Power Puffed-Eyes Girl

The long-awaited long May Day weekend is finally here. I slugged through the work day today because I was up since 4 in the morning and in the office since 7. Not that I was that hardworking, but I just had to wake up early this morning. I think I'm going to sleep myself silly this weekend, hoping the zzz monster might just eat up all my zits. Play some Gunbound maybe, since the man is not around. Actually, I really have no idea what I'm gonna do this weekend.

Well, not that I didn't have a long weekend this past week. I took a day off from work on Monday, wanting to spend some time with the man before he zipped off to a long trip today. But on Tuesday, I woke up with super puffed up eyes, and had to take another day off on medical grounds (yes, finally!). Turned out I was suffering from some allergic reaction to some anti-inflammatory cream I applied on my poor old-lady knees the night before. Yes, stuff on my knee made my eyes swell up. No one could believe me at first. I looked either like a teddy bear or like a Japanese. Yes, imagine however you want.

So, according to the 'very nice' and helpful and very informative crap-ass doctor (whose business I patronized only because he was 'recommended' under the company's group insurer), because I'm "born like this", I shall have to stick to only good ol' Panadol for the rest of my life. Yes, Panadol the all-pain reliever. Crap ass.

I'm acting super cranky and weird and unpredictable and depressive. I think I need St John's Wort.

Jaded

What do you do when honesty doesn't pay for you? What happens if your truth and honesty hurts someone? Someone that matters.

I didn't mean to hurt. I meant only to be open and be frank about my feelings. Doesn't that intention of wanting to be open and frank count?

It makes me wonder if I should keep my thoughts to myself, lest they hurt someone again. But that isn't being true to yourself, is it?

I'm confused. I do not know what's right or wrong anymore. I am not sure if my values and beliefs are right anymore. I'm really not sure if I'm living my life quite right. Somehow I never expected life to be this tough growing up. Sometimes I really wish I have a shell like a tortoise that I can retreat into and not face anyone in this world.

My patience seems to be getting shorter and shorter. I'm no longer as tactful as I used to be and I am beginning to have less and less faith in myself and in everything else in this world. If I don't trust myself, I suppose it's harder to even trust anyone else. I don't think I'm right all the time, but I don't seem to believe others as well.

I've grown up into a jaded 28-year-old distrusting this world, and thinking why it is so difficult to craft the beautiful life I've yearned for all my life.

If there's anything about my body that I'd like to change, maybe it's my mind.

Gee's Wedding

Just went to a friend's wedding in the afternoon, and it was held in a church. I was full of emotions, surprisingly, as I sat through the entire ceremony.

My friend Gee has finally gotten hitched this day, after seven long years of being together with her then-boyfriend-now-husband. She has been one woman I know who really puts in almost 100% of her time in her career, and has taken up overseas postings in other countries. In fact, she's just flown back from India, where she's based now for two years, for her own wedding. We were all guessing if she would turn up in a sari today.

And today, many sighs of relief were passed, by friends and family, that these two lovebirds are finally getting married. See, seven years in an Asian culture is a long time to pass without getting married. Something must be wrong with the couple, others would say.

Immediately, this brings to my mind my own long-time relationship. Just a couple of nights back, over dinner in Bangkok, I was asked by a new colleague if I had a boyfriend, and how long we had been together. I stunned myself when I realized we had just passed the six-year mark. (In fact, that very night, as I was pondering the exact number of years, I realized with deep horror that it was our anniversary that very day - I hastily sent a "happy anniversary" message to the man. Ha.)

Six long years of being together. It's really quite unbelievable at times. It's really quite amazing how we made it through this far.

A good friend of the couple was tasked with belting out some good ol' marriage advice (of course, in the ways of the Lord). It was a pretty sound speech, and there were a couple of things I picked up from him. At that very moment, I wished the man was right there next to me. The man would've come along to the celebration with me, but he had to work today. I don't know why but I just thought he would be the one who could better learn a thing or two from that speech.

My friend Gee looked so tense during the wedding ceremony, but she was smiling again at the end of it. She looked beautiful today. The normal Gee we see dresses up in tee-shirts and jeans and sneakers, sans make-up. But the Gee we saw today was beautifully dressed up in a white gown, veil and all (I almost suspected though she could be wearing sneakers underneath it all...). Her happiness today glowed from her freshly made-up face, and I thought that's how all brides should look. I guess it's true when they say all brides are beautiful.

Well, good thing no one asked me today at the reception when it would be my turn. I might have growled back.

And in an hour's time, we're meeting the bride at Velvet, for her post-wedding celebration. This sounds funny to me. She's asking for it... hahaha.

Back At My Writing Desk...

It's been like what... ten years... since I wrote. Blame it on numbness.

Pretty much has happened in the last week or so, but nothing really much worthy to blogger about. Don't feel like writing a 10-page essay to fill up on those past few missing Blogger days.

I'm back sitting at my favorite cafe, imbibing caffeine and watching the world go by at the same time. I've been away again for the past few days in Bangkok for work, and this time, somehow it feels like I've been away from home for a long time. Being back here gives me a weird sense of familiarity and comfort.

Today, I see a few pigeons hanging around the cafe, quite an unusual sight. They are daringly walking amongst closely-knit tables, looking for scraps of salad leaves and bread. A small girl, barely three years old, is toddling around, weaving through the tables, chasing after the hungry birds. Her pants are dirty, around the bum area, she must have been having a lot of fun in town today. Oh, and she's caucasian and she's out only with her dad, which explains the dirty pants. For one, asian parents would never allow their kids to be rolling around the ground in public, and two, dads don't care if their kids get dirty.

The girls at the next table look like they are bitching about someone. I am thinking they are likely to be flight stewardesses. One, they are slim, pretty, and have jet-black hair and nicely-plucked brows. Jet-black hair is a rarety in Singapore - browns and almost-blondes are more like it. Two, they are showing off their new Gucci wallets, probably bought on their recent trip to Milan. Three, they are bitching. Well, I'm just guessing. Since the man started flying, I've learnt a rope or two in spotting flight stewardesses in town. The first two things to look out for: jet-black hair and long red nails. Then you check out their dressing. Usually, they are well-dressed, not sloppy. They are also usually made-up. *Omg! All three of them own pink Guccis!* And if you have the chance to observe their conversations, they bitch. Apparently, a lot. But I'm not too sure about that. Well, I don't want to stereotype. Not too much, anyway.

Ok, take a break now and come back later.

Hoegarden and I

I had a whale of a time tonight. I finally had my dosage of Hoegarden.

Spent the evening with some friends at Ice Cold Beer. A good friend from secondary school and some friends from junior college that I never really knew... until we were all grown-up working adults who found solace in drinks.

I am jusr delirious now.

Dogs Are Like Old Ladies

Hmm. The weekend slipped away too fast for me to really take a deep breath and enjoy it. Good or bad, I don't know. But I do know I hadn't had time to laze on my bed and gather some thoughts. Sometimes I just miss that.

I did meet up Miss Tan, and another good friend MisSin, for dinner/supper/whatever on Friday night, and I was so tired from being hungry, I was knocked out the minute I slumped onto my bed.

I had semi-big plans to bring the girls for a swim and then wash my car on Saturday morning, but that didn't happen, and I jumped out from bed barely in time to pick the man up from work at noon. But what happened to the rest of my Saturday was more amazing. I actually spent almost the entire day, together with a whole lot of other girls who are probably only slightly more than half my age, at some basketball 'carnival'. Yes, a carnival that would last the entire afternoon and end past nine in the night. So, we were supposed to be playing a whole tournament in that one day, and we actually lasted to the end, bringing home the champion trophies.

But the results were not the point. The point was, 'old folks' like me don't belong to such 'carnivals' no more. These whole-day events are meant for little girls, who have the time and energy to spend one whole day doing nothing but playing basketball. We older women cannot afford to spend an entire day waiting at the courts for our turns to play. And to wait under the hot sun is an even bigger no-no. At the end of the carnival, I was just a tired old woman, thinking about the unwashed car, about her girls who had not gone to the beach in two weeks, about spending time with the man, worrying about the photodamage done onto her already-starting-to-line skin.

I did have dinner with the man... at eleven at night, and by the time I reached home, I had only energy left to drag myself to the bathroom and then plonk myself onto bed again.

Sunday was just an accumulation of the fatigue from the activities over the past few days (yes, work-days included). The only redeeming activity I did was to bring my girls out... near the beach, but not to the beach. We had a good time hanging out at the cafe with their papa and Auntie Karks, and meeting up with other dogs. It was like a dogs' playground where all the dogmamas started talking to each other, asking about one another's dog. You could tell from this playground who had, and who hadn't, maternal instincts already. I think the girls didn't miss their swim. They followed me to my basketball training later in the evening, and I could tell they were just contented to be there watching me.

Such whole-day events aren't for dogs either, I discovered. Especially not for 'old-lady' dogs like my Piper, who in human years should be about - *gasp* - all of 32. The girls were the ones who were knocked out in bed last night, and last I heard from the man, they're still sleeping now.

I wanna be a dog!!!!

Bleah Friday

Today was such a s-l-o-o-oooo-w day at work. And it's weird and dumb because it's Friday! I'm supposed to be happy at work on Fridays! I used to be happiest at work on Fridays. Fridays are supposed to be the 'quickest-day-of-the-week' because you don't care what happens at work since there's no point rushing for anything and everything else can wait over the weekend. My friend Ed is also most pleased on Fridays because I'm not so grumpy and I don't torment him as much with my sharp tongue on Fridays. Well, he's most concerned because he sits right across from me and is my favorite target whenever I feel a need to shoot my mouth off.

And it's especially weirder today because my Boss was off for the good second half of the day, and that should rightfully translate to ease-of-tension and an even quicker Friday afternoon. But nooo... my eyes were droopy the entire day and I felt like I would just die anytime if I didn't find a corner to nap in. But of course, I didn't.

For the most part of the day, my mind was blank as well. I knew there was something nibbling at me but I just didn't have the energy to even worry about it. Perhaps I know at least one thing that's brewing up the worry wart in me today. It's a monthly thing, in fact. No, not that womanly thing. It's the 'time-to-pay-bills' thing. Every middle of the month, I tend to lapse into this two-day pensive mood as I figure out my expenses and finances.

Really, I just don't understand where my money goes to when I don't seem to be spending a lot of money. I'm not one of them many girls who shop excessively. I don't even need to shop in an ordinary month (in 'extra'-ordinary months, when I do need to get something for myself, I do admit I don't care how much I would spend on that something). I do yearn to buy more clothes and shoes but I don't because I don't think I should when I already have a wardrobe that's almost bursting out. See? I am sensible.

I've been trying to figure out the channels through which my money is quietly flowing out.

My eating habits with the man. Honestly, we did our quick calculations and we realized, to our own horror, that we do spend a lot of our money on food - even though we don't patronize fancy restaurants at all. The 'most fancy' restaurant we both love and (used to) frequent is... Sakae Sushi (and only at Wheelock Place). Low-life? Maybe but we just dig the sushi and on days we feel like indulging ourselves a little more, we treat ourselves each to an ice-cold Sapporo. Mmm mmmm... But more than these Sakae treats, our daily hawker fares and our little snacks here and there at anytime of the day can be the most damaging to our wallets. We are not by any means one of those little couples who would just sit down at the table and be contented with having each a bowl of noodles or a plate of rice. Nooo... we would order plates after plates of dishes to 'share'. One meal together would cost us five individual meals by ourselves. Horrible, aint' it? Oh, and did I forget to mention we used to love our Ben & Jerry's? And me and my Starbucks? We've already been cutting these out, but obviously we're still not good enough at this.

My car. Yes, my beautiful four-wheels, who ferry me to/from work and to all the many places I just have to go to, who drives my girls to the beach for their swims, who allows me to pick up the man conveniently, who runs all my nitty-gritty errands together with me, whom I simply adore to the core. Some call it a necessary evil, I call it my life-saver. Some thought it was a little too high-maintenance for my comfort, I thought I could handle it. Yes, handling it I am, and barely surviving. *sigh*

My gadgets. Luxury items that I could've done without? No way. I can't live without my camera, my Macmac, my PDA now. Life would've been so different if I hadn't had these possessions. I would never have discovered my interest in photography. I would not have been able to keep in constant contact with long-time-no-see-friends. I wouldn't have been able to explore my interests in writing. I would've been quite dead.

My only regrets? I wished I hadn't spent all that kind of money on those shoes and bags that I rarely use now. Maybe then, I would have been able to afford a nice watch for the man, or surprise him with a short trip, or maybe get that long-coveted Kate Spade or Coach, and that 'miraculous' face cream that might remove the awful pimple scars on my face.

Ok I'll feel better about this tomorrow, or maybe the day after tomorrow, after I've figured this month's bills out.

In the meantime, I'm still feeling sluggish, though it's now already Friday night. I think I miss the man. And a lot too. Though he's just been gone today... and will be back tomorrow. But it's just that it's Friday night, and I feel especially lonely without him. I hardly spend any Friday nights without him. I'm sitting at the cafe writing this (alone yes), and I'm seeing many couples around me, which depresses me. And this is only the beginning of his career. Gawd, I'm so lifeless!

If the man calls me now, I would surely tell him how much I miss him.

There are a lot of ang mohs at the cafe tonight, quite unusual to me. Families, kids, middle-aged folks hanging out together. I feel like I'm on one of my business trips alone in some foreign place.

*There's this ang moh man who's sitting right across me and staring at me from time to time, and freaking me out a little. I would've been very flattered, thank you very much, if he were much younger, much blonder and much much cuter.*

I haven't had dinner yet because I think I'm waiting for my friend Missy Tan, and I think the lack of food in my stomach is not making me think right. I hate having dinners alone, and so I have to wait till her training ends at 10 before I get myself a dinner buddy tonight. I hope she manages to get me because the cell network at this cafe is so bloody crappy. I'm blaming it on the 3G network that I've newly acquired.

And I'm determined not to go for any drinks tonight, though I'm craving desparately for a Hoegarden. No, beer is strictly not budgeted for in my life right now. I will wait for Miss Tan and maybe just settle for a kopi-o with her.

I miss you sweetie.

Obsession

Obsession (noun): a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling.

How do you know if you're obsessed with something? Can obsessions be something for the good? Or are they necessarily harmful?

How do you rid yourself of obsessions, if they are really bad?

How the hell do I know, in the first place, if I'm obsessed?

Perspiring Thoughts

It has been raining non-stop for the past few days, pouring at times, passing showers at others. Sometimes it rains in the early pre-dawn hours, sometimes in the afternoons or evenings, sometimes just throughout the entire day - it's been so unpredictable. A good break from those hot hot days in the past couple of months, but somehow I miss the sun. Today looks like it's gonna be a fine day, well at least in the afternoon, so I sneaked out of the office during lunch to have some quiet time at the cafe by the beach.

I'm sitting down at the quiet cafe, looking out at the sea. Peaceful, except for the big noisy fan which is not of much use. I don't see a lot of people around me nor at the beach, save for a few crazy nuts going on their runs. Everyone's at work or in school, and I feel happy, almost proud, that I have the privilege of the sunshine and this beautiful view all to myself today.

There's a big beautiful golden right next to me, dripping drool all over the floor. Her owner looks like she's had a day off and spending the day quietly with her coffee and her dog. I so wish I could do this every single day with my girls.

Not been writing a lot but it doesn't mean my thoughts are empty. On the contrary, my mind is so flushed I can't really figure out what the hell is bothering me. There are new tasks at work but they still don't excite me. I'm just glad I have things to keep me occupied so that 8.30-5.30 doesn't feel like eternity.

Feeling extremely sensitive as well. I know the man probably doesn't mean any harm but everything he says or does translates into something else to me these days, and I keep feeling he's being mean to me. Am I enclosing around him again? Am I being "too there" for him again? Is he unwittingly or subtlely expressing something to me? I've been thinking, maybe I should let go a little. Give him a little more space. But then, haven't we already got our own time and space? Maybe it isn't enough. I don't know and this baffles me to the point of being frustrated.

Is this how all relationships are supposed to be? Maybe I'm the one who's not getting it right. Maybe my own versions of love and relationships (I cannot even bear to think of the word 'marriage' here) are too ideal or too passe for the real world. The real world that's been corrupted by so many evils out there, in the form of temptations and infidelity. What place has true love got in this world? What the hell is true love anyway?

My thoughts fleet from lasting happiness to uncertainties in a marriage, in my own. I've seen enough marriages breaking down, and in a logical sense, they should spell out something realistic to me. But I don't seem to learn. How do you learn to trust someone, and even marry him, knowing that anything can happen to anyone, anytime, and there's nothing you can do about it when that happens? Marriage is a personal risk management job that I don't wish to apply for. It might drain me out.

Been an hour out here and I'm perspiring profusely. Have a meeting in half an hour's and I gotta go. So dreading this.

I Know...

... I am stressed at work when:

- my painfully-kept nails are painfully chewed again, which is another distress because I'm never one with nice long girly nails - no point actually when I don't have long slender girly fingers all distorted from a decade of playing basketball;

- I go on my tau-sar diet: two tau sar paos for breakfast, followed by two tau sar pancakes from Jolly Bean when I run out of ideas to pack for lunch;

- I drink two cups of kopi-o in the morning;

- I become a recluse at my workdesk, getting up from my chair only to pee and poo, and forego lunch with my buddies and yakking sessions with the footwear guys;

- I pee a lot: drinking water stops me from chewing my nails;

- I become terribly quiet at work, or at lunch, if I do go at all;

- my mind doesn't daydream;

- I stay beyond 6.

Which was what happened at work today. Period.

The Way to My Heart is My Stomach

Something weird is brewing up inside of me, and I just can't seem to get rid of it. I know I promised myself not to write while at work and today is not exactly a great day to flout that self-imposed rule because I have a couple of deadlines to meet and a few meetings to attend. But I can't help me; I just need to write now.

I don't know about you but I think my stomach tells me a lot about stuff close to my heart.

For one, my stomach never fails to rumble a few times in a day; whether I am really hungry as a function of my metabolic processes or my mouth is just itching and craving for something to munch and crunch on. Whatever the cause, the reaction is the same: I eat, because I know from experience that if I were to not heed the sign from my stomach, I would become very grouchy and very unreasonably upset.

On a similar note, my stomach pulls a sharp and painful one on me when it's time to go. I'm not one to have a 'fixed daily schedule', and I only go when I need to (or when my stomach says so). So when the pain does come and it is time to go, I'd better go. Again, I have learnings from experience that I don't think need further explanation.

And I have also had some other kind of wonderful and not-so-wonderful feelings in my stomach before, that relates not to my physiological state. I first experienced butterflies in my stomach when I was still in my school days, running for the school track team. The first time I stepped onto the track in front of the raving crowd at the huge national stadium, getting ready to run my first-ever individual race, I remember distinctly I had all these weird 'things' fluttering in my stomach. I was more nervous than I was excited, and I just wished the one-minute race hadn't felt like eternity instead. In fact, the butterflies never went away and they were always there whenever I had any individual race again.

The next time I felt butterflies again in my stomach, however, was a sweet sweet memory. Those were the early days, about six years ago, when the man and I first got together. Every touch, every moment of closeness, every kiss brought about all these 'weird' feelings again in the stomach that I would never fail to recognize. It's them butterflies again, fluttering around in my stomach. But this time, I was feeling more excited and exhilarated, and ok, maybe a little nervous then. The same ol' creatures but bringing different senses of joy.

Such an unexplanable feeling is something I would never forget; sometimes even as I reminisce about those sweet early times, I can actually conjure up the butterflies in my stomach, and actually feel them. Do I still get those butteflies now with the man? Well, sometimes, but not in a long while. Is this how life always ends up?

My stomach gets knotted up at times too, when I'm feeling not-too-great. Sometimes it's just a slight turn now and then I feel in the stomach, and I know there's no real issue on hand, but perhaps just something nibbling incessantly on my mind and causing unnecessary worry. Yes, I am very prone to that: unnecessary worrying. And it's usually my mind playing tricks on myself, me playing devil's advocate to myself. Honestly, the man hates this stage, and I really hate it too.

I even thought I experienced clinical depression once before, though never medically proven by a shrink. (I checked the topic up on the Internet, and found myself experiencing many of the listed symptoms and so convinced myself.) It happened not too long ago, and I remember how I was feeling. How my stomach was feeling. The stomach was perpetually knotted up, never relaxed. It repulsed everything I tried to ingest, and the stomach was so busy feeling recoiled and knotted up, the hunger pangs never came. I ate so little, my skinny frame lost more weight than I already should. The butterflies were nowhere to be felt; the stomach was simply feeling... horrible.

I knew I was ok again, when I started eating like a horse again (do horses really eat a lot?). I have put a little weight back on, but never managed to fill out my old size 2 clothes again. And I never want to feel those horrible crammy feelings in my tummy again.

The past couple of days, however, my stomach's been feeling weird again. No, not the butterflies. Hunger pangs still strike. But there's just something else that's funny - in a not-so-good way. It's telling me I'm worrying about something again, and it's making me malfunctioning a little today.

I hate this, and I really want this to go away. Shoo.

Man or Dog?

People are so amazed by the amount of love I have for the man and for my dog, I've often been asked this common question: Who do I love more, the man or the dog?

In all honesty, I don't know. I haven't been able to answer this question two years ago, and I still can't answer it today. The man knows it, and is he hurt? I don't know too.

I suppose it's hard to compare and decide because we're talking two different kinds of love here, with the man and with the dog. It's got to do also with the kinds of hope you pin on the human and on the dog. They're different, the expectations. So I think I can't really compare the two. Of course I love the man more than any other human being on earth, but more than the dog? Uh-uh, not too sure.

While I can't decide for myself who I love more, there's one thing for sure I do know: the dog definitely loves me more than the man does me. Nothing can compare to a dog's love.