Breakfast

I am a girl of simple pleasures.



Kopi-o with marie biscuits. You dip 'em biscuits into the hot kopi-o and take a quick bite of the softened pastry before it crumbles off back into the kopi-o. Mmm... heavenly.

I have been having this simple fare for breakfast at my desk for a couple of weeks ever since they bought a big tin of marie biscuits for the office pantry. The tin is only like half-gone.

I think I'm the only nut who likes this plain almost-tasteless biscuit.


But I am having a very strong craving these days for a good plate of fried bee hoon for breakfast. I kinda miss those days having breakfast at the hawker center together with all those bus-driver uncles early in the mornings.

I have been asking around for good fried bee hoon. Now I know - Bedok Hawker Center at the bus interchange, near the chwee kuey stall.

Maybe tomorrow. Or Friday. If I can wake up early at 6.30 in the morning, I'll take a nice leisurely drive to Bedok and have a nice leisurely fried bee hoon breakfast. And I get to skip ERP too. Ha.

Ok ok. If that fails, I still have Saturday.

Bye Tour, Hello September

Heh. I spent two hours trying to learn basic HTML on my own on the net.

And see what I have done? =)

Le Tour de France is over, baby.

It's September - month of the Cirque du Soleil and the Starlight Cinema again.

Go on - mouse over the banners above, and click on them to visit their respective web sites. =)

(Sucker, silly woman.)


I really do hope I get to watch both this time round.

Ball

I haven't touched the ball in weeks.

Finally did tonight. After avoiding it for some time now. And I am glad I managed to, since it was threatening to pour in the evening.

A little rusty in the beginning, but soon caught up in the groove.

I was back to the same ol' me on court - at least I hope.


I miss the ball, and I also miss a lot of other things that have got to do with the ball.

'Nuff said.

Part II... Find Him Lor

Ok, I'm still lingering on that email. Haha.

I have come up with a better version.

A more realistic version of a (dare I say, Singaporean?) man that you and I are more familiar with:


Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot (and then puckers up his lips and makes that 'zuk-zuk' ah beng sound at you), who calls you back when you hang up on him (and yells, "BITCH! Don't you ever dare hang up on me again!"), who will stay awake just to watch you fall asleep (so he can sneak out for a fun night with the boys).

Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead (and then slowly tries to kiss down southward), who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats (and then laughs at his friends, "See? You cannot make it lah, even my char bor can lift more weights than you."), who holds your hand in front of his friends (and then winks at them and points with his head toward the chick at the next table).

Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you and how lucky he is to have you (just so he can shut you up from any doubt).

Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, "That's her (... the Mother-Tiger, my free maid)."


Hmm.

I am quite evil, aren't I?

Oh God, please don't strike me with lightning tonight.

Find Him... or Find Me

An email going around the girls in the office today goes like this:


Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will stay awake just to watch you fall asleep.

Wait for the guy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends.

Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you and how lucky he is to have you.

Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, "That's her."


Wah, this kind of man, I also want.

But I have a few questions.


Number one: Does such a man as described above truly and realistically exist? And on Earth, I do mean. I don't care about Mars or anywhere else.

Is it even humanly possible for a man to behave as such?

Like colleague says, "This kind of man, how to find?"


Number two: Assuming the answer to question one is affirmative, then how many can you actually find coexisting at any one time?

If An Lian finds one, and Ah Huay finds another one, then what are the chances of me actually finding a next one for myself too? Or are they already all extinct after Ah Lian and Ah Huay grab theirs?

You want, I want. But everyone else also wants.

Human cloning?


Number three: Assuming such a man exists, and there are actually enough of them to go around such that you manage to snag one for yourself in no time, how can you be sure the sweet acts as described above are done out of true love and desire? And not just something he does in the first year of the relationship, but something he'll be willing to do for the rest of his life? Just for you?


Which brings me to number four naturally: How would you know you're the only person he kisses on the forehead, he stays up to watch fall asleep, he calls when hung up on? How do you know you're the only girl he shows off to his friends, he swears he cares about and he's lucky to have?

How do you know he's not going around calling every other girl 'beautiful'? Or if he's calling you 'beautiful' but other girls 'hot'?

How do you know he's not saying, "That's her... and her... and her..." instead?

How can you be sure your hands are the only ones he holds in front of his friends? How can you be so sure he holds only your hands, but grabs every other girl's ass?

Hmm.. those friends of his. They can be another problem altogether.


Number five: Ok ok, assuming yeah, Mr Super-Duper Nice Guy does in fact exist and appears right in front of you for you to have and to hold for the rest of your life, what if now you actually realize that you wouldn't want to do the same to him?

You realize he's not the one you want to kiss, he's not the one you want to sleep next to and wake up the next morning to, he's not the one you call 'beautiful' even though he's hunky-dory with a cute dimpled smile to add, he's not the one you want to call when you have little exciting discoveries of the day.

What if he's not the one you just want to declare "I love you" to every single day, every single moment when you have the chance?

What if he's not the one you just have to message "I love you" every time just before you board a plane, even to KL?

So what then, if he's the nicest guy ever on Earth?

I know I'll get kicked in the ass by all my girlfriends for raising this question.

But my point is, and I stand by it steadfastly, it takes two persons to love and hold each other for the rest of their lives.

It takes two persons to kiss, and to hold hands.

It takes two to say, "I love you".


Number six: This is for myself.

If the man never exactly did what Mr Super-Duper Nice Guy would have done, but did everything in his own little ways, does that mean he wasn't the right one for me?

Was I then Miss Super-Duper Nice Girl who did, or would have done, all of the above, but just wasn't appreciated? Or are nice girls not supposed to be doing what Mr Nice Guys should be doing?

Is someone then waiting for me?

I gotta figure that one out for myself, I suppose.


I would certainly like a man like that.

But I don't judge on character. And neither do I have criteria set out.

To me, if two crappy persons love each other, treat each other like poo but they love each other to the core and they are happy with the poo treatment, so be it. That's what love is supposed to be.

Mr Nice Guy would have been a nice bonus.


The man above sure does sound sweet to have.

I kinda wish I had a man like that. I wish the man had been a little more like that.


Oh fooking 'ell.

Look what a silly little email has done to a cynic bitch like me.

Pardon me, girls.

Sun-day

It's been quite a while since I sat out under the sun (well, almost - I'm well shaded under the big umbrella but still enjoying the warmth) doing my own writing. The past couple of weeks, lunches have been quickie affairs.

Just too much to do, just too little time.


I was out enjoying the late afternoon sun yesterday as well.

Late - because I couldn't wake up from the awful concoction of alcohol inside me and because I only got the phonecall from a friend at four.

I was about to bring the cow-dogs down for a walk around the neighborhood, when the phone rang: "KM8. Now! Bring your dogs."

Gee. It's been a long time since the cowdogs last swam.

I have been wanting to bring them to the beach, but for two reasons.

One, I am admittedly not confident swimming with two dogs alone. Piper is cool. But Gracie? She can be a wreck in the waters at times.

Two, there's this seventh-month superstition against swimming in the seas. The "ghost-pulling-leg" myth. Well, I am not superstitious, but since I'm already not confident I can take care of two dogs in the waters, I'd better not take any risky chance.

The phonecall changed my mind. What the heck? There would be so many people at the beach - I was sure there must be someone - one brave soul - who would be able to rescue two dogs and a girl.


But I also decided to do something against my own better senses.

I sent an impulsive message and asked a buddy along. And thank goodnness, the invitation was accepted.

Great. At least now I know I have someone to save us.


We didn't spend too long a time at the beach. The crazy afternoon-partying folks at KM8 kinda scared us.

We deduced: nowadays if you don't have a good bod, you'd better not turn up at Tanjong Beach. Or at least, make sure you stay at the far end of the beach.

We didn't hang out at KM8 - we just didn't fit in.

The cowdogs had a good swim - dogs never seem to run out of 'stamina', I realized.

Poor Momma was left gasping for air - blame it on ill-discipline.


The day ended with a feast at Chomps yet again.

F-E-A-S-T. Everything feast-worthy was spread out right in front of us on the table.

Strangely, I thought I was feeling hungry again by midnight, lying on my bed.

I decided to sleep it off - I could be wrong.

My doubts were confirmed this morning, when I woke up with a rumbling stomach. Haha. I am strange indeed.


Had a good time yesterday.

Only damned thing was I forgot my camera.

How could I?

Bar None

Bar None. Eastside. Attica.

So I had three places to go in the end last night.

Skyboy did call in the end, said Bar None was getting fun and he getting high, so he would stay on till late.

I thought I should just pop by Bar None for a while, and then flit over to Eastside to join my chicks. Attica? Hmm... well, if I still had time.

I didn't want to drive last night - so I could afford three drinking places, I thought.

Bad mistake. I should've driven. Then I would've just stuck to beer.


And in the end, I stayed on in Bar None till closing.

I like live band gigs, and Jive Talking at Bar None is really something. I have never seen a crowd go this wild (not in Singapore, at least) at a live band gig before. I really liked the mood in there.

The music played while the band was resting sucked big-time though. Urgh. And there were these two bartop dancers who entertained the crowd - and entertain us, they did indeed. One was fat, one was skinny. Both couldn't dance to save their lives. The short dress on the fat one was so tight on her, it lifted higher and higher as she danced till you could see both her butt cheeks jiggling along with her erratic moves. Urgh urgh urgh. Even writing about it now makes me a little sick.

Hmm. I am so unbelievably bitchy.

But then, I found out too that the bartop dancers get paid a cool hundred bucks each night. Hmm... not bad what. You get to drink and dance - and get paid for that. Isn't that an even better deal than selling motor insurance?

Stupid Skyboy crushed my hopes: You oughta get a boob job first.

Idiot. Stupid idiot.


I ended up drinking more than I should - Chivas, vodka, beer.

I ended up getting more high than I had planned to. I should never have trusted any drinking session with Skyboy around.

I ended up meeting a few of Skyboy's friends - one of whom I already happened to know, and totally knocked the socks off me when she turned up. Hanging out with Skyboy has been a recent pleasure for me - simply because he and the gang never know of the man, and so spending time with them helps keep my mind and any conversation off the man. She happened to be someone I knew through the man and his buddies.

What a freakin' small world.


I unwittingly ended up having 'bak chor mee' along East Coast Road at 5.30 in the morning.

I didn't even realize.


Sunday morning.

Splitting headache.

What a night.

Dead

Crap. I forgot about it.

My fooking Razor is gone. Dead. And so is that stupid new battery that I bought but couldn't get an exchange nor refund for.

Barely even three months old.

And I really hate Motorola.

Urgh!

Saturday

I am pleased with myself today.

I did all I said I was going to do.


So it didn't rain at all today.

I woke up to a bright and sunny almost-noon sun, and knew at once I couldn't escape my 'destiny'.

And I did go where I said I should likely go to get the carwash done - I drove on the familiar highway back to school.

Pretty good timing. The carpark was quiet, save for a few kids walking past to the pool. I felt really guilty at first; I just couldn't be bothered any further as I got into the washing. I had already thought of a few good excuses: "My brother studies and stays here, I'm here to pick him home" or "I just graduated, I just miss this place". Either one should get me off any hook.

At the end of it all, I just couldn't believe I had spent two and a half freakin' hours washing the car.

Ok, the windows are bright, the wheels are painstakingly shiny now. But the car has lost its glorious shine and has quite some eyesore scars all over. All thanks to a very 'caring' mistress.

I would've spent more time rubbing off the scratches. I would've liked to wax the car. Except I was really really tired, and a little pissed that I had already spent two and a half freakin' hours. And that my fingers were all wrinkled up from the washing and my nails all stained with black grime.

Gosh.

But the two and a half freakin' hours were indeed a nolstagic time spent. As expected.

Too many memories. Just too many.


My virgin facial treatment was yet another painful experience. So I have two pain therapy sessions for two weekends in a row now.

Just as I had expected, I was told my skin condition isn't at its most perfect.

(What the hell?! If it had been, I wouldn't had gone for your facial wonders.)

Dehydrated, impurified, scarred and lacklustre.

Hmm... it doesn't look as bad as it sounds, but apparently it is.

I don't exactly know what the 'therapist' did, but she slapped on numerous creams, massaged and put me in a mask. Oh, and my blackheads were 'professionally' squeezed. Ha, that does feel a little good.

I was persuaded into buying a 7-session package (again). I wasn't planning to, but then I thought one session ain't gonna do me no good. I'd give them seven (expensive) chances to work their wonders on me.

And then I thought, heck, I shall spend on myself. I need to look good, even if just for myself.

I resisted against buying any product though. I think I can get them cheaper online. And I know that because I have been reading some silly forums on such beauty stuff. (My gosh, I cannot stand myself . Urgh.)


My daytime activities have ended late.

I have only just grabbed some food and sat my ass at the cafe again.

I am a little exhausted actually.

But Skyboy says he's gonna call me. Bar None tonight. Sounds good. Heard a lot about it, but haven't been there yet.

He'd better not 'dua' me.

Tomorrow

Ok, at least I think I got my day planned out for tomorrow.


I really really need to wash the car. IF it doesn't rain, or threaten to rain, tomorrow.

It's getting a new road license, and a brand new insurance as well. It sure does deserve a proud look, doesn't it?

By the way, Miss Agent has recommended I sell motor insurance for supplementary income. Less tiring than tuition, isn't it?

That's quite true. I should really consider.

Can you imagine me selling motor insurance? LOL.


I need to return to Sim Lim. The fooking battery I bought last week is a spoilt piece.

Dammit.

The razor does look cool, but apparently is trouble-laden.


And then, I have my virgin facial treatment tomorrow evening.

I am so clueless about this whole facial shit that I have actually booked two sessions at two different places - at the same time.

I need to decide tomorrow morning when I wake which to go to - and remember to cancel the other one.

I cannot think now.


That should settle the day. Maybe I might find someone to drink with in the night.


Sunday? I'll worry about Sunday tomorrow night.

I should perhaps go to the movies. Haven't done that in a while.


I am stoned now. The sale in the office has zapped my energies.

I bought weird stuff this time. So weird I actually think I have found my Halloween costume this year.


The guys are drinking with Rob tonight at Siglap - celebrating his 'freedom' from Dr Evil.

Sigh. I wonder when my turn is.

I should join them. There's going to be lots and lots of free-flowing beer.

There never fails to be, with Ed and Rob around.

Amnesia

Selfless: oblivious of self, incapable of or resisting selfishness.

So, is selflessness a trait to be respected and desired? Or is it some stupid thinking and behavior to be rid of?

Should it be commended for? Or should it be ridiculed of?

Obviously, in my case, it had to be the latter. I was being frowned upon just last night.

I wish I could care less. Much much less. To the point of zero.

I just don't know when I would stop. And what would make me.

And if I ever do stop, I wonder if I would ever be the same person again.


One month and five days.

I really wish someone would come along and give me a real hard blow to my head.

Either I get knocked out completely and suffer from total amnesia - and never recover from it.

Or I wake up my fucking idea once and for all.

Sounds like a good solution to me now, either way.


I am so fucking blinded.

And I can't do anything about myself.

Where is the innervoice I heard so clearly just last week?

Why aren't you talking to me anymore?

Bitch

"Beer coffee. Whiskey dessert. Cat wine all for free." : )


Moody.
Grouchy.
Erratic.
Glum.
Tired.
Sarcastic.
Acid-tongued.
Snappy.
Negative.
Sad.


I'm so bitchy nowadays.

I think nobody likes me a lot these days.

Anger

There is just this deep sense of anger and disappointment flooding all over me.

Maybe it is really better this way.

Sigh

Fish. Woke up this morning with a sprained neck again. I hate this.

You'd never realize how much you use your muscles in your neck and shoulders just going about your usual daily chores... till you get a sprained nerve there.


The presentations are finally done and over. I hope they will really be my last ones.

After years of going through all these tedious and strenuous prep-work all-year round, I do indeed feel a deep sense of relief. No more getting stuck in a repetitious rut. No more trying my darnedest to squeeze brain juices out when the resource is already well-depleted.

I don't think I'd ever be rid of stress, seriously. I just hope I can embrace stress of a new different kind.

Folks think I'm looking happy.

Yeah, I'm really just glad I am moving on to new things - in my job at least.


I probably have quite some serious travelling coming up in the next two months.

Still, I think I want to get away. I think I have time now to plan.

I have never done this - an impulse getaway.

I really hope I'm doing the right thing for myself.


Pay's in. I am so thankful for August.

But damn. There's another sample sale tomorrow.

I hope I keep my head focused on the getaway so I won't burn myself unnecessarily come tomorrow.


There's just this weird feeling taking over me now.

Maybe - and I really hope so - it's the stress and lack of sleep in these past few days that are culminating in this apparent state of loss.

Part numbness, part agitation. Some gladness, some sadness.

I just cannot figure out what exactly, and I cannot describe it in words.

Contradictory, as always.

Or, maybe it's just confusion, as some would say.


Sigh...

I can't even figure out why I feel the urge to sigh.

I just need to.

SIGH...

Low

Just got back not too long ago from work.

But tonight, I have no mood to cook any noodles. I'll just munch on some shortbread and Tim Tams to stop my stomach from rumbling further.


The mood is really low.

Strangely and upsettingly, when I had been so good for the past few days. Even past the weekend.

I really really hope it's the stress at work and from the presentations tomorrow. Even if it's delayed PMS, anything please.


I am feeling as if the effect I had on myself is wearing out. The self-pep, the self-talks, the self-reminders. Words I said to myself to turn myself in the opposite direction - I seem to have forgotten all of them.

I feel like I need to start over again. Suddenly, it feels so tiring. Do I have to end up doing this every few days?

I know how sometimes the demons can be silently lying in wait somewhere all around you, and then slowly creeping upon you and snatching your soul away from you once the spirits get low.

Like I cannot explain why, all of a sudden, the emptiness has crept inside and is taking over all of me.

I am remembering everything again. Gawd.

I hope this goes away after tonight. And I hope I'll sleep better tonight, because I haven't been for weeks.

I'll start talking to myself again after the meeting ends. And then, maybe I'd better start planning what I'd get down to do this weekend. I can't possibly be going back to the office every Sunday, can I?


Maybe, too, I'd better start reliving the idea of going away for a while.

I had been thinking since weeks ago and had desperately wanted to - till the bills started mounting again.

But now, maybe I really do need a trip. Somewhere. Somewhere I've always wanted to go. Anywhere just to get out of here.

Some idyllic island where I can just sit and stone away. I don't think I'm in a mood to explore. I just need quiet time by myself.

Bali. Phuket. Samui. Redang.

I'll get out quickly. As soon as I can. Once this meeting ends. In the next couple of weeks.

So there.

Block

Urgh!

Mental block.

Juices are starting to ooze out bit by bit, but there are just too many roadblocks in my brain. The juices are now getting stuck somewhere amongst the brain cells.

I hope they don't just freeze there.

16 more hours to go.

I just hope I don't oversleep again tomorrow morning.

Of All Things New

Mmm... I'm eating 'high-class' instant noodles while typing this - instant home-cooked ramen all the way from Nippon.

I am so loving this, methinks it's better than the Ajisen ones.

I was almost going to stay late in the office again tonight - until I really couldn't stand the thought of it. But I didn't want as well to waste time going out for dinner and then get back to the office at like ten.

Then I remembered those packets of ramen waiting for me on my desk at home. =) I hoped the girls hadn't ransacked my desk and chewed them up.

So I packed up my lappie immediately and headed home to feed my rumbling tummy - but not before stopping by IKEA to pick up something I had a sudden urge to buy.

A table lamp. One that is now giving my room a dull-yellowish soft-mood lighting.

I like it. It reminds me of my days in hall. And going to IKEA alone reminded me of those days of shopping excitedly for all kinds of rubbish for my single room - sheets, lamps, rugs, coffee tables. =) I really really miss those hall days.

Now, with this lamp, hopefully I can get some night-time reading done before I sleep every night. I have tons of books to finish. Borders must be grateful for customers like me - customers whose rate of consumption is much slower than the rate of purchasing.

And tonight, I hope I can stay awake to get some work done - if I don't fall drowsy to the soft lights.

The lamps pleases me so, probably because it also gives my room an immediate different feel.

If I can't get my own space anytime soon, I suppose I'd better change out my room in little manageable ways, just so the familiarity of this space doesn't have a chance to depress me.

Dejunk the room, move the furniture around (ha, if I can do this, I'd give myself a pat on my back), repaint the room walls, get new furniture if I can afford.

I think this little lamp makes a good start. =)


Other than the realization that I could save a whole two bucks from paying my traffic fines online, I made a few other 'discoveries' today that made me really pleased.

One, with a little exploration inspired by the traffic fine payments, I found out I could renew my monthly season parking tickets online as well, with the use of my credit card! Omg! No more stupid time-wasting queues at the HDB office at the start of every month.

Two, I found out if I tune in to Lush99.5, I could go on listening to great music that still makes my head bob while I drive - without having to suffer sappy lyrics from the love songs. Perfect. Either that, or I start tuning in to the Chinese radio stations - I think I will take a way longer time to grasp hold of the Chinese lyrics.

Three, if I cut down on my beers and my expensive dinners, I can actually afford to get myself a new pair of Birkies every month. Not much of a Nobel-prize-winning discovery, but the idea excited me just as much. You'd know it when you get to wear for yourself a brand new pair of Birkies. The first few times you wear it especially, the feeling is just so... hmmm... indescribable.


I am also realizing I'm beginning to like cheese more and more these days.

I don't remember how the love started, but I know I used to hate cheese. No cheddar in sandwiches even, it was that bad.

Now, I love my cheddar in sandwiches - better yet if it's a hot sandwich with melted cheddar. I love my cream cheese on toasted bagel. And I love my mozzarella on my pizza.

I still hate parmesan on my pasta, though. No way am I even sniffing that stuff.

I don't think I'll ever pop goat or blue cheese into my mouth like some folks do - adoringly.

Still, I like what I'm starting to like now. =)


But what I've come to realize most of all in these few weeks is this: that there is perhaps really no one else better in this world you can rely on other than... yourself.

I have always wanted someone to take care of me for the rest of my life.

Deep down inside, maybe I still do need someone.

But I have also learnt things the hard way - that what I want or need may not be what I can necessarily get.

One day, I hope I can be proven wrong. Till then, let me live on with my new 'discoveries'.

Law-breaker, Trouble-maker

KNNBEGN!! @*&#^&^(*&$#(*&#(%&@!

I keep running into trouble with the law these days.

Am I running low on karma, that's why?


I was trying to be a smart-aleck - I thought we wouldn't take more than five minutes at the hardware store, just a 2-minute walk away, since we already had in mind what we wanted.

Why then, pray tell, should I spend at least ten minutes going round and round the multi-storey carpark, waiting and cussing for a precious lot, and having to jostle for space with other silly drivers, in peak-hour Marine Parade?

It really wasn't so much of saving on parking charges; it was really with a good mind to save the hassle of looking for a parking lot.

So, I convinced us it would be a smarter idea if we would park along the double-yellow lines just outside the carpark, run across the street to the hardware store, grab our stuff, then run back to the car.

"It won't take long," I promised.

What I didn't know was: I am in a 'suay' mode nowadays.

We took a longer-than-expected time at the hardware store.

Cisco came along barely ten minutes after we'd parked the car and ran across the street.

And I came back to find a 'sweet' surprise - in the form of a white slip of paper - tucked nicely under my windscreen wipers.


In a span of one short week, I have accumulated:

- one LTA ticket for not paying ERP charges under that jinxed gantry;
- one URA ticket for over-parking almost an hour past the expiry of my coupons;
- one Cisco (traffic police?) ticket for parking on the cursed double-yellow lines.

I should scrutinize the tickets for any four-digit number that can hopefully turn my luck around.


Oh, but it does help to 'air my grievances' here. =)

A concerned fellow driver-friend (who's apparently gotten into enough trouble to know this - heh) offered this valuable tip: pay for the fines online and get a $2 discount!

!!!

Thanks, bif.

Juiceless

So. I did get to work today.

Hang on. Let me correct that. I got my ass to the office, but I didn't really get down to work as much as I really wanted to.

One word: juiceless.

I hate it this time of the 'season' when I need my brain juices to crank up a little to get my presentations done. But the juices have been running low over the past few seasons. I hate being a boring presenter, but I am running out of ideas how to not make them boring.

I gave up. I went out for a long lunch instead. =)


Carl's Jr burgers, it was. Heard so much hype about it, I thought I should give it a go. Can you imagine - I never really saw one in all these years I've been to the US?

So embarrassing. I desperately wanna look for White Castle though. Haha.

Anyway, I suppose I didn't miss much. The burgers were like humongous. They are yummy, true. But I guess a little overrated as well. Fries were just fries - I crave more for Long John's fries and piping hot McDonald's ones.

And most of all, I didn't think $22.50 for two in a fast-food restaurant was normal.

Ok - tried once. Will probably do a second time, but not in a hurry.


Got back to the office to try a second round of conjuring up my juices.

Nothing worked. I tried listening to live radio over the internet to lift my mood up a little.

Oh, the FM radio in my car is finally playing again.

No, it hasn't been problematic (thank you God). I just hadn't been tuning in to the FM for weeks.

I just couldn't listen to those sappy love songs without a huge pinch of cynicism. Do these people really know what they are singing about? Or are they just singing what they think we want to hear?

Rock bands sing of heart-wrenching pain from lovers lost; boy-bands pine for girls who leave them for reasons they don't understand (do boys ever?); women yell their angry hearts out at bastards who cheat on them.

Spare me the sappiness and your pain. I have enough to deal with of my own.

But music has come back into my life again. Just so I can keep my mind focused on the roads these days. I can even hum or sing along again. I just try not to feel what I sing. Haha.

Thanks, God.


The weekend is finally coming to an end.

I have barely 48 hours left to my presentation, and I should be feeling really flustered.

But right now, I am feeling glad. And peaceful. And thankful for this weekend.

Last weekend was a nightmare that I thought I'd have to live through again and again.

This weekend, though just days apart, seems so peaceful. Clusters of activtities there were to keep me running around, but inside of me dwells nothing but peace.

Peace simply because I know what I am capable of now. Because I know I can take good care of myself now.

Peace because I know my mind sees things clearly and my heart is good enough to take care of me now.

Thank you for the peace, for the happiness, and for the fun. =)


Great - now let me get back to those darned powerpoints.

KNNBEGN! - I just learnt a new 'phrase'! *grins*

Crap

Here's how the whole works of the human digestive system look to me - in the most simplistic, non-scientific manner.

Whatever you shove down your throat, only the good, healthful, wanted bits get absorbed by your body.

Everything else that gets ejected from the rear end must have been the useless shit (no pun intended) that your body doesn't need.

In other words, if all you ate lands in the toilet bowl the next day, you practically ate for nothing.

So. I crapped big-time not once, but twice - in just four hours of waking moments since this morning.

I saw them seeds of the lady's fingers I had last night.

The only nasi-lemak meal I had yesterday was a mini-feast, and was pretty darn tasteful.

Except, I suppose the bulk of it landed in the toilet bowl this morning.

No wonder my mom keeps complaining I'm getting skinnier and skinnier.

Look Ma! I'm eating. I have been eating. Just that all I eat is crap. Haha.

Peace

My day didn't end at the afternoon impulsive-yet-guiltless trip.

I did take a trip to the east to buy a birthday doggy cake.

And I also moved, carried, unpacked, hugged - amongst other things.

I had a day. I really had a full day.

I hope my many more weekends to come remain this fulfilled - so I would never have a moment of loneliness.


I am so at peace with myself.

Nothing more, nothing less.

=)

Impulse

Today is a day of impulse. =)

I drove to places, bought and did quite a bit of stuff - all on impulse.

Except for the collection of my phone and the toiletries bit.

Spent quite a fair bit of money too, that I perhaps shouldn't have. But I have a little extra money to spare this month, and the money spent today actually made me happy. =))


Taking care of myself, pampering myself, making myself feel good - it all doesn't come cheap nor free, I realize.

But for the first time in my life, I spent money on myself in ways I have never thought were wise of me before.

In the mall where I picked up my phone, I walked right into a skincare center and made an immediate appointment for a facial treatment. My first facial of my life. Yeah, at this ripe old age of 27.

In case you haven't noticed, I now declare my skin has finally cleared up and I am finally officially 'discharged' from the National Skin Center, all thanks to the pills they made me pop over the past five months. In fact, I thought it looks even a little better than it had been even before the breakout invaded my face. =)

The only right thing for me to do now is to 'maintain' it - after all the trauma and efforts spent.

Haha - yeah, women, if they really want it, do need a lot of maintenance after all. I just have been neglecting myself too much all these years.


Impulse number two: it was threatening to rain, so I decided to park my car at the underground at Wheelock, instead of my usual outdoor parking lots.

There was an advertisement for a brow shop on the third level right on the barrier at the entrance.

I decided I needed brow treatment, so I went up immediately once I got a space.

My first brow-shaping experience. Don't laugh.

I didn't get tweezed. I got threaded the Indian traditional way instead. Cheaper, and better, you see.

And I never had a problem with facial hair - not especially with the tiny ones sitting above my upper lip.

"Got meh? I got that bad upper lip hair meh?"

"Yes, it is casting a shadow on your lips - not very nice." Ok, if you say so, since you're the 'expert'.

So, I didn't get threaded just once, but twice instead.

The results look just fine - I feel new. In a way. They even managed to make me sign up for a ten-session package just so I could save more money. I feel so 'char bor' suddenly, haha.

All I can say, though, at the end of the 20 minutes is: damn fucking painful.


Walking out of the shop towards the escalator, I saw the new Birkenstock store.

Wow, a new bigger space must mean they have been doing really well. It was indeed crowded in the shop - when I bought my very first pair of Birkies years and years ago, the shop was a small little quiet one in Tanglin Mall where only ang-mohs patronized. Nobody I knew then knew of Birkies, and no one around the streets wore them. And they were fucking expensive then.

I walked in, browsed around, and walked out with a new pair - I had been eyeing them for too long, I just couldn't stop myself this time.

That makes impulse number three then. =)


My phone didn't die, and I didn't have to pay any single cent for the long 'hospital' stay.

But the battery has been corroded, and while it is still in working condition, it would run out pretty fast.

Because there was no stock at the service center, I decided to drive to Sim Lim to try my luck at finding a new battery at a 'cheaper' price.

Not only did I drive out of Sim Lim thirty minutes later with a new battery (actually, whether it was really cheaper or not, I wouldn't know because I didn't bargain and I had not checked out 'town' prices) in my bag, I got myself a bluetooth headset for my phone as well.

Something I had scorned at in the past, but now thought might come in useful because I always have to hang up after telling callers I'm on the road.

I didn't check out prices, I didn't scrutinize over brands, I didn't bargain - I hate all that hassling.

I just saw it, asked about the price, paid for it and left. A hundred bucks gone just like that.

Impulse number four - so un-me.

But then, any purchases from Sim Lim always make me feel good - I'm not a techie, but I like thinking that I am.


I think that's all for the day.

I have to stop further self-destruction.

I now only have the cake and the hairbrush to buy for the birthday girl.


I am glad that my day has been filled up with 'fun' today.

I'll just have to go back to work tomorrow, and then, my weekend will be over.

This is easy. One weekend at a time. =)

Gracie Day

It's Gracie Day!



The 'manja' princess turns three today, and she badly - very badly - needs a haircut.

But I haven't set up a date for that yet. So in the meantime, I'd need to buy a hairbrush to rid of all the kinks and mats in her messy hair. And there are a lot of them.

Gracie baby, let Mommy make that up to you by trying to get you a doggy cake ok?

That shall be task number two for today.


Gracie has only been with us for one-third of her life thus far.

We'll never really know how she led the first two-thirds but we know for sure that we have turned her into a happy, playful, lively dog - thanks in part to us, and much to Piper the big sister.

Thanks, Gracie, for the being the playmate and companion for Piper, the way we had wanted you to. I'm sure you have good fun too, playing rough with her all the time when I'm not home. I hope you find a sister and companion in Piper too.

Ok Gracie, this is almost like your twenty-first birthday, if you had been a human being like me.

Be good, grow up, but still remember to play and be happy all the time ok.

You are so lucky to be a dog, you know.


Spending Gracie's third birthday reminds me of Piper's third birthday two years ago.

Then, I had only her and she only me, and we were almost inseparable. The then-Papa was away in Perth, and could not spend her third birthday with us. Well, at least not physically.

So I did what I could do best so that we were around him on this day, if he couldn't be around us.

I gave Piper her presents - a new red collar and a green dog-tag in which you could stuff a note (no, she doesn't need to bring dollar bills out with her but a piece of paper that states her address would be nice) and a soft squeaky dog-toy that looks exactly like her.

I had given her a haircut the day before then, so we would look our best for Papa.

I put her in her new collar, grabbed her in my arms and sat us on the bed in front of the camera.

And then we sent all these pictures to Papa in Perth. That way, we had hoped Papa would know we so wanted him to be here with us that day.



I can't help thinking of this. The picture is just stuck right next to me on the wall.


I am up unusually early today.

I thought I would have loved to sleep in till the afternoon. I have lots of work to catch up on in the office this weekend, so that hopefully fills up the vast amount of spare time I have.

But today, I just want to make it my day - no work, just me. And Gracie and Piper too.

It's probably also a good time to get those long-awaited errands done. There are the toiletries to be bought, the phone to be picked up, the traffic offences to be settled.

And then, there's the cake and the hairbrush.

I thought I'd like to get my car washed once and for all today - but the sky seems to be darkening and I don't think I'll have the time and energy to drive to somewhere today.

I'll bring my pbook and a real book out along with me though - I think today's a fine day for a hot skinny latte.


All said, I just hope I don't fall back into bed after I'm done with this.

$11.50

"See? We're all as fucked up as you are."


I am so fucked up.

I slotted the cashcard into the machine just before I drove off this morning, but soon after I confidently drove past that jinxed ERP gantry along PIE, the reader started signalling this weird beep that indicated something was not quite right.

I had slotted the card in, but only barely in. The machine didn't read my card after all.

I am so exasperated.

Argh.

Bye bye, precious $11.50.

And you're most welcome, LTA.

Me

Temptation is after all the masterpiece of the Devil himself.

When the Devil tempts, only the weak in soul will succumb.


I cried that he changed while I did not.

How could it be? How could one stay so faithful in a seemingly strong relationship while the other could not?

Why couldn't I find myself to change too? Why didn't I fall prey to any temptation as well in all these years, just so it wouldn't have felt so bad for me now?

If it's 'only natural' for a long-time love to fade, why didn't mine?


Today, I am proud of myself.

I am proud that I had stood tall against the Evil one.

In my bit of loving, I had stayed true to myself, to my own feelings. I believed in what I had, what I was doing, in my own values - and most of all, I stood by them. I believed in love in its most beautiful sense - no faults, no hate, no conditions.

Nothing was for nothing.

It is indeed amazing how I didn't change. How could it when it was so alive and so strong every single day?

Call me silly, but I am happy.

I am proud that I was never once selfish in our relationship. I am proud I could put someone's concerns before mine, and I could think for someone before I concluded. I am proud I never had to ask him for a single thing, I never had to demand his attention.

I am actually proud that I can, and I did, love this much, this big.

You never ask for the rewards for what you sow. If rewards are ever granted, they will be forever.

I don't seem to have my rewards today - maybe because I still don't deserve any. Maybe I am worth more than what this could have offered me. I will know some day in this life.

God, aren't you proud of me too?

I could do it again, if you want me to - but please, this time, make sure you put the right one before me.


I seem to be doing better. Through no one, but myself.

Through my thoughts and through the bits and pieces of knowledge I've been gathering for myself these days.

Perhaps the fact that I played a role in saving a good friend helped too. Helping someone you care about from straying into a possible ending like mine makes it a little more meaningful in my life.


I knew of a lot of things in the recent past that turned my world upside down, crushed it, and almost left me to die.

I now know of things that dry up my teary eyes, awaken my braindead head, and see things for myself in a bigger picture.

Honestly, I still don't know what I am going to do tomorrow, or the day after, or everyday to rebuild my life. But at least, now I know I have a life ahead and I just have to work towards living it better - for myself. Whatever I may end up doing.


Change.

Change happens all the time, and you never know what change might do to you, whether for better or for worse, until you realize change in you has turned circumstances around you.

The math is simple.

When you change for the better, you know it because life is rosier and most of all, you are happier. In fact, you make people around you happy, and sometimes, you're even the cause for their happiness.

When you change otherwise, most of the time you don't see it when your life gets messier, you wonder why you always never find the happiness you yearn, and you hurt the people around you. Sometimes you're the cause of their sadness. Sometimes you know it only when it is a tad too late. How late? Maybe a year, or maybe ten, maybe never till the day you step into your grave.

Life gets a little trickier there.

Sometimes change is anticipated, mostly it is not.

Sometimes anticipated change is known to be avoided, but it is not.

That happens when one loses his good head. Good heads, when you know you have one, should always be kept wisely in place, on your shoulders that is, and not on anyone else's especially Mr Devil himself. Because once lost, it can be hard to recover the damage done to it.


I am, I suppose, going through big changes in my life now. Just that my change is the by-effect of someone else's change.

I feel pity at the unforced changes for myself, but I feel more for someone else's.

I have been looking only at my misfortunes - how I seemed to have lost everything, how I was let down, how I was lied to, how I almost got my dreams fulfilled but was robbed of them cruelly. Maybe that only served to make me feel worse everytime. No wonder the graph only has one downward direction.

I have to be selfless again here.

I cannot just see myself, and the pain I'm feeling. I have to see how my pain was caused by someone else's confusion.

How someone made a decision and made me a victim of it.

How someone released me from further pain.

I have to see and understand how someone has turned out to become - just so I can tell myself I can move along myself.


Knowing a lot of things now does not make me love someone less.

Knowing does not make me care about someone less. Knowing does not make me hate someone. Knowing does not take away the pain overnight. Knowing does not erase the past, and knowing does not make it seem like a fantasy lived.

But knowing helps me heal. Fast or slow, I still don't know. But for sure, I know I will be better.

Simply because there is no reason for me not to be.

Knowing will perhaps help me understand how some things are not meant to be - now or ever, I don't know. Knowing helps me understand I am done with this episode of my life, and I should start a new one.

I know there will still be days when I would cry, when I would think about the past and think about how the future could've been. There will be times when I cry over the love lost, over the man that once existed but now is lost. But I hope those times come and go, and will not stay to haunt me.

For one, I am deciding to boycott all weddings. Sorry folks, I know I should be celebrating your happiness with you, but I don't want to dampen anyone's mood. =)


I surely hope the sad days don't hang around too long. Yes, I'll be alone most weekends, but hopefully being alone will not arouse the loneliness.

A rotten apple can upset my stomach for one day, or maybe two.

But after that, I'll be well enough to eat as many apples as I want. Given I'm wise enough to pick only the good ones to munch on.


I am a very sentimental person.

And I am not frivolous with my affections. If I decide I like something, it must mean I really really like it.

I am the sort who attributes life to every single piece of possession I own - my car, my pillows, my shoes.

I am the sort who keeps her favorite pair of Jordans ten years after they were broken down - simply because I love them too much to throw them away. You don't just throw a loved one away after he has broken down, do you?

My four-year-old pink Rifts are broken too, and I still have them on my shoe rack.

The second spare pair I have broke down barely a day after I started wearing them. I am still holding them up using safety pins. I don't know how long more I still can wear them, but the day they die on me, I know they'll be sitting nicely next to the original pair on my shoe rack.

I cannot find myself to throw away the memories, the man I once knew. If I still have faith in a pair of almost-broken shoes, how can I throw away the faith in a human whom I think still isn't broken down yet?

Having faith in someone doesn't mean wanting someone back by your side.

Having faith in someone means you only hope for the better for him, that he finds peace in his heart.

Having faith means not giving up on a friend, on someone you care about. It means not discounting someone just because he has lost himself.

Having faith means believing that people can still find themselves - if, and only if, they want to.


I am not taking back my words.

I did find the One. The man I knew was indeed the One, but the man I now know is no longer the one. The One I knew is now gone and non-existent in my life.

I had the luck to find it, but I also had the misfortune to lose it.

Just my luck.


Very soon, I'll be one year older.

But this time, I hope I'll grow six years wiser.

Sacrificial Lamb

"Good night. Try to sleep. Try very hard and be good to yourself for once."


I was a sacrificial lamb last night. There was a 'mission' to be accomplished but we were a little clueless how we were going about it.

A LOHAM was in need - from what the rest of us saw and knew. To help, or not to help, when no one was calling out for help?

I'm glad we did. I am glad another one of us has been spared a potential heartaching moment, and we all did the right thing.

I so wish someone could have helped me too a long time ago, and saved me from this sadness now. But who could've known?

Anyway, I didn't really do much. But I sacrificed myself by being the topic of the night.

I talked, despite my own skepticism and pain, just so all of us could believe LOHAM is a circle of trust.

Argh. And I sacrificed by downing 4 pints just so I could talk. I so had to drag my sorry ass out of bed with a heavy head this morning.


LOHAMkark - we all love you, you should know.

Helping you is the only thing we can do as fellow LOHAMs because we cannot bear to see you get hurt.

I now know, heartache and pain can be avoided - if, and only if, we think about our lives for ourselves and with a good head upon our shoulders.

Look at me now. Be smarter, ok?

Stuck

I sounded really bonkers, really cheesed off last night, didn't I?

Everytime I thought my moods were lifting higher, I get dumped back down the next moment.

It's like trying to pull yourself out of a quicksand pit - the sand sucks you in faster than you can pull yourself out.

The pits pull you down stronger than you can push yourself up.

You know what I mean? Maybe this will help you see.



I hit a high once, but I slided down since some point in time, and I can never really figure out exactly at which point.

Everytime I get a little better, I get more worse next.

How much lower can I still possibly get?


I was looking forward to rebuilding my life. I had some plans - changes in my life that would hopefully give me new things to work on, new things to put my hopes on, to propel me forward.

Now, that plan seems to be falling through. My mom is using emotional blackmail on me.

I am stuck where I am.

I was once supposed to be rescued, someone had promised me. I waited patiently for years, only to get dumped behind in this hell-hole.

Now I feel I can never get out of this place.

If I can never really get out of it till the day I die, I might as well stay out of it as much as I can.

You Against The World Now

Two sad women got together for a late-night chat.

They both faced almost the same problem. Except they came from the two different sides of the story.

They couldn't help each other. They could only be there to help each other cry, and to listen to the other.

One had badly needed company tonight - just someone, anyone. She was trying hard not to sound desperate in her messages, but all she got was non-replies and few other replies from folks who seemed to have more meaningful things to do than to hang out with her.

She understood completely. She understood this was what loneliness meant. She thought she had known what loneliness was, but she never really knew how it felt like until it hit her like a thunderbolt. Just like tonight.

Many a time tonight, she had just wanted to give up. But again, she stopped herself when she thought of her mom and her dogs.

Is this how it's going to be everyday, she thought? What kind of a life is this?

She found a quiet place to hide and to seek solace in by herself. She still had no one tonight.

She was ready to finish up her last pint and head for home, when she found out the other woman friend needed company too.


One said gravely in the end:
In a bigger sense, you realize it's not so much a case of you versus him or anyone else.

It becomes a case of you against the whole world.

The world is such now. Nobody is the same as you thought, and hoped, them to be no more.

It becomes a matter of whether you change to fit into the world, or you stick to your own beliefs and feel out of this world.

If you don't change, you lose him now, and you might lose another later in your life, and then again.

Still, I am choosing to stick to my beliefs.

This Industry

Why the fuck am I always surrounded by these people everywhere I go?

The cafes I hang out in, the quiet drinking places I seek refuge in.

These men and these women in that industry.

I don't have a problem with them hanging out where I hang out.

I have a problem seeing that the men and the women hang out together. Is that what they always fucking do?

Fuck, the men always seem to be 'bringing' these women out. What are these men thinking of? Why the fuck do they hang out with them, when they always complain these women are bitchy and whiny?

Oh, is it because they are pretty and good fun? They make these men look good, hanging out with pretty chicks?

What are these women thinking of? Maybe they are just having fun at these dates. Or maybe they think they've grabbed a good catch in their pockets?


I never had any problem with this industry. I never had a problem with the men in this industry, though I was wary of the women.

But now, I do.

Hearing the stories is one thing. Having it happen to me is another whole fucking thing.

I was never given a chance to trust this industry - these men and these women. I was never given a chance to live with it.

I am fucking destroyed by this industry.

This fucking industry has taken away my life, my everything, my all.

Fuck you for taking him away from me, when I was the one who gave him to you.

LOHAM

It's a truth we all had to accept.

A curse has befallen the group. And we had attributed it to the group name that we had embraced all these years.

SOFTees: Senile Old Folks Together.

What the fuck was that? Had we unwittingly sealed our own fate? That we would end up all old and senile together when we were all old grey-haired ladies?

So we had an EGM last night. The motion was to think of a new group name. Surprising turn-out there was.


The meeting was a success. We all voted unanimously (I think) for the new name.

LOHAMs: Lots Of Happiness And Money.

Now, that sounds much better, doesn't it?

At least, when we group together again some time later to find that all is still not well, we know who to pinpoint the blame on - the one who cleverly thought up of the new name.


I had suggested HOMies. Happy Old Mothers. At least, then we know we would live to a grand old age with a happy family with happy kids.

I suppose that wasn't well taken by all.


Lots Of Happiness And Money.

Fuck, I hope this comes true for me.

More

An email conversation went like this, just five days ago.

Me:
... Should I hang around longer since they want to groom me, but I cannot tahan the money now?
Or should I just look for job outside? Potentially worse job, but could be better - but I'd only settle for better money.
I really need more money.

Lyn:
... Just curious, what makes you say you really need more money? ...

Me:
... And why do I need more money?
Because I'm facing the reality that I might have to depend on myself for the rest of my life. I don't have the dual-income comfort I was looking forward to.
I'm 28, and I think by this time, I cannot be living like a 23-year-old.
I need my own space soon, I have a car to maintain, I have two dogs and am thinking of one more if I get my own place.
I want to travel, I want to take up courses. I want to save for my dog business. I want to splurge on myself. It is high time I think for myself, and not for anyone else.
I cannot live a life where I work-eat-drink-make merry with friends anymore.
I have to start building my own life.
I cannot depend on my parents anymore.
You know what I mean?


I surprised myself even, as I re-read what I wrote after hitting the 'send' button.
=)

Love and Marriage

Love and marriage
Love and marriage
They go together like a horse and carriage
This I tell you brother
You can't have one without the other

Love and marriage
Love and marriage
It's an institute you can't disparage
Ask the local gentry
And they will say it's elementary

Try, try, try to separate them
It's an illusion
Try, try, try and you will only come
To this conclusion

Love and marriage
Love and marriage
They go together like a horse and carriage
Dad was told by mother
You can't have one, you can't have none
You can't have one without the other

No Sir!

*****

Doesn't sound like the lyrics of a song?

I didn't think it did, but I loved the song since I first heard it. Not just because of the happy tune, but because of the words that advocate my beliefs.

Serenaded to by Ol' Blue Eyes, even over a CD player in the car along the highway, you can't help but get mesmerized by his deep smooth voice and believe that what he sings of does come true. Love and marriage... it's a possibility. I so love Sinatra.

But that was 1955.

Probably an era when people believed in love, they worked toward marriage and staying together, and infidelity and promiscuity were probably a much bigger taboo.

Sometimes I think I rightfully belong to the past. I don't belong here, not in this decade, not in this modern times, not in this fucked-up society, maybe not even in this world of fools, Don Juans, Elizabeth Taylors, broken marriages, free-lovers and fuck-buddies.

Maybe I'll be slammed by proponents of 'modern love' or 'modern living', for believing wholeheartedly in love and marriage, but that was truly what I believed in. Maybe I still do believe in it, but my confidence has been shaken badly.

Maybe it still holds true. But for it to happen, you probably need two same persons who believe in the same truth... and stand steadfastly by it.

When one believes, but the other doesn't, one gets crushed while the other simply moves on.

I sure know this for myself.

But how often in the world now would you get two such same persons to cross paths and fall in love?

Hardly, to the point of impossible. Just when you get so close to finding the one, the one whom you thought believed in the same kind of love and marriage as you, counting your blessings for having found true meaning in life, you lose it and realize it's just an illusion. A cruel joke played on you for the longest time.

The path crossed was a one-way wrong turn. We coudn't turn back, and we could only wish we hadn't taken the turn together in the first place.

I still believe in love and marriage - but I have given up on it. You can never trust anyone else in this world to entrust your whole life to. I am giving up the search. I don't have another six years of my life to give away for possibly nothing. I am going to save my love for myself and my dogs. I don't think I'll ever be lucky this life. I'll put my money on the next one.


Best friend Lyn and I had this conversation sometime two years back. She was getting pre-marital jitters, and we were talking about our loves, our men, and the same kind of trust we would give our men.

Two years ago. I was still full of love, full of trust, full of faith then.

She feared of an imaginery future when she would be stuck at home with the kids, while her husband would be out entertaining clients in clubs and pubs. She feared unnecessarily then of the day when she would become a frumpy mother and her husband would have dalliances behind her back.

I reassured her then. I promised I would always be there for her - I'd be the nicest 'Auntie' her kids would ever know. I still do, and I still will.

And I spoke proudly of my faith in my man then. I proclaimed he would never stray. He might seem mischievous but I knew he believed in us and he loved me too much to think of anything else that might jeopardize our future.

I then declared I loved him so much I was willing to give my all into this - to take a risk by investing my everything. Nothing could happen otherwise, anyway. I thought I was sure.

I had said too, that should my trust be betrayed, I would never look for love again. Should this fail, I knew I would be too heartbroken, too crushed to give love another chance.

If I were ever to lose him, I would channel all my energies into other passions of my life. I knew even then that I would have nothing left - no faith, no hope, no time, no energy - to try again.


Self-prophecies do come true, some say, So you should never try to predict your own life. Some things happen because you believe into them too much - subconsciously.

I am not superstitious, and I don't believe in that.

I only believe in myself and in God.


And speaking of prophecies, I once had a couple of 'fortune-telling' advice rendered when I wasn't even seeking it.

A friend, who claimed to know some fortune-telling, tried to work his prowess on me, took my palm and said, "You will have a hard life in your late twenties." Just like that.

I didn't actually believe, and I didn't take any 'precautionary' measures against his foresight.

But now, everything seems to have proven him right.

We were always in financial deficits, and we always barely had enough to make it through the month. The car would give us problems, the dogs would fall sick, there would be problems at home. Anything, everything that would suck our money away. I was so looking forward to the days when we would have a dual-income life, just so we could start saving for our own future.

And now. Now I am left in this state.

Old Mr Liu, our mentor in our team, had something else to offer me as well.

He's a nice old man, in his seventies. Used to broil us herbal soup to 'mend our legs' after trainings every Sunday at the school where he used to live. But ever since an excessive alcohol consumption messed up his poor old judgement, we always thought he tended to babble too much nonsense that perhaps we shouldn't take heed of.

So once, he looked at me - I don't think he looked at my palm, just my face, or maybe it was palm-reading, I can't remember.

And he said something I would've rather not known: "You will have a major illness in your forties." Just like that.

Great. No indication of the kind of illness, how major it would be, or if I would die from it.

Maybe he is going to be right as well.

Maybe that's why God is taking my precious one away from me now. Because I am not meant to have a future with him anyway. Maybe I am meant to die young.

I don't know.

I still don't believe in superstition nor in fortune-telling.

Neither do I believe in a lot of things in life now.


I wonder how God must be feeling now.

Why all his lamb on earth are going astray and being tempted by the wolves (all in sheep's clothing, possibly).

Why no one believes in his message about love and marriage now.

Why we have all allowed the devil to put an evil foot in our relationships now.

Last year, I remember I had five or maybe more weddings to attend to. Friends were getting married, friends getting attached, no one was breaking up.

This year, I had barely more than two wedding invites, and I have seen more break-ups than hitch-ups. Marriages, long-term relationships - everyone seems to have succumbed to temptation and no one seems to have faith anymore.

I think I know how God is feeling. Maybe sad, but still faithful in us.

Sorry God - I think I'm going to give up. I'll channel the love elsewhere more worthy in my life.

And remember, I'm all for you to bring home anytime.

Stoopid

I don't know what the fuck I'm doing these days.

I dropped a cheque at the bank to pay off my bills. Only to have it returned to my mailbox.

I had forgotten to transfer the money into my checking account. Fuck.

Now, I'm slapped with an additional $40 'service charge'.


The way the gas prices are rising, I think my petrol expense is going to double this month.

Sheesh.

Stop

Much as I am trying hard to stop thinking about him all the time, everything in this tiny little island just reminds me of him somehow.

Everywhere I go reminds me of him.

Driving along the ECP on my way to work reminds me of how I would drive him to and from work in the wee hours when he would be taking a quick snooze or in the peak hours when we would both be cursing and hoping he would not be late.

Driving past the East Coast Park reminds me of one of our very first dates, when we were both poor students then, where he paid a bomb (anything more than fifty bucks was considered a bomb to us then) for a sumptuous seafood meal at Punggol Seafood. I remembered taking a cab was too luxurious for our means, so we would walk hand-in-hand cross the underground passage to the tiny bus station at Siglap. It was surely a long ride back to our hall, but those bus rides... damn, the car brought us much convenience but those bus rides were really fun times. I remember it was also the very first time I ate live drunken prawns. I was so amazed, and shocked at the same time, seeing how the poor prawns were boiled to death, right in front of my very eyes, in a pot of very delicious wine-soup.

Driving past Marina South reminds me of our pool days. He was my pool master, my teacher. I would always try my darnest to beat him in a game, because he was always so 'ya-ya'. But whenever I won, I would accuse him of letting. Haha, what a bitch.

Driving past Marina South also reminds me of that stupid freaky biking accident. That night-cycling trip I tagged along in the name of the 'Sports Sec's girl'. Where I skidded on a curve in the park and got my ligament torn when the bike fell on my knee. He wasn't around me then, but he rushed over and carried me to the van where I stayed for the rest of the trip.

Marina South also reminds me of the day he first brought me to visit the park, and up to the breakwater where the view was breath-taking. We were alone then, so we took out the tripod stand and started taking experimental pictures of ourselves with the then-newly-acquired camera.

Driving past Zouk reminds me of how I would drop him off or pick him up at the Copthorne on his crew-night sessions.

Driving past Chinatown reminds me of our usual toiletry-shopping trips - they are so cheap at the People's Park Market. And of our supper nights of porridge.

Driving past Geylang also reminds me of our frog-leg porridge nights, our durian-shopping trips when he would always egg me on to illegally park alongside the road.

Driving into town and parking my car at my favorite Anguilla Park reminds me of too many things we always did in town on weekends - movies, shopping, Borders. How I would dance for him in the streets, in the malls upon his request - he would hold my hand and I would twirl around for him.

Walking into Taka reminds me of the time we walked into Tiffany's and he tried finding out my ring size.

Driving past Thomson reminds me of how we would walk into Joy Doggy to buy the usual dog food and to look at the puppies inside the cages, the couple of impromptu massage sessions we indulged in when we lost self-control. He would always scorn at my idea of getting a third pup, but I remember once he was seriously looking at the pups and the price tags, and he said, "When we get our own place, we can consider getting another pup." Oh, my elation then!

Driving past Adam Road reminds me of our favorite prawn noodles. How he would buy me that freakin' $7-a-bowl of big-prawn noodles, something I would never buy if I were on my own.

Driving past NIE reminds me only of basketball, he playing, we playing.

Now, driving past a certain area near my office reminds me only of the pain and hurt he has brought me.


So, having to put him out of my mind is not that easy. There is no other 'state' here that I can move to. I could try hanging out at new places - but where can I possibly go? Ulu Sembawang?

Damn, even ulu Sembawang reminds me of how he first brought me to Sembawang Shopping Center, a place I'd always heard of but never been before. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't even have driven to Sembawang my whole life.


Having to put him out of my mind feels like I have to purge a lot of things out of me. And I am not quite sure if that is the way to go, because it might mean losing a big part of myself, cutting out a big chunk of my memories.

In time, when I build a new life on my own, I may eventually forget all these places, all the things these places mean to me now.

But I know I will never forget the words he'd ever said to me - words that seemed so soothing and reassuring then, but could not be trusted in the end.


Friends will always remind me of him. And so will the places. The malls. The food. The dogs. My room.

I only have myself to consciously stop all these thoughts from invading my mind.

Maybe I should play mahjong, to keep my mind occupied in something worthless. But fuck, he was also my mahjong master.

There's really nothing I can do.

No Life

I am really becoming life-less.

I was almost going crazy tonight. Getting stuck in the office - consciously or subconsciously - till 9 on a Friday night has never been my personal motto. I always tell colleagues never to work overtime on a precious Friday night - "It's the weekend," I would always proclaim.

Friday nights and Saturdays were once my precious days of the week. Those were the times I would get to spend time having fun with him - dinners, movies, shopping, pool, bringing the girls to the beach, lounging. Anything, but we would be together.

Now, I dread the weekends. And somehow I feel they are coming a little too fast. I would rather live Mondays to Fridays anytime now.

I have to stop reminiscing the past. I have to consciously tell myself.


I didn't want to call up friends tonight; I don't want anyone to sacrifice their precious Friday nights for me. I don't want to have to start talking about this. Friends remind me of him. Most of all, I fear rejection.

Today is just one of those days where you feel like being alone, but fear being alone.


I was just about to hit the cafe alone again when my 'newfound' drinking buddies rang me up.

I'm so grateful I have these guys now. They are my twice-weekly companions, and they have no qualms asking me to join in the group. Though I suspect they must be wondering why I am always able to turn up - anytime, anywhere. Why I am so no-life.

Oh, and they comment my MSN nick depresses them so much, they don't have a desire to send me a message everytime I pop up online.

They make me drinks, and they make me laugh now. Most of all, they never knew him personally. So they never ask me anything about him. Which makes me relieved. Which is probably why I'd rather hang out with them now.

Sometimes I just don't want to talk - about what happened, and about how I am. It doesn't feel good having to admit I am not feeling good. I drink, I laugh. But sometimes, I would sink into a stoned mood all of a sudden, thinking about him. Wondering how he is, or where he is. Thinking I would be with him right now if I weren't with these guys. Then I snap back into reality and start drinking and laughing again till I next hit the stoned mood.

I have to stop that as well. Thinking about him. Nobody is thinking of me, I have to constantly remind myself.


I fear rejection.

But that is how I feel right now - rejected. I never really said 'yes' to giving this up, I recall. But it doesn't really matter now. It is not a matter of what I want, what I wish.

I feel so rejected, so cast aside, so mis-used. When I don't think I deserve it all.


Anyway. I have to also stop talking about him. Another constant conscious reminder.

I am dreading having to think what I'm going to do tomorrow, and then the next.

Friends kindly suggested: Go do things you've always wanted to do, but never really did.

Yeah, good idea. But things I've always wanted to do but never did, were never done because I couldn't afford the money, not the time, to.

Travel.

Photograhy courses.

Splurging on myself.

Moving out and getting myself my own pad.

Raising another puppy.

Well, ok, blind dates are free but not quite what I have in mind, thank you very much.

So, maybe that's why I am doing nothing everyday now. Not wanting to meet friends, yet having nothing new to indulge in.

I cannot wait for the end of the month when I get my bonus paycheck. Then I can get some relief after clearing all the bills and the car stuff. And then I will save the rest - I need to save for my future now. The last one I had is gone.

Oh, but my drinking buddies have offered to whisk me away to Bangkok for a 'wasting' weekend. The itinerary would be to go for massages in the day, then hitting the clubs in the night. They claim the night scene there is fantastic.

I am hoping they would bring me to my first 'Tiger' show.

Bath

The precious needs a bath. Badly.

But the girl-owner seems a tad too lazy. And maybe she just isn't in the mood to polish her pride.

Well, actually, she is fretting over the choices she has. Not very yummy ones too.

"Washing a car is not a woman's job," she remembers.

So, the choices put forth to her are as such:

(a) She could continue doing what she did once - bring a pail down to the carpark, hang around ouside the men's loo at the gas station, and shamelessly plead with the taxi uncles to fetch her a pail of water for at least a few rounds.

(b) She could exchange her precious with one of Miss Tan's for just one day - just so Miss Tan's poor maid could wash it for her. (Yes, just a day would do because the poor maid apparently washes the car every morning.)

(c) She could simply send her precious in for a quickie car-wash at one of those gas stations. Cheap and most convenient, yes. But they would ruin her precious's shine - after all the money she had spent on 'Glaring' the car, it was probably the worst after-treament she could give her precious. Moreover, ever since she'd learnt that the brains behind this car-wash business had already earned his millions, she'd decided to boycott this scam targetted at lazy bums once and for all.

(d) She could drive her precious all the way back to her university, where there is a quiet carpark right by the basketball courts. There is a tap right next to the football pitch where the footballers would wash their boots after a muddy game. Not the most convenient method - time-consuming and not-very-ethical. But this is probably the only way she doesn't have to rely on anyone else to clean her precious.


Yeah, maybe that's just what she'd do.

It might bring back some painful memories, but the precious needs his bath nonetheless.

Arowana

I love arowana.

Having been a four-legged-creature lover for years, my eyes were suddenly opened to the beautiful aquatic world of color years ago, by someone in my life. There was a time when we would spend long hours on lazy weekends, scouring down fish farms in the most deserted places. We would do nothing but stroll and stare at tanks after tanks of fish.

I could never appreciate the beauty in fish - after all, they do nothing but swim round and round the tank everyday, and they are not like my dogs who would lick and kiss and play with you anytime. Gosh, you can't even walk a fish - how do you then nurture feelings with one?

I started looking at arowana with more genuine interest. I love that they have a stoned but serious look on their faces, they exude grandeur with their large shiny bodies and in the way they swim around, and I love those two little whiskers at the tip of their lower lips.

I cannot profess to be an arowana expert, but I think I'm good enough to tell a beauty from one not.

Even at the height of the silly cock-headed Flower-Horn craze, I admired only arowana.


***

Six years ago, I got myself a beautiful arowana.

I had been eyeing the little fella for a while, and he had also been flirting with me through the glass tank everytime we met. He was only then a tiny little fish, barely ten inches long. I wasn't good at picking out a good arowana then, but there was just this indescribable emotional connection with this particular one.

He wasn't exactly, by 'expert' standards, a 'good catch' then.

He had that two little whiskers, alright. But he had one fin less, his tail was chipped, he was dull in color and had no sparkle in his scales. And I thought he looked sad - he wasn't a happy little fish. But he perked up everytime he saw me, and he would swim faster round and round just to be able to look at me through the glass.

Friends would say, raising arowana is no easy feat, time-consuming and expensive. It can even be heartbreaking when the fish dies, after all that you've put into it. If you must, don't buy that one. Look at it now, it won't grow to be beautiful. You're just going to waste your efforts and money.

I should've heeded my friends' advice, but I knew only to heed my heart. My heart told me only, that is the one.

So I took the risk, paid for my arowana and put it right away in a tank in my house. My arowana didn't cost me much then; it was only a small little unwanted fish. I think the seller must've been glad to let it go; he must also have thought, this is a silly girl.

Over the years, I spent enormous amounts of money and efforts to feed and raise my arowana. It grew and it grew. My arowana seemed glad too that he had finally found home. It no longer looked sad, and we spent many happy moments together - he being there for me everytime I needed someone to 'talk' to. He made me smile and cheered me up amazingly, I don't know how. Sometime later, I noticed my arowana would swim up close to the glass tank, and stick his lips right there. My arowana seemed to want to kiss my fears and worries away. How I loved my arowana.

I thought and prayed my arowana would never die on me.

My arowana grew and grew in the first two or three years. Very soon, I was buying more food, and better-grade ones. I started buying worms and prawns for him as well. I only wanted the best for him.

I had to be sure his living conditions were only best for him as well. Water had to be cleaned and treated, and filters maintained every week. This was a chore, but I did them all patiently because I wanted only my arowana to be happy and healthy.

By the time my arowana grew to almost more than a foot long, I had to throw away the old tanks and spend on four-foot one. Yes, cleaning it would pose even a bigger chore now, and the filtration system seemed more complicated for me to maintain now, but at least, my arowana would have more waters to swim in.

If my arowana is going to spend the rest of his life with me, this should be a good investment, I convinced myself.

They say, one looks most beautiful when one is happiest.

I suppose this is true for fish as well.

From a tattered and torn fish that nobody wanted, my arowana grew to be as grand as those you see winning competitions and such. Yes, he remained one-fin-less, but his tail grew out beautifully, and his eyes no longer looked dull. His scales still had flaws, but my! The colors and shine he exuded from his body.

He swam around with dignity and pride. He was a playful fish who would play with friends who came by, and even with my dogs. My dogs adored him.

And most of all, my pride turned out to be one true happy fish. I was proud of what I had done, and of what he had become.

But happiness eludes me always.

One year ago, my arowana changed. No, he was still healthy, still big and bright and beautiful. But he no longer wanted to play best friends with me.

I continued feeding him with prawns and worms. I continued cleaning his tank, making sure he would never fall sick. He continued to feed off the food I gave him. But feeding time became simply feeding time.

He no longer perked up and swam with excitedness everytime I came near. He no longer swam to the glass to give me my kisses. He would swim away when I came close, and he wouldn't look at me when I tried talking to it.

It hurt, because he looked happy playing with my dogs.

A while later, my arowana grew sad. And I couldn't figure out why.

Hadn't I been giving him the best foods? Hadn't I been making sure he stayed comfortable? Hadn't I continued trying to talk to him, to play with him? Hadn't I shown him enough love and care over all these six years?

I wished my arowana could tell me about his sadness. But then, arowana don't talk, even if they wanted to.

My arowana grew so sad, he started refusing food from me. His scales deteriorated, and he lost weight and his beautiful shine. His two whiskers drooped all the time, and his one-fin-less became somehow more prominent.

Petrified, I started asking around for help . Was my arowana sick? Was he dying?

No. My arowana wasn't ill. No one could figure out for me what had happened to my arowana.

I knew. I knew that my arowana had simply become an unhappy fish.

Maybe my arowana had grown sick and tired of me, his long-time owner. Maybe he yearned for a change of environment, a new tank, a new owner to play with. Maybe he wanted to swim in the ocean even - where he could meet and play around with other fish.

Let him go, I heard them say. He is not sick, and he is not going to die anytime soon. But you're going to continue feeding it, cleaning his tank, talking to him. And he is not going to appreciate anymore of that. You're going to be wasting your money, your efforts, and your love on something that no longer reciprocates. Sell him back to the fish shop, I'm sure he'll fetch a good price.

He's a good catch now.

It took me a long long time, trying to figure out what went wrong, and what I could do to make things better for him. It seemed there was nothing I could do to make it better - except to let him go. Maybe that would be the only way my arowana would be a happy fish that he once was again.

My arowana had earned his wings, and was now ready to fly away. I had to learn to recognize that.

I gave him to the fish shop; I didn't sell him. I refuse any monetary gains out of him.

Nobody saw the good and beauty in him six years ago, but I did. I loved and nurtured him from a sad beginning, just so he could be the most beautiful arowana he could become. I didn't raise him so I could make money out of him.

I only wanted him to be happy and to be with me for the rest of his life. I had never thought of ever letting him go.

He was a sad little fish, but I nurtured him to be a beautiful one that nobody ever believed he could become. Now that he's all grown to be one true beauty, other people are eyeing him and want to make him theirs. Do they want to make money out of you? Or do they truly appreciate you? I'll never know.

My arowana, you still have one fin less. Your scales are still imperfect. Your tail is prone to deterioration. You need only the best care to make you beautiful again. You needed me all this while, but it seems you don't need me now.

I hope you find the next new owner who would love you as much as I did, and who would clean your tank and feed you the best prawns like I painfully did.

I will always be thinking in whose home, and in whose tank you would belong to next.

***

Raising arowana is indeed no easy feat. And as I've learned, it can be a painful, heartbreaking experience as well.

Will I still look for another one? I don't think so, but I'll never know.

The right arowana for you doesn't just appear in just about any fish shop.

I don't even know if I'd ever step into a fish shop again. Even if I do, I don't know if I would look at arowana the same way I did before. I am fearful of that emotional connection, and listening to my heart again.

Most of all, I'll still be thinking of my arowana that I once had.

Maybe I should've just stuck to those damned ugly Flower Horns.

Better, I Hope

It's never nice to learn about things that happened a long time ago, and yet had been kept from you all this while.

It never fails to make you feel like a complete fool, a big idiot, to have been kept in the dark for so long - especially while you'd been so trusting.

Trust is painfully given, but easily abused. It's all but a vicious cycle.

But then, learning about it now is pretty much inconsequential.

The hurt from it is insignificant against the hurt from everything now, but it sure adds to it.

Could the pain have been lessened then if I had known about it more than a freakin' year ago? Perhaps. I wish.


I didn't manage to see the pups after all.

The family who had thrown away the pups has now taken them back, and demanding a selling price from suckers like us who are dying to save them.

Fuck you. We'll see what the SPCA might say.

I don't know why, but I am really intent on bringing one of them pups home with me.

The paws look big from the pictures; the pup might grow to become a huge pup four times the size of Piper. It sure does look like a retriever - golden or lab, I can't tell yet. I'd have to squeeze the dog into my house if I were to keep it.

Maybe then Mommy will be forced to look for a space of her own - for just herself and her three kids.

My imagination is running wild again.


And speaking of hangovers, I feel like I'm in a perpetual state of hangover everyday now.

The head feels heavy when I wake.

The stomach is always queasy and flipping upside down, and rejecting all kinds of food.

I tried to take breakfast this morning - a first for me. The unappealing kaya toast was practically forced down my throat by huge gulps of kopi-o.

In an unsuccessful bid to quell all talk about my weight, I tried to fatten myself up for dinner. Definitely not one who adores cream and cheese and milky stuff, I always have my beloved pasta cooked in tomato-based sauces.

But without much thought tonight, I ordered my spaghetti cooked Alfredo - full of milky cream, cheese, egg and ham. The rich taste of cream wasn't something I was quite used to.

I left half the plate unfinished.

But I think I'm surely getting better. At least the desire to eat has returned; now I only have to coax my stomach into accepting whatever I stuff down my throat - willingly.

I think I'll go for my prawn noodle tomorrow. I am missing it.


I think maybe I'm getting better.

The urge to cry still comes, I don't deny. But the frequency is much less now - I hope.

And the tears don't last for long now. Maybe it's weariness. Maybe the wells are dry. Or maybe I'm really starting to wonder if this is worth any more of my precious tears.

The sadness still remains, I don't deny as well. And the hurt too. And, maybe... maybe just that little tiny bit of hope in me.

I am not quite used to being alone. I have urges now and then to share some moment with someone - like the time I found out the stupid petrol price has gone up by a freakin' 20 cents - and it's hard to swallow when I realize I don't have someone to share little silly things in my life now.

There's no one to seek advice from when I have big decisions to make in my life. I'm all by myself, all for myself now.

The sudden unexpected freedom feels a little scary now. But everyone tells me it's for the better.

Is it really?

Birthdays will be different. So will be Christmases. And most of all, Chinese New Years.

I may be better by these occasions. But I know I'll be thinking where you may be during those times.


I did some talking again tonight. I'd have usually felt bad for letting it out again, against your wishes.

But tonight, I'm glad I did. It makes me feel better, for once. I'm sorry if it frustrated you, but I made myself feel much more at ease letting it out to the ears I want to reach.

There is nothing shameful in admitting your pain, your fears, your emptiness, and in professing your love for someone while you still feel it.

You only feel sorry if you miss the chance while you still had it.

New Life

It was the first time in a very long while that I fell asleep on the bed without even changing out of my clothes, and taking a shower last night.

Yes, I was that tired.

I did, though, wake up with a startle at 5 in the morning, remove the contact lenses from my eyes, and fall back into bed again.

The only other time that ever happened to me was probably about seven years ago - I got so pissed at Mambo (I remember we were celebrating the end of exams and Sasy and I started downing one jug of Long Island at one go, just between the two of us; I recall not seeing the clock past 12 midnight that day), my very nice friends had to carry me up to my room and dump me on the big cushion on the floor (for fear that I might just start barfing on my bed).

I remember waking up at 6 the next day and trying my darnedest to recall what happened the night before. I am still absolutely clueless till today.

It has never quite happened again in my life so far (except for the one time in Manila where my then-boss made me drunk on Tequila on my virgin business trip out) - it is no fun having to pass out before the night is over, it is terribly embarrassing and leaves one no grace, and the hangover is simply too horrible to relive again.

But I remember too, that the fateful night I got pissed at Mambo, I was feeling particularly down and upset then as well. Over one particular person. Over a love that wasn't mine yet.

Well, now that the love is no longer mine again, I hope I have the good sense not to break my record of staying sober enough.


Yesterday was just one of 'em really-terrible days.

Well, just imagine: if, during a period of already-terrible times, you are getting really-terrible days still, it must be really really bad, really really terrible.

Just try to imagine as best as you can, from your own experience.

Yeah, it was something like that for me yesterday.


Today feels a little better.

The office is pretty quiet; most folks have the good sense to take a day off today so they could enjoy an ultra-long weekend.

I simply took it easy at work today.


Piper's yeast problem is not going away. She has just been given yet another jab and more pills to take.

Dr Ling has nicely given me some samples of some 'specially-formulated' food so Piper could try them out, just to confirm if it was some food allergy that has been causing all the skin problems.

The samples don't look like they are going to last me anything more than three days, and 'any food test is supposed to last for at least ten weeks.'

Very nice, Dr Ling.

I'd have to call and make special orders for the food, pick them up from the vet each time, and 'specially-formulated' food apparently doesn't come cheap, she says sheepishly.

Sweet, Dr Ling. Thanks for the nice advice. Looks like I'm going to end up spending more on dog-food than on me-food.


As if I don't have enough dog problems.

I fear I might just do something on impulse later in the evening.

I know I am not going to think straight - and right. Not at this time now.

I am going to view some four-week-old puppies, that have been found abandoned somewhere.

I hope a new 'baby' brings me a new lease of life. And that some pup finds a new lease of life in me as well.