driven bonkers

i am crazy busy like hell. no time to breathe. hands shaking from trying to do as much as possible in the shortest time, with the crazy silky terrier demanding attention every few minutes and constantly jumping onto the couch and lazing there so innocently, just because he knows he is not supposed to. haizzzzzz. still, i have time to blog? for sanity sake. to vent out the craziness and the frustration. these people are going to cause my early demise by sudden heart attack any second now.


me: please look at january '16.
her: ya, february '16.
me: no. no. january '16.
her: ya ya. february '16.
me: you told me you don't february's data, that's why we are looking at jaaaaaaanuary '16 now. *rolls eyes*


issued cheque for $200 and $100. received receipts for $170 and $130. however am i going to explain that to the auditors ????? *rolls eyes*


dog happily chewing on my wooden door stopper as i type. whatever. he probably needs the fiber. *rolls eyes*


me: is the difference due to the rpgt 2% rentention sum?
her: yes
me: i thought it has been changed to 3% now?
after some time...........
her: yes, i remember that. i will deduct the difference from the next payment.

she sure didn't remember before i told her! *rolls eyes*


her: so she has the option to go back to clark by air asia or by malaysia airlines to manila.
me: how about air asia to manila?
her: errrr..........i forgot about that.
*rolls eyes*


from the very very very start, since dinosaur era, i told her specifically i wanted the foldable type of tables. since then they had to sell me products that they have absolutely no stock, no idea when stock will ever come and plain ignore my humble existence and the existence of my paid purchase order. i had to write to higher management to get their attention, at which point they offered me a smaller size of foldable, height adjustable table. desperate for anything to just close the darn case, i confirmed and they prepared for delivery. then they offered me another type, a new stock, which looked like it is not height adjustable. i enquired if the only difference is non height adjustable and if it is so, i will rather choose the new one which makes it more stable. in the end, they sent the tables: non height adjustable but also not foldable. *eyes making roller coaster circles but also note to self: people do not read long paragraphs in emails. put your email in short point forms!!!!! despite the fact that your second last sentence in the email was "please kindly advise if that is the only difference between the two*

i wanted to physically view the different types first before making the final decision and asked her which outlet will carry the product. she shouted away from the phone, "where will have that brand of table ah?". at which point i was ready to throttle her. holding that thought in mind, i calmly told her, "you should be calling up your branches and enquiring exactly which one will have stock of the foldable AND height adjusting one. not just any size, any specification. that particular one." sigh. now i am giving sentence construction classes too, apparently.


me: i couldn't tally the figures. looking at the difference, there should be some discount for this particular entry.
him: no.
me: please check
after checking........
him: they said no.
me: please send me the statement
and after checking, what do you know....... obviously the point to my story will be that there is discount for that particular entry. *rolls eyes*


i am not asking for stephen hawking or albert einstein. i just want people to stop wasting my time so that i can get more done. sigh.

to add insult to my mood, the dog just farted in his sleep right next to me. ewwwwwwwwwwww

still acclimatising

motherhood is hard. when they were young, it was physically hard. the uncomfortable 9 months, the pain endured during child birth, bruised nipples, sore wound, sleepless nights. bringing half of the house out with baby, the carrying to sleep. everything centred around the baby. you lose your identity, you lose your self, you forget who or what you are.

when they get older, it becomes emotionally hard. one minute they need you, your guidance, your support, as they gingerly step out into the big, cold, scary world. they want you there, beside them every step of the way, encountering all new things together. you share new experiences, new moments. you understand, you bond, you love.

the next moment, your very presence itself spoil your best friend's moment. are you kidding?! no one brings their mothers to such events and places. you never did. peer pressure or spreading wings? it doesn't even really matter which. i feel like the little teddy bear who couldn't go on the overnight trip because no one does that anymore at that age. if only i have cotton stuffings inside too, instead of a heart that can hurt.

it is the same everywhere, of that i am sure, with other families, with other teenagers. they love you still, there is no doubt. the loosening of apron strings is not a new topic to be discussed. you want that for them too, to be independent, to be confident, to be able to live their lives. however, when you were that close, the shift from such extreme poles in a matter of weeks is not the easiest thing to adapt to. you fall back into the shadows once more, to be there only in that small crack of time that they remember you.

i thought i had acclimatised. but it still hurts to actually hear it from their mouth.

what will i be?

everything is a matter of getting used to. new environment, new places, new people, new situation. thrown into the deep blue sea of unfamiliarity and of the unknown, my soul grasp at the remnants of the past, claw at the memories dissipating into the air. stepping gingerly each day into the circumstance that is now, i look around for comfort, for any sign of the familiar past, for a warm face turning back to have a last look. i find none. i have no choice but to move on, one day at a time. maybe not now, maybe not right this moment but one day. one day i will get used to the strangeness that is facing me. one pair of feet stepping on two new alienating worlds. too soon, too quick, too much. both i can do nothing about but to adapt to.

but what will i do if i do get used to not missing you? what will i be if i get used to not thinking about you? who will i be if i get used to not remembering your face, your smile, your gestures, the little things that was once you. i will be lost. when someone dies, a part of you dies with them.

we are all a sum of our memories. we cannot bring any of the material things that we have amassed. we cannot leave with the richness, the fame, the possessions. in the end, we are what others remember of us. a part of my memory is locked in her, and a part of her memory is locked in mine. i will never be able to find another person in this pale blue dot who shared the memories of the times we had in high school, of the jerks we fell in love with, of the snobbish classmates and the late nights, of our fears and our tears. that part of me is lost forever with her, but that part of her will remain with me, until it evaporates into non existence.

self dialogue

i walked and walked until the new boots cut into my feet, leaving a line that was to become a scar. i didn't say a word.

looking out the window of the bus, i suddenly realised that i could look up without seeing double images. i was excited, but i didn't know who to tell.

with who do i share my elation and my gripe? with people who will be nonchalant, who will grumble about the wisdom of wearing new shoes on holiday and forget about it in the next hour? or with others who are distracted by their own elation and gripes? perhaps that is what life is all about, each busy with their own, and perhaps i am also guilty about being like that, but i can find no compulsion to let anyone in on my thoughts and feelings. people who does not really care, or are too busy to care. perhaps i have always been like that and perhaps that is why i have no friends as close as shadow, or family who understands. 30 years later, i guess nothing has changed.

perhaps that is why i am better at writing to express myself, because the paper and pen always listen.

ps: mum saw the scars when i put my feet up and could immediately spot the difference. i guess, no matter how old you are, mothers are the only people who will love you the most in the whole world. and pps, i am not able to see up without seeing double apparently. only images at a distant. perhaps i have to continue with my eye exercise diligently.

loosening the strings

when she said she wouldn't bring her favourite pink teddy to camp, not even in her bag, i knew that i have lost the last piece of the little girl in her forever. she has grown. she is ready to spread her wings. she is no more that small girl that has to hold your hand to sleep, the one that had to make sure you do not sleep before her because she is afraid of being the only one awake. the little one that is always by your side. the one who made up the song 'lonely, mummy is so lonely, but not exactly, because she has me'* (version edited to protect privacy). the sweetness that was once her, the adoration that once embraced me. it is a memory now. a distant warm memory.