, both beautiful and sad. good times, tough times, happy times, sad times. they went through so much together. all given up in the blink of an eye. sometimes it makes you wonder what can be so appealing as to make another give up so much. or did it not matter anymore, those past, those memories, those moments that defined your life and who you are now. when you give up, you basically erased 25 years of your life. who can share with you the beautiful and miraculous birth of your child, your flesh and blood? who else remembered your sorrow when your parent passed away? who else can recollect the joy when you have your first car, first house, first company? somehow all these memories are not fight for new, sexier ones. you open the book of your life and many pages are empty. from the day you met her to the day you left her. all torn and burned to ashes. that's so sad.

granted, love dies. for some. for others, it grow into a kind of comfortable companionship. but when love dies, do it with a little grace. give the other party a little respect, a little pride, a little humility, for all the years they have spend with you, for the youth that they have sacrificed for you. leave them with love, not cruelty, not harshness. love dies. does it also die for all concerned? how about the little one? does it die for her too? the one who looks so much like you? the one who adores you and worships the ground you walk on? does she not count too? when another's sexy hip wriggles, and the bum shakes, all rationality is lost. is that how it is? life should be fair. if life can't be fair, at least we should try to be fair.

take your breath away

hi! what have you been keeping yourself busy with these days?

*muses*

breathing. you know, inhalation. exhalation.

it's quite a laborious job, keeping my days and nights fully occupied. 13 breaths a minute. 780 breaths an hour. 18,720 breaths a day. sometimes faster. sometimes slower. it helps to fill my lungs with oxygen and keeps me alive. a hobby with a really useful purpose, i say. sometimes, when the job gets too much to handle, you know all those inhaling and exhaling is tiresome on the chest, i try to cheat the system and hold my breath a little longer than usual, breathing out only when my face is almost turning blue, saving a breath or two along the way. less wear and tear.

usually, it's an easy peasy job. i don't think much about the routine. sometimes though, a deep breath brings about a hacking cough, from that month-long cold i brought back from japan. imported stuffs are more prestigious and usually last longer, you know.

anyway, last saturday, i exhaled into some blue and red balloons. for the not-so-little one's birthday party. i had it easy. i blew up 6 balloons, mr. hubby blew up 34, his lips also turning blue but for another reason. cheapo balloon dye. should have been a combination of blue and red, i thought. barney purple. how attractive. but it was plain unattractive blue. maybe the red dye is imported. anyway, that went well. i stored some breaths in the 6 balloons to be used later, when i'm lazy exhaling. turned out i forgot to bring the balloons home from the party.

yesterday, mr. hubby figured i could do with some heavy breathing. the healthy type. not that the activity you have in mind is not healthy. the tormentor goaded me onto the threadmill. *pout* it was there that i learned i was not as fit as i thought i was. running for only 1 minute??!! there is something seriously warped about that. maybe huffing and puffing is not my thing. i prefer inhaling and exhaling, slowly, naturally.

well, as you can see, inhaling and exhaling has kept me pretty busy. i'm off for now, doing more of the same. toodle doo!

talking about cream...

it was last sunday.

i was holding a conversation with mr. hubby in the dairy section of the supermarket about why butter, generally, is 50% more expensive than a month ago. something about cows not getting enough to eat, it seems. i turned back to my very complicated and mind-boggling decision-making process of selecting a soup pack from an array of japanese 'beansprouts-looking foreign words' which is as alien to me as i am to them.

a lady walked up to me, finger pointed in my face. she was dressed decently, pushing a shopping cart in front of her as she advanced.

lady: were you talking about my cream!!! i've already reported to the police!

huh? who is this looney bin? where did she come from? apparently, nowhere. she just popped out from behind another aisle.

me: what cream? i don't even know you!

lady: i also don't know you. were you talking about my cream?

me: what cream?!

lady: i want to ask you, were you talking about my cream?!

me: i've never met you before! what cream!

i probably should feel some fear. at this point, i get that she's some deranged unstable lady, probably on the brink of losing her 'cream' business to unsatisfied clients looking to file lawsuits against her for the unsuitability of her 'cream. either that, or she thinks she's a cow, because the only creamy thing mr. hubby and i were discussing was milk. a schizophrenic cow roaming the aisle of a supermarket. but all i felt was incredulous bewilderment. i really would love to know more about the 'cream' story but i may just excite her into running at me with a cleaver.

lady: i've never met you before also. were you talking about my cream?

this is getting tiresome. can we skip to the next question?

me: w h a t cream?! should have thought of something more witty like, 'are you a cow?' or 'did you fail in your cream business or something?' but somehow, baiting an unstable deranged person did not seem like a very promising move for my future health and all. i've become addicted to the process of breathing and kind of like staying alive for longer than the next 5 minutes.

seeing that she was getting nowhere, and that she couldn't drive me to the point where i'll join her in her institute for the mentally unstable, she calmly moved on, pushing her cart as she continued with her shopping, pretending that nothing has happened, or perhaps in her own disillusioned mind, nothing indeed happened.

i looked at her with disbelief. next time you go to the supermarket, be careful who is standing next to you, choosing amongst the range of cleavers.

you don't say

there are days when you don't feel like saying much. eventhough there are many things going on, and you have plenty on the tip of your tongue. you don't feel like revealing your innermost thoughts and you wonder whether you should just close down the blog but you know it's probably just emotions running havoc at the moment.

today is one of those days. infact, this whole week has been 'one of those days'.

the last one

i declare this blog officially closed. ta dah!!

losing it

i look at the wrapping paper of the sweet on the table.

it seems alien to me.....yet when i dig deeper into my subconsious, i remember the soft chewiness melting into my mouth. did i take out this sweet and put it in my mouth? at which point in time? why do i not remember the very act? ......yet the sweetness seem to be lingering in my mouth.

i'm losing my mind.

time for tea

i read in the papers the other day; it's wonderful to drop in unannounced on the homes of your friends. a little knock on the door, a friendly 'is anybody at home?', followed by a hurried putting of the kettle to boil and afternoon tea and cosy chat for the rest of the day.

nobody does that anymore. that's the problem with us. that's why everybody says that the world is becoming such a cold unfriendly place. because nobody cares to come a-knocking anymore. taking the time to visit, followed by an enjoyable get-together, to catch up and close the door for a little while to the fast paced world outside.

i can't remember the last time someone came visiting unannounced. the papers said if someone was to go visiting without an appointment nowadays, chances are the house-owner will be out, or at the very least, having to cancel a whole string of appointments to accomodate your visit. i can hardly argue with that. i myself am never at home during the weekends. for the friends who thought it will be nice to drop in since they are nearby, i can only say very sorry to them. they can entertain themselves with my maid or the security guards downstairs, i do not mind. my fishes are pretty amusing too, swimming around aimlessly in that small little box we call aquarium. kick your legs up on my sofa, help yourself to my mountain of snacks but keep your hands out of my knickers! only damper to the thing is, i'm not there to greet you. heck! i am never in during the weekdays either. the place i stay in; that's just a hotel. i come in just to catch my forty winks. which is really sad. i dream of staying in a place just like the television series 'friends'. where friends come and go as they please, dropping in and leaving round the clock. a place filled with laughter and conversations. only, i don't have that many close friends. it will mean having to be stuck in the house 24/7, rotting to a cob-webbed skeleton, waiting for a kindly visitor to discover my decomposed body. real-life is never like the movies.

i tagged along with my mum to visit my aunty today. granted, it wasn't unannounced. and it wasn't without an agenda. but sitting there, with my cup of hazelnut coffee, i really enjoyed taking the break from the boring pile of work on my desk. and listening to others talk. it was a far cry from the cold lonely work table, where my only companion was the endless hollow pounding of the construction nearby. sitting in her patio, watching her dog waddle by, her beautiful garden blossom, the melodious sound of the wind-chime, i wonder why i don't do it more often.

rulers of the world

last night we ruled the world.

at precisely 11:45pm.

the people from the fujian province of china. i never knew there was so many of us. i felt a little less lonely. knowing that outside in the dark blue night, so many that can't sleep until the clock struck 12, the incense burned, the paper offerings turned to ashes and the roasted pig lay quietly in the corner. eyes blurry, voice coarse, dreaming on our feet of the warm bed that beckoned, waiting for the bewitching hour.

fireworks went on for more than an hour. precisely how long, i don't know because i fell asleep, listening to the bangs and the soft snoring next to me. it was quite a sight. little red dots floating into the sky, lanterns that carry wishes and dreams. so many fireworks that lit the sky, one after another. it filled the dark night sky with multi-coloured sparkles and brilliance. it amazes me that there are more fireworks than for the new year or merdeka celebration, collectively more gunpowder than the prerequisite c4 explosives needed to blast beautiful people to pieces. we could have taken over the world, if we had timed it correct.

who art thou, saint valentine?

you know you are getting old .......


.........when you remember that today is the day to pray to the heavenly god but forgets that it is also valentine's day.

........ when you think of valentine day as another day to waste money, time and effort.

........ when you are not the least bothered that your lover forgets to bring you anything for valentine's day.

........ when you don't have any anonymous valentine's day card to look forward to.

........ when you see other people's big bouquet of roses and you can only think how much money was wasted on it.

....... when you are too tired to wine and dine on valentine's day.

...... when you look forward to the day AFTER valentine's day, simply because it's the weekend and you can rest.

the sweetest valentine's day? when i was still bopping and hopping in school, skirts riding high and socks sitting low, the more financially endowed male students will buy a stalk of flower each for their female classmates. everybody gets one. and popular ones (like me! ahem! *grins*) will get valentine cards, anonymous and otherwise. cards very beautifully decorated, with perfume and cut-out hearts. no obligation and no tension, just a little gesture to let you know that someone cares. it is simply the sweetest. an innocent celebration of someone's affection. it didn't matter that nothing followed the expression of amore, nobody asked for anything more. just a smile on the lips of the receiver.

growing up, valentine's day became complicated, mixed with a lot of anticipation, expectation and disappointment. you expect certain things, he expect certain things, he expect that you will be expecting, you expect that he expects that you will be expecting. a simple tradition turned complicated. the purest of things are usually the loveliest.

so, stay pure.

happy valentine's day to all.

the most irritating man ever

i walked past the door. damn! he was sitting there, with 6 empty beer cans already in front of him. he did not leave a good impression last year, with his drunken slur and antagonistic small talk. last year i was stupid, sitting there naively like a still target, on the receiving end of many of his barbs. this year i was adamant on avoiding him.

i smiled weakly, offered some new year greetings and made a beeline to the room. i hid in the bomb shelter for the longest time, watching the children play wii games and even caught a short nap. when i could hide no more, when the sun started to set, i made an appearance. he was still there! doesn't this guy have some place else to go? not wanting to be rude, i sat down for a little while. i couldn't regret fast enough.

'you have a problem with me!', he shot out even before my bum touched the chair. how does he know that?! does drunkeness bring a heightened sense of awareness? i DO have a problem with him. can i punch his lights out? pretty please? with sugar and spice and everything nice? or maybe just pull his tasteless rusty bronze coloured hair? i feigned ignorance. 'huh?' he 'huh'ed me back, but in such a mocking irritating way that my hand was starting to itch. ya, i don't like you, so i much rather prefer hanging out in the room then getting into a fight with you. can? my brother-in-law quickly made up the excuse of my being very sick and tired, which to all account is very true. i coughed a little to add substance to the claim. 'alllllllllrightttttttt!', which to this day i can still hear ringing in my ears, the very word which makes me shiver right down to the toes. 'i'll come visit you in malaysia'. now he is resorting to threats??? pleaseeee, i'll sooner migrate and leave all my roots behind first. i rather choose the dungeon torture treatments than stay under the same roof with him. sure, come over, whilst i have visions of planning my fastest escape route.

i was saved from five minutes of conversation with him whilst he randomly interjected into other people's conversation, topics of which he had no idea, with comments that had neither meaning nor point. i watched whilst others valiantly tried to respond. 'huh? what are you saying?' 'empty hall'. 'what empty hall?' 'empty hall'. 'how do you mean?' after a few more tries, he realised his drunken stupor and immediately changed the topic. when is he leaving? when is he leaving? i can't listen to anymore of the verbal abuse he is spewing to his wife. how does that woman do it anyway, pretend that she can't hear him telling her to get lost? a man that abuses his wife when he is drunk, verbal or physical, is not worth staying for. she meekly toddles of to the kitchen for another can of beer for him. hello? is he not drunk enough? is he not delirious enough?

he started calling everybody dumbwitted. he is dumbwitted, he is even more dumbwitted, but she (meaning me!) is the most dumbwitted. father-in-law, can i scratch his eyes out yet? or pour a nice hot cup of tea....... on his lap? it's manners to offer tea to our guests, isn't it? supposedly i was dumbwitted because i was always smiling pleasantly. ha! i would rather have frowned or stuck my tongue out at him but that would reflect so badly on me. i was also supposedly dumbwitted to have chosen my hubby. yes, yes but your wife would have been insane and retarded to have chosen you. maniac.

he then buggered me to introduce lady friends to a nice bachelor in the group. i would love to, if he comes to malaysia, i replied. to which he asked me to introduce lady friends to him. not even if it was the last day on earth and he is the last man. sure, sure. how hypocritical i can be. his meek wife sat quietly beside. have some backbone, lady! give him a hit on the head with some 14 gallon pot or skewer him with some satay sticks. don't sit there quietly listening to that shit.

it was very close to dinner time. please don't tell me he is staying for dinner! i went about preparing the things for low sang, a tradition which we have exported there. his wife was intrigued by the colourful arrangements and stepped closer to ask. i was in the middle of explaining to her the ingredients and the arrangements when that rusted copper hair drunken man stepped in the middle and rudely interrupted the conversation, asking her to 'die off'. step closer so that i can shred your fingers with the carrot, please. he tried to make conversation with his very limited command of english. "is this peanut and 'chee ma'?" "yes, peanut and sesame." "oh, peanut and chee ma", in that damn fake accent of his. he then kept pushing the ingredients to me, which i kept rejecting because it was only meant to be used at the very end. i think he was digging in his brain for all the english phrases he has used in his life and just spewing forth because i thought i heard something along the line of, 'will you be my mistress?'. this guy is delirious. he reminds me of those drunken sailors along the port. plenty of 'alllllrightttttt' and 'okayyyyyyyy' later, i was ready to be shipped off to the nearest asylum.

finally, and it could not be too soon, his wife reminded him that it was time to leave. to which, she received more verbal abuse. die off, what are you talking about. die off. the hardest part was not listening to his crap but holding my tongue and not retaliating. for however vile his tongue, he has the excuse of being drunk. to stoop to his level would simply be tasteless and crude. and in the presence of my in-laws, to insult their relative, no matter how irritating is way too degrading.

next year, next year i am not going to be around when this particular relative comes a-knocking. hubby, you promised we will not be around.

bah! holiday blues

i was away.

even the dumb-witted mentally challenged one would have figured that out. excuse any sign of grouchiness or grumpiness. i have been taking medicine of one kind or another for the entire ten days i was away. i am sick. i am so sick i am sick of being sick. sushi tasted like tender sawdust, wagyu beef like tougher sawdust and everything else, well, like more saw dust. sigh. presently i'm emulating some foreign being by spouting disgusting green phelgmy substance and hacking coughs like an old toothless shaky man. chinese new year has not been fun when i cough in tune to the fireworks and my head is stuffed with cotton balls. you know it's getting serious when people are beginning to shun my germ infested angpows, money or no money.

i'm tired. no, i'm exhausted. my skin is so dry, i'm shedding like some kind of peel-off mask, except that it's not a layer of mask but my skin we are talking about. i'm grouchy, but i'm too fatigued to show signs of grouchiness. i want a cold pitcher of honey lemon in front of me, but i can't be bothered to make the effort. i'll just imagine the liquid flowing down my throat. ahhh.....

holidays are tiring. i always fall sick on holiday. so much so that i have holiday-phobia now. i'm beginning to associate holidays with runny nose, coughs, fever, dry eyes and other pathetic symptoms, not relaxation, fun or laughters. forget all your advises of water, rest and more vitamin c. i'm too tired to do anything except vegetate now.

i'll go be a tomato for now.