Tumor

I saw a huge tour group of Japanese men at the airport.

Huge, as in perhaps a hundred or more of them.

Group of men, as in only men. No women.

And the scary sight bothered me. The first thought on my mind? Were they here for a sex tour?

Like the group of Japanese men who were arrested for organizing a massive orgy in one of the hotels in China some time ago? Not that I'm a pervert or maniac or something. The news stuck in my mind because the whole idea just disgusts me.

Maybe they heard about Batam. How the Singaporean men are getting a better deal than they do.

Or else, tell me. What else can the tour group be organized for?

Oh, a group organized for those interested in an electronic goods buying spree? Nah, I don't think so. They get their electronics much cheaper where they come from.

Japanese men.

Ho kua bo ho jiak.

Nice to see, not nice to eat.


I saw an "SGA" car on the road.

A measure of time for me has always been the progression of the car license plates on the roads.

And I never fail to go, "Wah, so fast! SGA liao."


*****

My life continues to be sad.


My best friend's eldest dog is dying of a brain tumor. Non-operable. Not long to live for.

The first message that greeted me when I was getting off the plane. I wanted to cry right there and then.

How can it be? He was looking so fine a few months back. Though he definitely didn't seem so since a couple of months ago.


My neighbor, with whom I have no other reason to bond than our schnauzers, had two of them.

Now he has only one of them.

It's a shock. I'd just seen the four of them - Papa, Mama and the two boys - taking their nightly stroll at the void deck a few weeks ago.

Cancer. Non-curable.

Just like that? So fast?


Mac, you're a good boy. You've always been.

Your mama loves you the most. Though she says she's not, I know it better.

I love you too, Mac. You are just so one of a kind. The other people would never understand, how one dog will always be different from the others. Only people like your mama and I would know.

And your mama and I know you're one best boy she'd ever have.

I'm going to miss you, Mac.


God, please don't take our dogs away just like that. Not like that. Not with incurable horrible sicknesses.

Dogs deserve it so much better than us human companions.

What have they done to deserve pain? All they ever do is to love and wait for us patiently everyday.

We do so much more wrong in our lives than our dogs. Give us the pain, instead.

Please take good care of Mac when he sees you, God.

We know he's in good hands.

That's where I wanna go too.

Fashionista

It's a cool, windy morning. I think the weather is turning wintery-cold.

Corduroy pants feel so warm and nice in weather like this. I'm glad I'm wearing them now. Except I'm still in my birkies and my toes are still shivering.

I didn't know the temperature could go as low as zero during winter in HK. Now that's something new.

No wonder the fashionista-wannabes here pile on the winter coats and walk around like polar bears.

Just imagining it makes the sight look cute. Actually seeing it is quite disturbing.


Oh, the people sure have a 'distinctive' sense of fashion. Not very well-appreciated, though, may I add.

There's all the weird color combinations, the Chuck Taylors, the Harajuku-wannabes, the layered hairstyles, the caps and all. A distinctive 'copycat' sense of fashion, that is. My penchant for weird colors and caps actually makes me look pretty much well-blended in with the crowd, so XL says. Which is a horror.

I'm pretty obsessed with the boots though. But I'm going home with none. They are all too expensive. =(


The way I wear my cap is all too wrong for HK fashion, so Mr & Mrs Sharkey say.

And this is how it should be worn, 'on top' of the head and tilted to the side. Thanks to my new fashion gurus. =)




I've been feeling pensive all morning.

There are things I want to talk about, but I don't think it's wise to.

Nobody would understand.


See you.

Chocolate

In spite of the idea that chocolate is detrimental to the skin, the opposite could in fact be true. Good quality, high-cocoa chocolate, with little added sugar, is especially rich in antioxidants, many of which may have beneficial anti-ageing properties. Enjoy in moderation, though.

Wahaha!

I also like the very sound of that! =)

Honor Your Truth

Honor yourself and your truth as you know it at all times and regardless of how much you love anyone else or what anyone else wants for you.

I like the sound of that very much.


These very nice-sounding words come right out of this book I'm currently reading.



It is one of them books I picked up at Borders. On impulse.

But well, so far so good. The first few pages just struck me like a thunderbolt.

To any twenty-something girl out there, if you're just not happy in your life because you just lost it all, or even though you seem to have it all - you might want to pick this up.

I haven't seen how this book has helped me, but maybe you might.

Chou Dou Fu

Wheeee!!

It was practically mission-impossible in Hong Kong, but I actually found a cafe right smack in Causeway Bay that provides free wi-fi! And great skinny latte to boot.

A quaint little bookstore on the second level of an old building, it is so obscure I would've missed it if I hadn't been so hungry for coffee.

Good thing most books sold here are Cantonese, so I wouldn't care much for them. And so I wouldn't be spending more money on books again.

I'm more interested in the wi-fi, honestly. So I'm just sitting on the sofa right next to the big window that serves a great view of Times Square - and the crazy flock of people walking around.



I love the cup and the saucer and the teaspoon that serve my latte. So quirky. I would've bought some back home - if I still had plans to set up my own place. But I don't, so I'm saving my money.



Hongkies speak loud. As in, real loud. Absolutely just like the Chinese in the mainland. I'm stuck between plugging in to my iPod and straining my ears to listen to 'Tong Hua'. Such a pity. Great music but noisy ambience.

So people, if you are sucker for free wi-fi cafes with great lattes just like I am, it's People Bookstore for you. Causeway Bay, right across from Times Square, second level next to the huge Eu Yan Sang store.

As if anyone else would care... hmm.


*****

I realize I maciam look so pro.

Carrying a pro-looking camera, using a pBook, telling people I wanna put their store name on my 'web site'.

(What else could I have said? Would they understand a 'blog'?)

I could easily pass off as some travel journalist, couldn't I? Hur.

Which, by the way, really happens to be one of my dreams. To be a travel journalist.


*****

The number of people in Hong Kong is amazing. Crazy amazing. Crazy irritating amazing.

And I am taking back my words.

I have a love-hate relationship with Hong Kong.

I love the stuff they sell but I hate the crowds I have to jostle with. I hate the rudeness of the people. I hate the chirpy way the girls in the retail stores greet you.

I love this cafe but I hate the restaurants.

*****

Ooh! My first whiff of 'smelly beancurd' today.

And it really REALLY stinks. REALLY stinko. Big-time. Gawd.

One-time experience is more than enough.

Bad

I am such a screw-up.

Full stop.

It was just so wrong. What was I thinking?


The weather's beautiful today. Sunny but windy.

Nobody wears slippers like I do my Birkies here in Hong Kong. Everyone's in shoes. Or boots.

My toes were actually feeling cold out on the streets.


There's so much to see - and buy - here.

I think I'm falling in love with Hong Kong.

I used to think Tokyo is the one city I could never live in, albeit the fascination with the place, because I'd be a badder-than-bad girl.

Now I think Hong Kong is having the same effect on me. Ha.


I am feeling real strange today.

I'm like here, but not really here.

Don't ask me what I did. I don't know what I did.

It'll come back to haunt me, I know.


Checking out of the Langham.

Taking the subway to Wan Chai, where my next adventure in Hong Kong shall begin.

So looking forward to see you, girl. =)

Minus Two

Oh dear.

I just dropped another 2 kilos off the weight I always insist I am.

Damn these weighing machines in the toilets of the hotel rooms.

FZ30'd

A Thai colleague once said to me, "When I first met you, I didn't know you were Singaporean. I thought you were Malaysian."

Er... ?

I furrowed my brows and screwed up my face. Why Malaysian? How could she tell anyway?

We Singaporeans can't even tell ourselves apart from the folks across the Causeway. At least not until they open their mouths and speak in their accented Mandarin.

"Oh, because you look like Malay-Chinese mix." (In her own exact words, ok.)

Wow. First time someone says I look 'chap zeng'.


I think I do have one kind of an 'universally local' face, though.

When I'm in Bangkok, the locals start speaking to me in Thai.

In Manila, folks speak to me in their native Tagalog.

When I was in Tokyo, people spoke to me in Japanese.

Here in Hong Kong, everyone speaks to me in Cantonese. Maybe it helped that I took care not to dress too shabbily here.

In Tokyo, I can take it if the Japs look so darned good and I fade away in the background. I liked walking along the streets of Tokyo like I were the 'Invisible Girl', watching the fascinating people but not getting noticed myself. But somehow here in Hong Kong, I just feel this need to look as good as those Hongkie girls do. Maybe I'm really secretly harboring a thought: if I were to get noticed by some cutie here, at least I could reply when they chat me up. Hiak.

But then, down here no cutie leh. I just hope, not yet. Ha.

But the strangest yet happened in the streets of Portland and Seattle.

The blonde-haired, white-skinned locals started asking me for directions.

I'm like, Hello?!

Strange enough, though, I always happened to know of the places they were looking for. How weird. Funny-haha-weird.


*****

Oh, did I already mention my heart was pinched yet again?

I am officially FZ30'd. No joke. It happened so fast the night before I came to Hong Kong - and just before I had to rush for my basketball training - I didn't really have time to feel the real pinch yet.

Then again, I hope I won't feel any. It sure is bigger and bulkier, and so is the ugly case. But I hope it's really as good as 'they all say'.

Sigh...


*****

My business trip has officially ended. And it's only half past three on a Friday afternoon.

I'm back in the hotel room, and while I feel this urge to rest my eyes and continue sleeping away the San Migs, I also can't wait to hit the streets and malls.

I'm gonna get me a pair of boots. Er... say only lah.

Or, perhaps I should take my FZ30 out on its virgin mission.

Or, maybe that can wait till tomorrow.

And speaking of which, I don't know yet what my plans are for the weekend. I don't even know why I'm staying here in Hong Kong over the weekend.

I think I'm just carrying on with plans that were almost made with someone. I actually thought he was for real when he said he could look me up in Hong Kong. Well, it sounded so real. How could I have contained the excitement?

I should've known better.

How could he have really meant anything?

I think I'm going out for more drinks tonight. And dancing. I need to dance.

And right now, I really think I need to get out of the room.

Housekeeping just called to ask when they could come up to make my room up.

Darn.

Gan Cheong Spider

I am so damned.

I have a deadline this morning, and was supposed to be hitting my laptop last night in the hotel room after dinner. Well, there wasn't really dinner for me... unless you counted the San Migs.

But I ended up having a few more rounds at the hotel lounge instead. Darn those Japanese and Hongkie colleagues of mine.

I fell asleep, waiting for the PowerPoint to start up on my laptop. Can't blame me, can you?


So now, I'm not quite an ant, but a little 'gan cheong' spider. Only 4 hours left before the presentation.

Wake up! Work!


*****

Sometimes I wonder, too - if I'm being missed as much as the dogs are by someone.

That said, I do hope the girls get to go out this weekend while Mommy is not around.

Ant

In the cruel reality now that is your life, I wonder sometimes where I stand.

Amidst all that is going through your mind now, am I even there?

Am I just a pawn in your own little game?

Am I tinier than the tiny ants that run around your kitchen? Even those ants garner your attention when you try to kill them.

What am I, really?


When and how did our world, my universe stop revolving?

Just like Sarah, I'll never know why you stopped.

Just like how you could do so with others, why couldn't you accord the same honesty to me?

Why do I always have to think myself to death?

And just in case you didn't know, I am not any better than I thought I had been.

I am not even good.


There are stuff you've given me that I treat as precious.

But now these very things make me feel a certain sense of guilt, and definitely not a lot of self-worth.

I look at them and I wonder if I'd gotten myself tripped and fallen deeper.

Especially now that I know I am not the only one.


Money.

The things it can do to you when you don't have it.

And the things it can do to others when you do have it.


Good for you. Too bad for me. If I were strong enough to say.

I wish I could be the one to treat you like an ant instead.

He Just Stopped

I have a thing for romantic comedies. Somehow, strangely.

Especially when you have one with a quirky pairing like Diane Lane and John Cusack, both charmers in their own rights, you just can't help but to give this a go.

And when the title goes "Must Love Dogs", there you have me captivated.


I watched it on my flight up to HK. And a few times during the movie, I almost cried.

Not that it was touching in any way, but everything that was said and felt by Sarah the divorcee just struck me like a knife pierced right through my heart.

Everything just struck my chord.

I was wanting to cry for myself.


When asked why she divorced at her age, with a long pause and much self-deprecation, she replied:

"He just stopped loving me. I don't know what I did or what I didn't do. He just... stopped."

I almost cried here.

FZ30 or FX9?

Ooh. Yummy.



This is what I really drool after. Though I haven't found out the price-tag.

If that fails, I still can settle for this.



But between the two, you know me.

I'd go for 'big and bulky' anytime.

And I'm forgoing my favorite Canons this time. They all say, "Panasonic Lumix is good!"

I'm such a sucker.

I still have the rest of the day to ponder over this.

And some other more mind-niggling stuff.

I need to find a way for myself before I break.

Bad Move

I made another bad move.

I changed my nick momentarily to a more morbid one. And the flurry of messages came over msn.

Thanks guys. I didn't mean to ruffle any feather.

I am just being me.

Better Off Dead

I am not stupid.

So why make me feel so?

I can see. I can feel. I have better senses than you'd ever know.

I am not dumb.

So why am I acting so?

I know. I know love makes one act stupid. But I think I'm way overboard.

Both in the loving bit. And in the acting stupid bit.

If the love hurts. If the love makes you look way more stupid than you should. If the love is never going to bring you the happiness you seek.

Then what good is the love?

Why am I still so hung up? This is like the love hangover.

No aspirin is going to cure it. No amount of sleep is going to get me over it.

What then?

I really wish I could have a gun that would zap all my memories away.

I really wish I could have a time-mobile that would bring me back to where I was years ago, where hopefully I would make a better choice then. A choice of not making you part of my life.

I really wish I could have a change of heart, and a change of my brain. A change where I would have a mind that would rule over my heart.

I really wish I had a different life altogether. A life where I would be happy, at least.

I really wish I had been a better person. A whole different person.

And sometimes I really wish the clock of death would strike soon.

Maybe then, the hangover would be cured. Once and for all.


I just want to end this all.

But where is the courage I need?

When will I ever stop wanting to see you?

How can I get you out of my system once and for all?

Stop making me feel things that will never be. Stop everything that you make others feel.

I am not them. Nor do I want to be one of them.

When will I ever stop thinking you'll be there for me?

I don't hate you. I just hate myself.


God, this is where I really really need your help.

Please. Don't leave me to die like this.

Yawn. Ouch. Awww. Urrggh.

*Yawn*

I'm sleepy.

I seem to have good undisturbed sleep over the past two nights, but then I think I had also been subconscious throughout. Which isn't really good deep sleep, right?

See, I had to share the tiniest queen-sized bed I'd ever seen with a friend, and surprisingly I was straight as a log even when I woke. No kicking, no tossing, no turning, no flipping over onto my tummy kind of sleep. Totally not me.

Right now, I actually think I'm feeling some body-ache from the 'unnatural' sleeping position I was stuck in for two nights in a row.

Oh, why did I have to share the tiniest queen-sized bed I'd ever seen with a friend?

Well, 'cos there were four of us bunking in one tiny USD55-per-night room. Talk about 'budget trip'.


*Ouch*

My feet are in pain, complete with a couple of not-very-strategically-formed blisters.

Blame it on lack of high-heel 'practice'.

And for a high-heel idiot, I was a little over-ambitious. Eight hours on a pair of three-inch heels. And two of those hours were spent on the dance-floor.

No wonder I'm in pain now.

"You look really great tonight. You should wear like this more often."

Hmm... I think I must look really bad normally then.

Ok. Here goes.

I vow to be a high-heel professional on the dance-floor.


*Awww*

What a sweet beautiful wedding.

As expected, the wedding was held in a grandiose Catholic church and was a pretty elaborate affair. There's a reason why we call the groom, the 'Prince Lil' Doods'.

Pinoy girls are a really beautiful lot (or at least, Lil' Doods' friends sure are pretty). And they dress really glamorous for weddings - long gowns, coiffed hair and meticulously made-up faces. Looking at them, I think we dress really plain at our own Chinese wedding dinners.

Then again, it could have been a glamorous event because it's the Prince's wedding. Ha.

I'm glad I wore my fail-proof black dress. Nothing could go wrong with a great black dress.

Pinoy guys... well, they all dress alike in their traditional barungs. You can't really tell one apart from another.

The dinner reception was a really fun affair. Not at all like our dinners where the couple doesn't seem to get much fun, running around to make sure everything runs on schedule, skipping from table to table taking pictures that no friend seems to see afterward, and, most of all, not getting to enjoy the ten-course dinner themselves.

The couple looked really happy that night. They ate, they went table to table chatting with friends, they got up and kissed everytime someone clanked their cutlery against the glasses, they danced alone on the dance-floor. They drank and made merry.

I know how I want my own wedding to be.

I want me and whoever the man I'd marry to be having fun on our wedding day. Screw all those 'timings' and 'schedules'. Screw all those conventional wedding dinners.

I want a dance-floor. I want a live-band, or at least a DJ. I want a party after the dinner (I've always joked a jam-n-hop after the dinner would be fun).

I want to dance on my own wedding night. I want my groom to hold me tight in his arms and dance swing with me.

Yep. That's how it's going to be.

But first, I gotta find me a groom. And I need to take up swing classes.


*Urrggh*

I made a bad, bad decision. I always seem to anyway, don't I?

I spent a hundred bucks on a new charger and battery for my camera, only to realize my camera is finally cranking up.

My camera, though big and bulky, has served me well. It has given me beautiful pictures for three good years. I'm glad I forsake 'handiness' and 'lightweight' for sturdiness.

Now, I just need a camera. I need one for my trip to Hong Kong.

I think I'm going to get myself a new one tomorrow, before I fly off on Wednesday.

It's going to be an unplanned-for splurge, but I need it.

I hate decisions. Especially if I'm the one having to make them.


*****

"I really like you. I want to see you again."

Sweet. But what do you know about me?

Nothing. Which is probably why you want to see me again.

I rejected a coffee date after the dinner, telling my friends I'm just playing hard-to-get.

But as a friend put it, "Honey, what are you talking about? You're already hard to get! You're in Singapore and he's in the Phillippines!"

Haha... that's quite true.

But really, I just think I'm chicken. I don't know why, but something is just pulling me back.

Maybe I should have.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

I'm a cynic. I'm a pessimist. And I really suck at this game.

Will I ever find a groom to dance with?

Tomboy

For the uninitiated, here's what the ad says.


My knees are tomboys.
They get bruised and cut every time I play soccer.
I'm proud of them and wear my dresses short.
My mother worries I will never marry with knees like that.
But I know there's someone out there who will say to me,
I love you and I love your knees.
I want the four of us to grow old together.


I have been labelled a 'tomboy' almost all my life.

I don't climb trees nor catch insects. But I don't play with Barbies either.

I have two dogs who run and swim with me, and I think that is pure joy in life.

I much prefer running to walking anytime. I cannot slow down. It's a strange sight in the office to see me running from one end to the other - walking takes too much time.

I'm keeping my hair a little longer. I'm wearing skirts and ballet flats. I'm toting a purse on my shoulder and I'm wearing lipstick almost everyday. I sport a small rock on my finger, and I show off beautiful white pearlies on my earlobes.

But I also have my battle scars on my legs from my love for basketball. I sit cross-legged on the chair whenever I can. I have no qualms unleashing my acidic tongue on the poor folks around me. I speak animatedly with wild hand gestures and overly-dramatic facial expressions. I let out my loud hearty laughter without any restrain and I am not shy with the words my mouth spouts.

It really doesn't matter what I wear or how I look. Friends will always see a tomboy masquerading as a lady.

I don't exactly enjoy being termed a 'tomboy', but I don't want to deny who I really am too.

Please. Don't call me no tomboy no more, 'cos I am not.

I am just proudly and uniquely me.

Knees

I like this.

Such ads only appear in the States. The ones we get here are not so happening.



It seems to be referring to me, and I am feeling so much more assured now. Wahaha.

Chill

I feel the chill... all of a sudden.

Well, it has been raining a lot these few days, hasn't it?

Are we heading into a cold, rainy season ahead?

I wonder why.

MEN

Why women suffer, it's all due to the men.

Ever notice how all of women's problems seem to start with MEN?

MENtal illness.

MENstrual cramps.

MENtal breakdown.

MENopause.

GUYnaecologist.

And, when we have REAL trouble, it's HISterectomy.


Of course, this didn't come from me... LOL.

Complimentary

'Compliments' of the day.


1 - "Your eyebrows are so pretty. So thick."

Er... maybe, but naturally thick eyebrows grow out rather unruly after a couple of weeks. Not very nice then.

And, threading is like damn painful, lor.


2 - "You are actually a very pretty girl. But you must learn to groom yourself. I think you just... don't care. You have the potential to make heads turn, you know that?"

I was told while I was sitting cross-legged on a chair. The very same person was telling me also how I shouldn't be buttoning my already-tiny jacket the wrong way such that my already-flat chest looks even flatter.

Sigh.

Thanks for the compliment, but thanks also for reminding me I am not quite demure.

I'd like to look polished too, but I am also very comfortable in my own skin.


3 - "Are you local? Are you still students? Are you 24?"

Oh! Really???


4 - "You have the 'girls-school' look. 100%. Attitude, look and all."

"And which is... ?"

"... ..."

"Which is the 'kuai lan' attitude, is it?"

"Yah, something like that."

Thanks for the compliment, dude.

... ...

Bloody 'ell.

Pool

Me and the chicks sitting in the bar watching the ESPN channel shown on TV.


Me: Eh, you should watch this if you wanna learn how to play pool.

Pi: Oh? ... Oh yah, you play quite a lot of pool, right?

Me: No lah, I used to. Not now.


I did use to play a lot of pool. While I still had a pool buddy.

Now I don't. 'Cos I've lost my pool buddy.

Life

The recent spate of unhappiness has resulted in a lot of thinking... and psycho-analyzing. And a lot of talking about it.

Life. The meaning of it. The living of it.

Life is short, they always say. But the road ahead till the day I die looks long and uncertain. You'd never really know life is really that short, until you've lived it till the end. Isn't that always so?

Life probably seems short, when we have so much we want to do that we'll likely never be able to finish all in our lifetime.

In our age, we see so much, we hear so much, we read so much, we learn so much.

There are 1,001 things we would like to do, but trying to achieve just one thing is already tough enough a task. You get so stuck at one thing for so long, it's no wonder most of us normal human beings can only manage to do so much - or so little, in this context - while we have the breath to.

And then, you need to prioritize. What needs to be done? What realistically can be done?

What is the one thing that matters to me the most, that will bring me the greatest happiness and satisfaction when achieved?

And then... where do you start?


I am at a loss.

I have perhaps not 1,001 things I'd like to do, but certainly, I have many.

And I don't know where to start. Nor do I know what is the one thing I need to do first to get me that sense of innerpeace - and confidence - to pursue the rest.

The one thing I used to believe in, that almost could've given me the happiness and innerpeace I was so yearning for, eluded me. Now it's back to square zero.

I am really unhappy in my job - it's not nice at all to be given the impression I'm quite redundant where I am. But where do I go from here? Do I go to another place to get stuck there sometime down the road again? Do I really want just another 'job' again?

How many chances should I give myself to prove anything right - or wrong, for that matter?

I honestly do not know what life means to me now. What my purpose in life is supposed to be. What my dreams stand for. And most of all, what I should do nor where I should go.

Run and hide? Or charge and get slammed?

I no longer am certain what I want in life. I don't even know me anymore.

I don't have answers to the above, nor do I have answers for anything anymore. I don't even trust myself to come up with something I can believe in.

It's a bother having these thoughts running through my mind every single second. I am never at peace.

And the fact that I'm never at peace because of all these uncertainties drives me even more nuts.

Is this just a woman thing? Or does it happen to everyone, anyone?

That's why - I really really wish I were a dog instead. A dog who is so loved by her momma, and who lives only for her momma. A dog who only has to sleep the whole day and whose worries for the day vanish the moment her momma comes back home.


I have fears too.

I have never recognized this fear, but I am admitting it now.

I fear loneliness.

I fear being alone.

That's why - I really feel sometimes I'm just living for my dogs, just like how they are living for me now.

Conscience

Some have it, some don't.

Some have no pinch of conscience at all, because they love and care for only themselves, and they would never 'feel bad' for all the wrong they've done unto others.

Some have conscience, but they go on still trying to love themselves more than anything else, and do what they think is best for themselves. They might feel bad, but nah... they can live with it.

The first kind of people, I don't feel sorry for them because they probably never grew up with a heart - they never knew it, so they never really used it.

The second? It's just so sad that they have a heart they know of, a heart that's crying out to them, but they choose to ignore it. What a waste.


I hope most of us belong to the third kind.

Those who have a conscience and know it, and who will never act against it.

Nincompoops

I seem to be getting a letter in the post from either the LTA or the TP or the damned HDB every month.

A letter - at the very least.

Urgh! Can someone tell me if there's any Traffic- or Carpark-God I can pray to?


And, I also seem to be having something to fix every month.

My car. My pbook. My bledy phone. Piper. And now my camera charger.

That thing has to be replaced with a totally new one and will set me back more than a hundred bucks. Without that thing, I cannot snap any pictures - and it's killing me.

And I think I'd be needing it at the wedding this weekend.

Knn.


I was just mentioning to a colleague the other day.

If I ever were to work in Portland, or any other foreign land, I would surely become more proficient at swearing - I swear.

Look sweet, smile, and then a 'KNNBCCB' in the most casual tone.

Yeah, that's very probably how I'd survive working with nincompoops of the wild wild west.

Lip Cancer

Hmm... like that, how to wear bright red lipstick and be a woman?


Even lipstick isn't safe anymore... what's next? Brands don't mean everything.

Recently a brand called Red Earth decreased their prices from $67 to $9.90. It contained lead. Lead is a chemical which causes cancer.

The brands which contain lead are:

- Chanel (lip conditioner)
- Christian Dior
- Clinique
- Estee Lauder
- Lancome
- Market America-Motnes lipstick (EH? Simi lai eh?)
- Red Earth (lip gloss)
- Shiseido
- Y. S. L.

The higher the lead content, the greater the chance of causing cancer. After doing a test on lipsticks, it was found that the Y. S. L. lipstick contained the most amount of lead.

Watch out for those lipsticks which are supposed to 'stay longer'. If your lipstick stays longer, it is because of the higher content of lead.

Here is the test you can do yourself.

1. Put some lipstick on your hand.

2. Use a Gold ring to scratch on the lipstick.

3. If the lipstick color changes to black, then you know the lipstick contains lead.


Well, believe it or not.

Woman

Women are expensive creatures indeed.

And I'm not even barely half the woman I'm supposed to be.


I don't do colors in my hair because I hate to think I'd have to 'touch up' on the colors periodically and spend more money. It's just going to be a neverending cycle. I yearn to have wild-colored hair, though. But the thought of having to maintain it is putting me off the idea for the moment. I'd be too lazy - and stingy - to.

I don't do my nails because they are too short anyway. I do hope though that I learn to manage stress in some other way than chipping off my nails.

I'm only just beginning to take skincare more seriously, and though I've signed up for a seven-session facial treatment, I've only attended one so far - and that was like almost two months ago. I'm just trying to stretch my dollar a longer mile. I know I'm going to get reprimanded from the therapist when I return for my second appointment - and I haven't even booked the session yet.

I have only a couple of 'wedding' dresses and cocktail heels in my wardrobe. And let's see... they take up only like 1 percent of my wardrobe space. My rationale, I don't get to wear them very often anyway, so why not just spend the money on stuff I'd wear anyday, everyday?

I love skirts, believe it or not, but I only own a few because I fear I would not fancy them anymore three years down the road. I always pride myself on buying never-out-of-style stuff and still wearing them five years later. Except that now I'm finding a little difficulty in wearing five-year-old stuff cos I've... er, 'undergrown' most of them.

I have a couple pair of pants and a few more no-fail chinos in my wardrobe but I wear my jeans and camo-skirt almost every other day.

My shoe shelves don't hold anything more than five pairs of 'girly' shoes - you can't even spot them amidst all the Nikes and flip-flops. I'd love to own a pair of Marc Jacobs but why should I when I only want to slack around in my Birkies?

I don't own a Gucci nor a Ferragamo, though I fantasize toting around a Miu Miu or a Kate Spade or, at least, a Coach. I carry my good ol' Gap tote every single day, everywhere I go.

I haven't bought myself any good piece of jewelry ever since I've started earning my own moolah. The diamond ring I'm wearing was a twenty-first birthday gift from Pa (yes, you'd better believe it) and the pearls I'm wearing on my earlobes now are made out of an old pearl necklace my mom has gotten sick of. My table is full of cheapo dress jewelry though, including that US$1 green plastic ring some people mistook for some stone.


I am a woman though who chalks up parking fines and traffic offences more often than she rings up beauty points from the cosmetics counters.

I'm a woman who spends more money fixing up her car and her arsenal of tech gadgets than her pretty little collection of pearls and diamonds.

I'm a woman who spends more than a hundred bucks on her dogs' haircut once every two months but complains about the forty dollar haircut she yields to every three or sometimes six months.

I'm a woman who would willlingly spend on beer that she chugs down in a night but not on 'miracle' creams and lotions that might take a couple of years off her face.


I don't know what came over me these days though. Maybe it's the realization that I'm nearing the big three-0 but I'm really really nowhere near anything.

Somehow, I feel like I need change - everywhere and everything about myself.

And I suppose, if I can't change the way I think or feel, the seemingly easiest way of change would be in the way I look.

I know it sounds all so superficial, but I'm not really changing who I really am - am I?

Who knows. One day, you might see me in bright red lipstick and three-inch heels. The thought is already sounding very ridiculously hilarious even to me now.

Maybe cos I'm thinking of Gwen Stefani right now, that's why. Ha.


Change. I need change in what I do too.

I am hating my work more and more these days.

I'm feeling less and less satisfied.

Boboto

Soo-ooo-PER weak!

I got two pairs of shoes - for cheap, that's why.

Half-price, so might as well buy two pairs. Hope they last.

I still have my eyes set on another pair, though. *Pfff*


Boboto?

Yeah, that's how my little man calls a 'tomato'.

Bo-BO-to.

So cute. I don't encourage, I just laugh.

C'mon, give that little man a break. He's only two.

Scrawny

I just realized I'm an American babe today!

I'm wearing my AE cap and tee, my Old Navy shorts and flip-flops, and I'm carrying my Gap tote.

Wah, hao lian lah.

Hey, my undies are not American, though. I'm wearing my fave girl-boxers, all colorful polka-dotted. And they are best worn under short shorts cos even if I ever 'zao geng', at least I have something nice to show. LOL.


It was supposed to be a family outing at the zoo. On this wet rainy Sunday.

We were all packed to go - sandwiches and all - as usual, and I've already told Mom to travel 'light'.

Right after we parked our cars and paid for the tickets, it started pouring. =/

We ended up having KFC at the entrance of the zoo instead and left after getting our tickets refunded. I was actually quite looking forward to seeing the animals... honest! Darn.

Twice, we've got our plans marred by the rain. I think we should just stop making any family outing plans. Just wake up and go. And forget about the sandwiches.

Or, should the days start getting hot and dry again, we should just pretend to plan for a family outing. Ha.


I'm in a very itchy mood to shop for shoes.

I think I'm growing out of my Nikes and Birkies. I'm going into a new phase with shoes. I need to get pretty shoes - and shock the hell outta everyone.

But I'm not soothing my itch by scratching - that will only make it worse. I'm just trying to stop the itch by resistance.

RE-SIS-TANCE.

Let's just see how long I can resist.


I have always had dreams of being my own boss, setting up shop, and selling stuff I like.

And there are only two kinds of shops I dream of owning.

One, I'd love a pet cafe-boutique-daycare. Where all dogs roam free.

Two, I'd love to travel the world to buy shoes and bags that I'd sell in my own shop.

Awesome, isn't it?

Will my dreams ever come true?


*****

It started out a little awkward between us. He was a little cold, and I couldn't figure out why. It was puzzling and upsetting at the same time.

It warmed up gradually, and we were talking and crapping as usual at the end.

If it's going to be so tough for us, if you find it hard to move on with my lingering presence, then maybe it's only for the better that one of us should go away.

"Am I scrawny?"

"A little."

I've never really asked you before, and you've never really told me before too.

I am scrawny.

Congratulations

Life does have its ironic - and sometimes hilarious - turns, doesn't it?

There I was feeling all homesick and heartbroken and dead at the KLIA and on the flight back home.

And then, God sent an angel down my way seemingly to send me a message - in the form of a very chatty but well-intentioned taxi driver.


Mr Cabby started off by telling me how there are still rogue cabbies here in Singapore, and I should avoid jumping into their cabs. They are the ones who would prey on seemingly clueless tourists, especially those from China, and bring them to places without running the meter, and then charging them an exorbitant flat fee.

And I thought these rogues operate only in KL and Bangkok.

How do you then tell a rogue apart from the rest? They are the cabs that appear to be carrying passengers but whose lights on the top still lit up. That means the meter has not been activated.

But then, I thought, I would never know if the meter runs until I jump onto the cab - isn't it? By then, a bit too late, right? And it would never occur to me to ask a cabby in Singapore, "You run by meter, yah?" Only in KL and Bangkok would I do that.

All this while during the mostly one-way conversation, I was half-listening with one ear-phone still plugged into my ear, humming all the 'ohs' and 'hahs' while he spoke.


I tucked away my iPod for good when he started coaxing me into a conversation - all in Mandarin, uncle-style.

"Miss ah, where did you just come back from?"

I don't usually like conversations in a cab, but somehow he seemed fatherly enough.

I explained I came back from a business trip in KL. Then he added on his story. His daughter once had been asked to accompany her ang moh boss to KL for a business trip for a week.

Mr Cabby actually forbade daughter to go on that trip. "Ang mohs cannot be trusted one!" So he proclaimed.

I started to feel a little disgusted. If my father were to forbid me... I would still go on ahead. That is just me.

Then he offered his daughter, "This kind of job, don't do lah. Only $1.9k, quit lah. I will support you, you take your time to look for a better job."

Of course, the filial daughter complied.

Wah! This kind of father, I also want.


Daughter is now happily working in MediaCorp, so it seems. And happy is Mr Cabby too.

He offers his daughter advice: "You don't have to earn a lot of money. The most important thing in life is happiness. The most important thing for you is to find a good husband and build a family."

"I see all the career-minded superwomen out there - I see that they are actually living a sad life."

Hmm... I listened and I smiled - while agreeing silently with him on some parts and disagreeing on others.

Then he turned his fatherly attention toward me.

"Miss ah, if you don't mind, you got boyfriend?"

"Er... no."

"You working for how many years already?"

"Er... six years."

"How old are you now?"

"Er... twenty eight." *Starting to frown*

"Miss ah, if you don't mind me saying. Work is important, and I'm not asking you to advertise yourself or catch any man off the streets, but your happiness lies in finding a loved one, and not in your job."

I sensed a nagging session brewing and in order to quickly shut him up, I spouted, "Uncle, it's not that I don't want to get married, I had a boyfriend for six years and now he doesn't want me."

There was a long pause in the cab for a while.

What transpired next... truly amazed, and amused, me.

"Miss. This is good news for you. I'm happy for you, and you should be happy too. You should not be sad or heartbroken, because a man who doesn't want you at this age after six years is not worth it all. What good is he? You should be happy you got out of this before anything worse happened."

"Miss... in fact, I should congratulate you!" And he beamed a huge smile at me.

I almost wanted to cry right there in the cab.


I got off the cab and he got out too, to continue the conversation.

There we were, standing outside the cab at my void deck.

"Miss ah. I'm not kidding. I really want to congratulate you for having found the first step to your happiness. You don't be sad. You will find a better man you deserve."

"You have a good night, uncle." I thanked and smiled.


It's so strange, and funny, I kept chuckling to myself.

I sat at the void deck for a while, to think about what Mr Cabby had said.

Angels always appear in the most unlikeliest places and in the most unlikeliest forms.

Thank you, God.

The cab ride home really has made me feel so much better.

Lousy

If you would notice, the pictures I've uploaded recently have all been taken with my miserly camera-phone.

That's cos my bulky camera has run out of battery, and my charger is spoilt. Grrr...

I am so tempted to buy me a new sleek camera.

But then, I refrain. Though quite portability-unfriendly, my G2 churns out beautiful pictures still.

Now, instead, I have to find some time during work-hours next week to bring the charger down to the service center. Can my life be a little more simple, please?

Which reminds me of an irk.

Why the hell are all customer service centers open only during freaking office-hours from Mondays to Fridays??

Poo

Dr Poo reading his daily papers while taking a crap.

Bounced

I am such a fuckin' loser.

Why are my cheques always bounced and returned? Haven't I already transferred my funds into the checking account?

Now, I'm like dunno-how-many days late for my bill settlement.

Fuck.

Drama

Late-night MSN chat with an unusually awake colleague.


Y: Did you know Dr Evil* was asked to leave?

FMM: Yeah, I guessed so.

Y: So scary man.

FMM: You know, I was soooo sooooo happy when I read that email?

FMM: Eh? Why so scary?

Y: A lot of police and security guards.

FMM: Eh???

Y: He refused to leave for hours.

Y: HR had to call security.

*Dr Evil is aptly nicknamed. We were all hi-fiving each other in the KL office when we read the announcement email about his departure on Thursday. That's how much love we have for Dr Evil.


Wah lau.

Got more drama one or not?

Fishball

Mmm... just done with dinner.

A nice bowl of hot fishball 'mee tai mak' soup. My usual fare everytime I come back from a trip and need to satisfy an immediate mega-craving for something hot and soupy.

I'm ok in general with KL food, though it can get a tad too greasy, but I always miss food back home. Nothing beats my fishball soup and Chinatown zhok, at the very least. I am already dreading to think of my meals in Manila (everything is porky and Filipino pork tastes especially porky!) and Hong Kong (so oily and 'jelat'!).

Oh dear. Like that, how am I going to go away in peace if I miss everything back home? Even the food?

Maybe it's all just psychological... maybe I don't really miss anything. Maybe I only think I miss everything.

Maybe I should just stop, or if need be, force myself to stop attaching myself to all things familiar and comfortable.

Like they always say, just get out of your comfort zone, girl.

2-1

I'm sitting here at Starbucks in the KLIA. My first access to the Internet in almost three days. Itch soothed.


I'm two hours away from my shuttle flight back home. This is tiring. Still, I hope I get to meet up with someone, anyone later when I'm back in town. I so miss everything.


I won 120 ringgit in football bets. Ha.

Me and the guys were supposed to predict the final score of the England-Poland qualifier on Thursday morning. Each one of us was to pool in 20 ringgit - and the winner just takes all.

2-1. That's easy.


The past three days were just packed with work, work, work. And group dinners.

My team is a funny bunch. The guys just crack me up.

I had a lot of fun... and laughter in the past three days.

Still... I don't know why, despite the short trip, I am feeling this heart-wrenching sense of homesickness.

And it's not the dogs that I miss so much.

I so want to see someone so bad.

Is this how it's gonna be if and when I go away?

I Hate Spam

Urgh!! So irritating!

Just when I've decided to reinstate my comment box, the first comment I receive is from a certain Mr/Ms Anonymous giving me tips on quick easy money-making schemes.

Thanks, but no thanks... and cut this shit out! I'd rather bank on my 4 digits tomorrow and this weekend.


*****

On a sweeter note before I rest my soul tonight, I have already gotten someone his Christmas gift. And there's no turning back. It's been signed and paid for already.

It's something I've been dying to do for years, too. I've always thought it's a sweet thing to do.

It'll be something good, I know for sure. But hopefully, appreciated. After all, it's something he's always taken pleasure in.

Just that, when he finally receives it, I hope he does know that it's actually a Christmas gift.


No more clues for anyone.

21,250 Miles

Great! I got my ticket to Manila finally. And done online too, so I saved a grand total of 3,750 miles.

Oh, the cheap thrills I indulge in.


I haven't quite unpacked my luggage from Sunday's return, so packing tonight was pretty breezy.

Except that I'm a stoner and a procrastinator. Things that could've taken me only half an hour if I had been more focused, took me all of three hours or so. Packing and the completion of my presentation slides for tomorrow's meeting - all just about done. Three hours before I'm supposed to wake.

Should I sleep or should I not? I hate half-fuck sleep.


I think I am going to cancel my HSBC cards. Though I am not sure if there's such a clause that cardowners are not allowed to cancel their cards within the first two months of issue.

Number one: I need to detox my obese wallet, and HSBC doesn't seem to offer much enticing to-die-for rewards. So, keep for what?

Two: It is so damn bledy irksome to settle the bills. And I only paid my first HSBC bill today.

No internet-banking unless you own a bledy HSBC bank account as well.

I couldn't pay through the awesome AXS machine because the bill amount exceeded my ATM limit.

I always forget to send in my cheques on time.

And... where the bledy hell is the nearest and most convenient HSBC branch within my access?

Out of desperation today, I drove from my workplace to the 'nearest' branch at Parkway Parade after lunch - just to drop a cheque to pay my bill. I am already one-day late... hence the desperation.

And the trip to drop a cheque took me all of 60 precious minutes.

The marvels of internet-banking are never truly appreciated until this day. =/


Should I? Should I not? Should I? Should I not? ... ...


By the way, how am I going to buy my lottery tomorrow if I'm flying off at 8 in the morning?

Kns.

Intellectual

Who ever said English is easy?

Fill the blank in the following sentence with YES or NO.



_____, I don't have a BRAIN.

Stylo Mylo

To all those who question, or worse still, criticize me for not carrying the bags that I sell, I have only one thing to say.

The biggest fashion faux pas is not being true to yourself.

Being paid to sell bags that I have to sell doesn't have to cram my own (albeit 'weird' as some would describe) sense of fashion, does it? I sure have my own style, the way I like it - thank you very much.

In my own eyes, not yours, I am stylo, ok.

'Nuff said.


If nothing had gone wrong, I would have been in Bali this time tonight.

Instead, I'm taking another bledy 8.30 morning flight to KL tomorrow. Urgh, KL for the third time in a month. People who envy my business travel opportunities, please think again. Harder, this time.


So, it seems that before my HK trip at the end of the month, I'll be making another trip somewhere.

A wedding to attend in Manila.

I've decided after all to make the invitation, though I know I don't have the money to spend on a ticket.

Biggest motivator? It is really not nice to turn down an invitation to a friend's possibly most joyous event in his life - his wedding. I know I would be upset if people whom I want to share my joy with don't seem as enthusiasic. What the hell!

Also, since I found out my paltry Krisflyer miles can fly me well to Manila, I decided I could make use of them before they expire (as usual).

The only problem now? The fucked-up online redemption system on the SIA web site has been down the entire day. The ticketing office doesn't offer much help.

I've gotten this "Please try again in half an hour's time" suggestion over the phone for hours. In my usual bitchy manner, I've submitted a 'feedback' form back to SIA over the Internet. I sure hope they get that.

Why wouldn't this crazy bitch just call the ticketing office and redeem the ticket?

Well, because I get a 15% discount off the miles if I redeem online. Good enough?


Maybe I did get some of my best ever presents this year.

The watch I've always wanted to have.

And quite a bit of Krisflyer miles.


Crazy. Bitchy. Looney. Sad. Messed up.

Yep, that's me on the seventh day of my 28th year.

8*6*

Aunt Jessie is back in town.

And the whole big family post-celebrated my big-day with la-mian and xiao long baos. Pa, Mom, my third 'Mom' (that's Aunt Jessie, second 'Mom' couldn't join us), Bro, his pseudo-wife... and of course, the little man.

The probably-only highlight of the night was the four numbers I picked. So duh, but still, no harm in trying my luck one more time, yah?

Oh, and I think Aunt Jessie has already fallen in love with the little one too.

Sure, who wouldn't, when that kid is such an adorable exhibitionist?



Little 'Hee-yan' with 'Yer-yer' and 'Noi-noi'.

No!

*Opens fridge*

"Can I have one of your beers?"

"No lah! You're driving home leh!"

... =]

Partner

I'm home. One day earlier than I was supposed to be.

I like staying in hotel rooms in the comfort of the cool air-conditioning, but staying away makes me a little depressed too. I just know when it's time to go home. So I got a flight out sooner. It's quite a stroke of luck I could manage to get a seat on a Sunday.


I am now a proud owner of my first Oris. =)

Thanks to someone. Really, big thanks. My Casio is just conking out.

The feelings are all mixed up. I am elated with the pressie, but I can't also help thinking at the same time it seems all wrong.

Should I, or shouldn't I have accepted the gift?

What am I doing to myself?


Some things are just hard to explain. And I don't expect anyone else to understand.

I confess. I still have someone in mind everytime I shop. I set out telling myself not to, but I almost always end up with something for him - just because I think he'll like it, he'll need it, he'll be amused or I think he'll look good in it.

There's no ulterior motive, I swear. I convince myself.

I'm just doing it all out of love. At least before I snap out of it totally.


"Well, you got me a watch too."

"It's different. The context is all different."

I got my boyfriend a watch then.

What makes me if I accept the gift?

If I am still buying you things out of love, what then are you doing all these for?


I will never know.

I no longer expect any form of answer from you anyway.

I have given up. I'll find your answers on your behalf someday... soon.


That said, don't get me wrong.

I really love the watch. It was really quite a surprise too.

It'll be my partner for as long as it still ticks.

Thanks, man.

Sex

Bangkok.

City of tuk-tuks, cheap massages, tom-yum goong and ancient glass-bottled Coca-Cola. City of street dogs, poor homeless kids and affluent upper-class folks toting their Hermes and striding in their Gucci heels. City of modern stylish buildings built amidst the filthy smelly streets.

City of Caucasian and Japanese tourists.

City of sex and prostitutes.


The hotel I'm staying in is a newly-renovated 'boutique' hotel. Cool new spanky lobby with a snazzy jazz lounge to boot. Right smack in Sukhumvit - where the heart of Bangkok shopping and nightlife lie.

Right, it looks pretty clean and decent for business travellers like me.

What I never quite expect to see in a hotel like this: Caucasian men with Thai girls, Japanese men with Thai girls. I was once in the same elevator with two such... er, pairs.

It was pretty obvious they weren't couples. To put it in a slighting manner, it was quite obvious the girls had been 'picked up'. It was such an uncomfortable experience for me - that short elevator ride up to my 14th floor.

In the first place, Japanese men - especially when they are in their forties - would not be interested in Thai girls as partners when all they want is an obedient housewife who abides by all their Japanese-spoken commands. In bed? Sex language transcends all cultural boundaries.

Secondly, I do know of some Caucasian male-friends who like dating Asian girls, especially Thai girls who can turn out really tall, long-haired and gorgeous. Sometimes I've seen Caucasian men walking hand-in-hand with their Thai 'girlfriends' - except they aren't really girls and I wonder if the ang-mohs are actually savvy enough to realize that.

The fact is, yes, ang-mohs may really like and date Thai girls - but only if they are tall and pretty.

The girls in the same elevator - well, they really look more Thai than Thai-Chinese. The Thai-Chinese girls are usually pretty with big eyes; the Thai-looking girls just look like their male counterparts, mostly. They were looking so plain, I really wondered if men looking for sex would just settle for anything that comes with a female anatomy. When I entered the elevator, I thought at first, "What's this ang-moh doing in Thailand with his maid?" Period.

The men in the elevator - I won't be surprised if they are married back home with kids and all. Especially that lecherous-looking Japanese. The girl in his arms looked barely of legal age. I tried looking out for any wedding band - but oh please.

I know I sound mean.

But I'm really more disgusted than anything. At men like them.


*****

I've heard this question.

Would I rather a man who fucks around before marriage or one who fucks around after?

Preferably, neither. What is the value of love and marriage and trust to such a man in either case? It would be devastating to know.

But then, sometimes your preference no longer matters when you become so in love.

You try so hard to stick to your values but your blinding love shrouds your ability to see.

It is so hard in this world. To live and to love.


*****

I have been so bothered by months, I have been plagued by nightmares just like I had been last night.

All because of a small green box I'd unwittingly found but I really shouldn't have found.

Why did my fears have to be confirmed?

Why, oh why do I still bother?

Foot

January 25, 2005. The day I turned a foot masseuse.

The foot massage I had yesterday managed to evoke some sweet yet sour memories in me. And it wasn't the only incident these days.

In one of the malls I visited during this trip, I walked past a L'Occitane shop and decided to take a look inside. I love the rich sweet-smelling stuff they sell, but I can always never afford anything more than that little tin of shea butter I keep in my pocket all the time.

I was browsing from wall to wall, picking up bottles to smell and feel, deliberating any impulse buy. And then, I reached the 'Foot' wall. Where all the foot creams sit. That familiar tube of foot massage cream was right up there.

The one I bought is still sitting on my own shelf, never been touched again since that night.

Last night, while detoxing my wallet, I saw the L'Occitnane 'VIP' card, on which you earn one 'VIP' chop for every freakin' sixty bucks spent. I managed to earn one chop that night alone. The foot massage cream, together with some foot bathsalts and an aromatherapy oil-scented candle, cost me almost eighty bucks. See, I was determined to make it a real good soothing session for the then-man that night.

I still only have that one chop on the card. I never bought anything else from the shop again.

The stuff I bought are all still as good as new.


*****

I remember the then-man had just had some basketball session that night. It must've been just a training session, else I wouldn't have had time in town to shop for the tools. I even bought a book from Borders - a quick dummy guide to massages, complete with step-by-step photographs.

We met again after his basketball. He was complaining again of aches and soreness in the legs and I made him shower immediately. It was meant to be a surprise.

I remember he broke into a grin when I turned down the lights, lit the scented candle and brought in that heavy tub of hot water into the room. It was meant to soak his huge feet in, so I had to use the big bulky bathtub in the bathroom.

It took me more than an hour and I probably hadn't had the skills of the girl who massaged my feet last night, but I supposed I put in the best effort I could to make it as pleasurable as possible.

I never knew if he really enjoyed the massage. He fell asleep in the midst of it, and never woke till the next morning.

I finished up the job, cleaned up the mess, blew out the candles and rested myself. Just a job done.


*****

Do I feel under-appreciated? Do I feel like love wasted? Do I feel forgotten?

Yes.

Nothing

It's been yet another tiring day.

We spent more time driving and getting stuck in traffic than really spending time at the retail stores I was supposed to see. That's Bangkok traffic for you. I dozed off in the car under the drowsiness induced by the afternoon sun again - I really couldn't help it.


No massage tonight.

No money.

And just no mood to.


I just feel so like crying my heart out now.

Starbuck-ed!

Ahh!!! I found Starbucks right outside my hotel.

Ok - I haven't been noticing it because I've been either taxi-ed or chauffeured around all this time in Bangkok.

I decided to skip the buffet breakfast this morning because the coffee sucks and all I ever want to eat at buffet breakfast spreads is omelette or scrambled eggs. I'm not so much of a breakfast person anyway, but I do need my caffeine shot, no doubt.

I was expecting a long aimless walk looking for my Starbucks - I haven't ventured one step out of the hotel yet. Bingo! Starbucks is just less than a 3-minute walk away. Hiak!

I like Starbucks anytime better than Bean, simply because their lattes taste better. And they have pretty-looking mugs and expresso cups that I love looking at but never would bear to buy. The only reason I hang out in Bean back home: the wifi connection.

I'm always on the lookout for a Starbucks when I travel - except maybe when I was in Frisco and Seattle. In those places, when you have good little cafes that serve real lattes (non-skinny, please, lest you get scorned by the barrista), pfff! What's Starbucks?

I know what I'm gonna do tomorrow morning before I check-out. Ima gonna bring my book and sit my ass down at Starbucks and enjoy the morning sun with a hot grande skinny latte.

By the way, a grande skinny latte here costs only four bucks and it tastes way way nicer than the ones back home.

Sweet. =)


*****

Oops. I slept pretty well but not in a good position, I suppose. My neck feels a little sprained. Must be those strange noises - like someone's been playing around with the hangers in the wardrobe.

Hey, it's not an excuse for another massage tonight, ok.

... hiak!

Friday Night

It's Friday night, and many of my friends aren't online.

Hmm. They must all be out having Friday drinks.

"What are you up to tonight?"

"I'm cosying up in my hotel bed in Bangkok tonite."


I'm a little bored, but I am just fine as well lounging in the room, watching TV, reading, surfing the Internet - all at once. How I manage, don't ask.

I'm playing 'Hannibal Lector' again tonight.

I kinda think the mask really looks a little scary.


I see lightning flashes in the sky.

I hope it rains big-time tonight - just so it would stop in the day later when I go out on my weekend retail tour.


*****

I just can't help myself.

I just can't help remembering someone's needs all the time.

I know I shouldn't care anymore, but I just can't help it whenever I shop, picking up things I think he might need and paying for them without giving much of a thought.

Why just can't I stop it, once and for all? What makes me still think I know what he needs? What makes me think my thoughts will be appreciated?

Isn't it already plain clear I'm not needed anymore? That I'm no longer meant to take care of his needs anymore?

Wake up, girl.

"Well... You'll never know one you know."

... ...


*****

A couple I know of are going through an on-off-on-off stage. I'm not even quite sure where they stand now.

Girl likes boy and finally thinks of settling down. Boy likes girl too but doesn't know how to settle down. Frustration, confusion, misunderstanding, pride... and love.

It all sounds too familiar to me.

I like the two of them, individually and together. I hope things work out.

Once, I sent a message on Girl's behalf to Boy - well, not quite since I took her phone before she could really stop me. It surely wasn't a prank; I was just helping her express what had been cooped inside by pride.

Girl: "He sent me an email, saying he was very surprised to receive the 'I miss you' message, and he didn't know how to react."

Good.

At least your boy shows some form of response to your 'I miss you' message.

All I ever got was dead silence and nonchalance.


*****

Good golly. I seem to hearing noises in the room.

And I am also getting hungry again.

I seem to have lots to say tonight.

Boo Boo

The Boo-Boo doll so lived up to her name.

I had forgotten to turn my 'Do Not Disturb' sign off outside the door this morning, and I returned to an unmade hotel room in the evening.

Good thing I'm not that messy a girl, there are still some fresh towels left unused, and I had remembered to leave my room service tray outside my room before I slept last night.

Oh, but there is no replenished water. Well, good thing I had good sense to buy a big bottle of mineral water last night.


I am having room service again tonight. I don't have company tonight; my guest has left for home in the afternoon.

Fried beef kuey teow, cooked Thai-style. And a bowl of shrimp wanton soup.

Mmm... room service food never tasted so good. You can never go wrong with Thai food - served anywhere in Thailand.


I ended up working in the office, and not going on another round of retail tour today.

All because of the unexpected pouring rain in the afternoon.

It was a good thing anyway. The massage parlor I frequent is just across the road from the office.

I have made plans - foot massages or perhaps a Thai massage for the next couple of days. Then I realized I might not have enough Thai baht. Good thing (again) I had some Singapore dollars in my wallet, and there is a money-changer right next door to the office.

Twenty bucks should buy me a couple of massage sessions.

Yes, it is that cheap here in Bangkok.


The hour-long foot massage was good. I thought it did me more satisfaction than the aromatherapy body massage last night.

I like touch therapy on my feet. To a point where I am starting to suspect I get a sense of erotic pleasure when my feet are touched.

Ok, not that I got an orgasm from the foot massage, but you know what I mean. I hope.

I would love a man to touch my feet. Not many people would relish the idea of touching others' feet. And not many people know how to, even if they wanted to.

I know I love to, and I think I know how to.

But now, I don't really think I'd ever touch anyone else's feet. Not anymore. No one really deserves my touch.


I ended up taking a long walk after my foot massage. All because of the long traffic jam and the lack of empty taxis.

Waste money.


I got into a cab eventually - after walking a long distance and getting distracted at Boots again.

And I think I got cheated. The cab fare cost a flat 100 baht, when I'm pretty sure it would have cost me not more than 40 baht if the meter had run instead.

But I was eager to get back to the room and the cabby seemed friendly enough.

Anyway, 100 baht works out to be only less than 5 bucks.

Let's just assume he's got five kids to feed back home.


I need to deep-cleanse and detox my wallet.

It's getting too fat.

Smell

A passage from What's Worth Knowing:


It's nobody's business how you do your grieving.
- Henrietta Samuels, age 91

Ever since Ralph died, I've been going into our big closet in the bedroom and sniffing his clothes. I squeeze myself in there, right between his suits. That's where his smell is the strongest. Especially when I'm feeling blue, I go in there and get a good, long sniff. It's the only place in the house where it doesn't feel like he's gone.

On afternoon, my daughter came over while I was still in that closet, sniffing. I guess I didn't hear the bell. She used her key, and the next thing I knew I heard her calling me in the hall. I tried to sneak out of the closet, but some hangers gave me away. She asked what the heck I was doing in there. I thought she was going to have me locked up. She threatened to throw all of his clothes in her car that minute and donate them to charity.

I let her know that closet was going to stay just the way it was.

Henrietta Samuels' husband, Ralph, was a salesman who spent most of this working years on the road. Because he moved his family each time his territory was shifted, Henrietta barely had time to accumulate acquaintances before they were packing up to leave. She became adept at departures and absences, fleeting relationships, and making do with whatever warmth she could find.


*****

I thought I found this a cute story.

Why do I feel like I so emphatize with old Mrs Samuels?

Smells.

I read this story on the same day I saw him just before he flew off for the long trip. It was never expected, but I ended up having a long lunch at the airport. I thought we had already had our last "goodbye, safe trip" the night before.

The nice long lunch ended with a big hug.

Oh, that hug. And that smell.

I didn't know if it was a psychological retention of that smell, or if he really did put on too much scent.

But I thought while I was driving in my car back to work, long after I'd driven away from the airport, I could still smell him there, right all around me. I remember smiling to myself silly in the car.

Good ol' smells bring such sweetness to me. Just like my old little pillow.

Smell therapy. It can actually bring so much memories and happiness to one.

Pseudo-Jetsetter

I don't know how real jetsetters handle such a lifestyle.

Only the second consecutive day of getting up early for yet another 8.30 flight, and I was already so fucking tired in the afternoon.

My energy level has declined so much these days.


More goodies for the Queen today.

A two-hour long massage at the end of the exhausting retail tour kickstarted the night.

I couldn't even think about dinner. Room service would suffice tonight - complete with a nice cup of Irish coffee.

The bathtub in this hotel doesn't look as inviting, so I think I'll skip the bathsoak tonight.

Today shall be hair-day. An oil treatment, followed by a mask treatment.

Yeah, that's what I'll do. And then, I'll put on another mask after my hot shower.

I'm already thinking of my foot massage for tomorrow's treat.


I still haven't found a pressie for myself.

Should I? Shouldn't I?


*****

"How did you spend your birthday?"

"Erm... in hotel room."

...

"Are you ok?"

"Not really."

I think I'm in a latent stage of depression.

I need to pull myself out of the blackhole I seem to be spiralling toward, before it engulfs the whole of me again.

Queen

The Queen was tired at the end of the day... as expected.

I missed my breakfast appointment at the airport. It had been raining the whole night till dawn, and I almost couldn't grab hold of a cab to the airport.

Very late, in the end, for my early morning flight.

Having to wake up unusually early, rushing to the gates, falling in and out of snooze on the short flight to KL but long ride to the hotel, walking around malls for almost the entire day - all got me really exhausted.

So, this is how being one year older feels like, huh.


The Queen tried her best to give herself a treat. She refused to let one special day go by just like that.

So in the midst of her retail tour, she popped into the Body Shop and popped out with some impromptu buys.

Oh, how she was looking forward to retreating to her room after dinner.


The Queen in her 'birthday suit' before her treat.



Erm, I've always adored all these tees from this doggy brand in HK. So everytime my dear friend pops over to HK for her yearly end-of-summer sale trips in July, she never fails to get me a tee for my birthday. From her, I'd always receive my first birthday present - right smack in the middle of July.

This year, I made a terribly hard effort, keeping the tee unworn till my very birthday.

Finally.


The treat.




The Queen in her royal bath.




Is that the Queen?!




The Queen finally ready for bed.




Sigh.

Still. What a lonely birthday.

28

Being 28 doesn't feel any different from 27.

Being 28 only makes you feel one year closer to the big three O that seems a little more frightnening now.

Or maybe, the best has yet to come for the rest of my 28th year.

Well, it'd better be good - anything that happens should be better than whatever happened to me in my 27th year, yeah?


The big three O.

I don't know what happened. I used to so look forward to it.

That was when I had plans and directions - to a certain extent.

Now, the thought of hitting the big three O when you have no plans or goals seems much scarier.


There was no big-day celebration last night.

I was out almost the entire day, accompanying my guest from Hong Kong. Business discussion, lunch, retail tour, then dinner.

And since I was stuck with business obligations that made me give up time for any celebration, I thought the company should 'pay' for the personal sacrifices I had to make.

Boy, did I have a feast yesterday.

Lunch at Crystal Jade, then dinner at my favorite crabby place. I considered these my big-day meals. Thanks, er, Boss.


The crabby place was surprisingly packed on a Tuesday night.

While we were tucking into our crab legs and claws, partially engrossed in our dinner conversations, a sudden loud whistle-blow startled all of us. Everyone at the crabby place, in fact.

"Parking lai liao! Parking lai liao!"

And all of a sudden, we saw hoards of people (me included) getting up from their chairs and running toward the carpark.

Haha. I thought this was hilarious.

And I thought this is what's called true customer service.


I still wasn't packed for my trip yet when I met up with Skyboy, Pat and Jase for 'quick drinks' - which didn't quite turn out to be 'quick' after someone was late for almost two freakin' hours.

Well, since it's my big-day - though I'm the Queen - I thought I should be nice to everyone and just wait.

The boys insisted on staying till 12 to spend my pre-big day night together right to the end.

Hur hur. Thanks boys, though I had to eventually rush through my packing in a very 'happy' mood.

It's such a strange surprise.

Friends who seemed to have disappointed you are the ones who make it a point to make your big day special, no matter how little time you have for them, and no matter how simple the event can be.

Really - thanks, boys.


I had three boys spending time right up to the hour where I turned a year older and being the first to send me their best wishes.

I used to have only one man who would do that.

You'd know which I would still have preferred.


"In case i forget, happy birthday a day in advance..."

"Wow. Thanks man. So tat's how gettin old is like, u might forget frens' bdae..."

"I remembered. Suddenly occurred to me..."

Sigh. Ok, sweet enough lah. By your standards.

And I won't forget your boots in KL or BKK.


The birthday cake arrived over MSN on time too. =)

It tasted so sweet.


Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me-e-e,
Happy birthday to me.

It had been a tradition for years.

Someone would be self-proclaimed 'King' for almost the rest of the year, while I'd be 'Queen' for this special, precious week in October.

It was so fun. I'd cherish my reign as Queen and make sure I exercised my powers to the fullest - while I still had them.

Now, I'm Queen to no one.

I'm only me. Just me. Mother of two bitches - one crazy bitch and one scaredy-bitch.


I'd have to think of a real good wish for myself this year.

For now - I need to wash up and get dressed for the airport.

Breakfast appointment with a friend at the departure hall, who happens to be flying to Taiwan at the same time as I am leaving for KL.

Death

Bali's been axed.

No, I don't mean another catastrophe at that little haven of an island. The plans for Bali next week have been cancelled.

I'm cool. Who the hell wants to have a business meeting in Bali anyway? I'd rather save Bali for a sweet romantic destination - some fine day, if it ever comes.

And right now, it doesn't quite click, but I would actually feel bad partying in a place that has just suffered yet another disaster. A place where others are mourning for loss of loved ones.


Well, it doesn't mean the plans for any travel have been shelved.

The meeting will still go on - location just not decided yet.

I have this very bad premonition: it's going to be KL... again!?!?


Catastrophes. Disasters. Floods. Hurricanes. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Plane crashes. Senseless bombings.

Why?

I've always wondered why they happen. Why God let the winds and waters of his creation take away lives of his creation if he's supposed to be good and loving.

Why kill thousands of poor innocent people in your wrath? Are you really that mad at us? Are we really so bad we cause our fellow humans to die for what we've done?

Some say, the answers are found in the Holy Bible. Everything has been written.

Someone says, things happen because it's but a process of nature - population control. That is just how nature controls its evolution - people live and people die. It's a cycle. Natural calamities only accelerate that cycle.

This is clearly a Geography student speaking.

I don't know which theory works, but I know I still haven't found my answer yet. And so, I question God everytime things happen.

And, just like I'm damning these crazy bombers, does God want these people to die too?

Obviously so - they were all suicidal nuts.


I hope to find my answers someday - when I still care enough about life.

Maybe some things in life should never be really understood, should they?

People suffer in different ways. While people think I should count my blessings for being way better off than those who perish in disasters, I am not too sure.

The sufferings you and I go through in life - sometimes no one understands. And no one should stand to judge my sufferings and to compare them against others.

Well yeah, maybe I should be glad I don't suffer the traumas of a disaster.

But then, maybe dying isn't such a bad thing after all - if I should die innocently, I'm just going back to a place where I know it's safe.

It seems morbid, but it helps to think that way.

It helps you accept life and death - as they come.

It helps you understand that the hand that gave you life can also take it away from you.

The Looker

Also known as, the boy with the to-die-for porcelain skin.




I also made a profound discovery.

To have porcelain skin just like that, or to put it the way I've heard it, to have kids with porcelain skin just like that, just consume lots and lots of birds' nest in the last few months of your gestation.

There you go - just like that.

Looking at the little man, it may just work.


I am just wondering... if the same works for human adults already born with clay skin.

Used

Silly me. Forgot my camera to the beach - again. It's been a while since I snapped some pictures of the girls.

In any case, we didn't stay long at the beach though.

The rain came barely an hour after we arrived. The girls ran around like mad, but didn't really get to swim much. The rain came, and we packed up to go - the rain didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon.

Darn. Bad day.


Took a long nap in the afternoon.

There we were, all conked out on my bed: me, the little man, his mom and the two girls.

It was truly quite a sight.


Woke up in time to run some errands before dinner.

In fact, it wasn't so much of running errands for myself; I was helping someone who needed me to get some stuff.

I didn't manage to find what he needed, so I promised to get them when I'm on my trips later this week.


To some degree, I feel like I'm being made use of, like my kindness is being taken advantage of.

But you know. You know I'd never say 'no'.


Dinner was a steamboat affair - yet another craving satisfied.

It sure feels nice to be 'lao da' once in a year.

Insane

Gan: ... but I really want to see him... how?

Me: Not tonight, dear. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you'll know when you wanna see him...

I know how you feel... I wanna see him all the time.

It takes a lot of self-restraint to remain sane but it's actually driving you insane.

Packed

I have a packed schedule this weekend. Well, almost.

Which should be good, I suppose.

It started Thursday night with the long-awaited basketball training. Refreshing but my legs are aching now still. Tsk tsk.

Friday night, I had a quiet yet chatty dinner with an 'aunt'. I was almost looking forward to a quiet night at home after dinner. I even popped by Borders to grab a few magazines to keep myself entertained by my nightlamp.

It's been a long time since I did that. Buying magazines, that is. I have stopped buying all magazines ever since I no longer had the need to buy home and interior design magazines.

Boy, that was almost half a year ago.

But before midnight, a message on my cell rendered all my magazines useless for the night after all.

A sweet surprise. I ended up having my craving satisfied at Wala with a girlfriend. A girlfriend with whom I was drinking together for the first time. We've always been just supper-and-kopi buddies.


Speaking of cravings, I have an ongoing insatiable appetite for steamboats and pasta these days.

No matter how much I consume them these days, I seem never to get enough. Hur hur.


I woke up early today to get myself ready for the party. Ten o'clock, by my Saturday standard, is pretty early, ok.

Getting ready, well, really meant getting my daily fix of kopi-o at the coffeeshop before the little man arrived.

I was more excited than the little man, for sure; he had no clue absolutely about the impending fun.

He looked a little overwhelmed when we arrived at the party - all strangers and no Mommy. I was getting worried he might start pining for his Mommy.

It took but a short while before he warmed up and soon charmed all the 'aunties' off their socks.

Rule #1: Being unmarried means I'm usually 'Jie-Jie' to the kids. You're an 'Auntie' only if you're married. No question.

Rule #2: But when I am already 'Gu-Gu' to the little man, all you girls will be elevated to the same 'Auntie' status. No question.

Haha.

I'm glad the little man seemed to have fun at the party full of aunties, all tickled by his sing-song rattling of numerals and taken over by his sweet demeanor.

One is 'Oon!'. Four is 'Por!'. Five is 'Pai!'. And seven is 'Heaven!'. That's my favorite - Seven Heaven.

The little man likes numbers and alphabets than toys. Ain't that lovely?

I love the little man more and more. I hope he likes Gu-Gu too.


There I was, feeding and milking (with the milk bottle) him, changing his diapers, cleaning him up.

"You're really taking to the motherhood thing damn well, aren't you?"

=) That's nice to know. I just can't suppress the motherly instinct in me sometimes, you know.

How I wish...


Tonight, my first birthday celebration.

And probably the only one too.

I'll be so packed, I don't think I'd have time for any more celebrations before I fly off to KL on the big day itself.

Thank God for girlfriends who remember, and who care.


Can't get home too late tonight.

Swim day for my girls at the beach tomorrow morning. We have a date with Auntie Lyn and her four boys.

Oh, and the little man is coming along too! =)

Type

Type type type type type.

Yay! My pBook is back to its usual self!


And... fcuk.

I was almost finishing a post when the two bitches ran over my keyboard and shut the window.

Urgh!!!