I took a drive to the airport tonight.
No, there isn't anyone for me to pick up today, but I wish there was.
I came because I ran out of places to run to, and this place has got pretty plenty of happy memories for me. Plus, I could eat some fries and write some stuff. Why not?
It's quiet at the hall tonight. Which makes it much easier for me to recall the happy looks on our faces everytime he walked towards me from afar across the other end of the hall.
I didn't really want to be alone tonight. But it's fine this way, as well.
I tried, but no one apparently seemed available for me tonight.
Married friends have family plans. Dating couples have romantic time-alone plans. Drinking buddies are already pissed drunk at someone's place. Single girlfriends are going on hot dates.
Good for them. Hope they are all happy tonight.
I'd really hate to plan for tomorrow's activities; we never did.
Good thing I have to run some errands for Mom. Though I am not sure what time she'll be needing my help.
And I dread to think of the car ride with her alone. I can see the questions coming my way. Fuck.
Petrol prices have gone ridiculously up.
A full tank of gas now costs me almost ten bucks more than what I paid just last week.
There was a slight pinch on my heart as I watched my credit card being swiped.
The price I have to pay for mobility and freedom.
Is it worth it? In a bigger sense of matters, probably yes.
I couldn't really care much about money, if I have to spend it to make me happy. Though I do wish I could earn more of it. Much more.
August is the month of (pathetic) bonus.
Exactly one year ago, this time, I remember our weekends were kept busy, prowling all the car showrooms. By the end of last August, I had used all of my (pathetic) bonus to pay for the downpayment of our precious.
In barely a month's time, our precious would be a year old.
When I think of it this way, time has surely flown past quickly.
I am not sure if it still retains the 'new car' smell, though I think it does.
The car would soon become just my precious. I'd be the only one to bathe it, and to try to fix any problem.
I'll leave the passenger seat as it is, though. Pushed furthest back, and tilted far back.
August is also the month of big bills.
There is the car insurance I have to settle. The road tax that is expiring.
Gracie is going for her annual jab on Monday. The girls both need their haircut next week. The crazy heat is killing Piper.
Piper's yeast problem doesn't seem to go away after the last treatment, and seems to look worse. I need to bring her back to the vet as well.
There is the usual cable, internet, mobile bills, and the dog food.
There is the massive credit bill coming up from the Portland trip.
Everything just has to come right at me altogether, doesn't it?
I think my (pathetic but well-timed) bonus should well cover the expenses. I know I should save the rest of it for my own sake. But I so want to splurge on myself, just to cheer myself up.
An Oris watch, or a Geog Jensen ring would be nice. Haha.
There are also big dates coming up.
Gracie's third birthday on August 20.
Piper's fifth birthday on September 15.
But I'd rather October be a quiet month. The quieter, the better.
And I hope nobody remembers anything.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Human
I cannot decide if days are passing by quickly enough, or too slowly for me.
At any moment in time, I sit and stare, and I can feel the minutes and seconds tearing away bit by bit at my innerbeing. The state of mind where it's empty and full at the same time, and nothing seems to be happening, it can almost drive me nuts.
But when I try hard to think of events that have passed over the week, it seems like I have to dig hard into my memory to recall the place, the time, the words, the faces.
I suppose weekends make it worse, and when I think of the many more weekends to come, I think I have a long way to go.
I slept too much, but I'm feeling more tired. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
It is such times like this when I really wish I could lay my body down to rest for good.
I finally broke the painful silence to best friend Lyn.
I didn't really want to talk, but I didn't want to hurt her too, and most of all, I badly needed someone to cry to.
The poor girl was taken aback. After all, I've always been "ok" to her.
She certainly hadn't been expecting this sort of news after the long silence between us.
I'm sorry, Lyn.
It's not just you that I don't want to see. It's practically everyone in this damned world.
The question came matter-of-factly: "Are you suicidal?"
I looked at her, and I couldn't lie through my eyes. I'm not an active suicidal.
I don't really want to find a way to die, but I tell God, if he wants to take me away, I wouldn't at all mind this time.
I've lost tremendous amounts of weight since I've graduated from school almost 6 years ago.
Practically every one of my old friends has made the same comment.
In a world where most other normal folks are putting on gradual weight after plunging into a routine work-life (breakfast-work-lunch-work-dinner-drinks-sometimes supper), I have certainly caused sufficient concern and worry in some friends for them to egg me on to see a doctor - to 'find out what's wrong'.
Never have I had a full body check all this while, despite all the advice.
My point: I'm happy where I am now. I don't want to know of a disease that tells me I'm going to die soon. That I won't have the rest of my life to spend with him and my dogs.
This week, one of the first things I did when I returned to work was to find out about the full body check offered by the company insurer.
Now is the time to know. If I would die soon of any disease. The sooner, the better.
See. I'm not an active suicidal.
I just want to know where I might be five years later. Or if I would even be anywhere.
I know, writing this here would cause worry in you, friends.
But don't you worry. I'm only thinking, not acting.
I don't want people telling me I'll be ok.
I know I'll fucking be ok. Just when? Just how ok?
I want you telling me I'm going to feel very bad. I want you to tell me this is normal.
I'm never one to plan for my life.
I'm never one who makes resolutions and works towards them. I only try to, just to make myself feel purposeful.
If I'm happy where I am, doing what I do, having what I have, I'm contented enough to just make sure I enjoy every single moment. Why bother about tomorrow when I have today?
If I'm not happy, then I'd start thinking hard about what would.
I've never had a real answer to the stupid question: "Where do you see yourself five years from now?"
Fuck. If I could see, I wouldn't have been put here on this Earth.
But for now, I wish I could see. Tomorrow. Five years. Ten years. Fifty years when I become a pruny old woman.
I know you feel the same pain, but it's probably different.
And I know there must be some people out there who're dying to help you now.
I hope you find the help you've wanted, if not from yourself.
Do angels actually feel this sad?
Maybe then, I'm not good enough to be an angel.
I gotta snap out of this 'angel' thingy. I must remember, I'm only human, like you.
At any moment in time, I sit and stare, and I can feel the minutes and seconds tearing away bit by bit at my innerbeing. The state of mind where it's empty and full at the same time, and nothing seems to be happening, it can almost drive me nuts.
But when I try hard to think of events that have passed over the week, it seems like I have to dig hard into my memory to recall the place, the time, the words, the faces.
I suppose weekends make it worse, and when I think of the many more weekends to come, I think I have a long way to go.
I slept too much, but I'm feeling more tired. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
It is such times like this when I really wish I could lay my body down to rest for good.
I finally broke the painful silence to best friend Lyn.
I didn't really want to talk, but I didn't want to hurt her too, and most of all, I badly needed someone to cry to.
The poor girl was taken aback. After all, I've always been "ok" to her.
She certainly hadn't been expecting this sort of news after the long silence between us.
I'm sorry, Lyn.
It's not just you that I don't want to see. It's practically everyone in this damned world.
The question came matter-of-factly: "Are you suicidal?"
I looked at her, and I couldn't lie through my eyes. I'm not an active suicidal.
I don't really want to find a way to die, but I tell God, if he wants to take me away, I wouldn't at all mind this time.
I've lost tremendous amounts of weight since I've graduated from school almost 6 years ago.
Practically every one of my old friends has made the same comment.
In a world where most other normal folks are putting on gradual weight after plunging into a routine work-life (breakfast-work-lunch-work-dinner-drinks-sometimes supper), I have certainly caused sufficient concern and worry in some friends for them to egg me on to see a doctor - to 'find out what's wrong'.
Never have I had a full body check all this while, despite all the advice.
My point: I'm happy where I am now. I don't want to know of a disease that tells me I'm going to die soon. That I won't have the rest of my life to spend with him and my dogs.
This week, one of the first things I did when I returned to work was to find out about the full body check offered by the company insurer.
Now is the time to know. If I would die soon of any disease. The sooner, the better.
See. I'm not an active suicidal.
I just want to know where I might be five years later. Or if I would even be anywhere.
I know, writing this here would cause worry in you, friends.
But don't you worry. I'm only thinking, not acting.
I don't want people telling me I'll be ok.
I know I'll fucking be ok. Just when? Just how ok?
I want you telling me I'm going to feel very bad. I want you to tell me this is normal.
I'm never one to plan for my life.
I'm never one who makes resolutions and works towards them. I only try to, just to make myself feel purposeful.
If I'm happy where I am, doing what I do, having what I have, I'm contented enough to just make sure I enjoy every single moment. Why bother about tomorrow when I have today?
If I'm not happy, then I'd start thinking hard about what would.
I've never had a real answer to the stupid question: "Where do you see yourself five years from now?"
Fuck. If I could see, I wouldn't have been put here on this Earth.
But for now, I wish I could see. Tomorrow. Five years. Ten years. Fifty years when I become a pruny old woman.
I know you feel the same pain, but it's probably different.
And I know there must be some people out there who're dying to help you now.
I hope you find the help you've wanted, if not from yourself.
Do angels actually feel this sad?
Maybe then, I'm not good enough to be an angel.
I gotta snap out of this 'angel' thingy. I must remember, I'm only human, like you.
Friday, August 05, 2005
"Nia Aye"
August 4 - a day of confusing events.
The short bouts of depression still lapse in, especially when I start thinking too much and the thoughts start running wild.
But for the most part, I was feeling calm and even a little hopeful.
A 'conversation' that shouldn't have taken place but lasted almost two hours over the net.
An invitation to help make a big decision that would create a chance for us to meet.
A phonecall and a message that was unexpectedly received before departure.
A coffee session with a friend who was trying her hardest to help but ended up upsetting me further unknowingly with horrible true-life tales about the industry he's practically stuck in for the good rest of his life.
A late-night dinner-and-tea session at Chomps with someone who really cares about us, that ended up with her crying, instead of me as I'd expected to.
For a while, I felt more sorry for their relationship, than ours.
At the end of the day, I was driving home in a daze - again.
Both physically exhausted from the day's myriad of events, and mentally stuck deep in thoughts, trying to imbibe all that has been said and done in a day.
The questions still left in me are mostly for myself to figure out. The rest of them, I don't think I have a right to ask them anymore, much less demand answers for them.
And I don't think I've got all my answers for myself yet.
Today, I only have one 'Yes' answer left to only one question.
The rest of 'em? Well, yes... maybe no.
I need time, and omens too, to find them.
We only accept a truth after we have first wholeheartedly rejected it.
And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.
When you know that language, it's easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it's in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one's dreams would have no meaning. Maktub.
It was those omens that brought you to me.
If I'm really a part of your dream, you'll come back one day.
I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.
Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.
The short bouts of depression still lapse in, especially when I start thinking too much and the thoughts start running wild.
But for the most part, I was feeling calm and even a little hopeful.
A 'conversation' that shouldn't have taken place but lasted almost two hours over the net.
An invitation to help make a big decision that would create a chance for us to meet.
A phonecall and a message that was unexpectedly received before departure.
A coffee session with a friend who was trying her hardest to help but ended up upsetting me further unknowingly with horrible true-life tales about the industry he's practically stuck in for the good rest of his life.
A late-night dinner-and-tea session at Chomps with someone who really cares about us, that ended up with her crying, instead of me as I'd expected to.
For a while, I felt more sorry for their relationship, than ours.
At the end of the day, I was driving home in a daze - again.
Both physically exhausted from the day's myriad of events, and mentally stuck deep in thoughts, trying to imbibe all that has been said and done in a day.
The questions still left in me are mostly for myself to figure out. The rest of them, I don't think I have a right to ask them anymore, much less demand answers for them.
And I don't think I've got all my answers for myself yet.
Today, I only have one 'Yes' answer left to only one question.
The rest of 'em? Well, yes... maybe no.
I need time, and omens too, to find them.
We only accept a truth after we have first wholeheartedly rejected it.
And when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.
When you know that language, it's easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it's in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one's dreams would have no meaning. Maktub.
It was those omens that brought you to me.
If I'm really a part of your dream, you'll come back one day.
I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you.
Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
"Wei"
I am so in love with my new Gap jeans, I'm wearing them almost everyday.
And they cost me all for less than 40 US dollars.
I am now fitting so nicely into these size zero jeans, I don't think I should be putting any weight back on - not just yet anyway. I am finding no pants or skirt in my wardrobe to wear again; the size twos are all slipping off my hips, even with the help of belts.
That's why I needed desperately to shop in Portland. (Yeah, right.)
These jeans now fit around my non-existent butt so well, I don't look at all gaunt in them. They probably still aren't the perfect pair of jeans for me yet - the rise could have been lower still and the inseam could've been shorter. But for the good-steal price, I am absolutely satisfied.
The search for my perfect jeans will not end, but shall just take a breather now.
I have neither mood nor money.
It's these little things around me that I take comfort, and whatever little pleasure there is, in now.
I hope this is a good start.
Everyday seems to be telling me a different sign, and showing me a different path that leads to a different end.
I feel calm in the morning, but helpless in the night. I feel clearer in the head one day, but flustered and depressed the next.
What's to come? And what not?
I no longer have the ability to guess nor predict. Nor can I afford to build small little hopes around myself anymore.
Wait and see.
Wait for things to come my way, and see what I can do about them.
This is probably the best I can do for myself right now.
Letting go is still hard. Loving him is still natural. Time is all I need, I suppose.
You had me at 'wei'.
And they cost me all for less than 40 US dollars.
I am now fitting so nicely into these size zero jeans, I don't think I should be putting any weight back on - not just yet anyway. I am finding no pants or skirt in my wardrobe to wear again; the size twos are all slipping off my hips, even with the help of belts.
That's why I needed desperately to shop in Portland. (Yeah, right.)
These jeans now fit around my non-existent butt so well, I don't look at all gaunt in them. They probably still aren't the perfect pair of jeans for me yet - the rise could have been lower still and the inseam could've been shorter. But for the good-steal price, I am absolutely satisfied.
The search for my perfect jeans will not end, but shall just take a breather now.
I have neither mood nor money.
It's these little things around me that I take comfort, and whatever little pleasure there is, in now.
I hope this is a good start.
Everyday seems to be telling me a different sign, and showing me a different path that leads to a different end.
I feel calm in the morning, but helpless in the night. I feel clearer in the head one day, but flustered and depressed the next.
What's to come? And what not?
I no longer have the ability to guess nor predict. Nor can I afford to build small little hopes around myself anymore.
Wait and see.
Wait for things to come my way, and see what I can do about them.
This is probably the best I can do for myself right now.
Letting go is still hard. Loving him is still natural. Time is all I need, I suppose.
You had me at 'wei'.
Blood-suckers
Fark. This was almost the second morning in a row I forgot to slot my card into the stupid ERP machine before I zipped past the bledy gantry along the PIE.
Well, I did yesterday - forget to insert my card, that is. Just after I passed the gantry and the machine started beeping madly, I suddenly snapped out of my daze and swore under my breath - another farking $11 gone for nothing.
This morning, I only managed in time to slot the card in just about 50 meters away from the gantry.
That's what you get when you have zombies driving around on the roads - LTA sucking blood off zombies like me.
The meetings continue. Four days in a row since I came back to work, I have been doing nothing, absolutely nothing, but attending meetings where I have to repeat myself over and over and over again.
In a way, the meetings take whatever little bit of mind I still have away from the awful stuff. But they drain me out as well.
In-between meetings, I feel nothing but weariness, and I need to sneak out for a while to catch a breath.
Before I could really think about my just remuneration, I received my letter today, announcing my new salary and my bonus for the year.
One pathetic word: P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.
I have some plans for myself for the longer term ahead of me. I really needed more money to see it through. I don't want to end up having to find a second job just to sustain my plans.
Now, I'm just glad I have enough to pay off bills, my car and my dogs' needs.
Adult commitments - that's what I call them.
Just wait till I get myself an even bigger adult commitment to pay off.
I'm seeing someone tonight, someone who has unexpectedly given me a phonecall - and all I heard was genuine concern.
Should I? Should I not go have tea with her?
I should because it's only right I end things nicely, even for her. And because I know she's worried and I think I am the only one who can appease her worries. Right now.
I shouldn't because it is going to rip my heart further talking to her. And because I know I'm bound to end up crying in front of her - and I don't wish to.
What am I going to tell her? How should I put things nicely yet undistortedly to her?
What does she want to know? How much should she know?
I only know I will tell her, "Sorry, I tried real head but I really couldn't help him."
Well, I did yesterday - forget to insert my card, that is. Just after I passed the gantry and the machine started beeping madly, I suddenly snapped out of my daze and swore under my breath - another farking $11 gone for nothing.
This morning, I only managed in time to slot the card in just about 50 meters away from the gantry.
That's what you get when you have zombies driving around on the roads - LTA sucking blood off zombies like me.
The meetings continue. Four days in a row since I came back to work, I have been doing nothing, absolutely nothing, but attending meetings where I have to repeat myself over and over and over again.
In a way, the meetings take whatever little bit of mind I still have away from the awful stuff. But they drain me out as well.
In-between meetings, I feel nothing but weariness, and I need to sneak out for a while to catch a breath.
Before I could really think about my just remuneration, I received my letter today, announcing my new salary and my bonus for the year.
One pathetic word: P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C.
I have some plans for myself for the longer term ahead of me. I really needed more money to see it through. I don't want to end up having to find a second job just to sustain my plans.
Now, I'm just glad I have enough to pay off bills, my car and my dogs' needs.
Adult commitments - that's what I call them.
Just wait till I get myself an even bigger adult commitment to pay off.
I'm seeing someone tonight, someone who has unexpectedly given me a phonecall - and all I heard was genuine concern.
Should I? Should I not go have tea with her?
I should because it's only right I end things nicely, even for her. And because I know she's worried and I think I am the only one who can appease her worries. Right now.
I shouldn't because it is going to rip my heart further talking to her. And because I know I'm bound to end up crying in front of her - and I don't wish to.
What am I going to tell her? How should I put things nicely yet undistortedly to her?
What does she want to know? How much should she know?
I only know I will tell her, "Sorry, I tried real head but I really couldn't help him."
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Knowing
I don't know if I should have done what I had done.
If I hadn't, I might've lost a large bit of my mind, going crazy on my own - thinking, wondering, visualizing, guessing, assuming, hating.
But I had, and that large bit of mind has gone crazy - thinking, knowing, visualizing, hating.
What I had guessed, largely by observation, a thorough thought-process and pure instincts, doubted and secretly hoped against - had been confirmed. Devestatingly.
I wish I hadn't known.
But I know I had to.
I wish it didn't happen.
It didn't have to. It shouldn't have. Not right now. But it did.
What I had to do to get to the truth wasn't all that glorifiable.
But I was left with no choice. I was left with nothing but my own resources.
I have been a fool, yes indeed. But I would've been a much bigger fool, if hadn't known.
Saving us wasn't possible. The very least I could do was to save myself some grace.
I am not going to deny. I am still crying. And it has gotten worse.
I walk with a blank stare on the floor. I drive at 70kmph because my right foot has no strength to step on it. I sit and stare blankly into space. I've been horned at numerous times on roads by cars that I didn't see coming.
I catch myself doing these, but I can't find the energy to snap out of it. Not just yet, I hope.
I have never really understood the feeling of being really 'zombified'. I know now.
But I am glad. That it's over. The turmoils in my heart.
The only thing left now is to just cry it all out.
No more doubts to confuse myself. All that's left is just sadness. It is a little easier to handle.
I think I have asked all that I've wanted to ask. I don't think there's anything more I would want to know.
Have I then gotten all the answers I need? Maybe. Maybe not.
But at least, I am finally getting honesty, and not just words that might appease me. I can tell the difference. I know him too well.
A strange wave of peace floods over me.
I feel calm, though lost, at times. But other times, the tears would threaten to burst and I would have to make a quick excuse out of the office.
There are things that still need to be settled. Bills mainly. The car. The insurance. The road tax. Gracie's jab. The bill for the accident. My senseless shopping bills in Portland. They all come just so timely.
I am in the meantime fighting for my just remuneration at my new job.
I think I need better luck in that right now.
This is all I can write here.
The rest is too painful for you to see.
If I hadn't, I might've lost a large bit of my mind, going crazy on my own - thinking, wondering, visualizing, guessing, assuming, hating.
But I had, and that large bit of mind has gone crazy - thinking, knowing, visualizing, hating.
What I had guessed, largely by observation, a thorough thought-process and pure instincts, doubted and secretly hoped against - had been confirmed. Devestatingly.
I wish I hadn't known.
But I know I had to.
I wish it didn't happen.
It didn't have to. It shouldn't have. Not right now. But it did.
What I had to do to get to the truth wasn't all that glorifiable.
But I was left with no choice. I was left with nothing but my own resources.
I have been a fool, yes indeed. But I would've been a much bigger fool, if hadn't known.
Saving us wasn't possible. The very least I could do was to save myself some grace.
I am not going to deny. I am still crying. And it has gotten worse.
I walk with a blank stare on the floor. I drive at 70kmph because my right foot has no strength to step on it. I sit and stare blankly into space. I've been horned at numerous times on roads by cars that I didn't see coming.
I catch myself doing these, but I can't find the energy to snap out of it. Not just yet, I hope.
I have never really understood the feeling of being really 'zombified'. I know now.
But I am glad. That it's over. The turmoils in my heart.
The only thing left now is to just cry it all out.
No more doubts to confuse myself. All that's left is just sadness. It is a little easier to handle.
I think I have asked all that I've wanted to ask. I don't think there's anything more I would want to know.
Have I then gotten all the answers I need? Maybe. Maybe not.
But at least, I am finally getting honesty, and not just words that might appease me. I can tell the difference. I know him too well.
A strange wave of peace floods over me.
I feel calm, though lost, at times. But other times, the tears would threaten to burst and I would have to make a quick excuse out of the office.
There are things that still need to be settled. Bills mainly. The car. The insurance. The road tax. Gracie's jab. The bill for the accident. My senseless shopping bills in Portland. They all come just so timely.
I am in the meantime fighting for my just remuneration at my new job.
I think I need better luck in that right now.
This is all I can write here.
The rest is too painful for you to see.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
"Stay. Don't Go."
His last words to me as I got up to leave: "Stay. Don't go. There'll be better things to come for you, I promise."
So soothing to my heart and my mind, these words are indeed.
From a man whom I least expect to talk to, much less say that to me.
I wish it were someone else instead who had said these very words to me.
The second day back at work is still a tough one. Meetings and emails have forced me to recollect all my work that I have left at the back of my mind since weeks ago.
My mind?
It's been scattered everywhere. Everywhere else outside of the workplace.
One little part of me is struggling to complete my due tasks with whatever's left of my mind; the other part of my energies has been exhausted trying to gather the rest of it back here.
Stoned. Stoned-blank. That's what I am now.
I overhear folks around me: "Er... I don't dare talk to her. She's in a bad mood, can you go ask her instead?"
Silly boy. I won't eat you up. Or, maybe I might. Beware.
When I'm in a good mood, my tongue is acidic enough.
No wonder that comment.
God, it looks like you're leading me somewhere now.
Did you send those messages to me, all from the unlikeliest people in my life?
Remember - no more cruel jokes, ok?
Let me get back to my favorite Excel templates right now.
I'll get back to You later.
So soothing to my heart and my mind, these words are indeed.
From a man whom I least expect to talk to, much less say that to me.
I wish it were someone else instead who had said these very words to me.
The second day back at work is still a tough one. Meetings and emails have forced me to recollect all my work that I have left at the back of my mind since weeks ago.
My mind?
It's been scattered everywhere. Everywhere else outside of the workplace.
One little part of me is struggling to complete my due tasks with whatever's left of my mind; the other part of my energies has been exhausted trying to gather the rest of it back here.
Stoned. Stoned-blank. That's what I am now.
I overhear folks around me: "Er... I don't dare talk to her. She's in a bad mood, can you go ask her instead?"
Silly boy. I won't eat you up. Or, maybe I might. Beware.
When I'm in a good mood, my tongue is acidic enough.
No wonder that comment.
God, it looks like you're leading me somewhere now.
Did you send those messages to me, all from the unlikeliest people in my life?
Remember - no more cruel jokes, ok?
Let me get back to my favorite Excel templates right now.
I'll get back to You later.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Thanks Babe
Babe, you dedicated so many Chinese songs to me, I'm inspired to go buy some Chinese CDs for my own pleasure listening in the car.
(I was going to try downloading them online and then burn the songs onto a CD, when I realized I can forget about downloading programs that will allow me to download songs on a Mac in the first place. Damn this pbook.)
You have also been very kind and sweet in your thoughts for us.
I agree with you wholeheartedly.
When you love someone, you don't set him free. I couldn't, and probably still can't, really bear to set him free.
But, you see, when the love becomes painful for one, when the love fades away for one, the other has no other choice than to set him free.
When one feels trapped and hopeless in the love, you can't clip his wings and cage him for any longer.
Maybe, in time to come, there won't be any real emptiness for one. Maybe, there will be.
But you'd never know - unless you let him go. And then wait. Wait and see.
I don't know about the time-travelling bit, though.
Though a part of me would like to go back in time, I don't know if anything would have changed anyway.
To which point in time would I want to return? I don't know.
When love fades eventually, you can't really pinpoint when the tide actually turned. Six months ago? One year? Three years? Maybe six years ago would've been a better bet.
If love was meant to fade, what could I have done better anyway when I think I've already done all I can to keep it alive?
Even if I could go back, would I even have been able to foresee it all coming? In all honesty, I don't think he could've seen it coming himself.
Thing is, nothing could've been rescued even if we went back in time.
Still, I do wish I could go yesterday.
Give me that automobile, and I'll go back to those days when we were happiest. So I can relive them freshly again, feel it passionately again, immerse in it wholesomely again - instead of just in my mind now.
It just pains especially bad when you are forced to 'do the right thing' - against your guts and against your heart.
You are one of only two friends I have so far, showering me with words I actually want to hear.
I bumped into Dee two nights in a row over the weekend in the most unlikely places. Saturday, in the most ulu-est pub I've ever been to. Sunday, in the obscure cafe I hang out in.
She expressed in words what I have been feeling deep inside, "Don't go. Not now. You'll feel worse than you are now, if you still have no closure."
"Follow your guts - guts includes your heart and some of those survival instincts you've gained over the years of experience. You just know it, what to do and what not."
You girls make me feel less silly.
You are right, though. About those Chinese MTVs.
I can't really care much about the Chinese songs I hear on the FM - I don't grasp a word and they don't impress me.
But I was so engrossed in watching the MTVs in the ulu pub that Saturday night, I decided Chinese songs are indeed pretty meaningful. They sing about more depressing love stories than English ones. Maybe I just needed the lyrics to get it all.
And you know what?
I made a dedication for myself that night - 豆浆油条 by 林俊杰.
I couldn't sing a word, of course - so I got the sweet young thing of a waitress to sing it for me.
She's a lucky lass - she gets to drink, sing, enjoy herself at work.
And no, it's not a 'lup sup' bar. We should go there one day - you, me and your hubby. Hope the boss remembers me.
Just wanna say 'thank you' for your thoughts and well wishes.
Keep the songs coming.
P.S: 'Babe' definitely sounds better than 'Miss Piggy'.
(I was going to try downloading them online and then burn the songs onto a CD, when I realized I can forget about downloading programs that will allow me to download songs on a Mac in the first place. Damn this pbook.)
You have also been very kind and sweet in your thoughts for us.
I agree with you wholeheartedly.
When you love someone, you don't set him free. I couldn't, and probably still can't, really bear to set him free.
But, you see, when the love becomes painful for one, when the love fades away for one, the other has no other choice than to set him free.
When one feels trapped and hopeless in the love, you can't clip his wings and cage him for any longer.
Maybe, in time to come, there won't be any real emptiness for one. Maybe, there will be.
But you'd never know - unless you let him go. And then wait. Wait and see.
I don't know about the time-travelling bit, though.
Though a part of me would like to go back in time, I don't know if anything would have changed anyway.
To which point in time would I want to return? I don't know.
When love fades eventually, you can't really pinpoint when the tide actually turned. Six months ago? One year? Three years? Maybe six years ago would've been a better bet.
If love was meant to fade, what could I have done better anyway when I think I've already done all I can to keep it alive?
Even if I could go back, would I even have been able to foresee it all coming? In all honesty, I don't think he could've seen it coming himself.
Thing is, nothing could've been rescued even if we went back in time.
Still, I do wish I could go yesterday.
Give me that automobile, and I'll go back to those days when we were happiest. So I can relive them freshly again, feel it passionately again, immerse in it wholesomely again - instead of just in my mind now.
It just pains especially bad when you are forced to 'do the right thing' - against your guts and against your heart.
You are one of only two friends I have so far, showering me with words I actually want to hear.
I bumped into Dee two nights in a row over the weekend in the most unlikely places. Saturday, in the most ulu-est pub I've ever been to. Sunday, in the obscure cafe I hang out in.
She expressed in words what I have been feeling deep inside, "Don't go. Not now. You'll feel worse than you are now, if you still have no closure."
"Follow your guts - guts includes your heart and some of those survival instincts you've gained over the years of experience. You just know it, what to do and what not."
You girls make me feel less silly.
You are right, though. About those Chinese MTVs.
I can't really care much about the Chinese songs I hear on the FM - I don't grasp a word and they don't impress me.
But I was so engrossed in watching the MTVs in the ulu pub that Saturday night, I decided Chinese songs are indeed pretty meaningful. They sing about more depressing love stories than English ones. Maybe I just needed the lyrics to get it all.
And you know what?
I made a dedication for myself that night - 豆浆油条 by 林俊杰.
I couldn't sing a word, of course - so I got the sweet young thing of a waitress to sing it for me.
She's a lucky lass - she gets to drink, sing, enjoy herself at work.
And no, it's not a 'lup sup' bar. We should go there one day - you, me and your hubby. Hope the boss remembers me.
Just wanna say 'thank you' for your thoughts and well wishes.
Keep the songs coming.
P.S: 'Babe' definitely sounds better than 'Miss Piggy'.
Bitter Sixteen
This is me.
Backing up myself with nothing but love.
And there are the many various forces around me that are working against me, telling me otherwise.
Even a chat with the man's good friend tells me the unthinkable: "Maybe he's really not worth it."
I wonder how long before the triangle topples. Or if it will ever topple.
The last this happened to me was about 12 years ago.
I was 15, going on 16. Fell in love with a bad boy. Real bad boy, who fought in school, got expelled, and yet I loved him.
Too young to know what love is?
Perhaps. But it was almost the same kind of feeling. The feeling where I thought I was the only one who saw good in him, and thought he was a good soul deep within that needed help. Again, I thought I could be his angel.
It was pretty much the same story. Troubled by a broken family, mouthed with a vulgar tongue, he cried to me on rare occasions too. Touched by the faith he had in me, how could I not love him?
He left school, got into a new one - and just disappeared from my life.
Just like that. No calls, no messages, no replies.
I was dumped just like that.
I was left on my own, struggling to know what had happened, when nothing had seemed to have happened. Struggling to prepare for my big 'O's.
Like how I am feeling now, I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong. Hadn't I been there for him? Hadn't I stood by him? Hadn't I shown him enough love, despite all the trouble he was going through?
Just like how I am feeling now, I cried myself to sleep every single night. With Guns 'N Roses playing "Don't Cry" in the background, I kept telling myself not to cry. I've heard that song enough that it still rings a sad bell in me everytime I play it now.
I became a recluse. I went straight home everyday after school, and hung out at the neighborhood basketball court, playing with the boys everyday.
There was a boy then, who played with me everyday, who reminded me a lot of him. Perhaps that was why I went back to the court everyday. Another neighborhood boy, another troubled soul. Nothing happened - there was no feeling of love.
For six months, I cried to myself.
It took me more than a year to really recover. To really recover would have meant being able to talk about him, and not being emotionally shaken everytime his name was mentioned.
Thinking back, I still don't know why he left. We haven't spoken since, but he's asked about me. Maybe he left because he didn't know how to deal with me - we both came from reputable schools, but he was expelled and had to settle for a neighborhood one. I wouldn't have cared. Why wouldn't he talk to me? Why just leave like that?
I found out that in the six months after he left and that I had been crying, he had gotten himself a new girl in his new school. The news totally killed me.
I cried a little bit more, then I stopped.
I decided then he was a jerk, who wasn't worth any part of me.
Of course, that is just puppy love, I suppose.
But the effect on me was real. It was real enough to make me remember how painful it was for me.
I had tucked this episode of my life safely somewhere in a corner of my memory. I have not been thinking about it nor about him. Neither have I wished things were different. I don't know where he is now, or what he is doing, and it's fine by me.
I don't feel anger. I don't feel regret. I just thought a stupid past should remain as it is - a stupid past to be put away for the rest of my life.
I didn't want to dig it up again - but what is happening to me now, has inevitably uncovered the soil.
The similarity of it all, my stupidity, is making me remember all the unhappy childhood days.
Why?
Why do I always fall in love with troubled boys?
Why do I always fall so deep, I can't pull myself out?
Why do they cry to me and then leave me?
Why make me feel like I can be your angel?
Why am I always being cast away after giving my all? Isn't my loving good enough? Should I then be a whiny bitch from now on?
Don't tell me that just like the past, I'll soon get over it.
The situation is the same, but the feeling is definitely different.
When you actually felt the love, when you actually felt being one together, when you actually saw the future, when you actually were ready to give it all at my age, the feeling is definitely different.
When you actually experience a true great love, the feeling is definitely different.
You said you were afraid of getting hurt again, after a bad experience in your teenage years, something which you had never even told me about. It surprised, and puzzled me.
How could you possibly ever get hurt again? By me?
I should've been the one to say that to you.
You can now imagine the pain I'm living through right now.
Not one, but two heartbreaks.
I'm losing my faith in myself. In my ability to love.
Backing up myself with nothing but love.
And there are the many various forces around me that are working against me, telling me otherwise.
Even a chat with the man's good friend tells me the unthinkable: "Maybe he's really not worth it."
I wonder how long before the triangle topples. Or if it will ever topple.
The last this happened to me was about 12 years ago.
I was 15, going on 16. Fell in love with a bad boy. Real bad boy, who fought in school, got expelled, and yet I loved him.
Too young to know what love is?
Perhaps. But it was almost the same kind of feeling. The feeling where I thought I was the only one who saw good in him, and thought he was a good soul deep within that needed help. Again, I thought I could be his angel.
It was pretty much the same story. Troubled by a broken family, mouthed with a vulgar tongue, he cried to me on rare occasions too. Touched by the faith he had in me, how could I not love him?
He left school, got into a new one - and just disappeared from my life.
Just like that. No calls, no messages, no replies.
I was dumped just like that.
I was left on my own, struggling to know what had happened, when nothing had seemed to have happened. Struggling to prepare for my big 'O's.
Like how I am feeling now, I couldn't figure out what I had done wrong. Hadn't I been there for him? Hadn't I stood by him? Hadn't I shown him enough love, despite all the trouble he was going through?
Just like how I am feeling now, I cried myself to sleep every single night. With Guns 'N Roses playing "Don't Cry" in the background, I kept telling myself not to cry. I've heard that song enough that it still rings a sad bell in me everytime I play it now.
I became a recluse. I went straight home everyday after school, and hung out at the neighborhood basketball court, playing with the boys everyday.
There was a boy then, who played with me everyday, who reminded me a lot of him. Perhaps that was why I went back to the court everyday. Another neighborhood boy, another troubled soul. Nothing happened - there was no feeling of love.
For six months, I cried to myself.
It took me more than a year to really recover. To really recover would have meant being able to talk about him, and not being emotionally shaken everytime his name was mentioned.
Thinking back, I still don't know why he left. We haven't spoken since, but he's asked about me. Maybe he left because he didn't know how to deal with me - we both came from reputable schools, but he was expelled and had to settle for a neighborhood one. I wouldn't have cared. Why wouldn't he talk to me? Why just leave like that?
I found out that in the six months after he left and that I had been crying, he had gotten himself a new girl in his new school. The news totally killed me.
I cried a little bit more, then I stopped.
I decided then he was a jerk, who wasn't worth any part of me.
Of course, that is just puppy love, I suppose.
But the effect on me was real. It was real enough to make me remember how painful it was for me.
I had tucked this episode of my life safely somewhere in a corner of my memory. I have not been thinking about it nor about him. Neither have I wished things were different. I don't know where he is now, or what he is doing, and it's fine by me.
I don't feel anger. I don't feel regret. I just thought a stupid past should remain as it is - a stupid past to be put away for the rest of my life.
I didn't want to dig it up again - but what is happening to me now, has inevitably uncovered the soil.
The similarity of it all, my stupidity, is making me remember all the unhappy childhood days.
Why?
Why do I always fall in love with troubled boys?
Why do I always fall so deep, I can't pull myself out?
Why do they cry to me and then leave me?
Why make me feel like I can be your angel?
Why am I always being cast away after giving my all? Isn't my loving good enough? Should I then be a whiny bitch from now on?
Don't tell me that just like the past, I'll soon get over it.
The situation is the same, but the feeling is definitely different.
When you actually felt the love, when you actually felt being one together, when you actually saw the future, when you actually were ready to give it all at my age, the feeling is definitely different.
When you actually experience a true great love, the feeling is definitely different.
You said you were afraid of getting hurt again, after a bad experience in your teenage years, something which you had never even told me about. It surprised, and puzzled me.
How could you possibly ever get hurt again? By me?
I should've been the one to say that to you.
You can now imagine the pain I'm living through right now.
Not one, but two heartbreaks.
I'm losing my faith in myself. In my ability to love.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Words
Hello.
Hello, world. Hello, me.
I seem to have resurfaced from my tortoise shell.
For a while, words seem so cheap they have lost some kind of meaning to me. I still have squillions (as Anna would've said) of words inside of me, floating in my mind and flowing in my veins, but so what if I say them?
Words betray me.
Words do not get through to the one I want to get through to most.
Words make me vulnerable.
Words fool me... they have fooled me so.
Words break me.
Words so make me cry.
Words - can I still trust them?
森林木 says: (7:45:43 AM)
maybe one day, i will find the courage to blog about it like you. haha. but i don't think so though. hahahahaha...........
fmm says: (7:45:52 AM)
huh?
fmm says: (7:45:57 AM)
why can'tu?
森林木 says: (7:46:08 AM)
haha. i'm very private.
fmm says: (7:46:18 AM)
yeah
fmm says: (7:46:25 AM)
i blog but not everything also mar
fmm says: (7:46:31 AM)
there are some things cannot say one
fmm says: (7:46:46 AM)
maybe i think i should jsut stop
森林木 says: (7:46:50 AM)
true. but u kind of guess abit and know a person more thru his/her words.
森林木 says: (7:46:57 AM)
which is what i don't want. hahha
森林木 says: (7:47:05 AM)
no, i think u should keep writing. it keeps u sane i guess.
Words keep me sane?
I tried running away from them. Not for very long, I suppose.
But I was truly very tired as well. Tired from the thoughts. Tired from the crying. Tired from thinking of him and everything else. Tired from trying to pack, but nothing much has in fact been packed. Tired from trying not to appear too emotional in front of people.
Tired from thinking what might happen to me today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year... when I'm an old woman.
Tired from trying.
The beer (and a little bit of Chivas) has helped me sleep through the past two nights till morning.
Mentally exhausted from the pining and physically worn out from the effects of alcohol, I couldn't really write even if I had wanted to.
Writing here may expose me more than I would like to be.
Still, there are much more intimate thoughts I can never write here. Thoughts and words meant for one and only one person, and not for the world wide web.
Story-telling has its limits, ultimately.
But you're right, my friend.
Writing here does perhaps keep me a little more in check.
Being open to public ridicule is but part and parcel of a writer's life, isn't it?
Writing here requires courage, and perhaps to a certain extent, shamelessness.
I have nothing much to fear. My words reflect exactly who I am, how I feel, what I think.
I feel no shame being who I am, feeling how I feel, thinking what I think.
Words, if you're gonna break me, go on and do so.
If you're gonna make me cry, I will.
But Words, please don't fool me no more and please don't betray me.
Please, Words, please also reach the ears and eyes, and most of all the heart, of someone out there.
Hello, world. Hello, me.
I seem to have resurfaced from my tortoise shell.
For a while, words seem so cheap they have lost some kind of meaning to me. I still have squillions (as Anna would've said) of words inside of me, floating in my mind and flowing in my veins, but so what if I say them?
Words betray me.
Words do not get through to the one I want to get through to most.
Words make me vulnerable.
Words fool me... they have fooled me so.
Words break me.
Words so make me cry.
Words - can I still trust them?
森林木 says: (7:45:43 AM)
maybe one day, i will find the courage to blog about it like you. haha. but i don't think so though. hahahahaha...........
fmm says: (7:45:52 AM)
huh?
fmm says: (7:45:57 AM)
why can'tu?
森林木 says: (7:46:08 AM)
haha. i'm very private.
fmm says: (7:46:18 AM)
yeah
fmm says: (7:46:25 AM)
i blog but not everything also mar
fmm says: (7:46:31 AM)
there are some things cannot say one
fmm says: (7:46:46 AM)
maybe i think i should jsut stop
森林木 says: (7:46:50 AM)
true. but u kind of guess abit and know a person more thru his/her words.
森林木 says: (7:46:57 AM)
which is what i don't want. hahha
森林木 says: (7:47:05 AM)
no, i think u should keep writing. it keeps u sane i guess.
Words keep me sane?
I tried running away from them. Not for very long, I suppose.
But I was truly very tired as well. Tired from the thoughts. Tired from the crying. Tired from thinking of him and everything else. Tired from trying to pack, but nothing much has in fact been packed. Tired from trying not to appear too emotional in front of people.
Tired from thinking what might happen to me today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year... when I'm an old woman.
Tired from trying.
The beer (and a little bit of Chivas) has helped me sleep through the past two nights till morning.
Mentally exhausted from the pining and physically worn out from the effects of alcohol, I couldn't really write even if I had wanted to.
Writing here may expose me more than I would like to be.
Still, there are much more intimate thoughts I can never write here. Thoughts and words meant for one and only one person, and not for the world wide web.
Story-telling has its limits, ultimately.
But you're right, my friend.
Writing here does perhaps keep me a little more in check.
Being open to public ridicule is but part and parcel of a writer's life, isn't it?
Writing here requires courage, and perhaps to a certain extent, shamelessness.
I have nothing much to fear. My words reflect exactly who I am, how I feel, what I think.
I feel no shame being who I am, feeling how I feel, thinking what I think.
Words, if you're gonna break me, go on and do so.
If you're gonna make me cry, I will.
But Words, please don't fool me no more and please don't betray me.
Please, Words, please also reach the ears and eyes, and most of all the heart, of someone out there.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Wrong
Sadness tastes amazingly way much bitter than the beer I'm imbibing now.
I can't get rid of the former. And I think the combination of both actually makes quite a bad one.
But I just need to lose my head. Now.
I hope someone goes dancing and boozing with me later still.
I don't know what I've done wrong.
I don't know why I always end up doing the wrong things, against my better judgement.
If you could take me away now, God, please do.
I am not going to munch up my words.
Not now. I've had enough for the day.
I can't get rid of the former. And I think the combination of both actually makes quite a bad one.
But I just need to lose my head. Now.
I hope someone goes dancing and boozing with me later still.
I don't know what I've done wrong.
I don't know why I always end up doing the wrong things, against my better judgement.
If you could take me away now, God, please do.
I am not going to munch up my words.
Not now. I've had enough for the day.
Amazing Dogs
My peace-keepers. My love-givers.
What would become of me now, if I ain't got them?
Dogs know more about human language than we do about dog language.
Let me rephrase that.
Dogs know more about human body language than we think they do.
Piper knows when I'm happy and when I'm upset, without me having much to utter one sound.
When I smile delightfully, Piper wags her tails en suite, and if you would see it as I do, with a smile on her own face.
When I frown and rest my hands on my hips, Piper looks at me with big alarming eyes, tail frozen in mid-air, as if waiting for me to make the move to reproach her.
Tried and tested, this is. Umpteen times.
I haven't been able to test this theory with Gracie because all she ever does is to wag her tail at me.
And just in case you guys always think I'm biased and love one dog more than the other, here you go:
I hope you can see Gracie's lovely face beneath that big bush of hair.
Piper knows when I cry in the night.
She snuggles up to me, waiting to kiss me, but backs down when she hears my sobs and dutifully lays her head down on me instead, as if telling me she's there for me if I ever need her.
I love you so much, Piper.
And you too, Gracie.
You are all Mommy has now.
What would become of me now, if I ain't got them?
Dogs know more about human language than we do about dog language.
Let me rephrase that.
Dogs know more about human body language than we think they do.
Piper knows when I'm happy and when I'm upset, without me having much to utter one sound.
When I smile delightfully, Piper wags her tails en suite, and if you would see it as I do, with a smile on her own face.
When I frown and rest my hands on my hips, Piper looks at me with big alarming eyes, tail frozen in mid-air, as if waiting for me to make the move to reproach her.
Tried and tested, this is. Umpteen times.
I haven't been able to test this theory with Gracie because all she ever does is to wag her tail at me.
And just in case you guys always think I'm biased and love one dog more than the other, here you go:
I hope you can see Gracie's lovely face beneath that big bush of hair.
Piper knows when I cry in the night.
She snuggles up to me, waiting to kiss me, but backs down when she hears my sobs and dutifully lays her head down on me instead, as if telling me she's there for me if I ever need her.
I love you so much, Piper.
And you too, Gracie.
You are all Mommy has now.
Back And Fighting
Fatmama is back.
Not quite bouncing yet - that may take more time.
But Fatmama is back, almost done with her thoughts. And Fatmama has found a big part of herself she almost lost, a part of her that has kept her going as a human for the longest time possible.
And Fatmama has somehow quite decided to pull down her white flag once more. To tuck it well in the darkest of corners under her big bed. She still can't quite burn it yet, though she wishes one day she could. Well, hopefully she doesn't have to use it again soon, but even if she does, she'd know where to find it.
It's bright and early, half past eight in the morning. It's Friday, the last working day of the week, and the last day of my time-off. It's amazing how I am awake and not dozing off at the wheel on my way to work.
Inspired by some newfound strength within me overnight, I drove out to have a latte at Holland Village, without having much even washed my face or taken a shower. I have an urge to write this down before I lose it again. After this, I'll go home for a walk with my girls, give them a much-needed shower and then zip off to meet Miss Agent for a long-awaited lunch date.
I haven't quite slept since four in the morning. I had dozed off almost immediately once I hit the bed last night, but I bolted up in the middle of the night for no reason at all. Maybe it was the thoughts that had been churning round and round in my mind even while I was sleeping.
I wrote and I thought and thought.
Questions. Visions. Recollections. Memories.
My mind has been shrouded by nothing but these for the past one day. Work ought to have been up there in the list, but I just couldn't have the energy to divert my thoughts anywhere else, to save my poor soul. It's still my time-off anyway.
Why?
Why do I feel the way I do? Every time I think of the possibility that I may never get to spend my life with him, to grow old with him, I just get killed bit by bit. Why can't I just envision myself living with someone else in my life?
Why can't I just let go? Like he wants me to, and like everyone else thinks I should.
Why do I feel this sense of despair, this sense of helplessness, like things are beyond my control, like I've been thrown into this deep blue ocean despite my fightbacks and against my wishes?
How long more am I going to feel this despair? How long more before I stop crying?
What is wrong with me? Is there anything wrong with me?
Do I still believe in myself? Am I telling myself I've been wrong?
Have I lost myself? Am I to be changed, despite of my own beliefs?
Quite a huge load of questions, but I think I have some headway there.
Quite simply put, I cannot bring myself to let go of everything, because I can't find me a good enough reason to convince me to.
I figure this sense of despair is driven by this sense of being forcefully put out of reach of something I want and believe in and this is probably what's driving me nuts.
It feels like some evil force is telling me to stop loving him when I can't convince myself I should.
He has done me no wrong. He just couldn't find the sparks.
Should I just give up on that?
I sound like a nutcase? A love-crazed stalker-to-be? I hope not.
It's really funny how, as I told it to his face, in spite of all that has happened, all that he's made me feel, I take one look at the man, and I can still feel only love. Love without hate, love without the shortcomings, love without asking for anything more.
I really cannot explain how this still comes about. Or how it all came about in the first place. And I think love is something we human beings shouldn't perhaps attempt to justify. Only God knows.
I think of the years we've been through, and I think none of those times was for sheer good loving fun.
We had unwittingly become so intertwined in our lives that we could think of nothing else possible but growing old together. I don't think this happens to just about anyone.
I can't just let go of this.
I read the messages we sent each other. I could, and still can, feel the sincerity in his words.
fatmamamia says:
sweetie if this thing happened like 1 or 2 years ago, i think higher chance i'll go
fatmamamia says:
but now... i feel like it's a big risk to take
Immort@l says:
now?
Immort@l says:
sweeite, u are the one i want to marry. ... if u worry bout that then u dun have to.
Immort@l says:
dun scared lah... ..
Immort@l says:
i propose now lah!!!
Immort@l says:
new and innovative
Immort@l says:
thru MSN!!!
Immort@l says:
smart huh
Immort@l says:
sweetie, i can tell u one thing for sure,
u are the one i want to marry and that i can see u grow old wif me
Immort@l says:
remember that time i told u that i will think.. ...
Immort@l says:
i am thru that stage now
Immort@l says:
i really want to marry u
Immort@l says:
and i really luff u dear
Immort@l says:
muakz
Immort@l says:
sorry for makin u feel worried
I remember the times when he looked at me at the end of my comfortings after lost games, with eyes that spoke much more volume than the words themselves, and said, "I really really love you, dear."
Words that once said, I couldn't refute against.
I know, those were the blissful days. And I know, like everyone else says, people change and feelings change.
I just refuse to accept that those words didn't mean a thing to him.
I will not know what he's thinking. If this has all been a lie on his part. If he has perhaps found someone else whom he thinks deserves more of his love than I do.
To me, he's just a confused soul. Confused by the changes going on around him. The opportunities he's been opened to. Confused by me, perhaps.
Maybe, just maybe, I scare him with the kind of love I have.
But I don't ask for anything as much. I never have. You can love me just the way you want to.
So, the woman is back. Back to fight for what she still believes is the one for her.
Where is Fatmama if she isn't fighting for her beliefs?
I will let him go, but I will not let go of my love. I can, and I will, still love him in my own ways.
For one, I will always be there.
Until the day I can convince myself he's no longer worth my while, my love story is not quite over yet.
This is not just a feel-good move on my part.
This is a step toward finding myself. Finding what makes my life worth living for. Finding how I can live tomorrow with a purpose.
Work? Job prospects? They are just bonuses that bring money on my platter. I'll start thinking about that this weekend.
God, please listen, I'm talking to you.
I don't know if I made the right move, but I need to find a way to justify the reason you put me into this world.
If I'm not his angel, then whose am I?
Something went wrong - and you were there all the while.
Wrong is the chance to make right, isn't it?
Please just let me know, in due time, if I am right in this.
I don't know what will come in the next few months. I just hope I stay strong.
Not quite bouncing yet - that may take more time.
But Fatmama is back, almost done with her thoughts. And Fatmama has found a big part of herself she almost lost, a part of her that has kept her going as a human for the longest time possible.
And Fatmama has somehow quite decided to pull down her white flag once more. To tuck it well in the darkest of corners under her big bed. She still can't quite burn it yet, though she wishes one day she could. Well, hopefully she doesn't have to use it again soon, but even if she does, she'd know where to find it.
It's bright and early, half past eight in the morning. It's Friday, the last working day of the week, and the last day of my time-off. It's amazing how I am awake and not dozing off at the wheel on my way to work.
Inspired by some newfound strength within me overnight, I drove out to have a latte at Holland Village, without having much even washed my face or taken a shower. I have an urge to write this down before I lose it again. After this, I'll go home for a walk with my girls, give them a much-needed shower and then zip off to meet Miss Agent for a long-awaited lunch date.
I haven't quite slept since four in the morning. I had dozed off almost immediately once I hit the bed last night, but I bolted up in the middle of the night for no reason at all. Maybe it was the thoughts that had been churning round and round in my mind even while I was sleeping.
I wrote and I thought and thought.
Questions. Visions. Recollections. Memories.
My mind has been shrouded by nothing but these for the past one day. Work ought to have been up there in the list, but I just couldn't have the energy to divert my thoughts anywhere else, to save my poor soul. It's still my time-off anyway.
Why?
Why do I feel the way I do? Every time I think of the possibility that I may never get to spend my life with him, to grow old with him, I just get killed bit by bit. Why can't I just envision myself living with someone else in my life?
Why can't I just let go? Like he wants me to, and like everyone else thinks I should.
Why do I feel this sense of despair, this sense of helplessness, like things are beyond my control, like I've been thrown into this deep blue ocean despite my fightbacks and against my wishes?
How long more am I going to feel this despair? How long more before I stop crying?
What is wrong with me? Is there anything wrong with me?
Do I still believe in myself? Am I telling myself I've been wrong?
Have I lost myself? Am I to be changed, despite of my own beliefs?
Quite a huge load of questions, but I think I have some headway there.
Quite simply put, I cannot bring myself to let go of everything, because I can't find me a good enough reason to convince me to.
I figure this sense of despair is driven by this sense of being forcefully put out of reach of something I want and believe in and this is probably what's driving me nuts.
It feels like some evil force is telling me to stop loving him when I can't convince myself I should.
He has done me no wrong. He just couldn't find the sparks.
Should I just give up on that?
I sound like a nutcase? A love-crazed stalker-to-be? I hope not.
It's really funny how, as I told it to his face, in spite of all that has happened, all that he's made me feel, I take one look at the man, and I can still feel only love. Love without hate, love without the shortcomings, love without asking for anything more.
I really cannot explain how this still comes about. Or how it all came about in the first place. And I think love is something we human beings shouldn't perhaps attempt to justify. Only God knows.
I think of the years we've been through, and I think none of those times was for sheer good loving fun.
We had unwittingly become so intertwined in our lives that we could think of nothing else possible but growing old together. I don't think this happens to just about anyone.
I can't just let go of this.
I read the messages we sent each other. I could, and still can, feel the sincerity in his words.
fatmamamia says:
sweetie if this thing happened like 1 or 2 years ago, i think higher chance i'll go
fatmamamia says:
but now... i feel like it's a big risk to take
Immort@l says:
now?
Immort@l says:
sweeite, u are the one i want to marry. ... if u worry bout that then u dun have to.
Immort@l says:
dun scared lah... ..
Immort@l says:
i propose now lah!!!
Immort@l says:
new and innovative
Immort@l says:
thru MSN!!!
Immort@l says:
smart huh
Immort@l says:
sweetie, i can tell u one thing for sure,
u are the one i want to marry and that i can see u grow old wif me
Immort@l says:
remember that time i told u that i will think.. ...
Immort@l says:
i am thru that stage now
Immort@l says:
i really want to marry u
Immort@l says:
and i really luff u dear
Immort@l says:
muakz
Immort@l says:
sorry for makin u feel worried
I remember the times when he looked at me at the end of my comfortings after lost games, with eyes that spoke much more volume than the words themselves, and said, "I really really love you, dear."
Words that once said, I couldn't refute against.
I know, those were the blissful days. And I know, like everyone else says, people change and feelings change.
I just refuse to accept that those words didn't mean a thing to him.
I will not know what he's thinking. If this has all been a lie on his part. If he has perhaps found someone else whom he thinks deserves more of his love than I do.
To me, he's just a confused soul. Confused by the changes going on around him. The opportunities he's been opened to. Confused by me, perhaps.
Maybe, just maybe, I scare him with the kind of love I have.
But I don't ask for anything as much. I never have. You can love me just the way you want to.
So, the woman is back. Back to fight for what she still believes is the one for her.
Where is Fatmama if she isn't fighting for her beliefs?
I will let him go, but I will not let go of my love. I can, and I will, still love him in my own ways.
For one, I will always be there.
Until the day I can convince myself he's no longer worth my while, my love story is not quite over yet.
This is not just a feel-good move on my part.
This is a step toward finding myself. Finding what makes my life worth living for. Finding how I can live tomorrow with a purpose.
Work? Job prospects? They are just bonuses that bring money on my platter. I'll start thinking about that this weekend.
God, please listen, I'm talking to you.
I don't know if I made the right move, but I need to find a way to justify the reason you put me into this world.
If I'm not his angel, then whose am I?
Something went wrong - and you were there all the while.
Wrong is the chance to make right, isn't it?
Please just let me know, in due time, if I am right in this.
I don't know what will come in the next few months. I just hope I stay strong.
豆浆油条
Even if it really wasn't meant for me, I still like the words.
Thank you babe.
(I don't do Chinese songs, by the way, so this is entirely alien to me.)
豆浆油条 by 林俊杰
喝纯白的豆浆 是纯白的浪漫 望着你
可爱脸蛋 和你纯真的模样
我傻傻对你笑 是你忧愁解药 你说我
就像油条 很简单却很美好
我知道 你和我就像是豆浆油条 要一起
吃下去 味道才会是最好 你需要我的傻笑
我需要你的拥抱 爱情就是要这样它才不会淡掉
我知道 有时候 也需要吵吵闹闹 但始终
也知道 只有你对我最好 豆浆离不开油条
让我爱你爱到老 爱情就是要这样它才幸福美好
我知道 都知道 你知道 你都知道 好不好
别偷笑 笑 让我知道(就好)
我喝完热豆浆 却念着还想要 你吃完金黄
油条 爱情又要再发酵
It took me a couple of days to figure out the lyrics - mainly because the words are so tiny and my blurry vision has no patience to make them out.
This is what I do believe in though.
P.S.: If we were really 'dou jiang you tiao', I wish we were the Yong He ones found along Geylang Road - warm and crisp, sweet and savoury at the same time.
Thank you babe.
(I don't do Chinese songs, by the way, so this is entirely alien to me.)
豆浆油条 by 林俊杰
喝纯白的豆浆 是纯白的浪漫 望着你
可爱脸蛋 和你纯真的模样
我傻傻对你笑 是你忧愁解药 你说我
就像油条 很简单却很美好
我知道 你和我就像是豆浆油条 要一起
吃下去 味道才会是最好 你需要我的傻笑
我需要你的拥抱 爱情就是要这样它才不会淡掉
我知道 有时候 也需要吵吵闹闹 但始终
也知道 只有你对我最好 豆浆离不开油条
让我爱你爱到老 爱情就是要这样它才幸福美好
我知道 都知道 你知道 你都知道 好不好
别偷笑 笑 让我知道(就好)
我喝完热豆浆 却念着还想要 你吃完金黄
油条 爱情又要再发酵
It took me a couple of days to figure out the lyrics - mainly because the words are so tiny and my blurry vision has no patience to make them out.
This is what I do believe in though.
P.S.: If we were really 'dou jiang you tiao', I wish we were the Yong He ones found along Geylang Road - warm and crisp, sweet and savoury at the same time.
The Day After
Couldn't sleep last night. It was terrible. Awful.
The minute I lay my head down to rest, the tap wouldn't stop.
Everything just came rushing back to my mind. Everything from the long past, to the bliss we were still living in just a couple of months ago preparing for our lives together ahead, to the future we had painted for ourselves. I could still see the kids and dogs and one big green garden we had wanted. I saw the two of us grey-haired, finally having the moments of our life.
Fuck - if nothing had happened, we would right now have been busy preparing for the renovation of the house.
Fuck - if nothing had happened, I wonder if we would have been married with a time-bomb hanging over our heads.
Was it good, or bad, then that something had happened?
It was supposed to be for the better, but now has turned out for the worse.
I had to wait for the tears to subside before I could allow myself some shut-eye - I didn't want to wake up with painful eyes. All the while, the man was lying peacefully on my big bed, long fast asleep.
It was probably going to be the last night he's going to bunk over at my place. I almost wanted to spend the whole night taking in the view of him lying peacefully next to me.
I wanted to feel the touch of his skin one last time, but the slightest touch made him move.
It was almost daybreak before I finally got myself to sleep.
There was some strange sense of peace and ease between the both of us the next day. It felt as if a load had been physically taken off from us.
No awkward silence, but just peace. It was like we were connected again in a way, knowing what the other wants without having to speak a word or ask a question.
We talked, we joked and laughed a bit. We were almost back to our usual comfort zone, except that this time, we had no physical touch.
I had taken down all the photos of us because I suppose they pain him as much as they do me.
We cooked both cups of instant noodles and ate them for breakfast because they reminded us of pain as well.
Heck, the two of us even ran errands together before I was to send him off to work again.
The silence in the car was no longer the painful kind. It was the same old silence I had known before - the kind of silence I was proud to have understood and readily offered. The space-giving, I-know-what-you-want kind of silence, the kind where I knew he was there with me without having to speak to me.
I stared at his uniform, his flight bag, his Gap shirt hanging outside the cupboard which I remember I had bought on one of my first trips to Portland, his good ol' ten-year-old Esprit jacket that I've been in love with since day one, his computer full of stickers which I had proudly stuck on like an excited four-year-old, all his messy flight books lying around, his phone, his wallet - while he was taking a shower.
It struck me that I might never get to see them again. They belong to my life as much as they belong to him. I was about to lose this familiar sight all around me.
After a day of peace, I had wanted to tear again.
I am supposed to help him pack up some stuff while he's away on his flight.
I really don't know where to start. Other than the shoes and clothes, I can't tell his stuff from mine. What is clearly his and what's mine, I cannot decide.
There's just too much to be removed from this room, that might just remind me the slightest bit about him.
I should throw away the bed as well.
It was supposed to be a night of peace for me - basketball night with my buddies.
But I had to see his longtime teammate CB on the same basketball court at Tanglin. Thursdays are usually reserved for us; why were CB and his never-seen-before friends down at our court tonight?
I turned my eyes towards the skies and cast a questioning look once again.
Dinner at Adam's was the usual after-training affair.
We had our dinner, and our fair share of jokes and bitching, and we got up to leave by 11.
But I had to bump into my good friend Les whom I've not seen for a while, having supper with wifey. Without fail, his second question, after asking how I had been, was, "Boyfriend leh?"
Argh argh ARGH. My voice was lost somewhere in my throat; I just hand-gestured a flying motion and shook my head at the same time. I only managed to mumble, "Don't ask."
My best friend, whom I've not caught up with for the longest time and who usually calls only once in a while when the moon turns blue, called suddenly and asked how things were. She is probably not the most Web-savvy friend I have, so I guess she never quite knew about the existence of this journal.
I just didn't know how to tell her. So I just said, "Yeah, I'm ok. Everything's ok."
And we just hung up after a while.
Is this a test of patience and endurance from You?
The minute I lay my head down to rest, the tap wouldn't stop.
Everything just came rushing back to my mind. Everything from the long past, to the bliss we were still living in just a couple of months ago preparing for our lives together ahead, to the future we had painted for ourselves. I could still see the kids and dogs and one big green garden we had wanted. I saw the two of us grey-haired, finally having the moments of our life.
Fuck - if nothing had happened, we would right now have been busy preparing for the renovation of the house.
Fuck - if nothing had happened, I wonder if we would have been married with a time-bomb hanging over our heads.
Was it good, or bad, then that something had happened?
It was supposed to be for the better, but now has turned out for the worse.
I had to wait for the tears to subside before I could allow myself some shut-eye - I didn't want to wake up with painful eyes. All the while, the man was lying peacefully on my big bed, long fast asleep.
It was probably going to be the last night he's going to bunk over at my place. I almost wanted to spend the whole night taking in the view of him lying peacefully next to me.
I wanted to feel the touch of his skin one last time, but the slightest touch made him move.
It was almost daybreak before I finally got myself to sleep.
There was some strange sense of peace and ease between the both of us the next day. It felt as if a load had been physically taken off from us.
No awkward silence, but just peace. It was like we were connected again in a way, knowing what the other wants without having to speak a word or ask a question.
We talked, we joked and laughed a bit. We were almost back to our usual comfort zone, except that this time, we had no physical touch.
I had taken down all the photos of us because I suppose they pain him as much as they do me.
We cooked both cups of instant noodles and ate them for breakfast because they reminded us of pain as well.
Heck, the two of us even ran errands together before I was to send him off to work again.
The silence in the car was no longer the painful kind. It was the same old silence I had known before - the kind of silence I was proud to have understood and readily offered. The space-giving, I-know-what-you-want kind of silence, the kind where I knew he was there with me without having to speak to me.
I stared at his uniform, his flight bag, his Gap shirt hanging outside the cupboard which I remember I had bought on one of my first trips to Portland, his good ol' ten-year-old Esprit jacket that I've been in love with since day one, his computer full of stickers which I had proudly stuck on like an excited four-year-old, all his messy flight books lying around, his phone, his wallet - while he was taking a shower.
It struck me that I might never get to see them again. They belong to my life as much as they belong to him. I was about to lose this familiar sight all around me.
After a day of peace, I had wanted to tear again.
I am supposed to help him pack up some stuff while he's away on his flight.
I really don't know where to start. Other than the shoes and clothes, I can't tell his stuff from mine. What is clearly his and what's mine, I cannot decide.
There's just too much to be removed from this room, that might just remind me the slightest bit about him.
I should throw away the bed as well.
It was supposed to be a night of peace for me - basketball night with my buddies.
But I had to see his longtime teammate CB on the same basketball court at Tanglin. Thursdays are usually reserved for us; why were CB and his never-seen-before friends down at our court tonight?
I turned my eyes towards the skies and cast a questioning look once again.
Dinner at Adam's was the usual after-training affair.
We had our dinner, and our fair share of jokes and bitching, and we got up to leave by 11.
But I had to bump into my good friend Les whom I've not seen for a while, having supper with wifey. Without fail, his second question, after asking how I had been, was, "Boyfriend leh?"
Argh argh ARGH. My voice was lost somewhere in my throat; I just hand-gestured a flying motion and shook my head at the same time. I only managed to mumble, "Don't ask."
My best friend, whom I've not caught up with for the longest time and who usually calls only once in a while when the moon turns blue, called suddenly and asked how things were. She is probably not the most Web-savvy friend I have, so I guess she never quite knew about the existence of this journal.
I just didn't know how to tell her. So I just said, "Yeah, I'm ok. Everything's ok."
And we just hung up after a while.
Is this a test of patience and endurance from You?
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Chapter 34: The End?
My life journalized thus far has been like an online drama serial. One that keeps some folks tuned in regularly to catch the latest twists to the complicated love affair.
Except that this one is pretty much real-life, and not doctored by any looney-tuned director. And this probably scares some shit out of you because you realize what actually gets played out on the TV box is sometimes very much based on 'true life circumstances'.
Go on... admit it, you drama rats.
Maybe you try to catch every episode fervently because the lead actors involved are your dear friends and you'd really like to know what the heck is going on between two seemingly-loving lovebirds. Or maybe you have some personal interests vested in this because you have gone through similar circumstances, or you seem to be facing similar issues, or you simply fear that the same might ever happen to you.
Or maybe you're just tuning in because you're simply entertained by my story-telling.
Whatever the reason, I don't mind the viewership, and I am not going to start imposing some pay-per-view charges (can I actually do that, by the way?).
My life is written out on the world wide web - simply because:
(a) I like technology, and the idea of an online journal,
(b) I need to utilize fully my internet subscription,
(c) I like typing and I lurve my pbook,
(d) I write so I don't have to talk so you guys don't have to ask but you guys still know anyhow (which saves me the trouble of bringing packets of Kleenex out when I go out with you guys),
(e) this is the only way I can get my feelings through to some people,
(f) I want to up the value of my blogshares (which, by the way, I stumbled upon and found out there are some strangers somewhere out there who are trading on my blogshares - this is pretty hilarious, I find).
No, seriously. Only (d) and (e) above apply.
And I write so that hopefully ten years down the road, wherever I may be, I would still be able to click on my web site and look back on these memories - and perhaps laugh at myself.
And wouldn't it be real cool if my own kiddo could google on his momma and read for himself, in his momma's own words, the life she's been through to have him in this life?
I write, so you can read about the experiences I've gone through. About how some plain girl like me - perhaps that colleague you never really knew, or that girl whom you've only met on the basketball courts, or that quiet girl who's a friend of your hubby, or that strange girl whom you don't even really know personally - has got some real heartaches to live through.
Sometimes, all may not be well as it seems.
This is only human. This is only life.
Just like how any drama serial gets its fair share of readers' mail about how the story should have been or what the lead actor should have done or how some other actor should be condemned to death, my life story gets some readers' comments too on how I should look up and see life ain't that bad.
I appreciate the concern I've managed to invoke in some of you. Though when it's anonymously rendered, I find it kinda hard to direct my gratitude.
Fact is, I know all those lines from self-help books. I've read enough of them.
I know 28 isn't exactly too old - but neither is it young as well.
I know life ain't that tough - but neither is it that simple as well.
I know things don't seem that bad as they sound - but neither do they sound or seem good as well.
I suppose every similar situation is unique to every different person. You might have gone through a similar experience as I have - but I'm sure you probably didn't think the same, share the same beliefs and values, feel the same feelings, want the same things, hope the same things, say the same words, and most of all, you probably didn't love the same person as I did.
I am still going through a learning phase, and probably always will be. I go through my fair share of life experiences, and I grow and learn from them.
I will grow and I will learn on my own - otherwise, nothing is really gained.
My mom and dad have known the wiser from years of raising me - never force me into anything, or I will do the opposite. Advice rendered will always be taken selectively. I think I've grown up just fine this way, thank you very much.
Many heads might be shaking right now - "Listen to that foolish woman".
Foolish, I may seem to you, but I know I am not, in God's eyes.
The only thing I know, and have known so far, is to love, and love deeply.
This is the best I can be, to be more like Him.
I will make my own choices about my life, and bear any mistakes of my own, and hopefully learn from them. Just like what I'm struggling to go through now. A choice that I bore for the past six years that has turned out to be a cruel joke at times, and which I'm still trying to figure out if it's a mistake to bear.
So readers, you'd have to bear with me, my gripings and wallowing and all, if you go on reading as you choose.
My life story hasn't come to an end. There is no director in sight, except the Hand who created it all.
I am only the lead actor in it. Sometimes, the defiant actor questions the Director - Why? Why couldn't You have given me a happier role to play in this story? Why choose me to be the actor in this particular drama?
For only reasons He knows, I suppose.
In time to come, I hope I would realize those reasons too.
In the meantime, the love affair seems to have come to a sad end, but all is not over.
Maybe the chapter will not be closed - for now.
But that's another story to come.
Stay tuned.
Except that this one is pretty much real-life, and not doctored by any looney-tuned director. And this probably scares some shit out of you because you realize what actually gets played out on the TV box is sometimes very much based on 'true life circumstances'.
Go on... admit it, you drama rats.
Maybe you try to catch every episode fervently because the lead actors involved are your dear friends and you'd really like to know what the heck is going on between two seemingly-loving lovebirds. Or maybe you have some personal interests vested in this because you have gone through similar circumstances, or you seem to be facing similar issues, or you simply fear that the same might ever happen to you.
Or maybe you're just tuning in because you're simply entertained by my story-telling.
Whatever the reason, I don't mind the viewership, and I am not going to start imposing some pay-per-view charges (can I actually do that, by the way?).
My life is written out on the world wide web - simply because:
(a) I like technology, and the idea of an online journal,
(b) I need to utilize fully my internet subscription,
(c) I like typing and I lurve my pbook,
(d) I write so I don't have to talk so you guys don't have to ask but you guys still know anyhow (which saves me the trouble of bringing packets of Kleenex out when I go out with you guys),
(e) this is the only way I can get my feelings through to some people,
(f) I want to up the value of my blogshares (which, by the way, I stumbled upon and found out there are some strangers somewhere out there who are trading on my blogshares - this is pretty hilarious, I find).
No, seriously. Only (d) and (e) above apply.
And I write so that hopefully ten years down the road, wherever I may be, I would still be able to click on my web site and look back on these memories - and perhaps laugh at myself.
And wouldn't it be real cool if my own kiddo could google on his momma and read for himself, in his momma's own words, the life she's been through to have him in this life?
I write, so you can read about the experiences I've gone through. About how some plain girl like me - perhaps that colleague you never really knew, or that girl whom you've only met on the basketball courts, or that quiet girl who's a friend of your hubby, or that strange girl whom you don't even really know personally - has got some real heartaches to live through.
Sometimes, all may not be well as it seems.
This is only human. This is only life.
Just like how any drama serial gets its fair share of readers' mail about how the story should have been or what the lead actor should have done or how some other actor should be condemned to death, my life story gets some readers' comments too on how I should look up and see life ain't that bad.
I appreciate the concern I've managed to invoke in some of you. Though when it's anonymously rendered, I find it kinda hard to direct my gratitude.
Fact is, I know all those lines from self-help books. I've read enough of them.
I know 28 isn't exactly too old - but neither is it young as well.
I know life ain't that tough - but neither is it that simple as well.
I know things don't seem that bad as they sound - but neither do they sound or seem good as well.
I suppose every similar situation is unique to every different person. You might have gone through a similar experience as I have - but I'm sure you probably didn't think the same, share the same beliefs and values, feel the same feelings, want the same things, hope the same things, say the same words, and most of all, you probably didn't love the same person as I did.
I am still going through a learning phase, and probably always will be. I go through my fair share of life experiences, and I grow and learn from them.
I will grow and I will learn on my own - otherwise, nothing is really gained.
My mom and dad have known the wiser from years of raising me - never force me into anything, or I will do the opposite. Advice rendered will always be taken selectively. I think I've grown up just fine this way, thank you very much.
Many heads might be shaking right now - "Listen to that foolish woman".
Foolish, I may seem to you, but I know I am not, in God's eyes.
The only thing I know, and have known so far, is to love, and love deeply.
This is the best I can be, to be more like Him.
I will make my own choices about my life, and bear any mistakes of my own, and hopefully learn from them. Just like what I'm struggling to go through now. A choice that I bore for the past six years that has turned out to be a cruel joke at times, and which I'm still trying to figure out if it's a mistake to bear.
So readers, you'd have to bear with me, my gripings and wallowing and all, if you go on reading as you choose.
My life story hasn't come to an end. There is no director in sight, except the Hand who created it all.
I am only the lead actor in it. Sometimes, the defiant actor questions the Director - Why? Why couldn't You have given me a happier role to play in this story? Why choose me to be the actor in this particular drama?
For only reasons He knows, I suppose.
In time to come, I hope I would realize those reasons too.
In the meantime, the love affair seems to have come to a sad end, but all is not over.
Maybe the chapter will not be closed - for now.
But that's another story to come.
Stay tuned.
Goodbye
The neighborhood folks have put up their red-and-white Singapore flags outside their windows, in celebration of the upcoming National Day.
So have I - except my flag is an all-white one.
Buckets of tears have been shed tonight. They just wouldn't stop.
I wonder how much more in store I have left in me.
I cannot describe how I'm feeling deep inside now - and I won't attempt to.
He almost disappointed me by not picking up my calls nor replying to my messages. But he turned up eventually.
I would only cry buckets in front of him.
Thank you for being there.
You haven't said much tonight though, so I guess I'd never be able to figure out what you're thinking inside. And you haven't attempted to give me a hug. A real physical human touch, that I might miss for a long time to come.
Well, maybe I shouldn't ask for more than I deserve - should I?
I really don't know what I should expect of my life going forward from tonight.
How lonely can loneliness feel?
How sad can sadness get?
How empty can emptiness be?
Who's to listen to me? Who's to give me a hug? Who's to kiss me?
Who's to tell me he loves me?
I wish Piper could speak our worthless human language.
So have I - except my flag is an all-white one.
Buckets of tears have been shed tonight. They just wouldn't stop.
I wonder how much more in store I have left in me.
I cannot describe how I'm feeling deep inside now - and I won't attempt to.
He almost disappointed me by not picking up my calls nor replying to my messages. But he turned up eventually.
I would only cry buckets in front of him.
Thank you for being there.
You haven't said much tonight though, so I guess I'd never be able to figure out what you're thinking inside. And you haven't attempted to give me a hug. A real physical human touch, that I might miss for a long time to come.
Well, maybe I shouldn't ask for more than I deserve - should I?
I really don't know what I should expect of my life going forward from tonight.
How lonely can loneliness feel?
How sad can sadness get?
How empty can emptiness be?
Who's to listen to me? Who's to give me a hug? Who's to kiss me?
Who's to tell me he loves me?
I wish Piper could speak our worthless human language.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Blank
I came home to emptiness.
An empty room. An empty bed.
An empty life.
I haven't slept since I came home. Maybe the 20-hour snooze throughout the journey home is keeping me wide awake now. Or perhaps the emptiness of everything is making it hard for me to fall asleep.
I've emptied my luggage as much as I can. Taken the dirty laundry out to the wash. Put the unworn clothes back into the wardrobe. Stacked all the new clothes I've bought in the cupboard away from the prying eyes of my mother.
The room is still in a mess. It seems messier than it had ever been.
Somehow, I never seem to be able to clean out the mess in my life and in my room.
It's nine, and most folks should be at work by now.
Work - that's something I don't have to think about for the next few days.
I'm grateful for the free days I have to myself - maybe it's a good start to think about stuff and sort things out.
But I'm skeptical, and fearful. Where do I go from here? What am I to do? What am I supposed to say? How should I get myself heard, and get all my questions answered?
Will I see you again?
Is it really all over? Just like that?
I wish I could have the whole house to myself, but I don't and I won't.
My bed is my refuge... and maybe somewhere else out there.
I knew very well this is what I would come back to.
But there's no way I can run away from it.
There are a couple things that need to be done.
My phone is fucking dead. I hope the fix wouldn't cost me a bomb.
I am going to try out a form of pain therapy called inking. Maybe the physical pain infliction may not compare much to the pain I'm going through now, but it might awaken me from my senses - and awaken me to a brand new dawn.
I don't know. We'll see.
An empty room. An empty bed.
An empty life.
I haven't slept since I came home. Maybe the 20-hour snooze throughout the journey home is keeping me wide awake now. Or perhaps the emptiness of everything is making it hard for me to fall asleep.
I've emptied my luggage as much as I can. Taken the dirty laundry out to the wash. Put the unworn clothes back into the wardrobe. Stacked all the new clothes I've bought in the cupboard away from the prying eyes of my mother.
The room is still in a mess. It seems messier than it had ever been.
Somehow, I never seem to be able to clean out the mess in my life and in my room.
It's nine, and most folks should be at work by now.
Work - that's something I don't have to think about for the next few days.
I'm grateful for the free days I have to myself - maybe it's a good start to think about stuff and sort things out.
But I'm skeptical, and fearful. Where do I go from here? What am I to do? What am I supposed to say? How should I get myself heard, and get all my questions answered?
Will I see you again?
Is it really all over? Just like that?
I wish I could have the whole house to myself, but I don't and I won't.
My bed is my refuge... and maybe somewhere else out there.
I knew very well this is what I would come back to.
But there's no way I can run away from it.
There are a couple things that need to be done.
My phone is fucking dead. I hope the fix wouldn't cost me a bomb.
I am going to try out a form of pain therapy called inking. Maybe the physical pain infliction may not compare much to the pain I'm going through now, but it might awaken me from my senses - and awaken me to a brand new dawn.
I don't know. We'll see.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Calamity Jane
Cannot believe this is happening to me. Another calamity.
My precious barely-2-month-old phone fell out of my pocket and into the toilet bowl (yes, still full of piss). I was still adjusting my skirt when I heard the 'plop' and my mind raced frantically to remember what it was I had put into my pocket that could possibly have taken the plunge.
A 2-second dip is just as good (or bad, for that matter) as a tumble in the washing machine.
My phone just wouldn't start up after that. I took out the battery and SIM card and left them all out to dry overnight.
It has shown signs of life this morning, but still it looks cranky.
This is just so fucked up. Everything about me.
I am finally coming home.
Called up the airline last evening, and found myself an empty seat for the flight later at 2 in the afternoon. I have no pissing idea why, but I had to pay for the change in flight schedule. With that amount, I almost could've rented a car for the Vancouver trip.
Still, at this moment, I'd rather leave this (sometimes) cold lonely place and go back to where I can feel the love and kisses from my dogs and to where I can control my life. Here, I am clueless and aimless everyday. There's nothing more for me to see in Portland. I hate this.
Maybe I might regret changing the course of things and going home early. But right now, I just need to throw myself back into the harsh reality back home - and work my way out from there. I'm just done with my thinking here.
I bunked over at a friend's place last night. The sweetest thing I've felt so far throughout the entire trip was how Biskit her little Chihuahua launched himself all over me. I really miss Piper Gracie.
Friend had kindly offered to put me up for the next few days. I had even planned to dog-sit and cook dinner for her. I even thought I would go to campus with her, and work from there and get my leave cancelled.
Friend probably still thinks I should have just stayed on for the next few days - and thinks I'm silly for wanting to go back home to everything now.
But, friend, I cannot stand living my life aimlessly everyday now. There's nothing for me here, and it is really just getting me depressed further.
I think I'm ready for the truth. I think...
Friend dropped me off in downtown on her way to work this morning. I would just hang out here till it's time for me to catch the train to the airport. Like how I used to do.
I'm sitting at my cafe once more - for the last time this trip. The sun is out but rising pretty slowly, so I'm not quite feeling its warmth yet. The cold wind is making me tremble as I type away.
Maybe I should just get to the airport earlier and hang out in the indoor warmth there.
I have received various messages of concern and well wishes from friends. Friends from various points of my life.
Friends whom I thought would have been clueless about everything.
Thank you, girls. Thank you for remembering me - just someone in your life.
You don't have to worry nuts about me. I can take care of myself - I always have and I will.
Maybe the shit I'm going through now is just much bigger than I can take.
But I will wriggle my way out... somehow... eventually. Some fine day.
See y'all back home.
My precious barely-2-month-old phone fell out of my pocket and into the toilet bowl (yes, still full of piss). I was still adjusting my skirt when I heard the 'plop' and my mind raced frantically to remember what it was I had put into my pocket that could possibly have taken the plunge.
A 2-second dip is just as good (or bad, for that matter) as a tumble in the washing machine.
My phone just wouldn't start up after that. I took out the battery and SIM card and left them all out to dry overnight.
It has shown signs of life this morning, but still it looks cranky.
This is just so fucked up. Everything about me.
I am finally coming home.
Called up the airline last evening, and found myself an empty seat for the flight later at 2 in the afternoon. I have no pissing idea why, but I had to pay for the change in flight schedule. With that amount, I almost could've rented a car for the Vancouver trip.
Still, at this moment, I'd rather leave this (sometimes) cold lonely place and go back to where I can feel the love and kisses from my dogs and to where I can control my life. Here, I am clueless and aimless everyday. There's nothing more for me to see in Portland. I hate this.
Maybe I might regret changing the course of things and going home early. But right now, I just need to throw myself back into the harsh reality back home - and work my way out from there. I'm just done with my thinking here.
I bunked over at a friend's place last night. The sweetest thing I've felt so far throughout the entire trip was how Biskit her little Chihuahua launched himself all over me. I really miss Piper Gracie.
Friend had kindly offered to put me up for the next few days. I had even planned to dog-sit and cook dinner for her. I even thought I would go to campus with her, and work from there and get my leave cancelled.
Friend probably still thinks I should have just stayed on for the next few days - and thinks I'm silly for wanting to go back home to everything now.
But, friend, I cannot stand living my life aimlessly everyday now. There's nothing for me here, and it is really just getting me depressed further.
I think I'm ready for the truth. I think...
Friend dropped me off in downtown on her way to work this morning. I would just hang out here till it's time for me to catch the train to the airport. Like how I used to do.
I'm sitting at my cafe once more - for the last time this trip. The sun is out but rising pretty slowly, so I'm not quite feeling its warmth yet. The cold wind is making me tremble as I type away.
Maybe I should just get to the airport earlier and hang out in the indoor warmth there.
I have received various messages of concern and well wishes from friends. Friends from various points of my life.
Friends whom I thought would have been clueless about everything.
Thank you, girls. Thank you for remembering me - just someone in your life.
You don't have to worry nuts about me. I can take care of myself - I always have and I will.
Maybe the shit I'm going through now is just much bigger than I can take.
But I will wriggle my way out... somehow... eventually. Some fine day.
See y'all back home.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Suffering You Must Bear Alone
I could not comfort her, I would not have dared to trepass. All that I could do was to see as she saw, to be moved as she was moved. That kind of suffering you must bear alone. As she said so simply, "It's for me and Mister God", and there's no answer to that.
Most people I knew used God as an excuse for their failure. "He should have done this", or "Why has God done this to me?", but with Mum and Anna difficulties and adversities were merely occasions for doing something. Ugliness was the chance to make beautiful. Sadness was the chance to make glad. Mister God was always available to them.
- Mister God, This Is Anna
I still have not managed to get an earlier flight out. The wait is gruelling.
I will keep on calling.
I have checked out of the hotel since morning, left my freakin' heavy luggage at the front desk, and wandered around downtown for the past four hours.
I have popped in and out of stores, reining myself in strongly from any more buys. Since the day I decided I would not drive up Vancouver after all, I have instead tried to indulge in some retail therapy. I just couldn't care no more about self-control. It didn't help at all that the stuff on sale was really good - too good to pass on.
So, now it's not only that I don't have the mood to travel up to Vancouver, I don't have the money to as well.
I had to literally sit on top of my soft luggage to zip it up. I am just too stuffed. I don't know why as well I am still buying stuff for two - other than the little one. It takes time to give it up altogether, I suppose.
I have just sat my tired ass down at Island Joe's - one of my favorite cafes that not only provides free wi-fi, but serves one of the meanest hot chocolates and grilled turkey-basil-provalone sandwiches around. Most of all, this is all I can afford right now. I'm so low on dollars, and I can't use my Canadian$ here.
The sun is streaming through the trees around me, and I feel warm and cool at the same time. I'm keeping my jacket on - it'd be a hassle to have to put it on and off every ten minutes.
The streets are fairly people-ful. Definitely not as crowded as you would find Orchard Rd on a Sunday. I wonder where Oregonians go and what they do on a Sunday. For sure, whatever they do, they must be with loved ones and friends.
It is a little sad to be sitting alone in a cafe on a Sunday afternoon, when you think about that.
But well, this gives me a good chance to catch on my reading.
Fiction or not, 'Mister God, This Is Anna' surely inspires me without fail.
For one, it makes me wish I were a four-year-old again. Where worries were nothing heard of, and love still remained in its purest, simplest form.
Most people I knew used God as an excuse for their failure. "He should have done this", or "Why has God done this to me?", but with Mum and Anna difficulties and adversities were merely occasions for doing something. Ugliness was the chance to make beautiful. Sadness was the chance to make glad. Mister God was always available to them.
- Mister God, This Is Anna
I still have not managed to get an earlier flight out. The wait is gruelling.
I will keep on calling.
I have checked out of the hotel since morning, left my freakin' heavy luggage at the front desk, and wandered around downtown for the past four hours.
I have popped in and out of stores, reining myself in strongly from any more buys. Since the day I decided I would not drive up Vancouver after all, I have instead tried to indulge in some retail therapy. I just couldn't care no more about self-control. It didn't help at all that the stuff on sale was really good - too good to pass on.
So, now it's not only that I don't have the mood to travel up to Vancouver, I don't have the money to as well.
I had to literally sit on top of my soft luggage to zip it up. I am just too stuffed. I don't know why as well I am still buying stuff for two - other than the little one. It takes time to give it up altogether, I suppose.
I have just sat my tired ass down at Island Joe's - one of my favorite cafes that not only provides free wi-fi, but serves one of the meanest hot chocolates and grilled turkey-basil-provalone sandwiches around. Most of all, this is all I can afford right now. I'm so low on dollars, and I can't use my Canadian$ here.
The sun is streaming through the trees around me, and I feel warm and cool at the same time. I'm keeping my jacket on - it'd be a hassle to have to put it on and off every ten minutes.
The streets are fairly people-ful. Definitely not as crowded as you would find Orchard Rd on a Sunday. I wonder where Oregonians go and what they do on a Sunday. For sure, whatever they do, they must be with loved ones and friends.
It is a little sad to be sitting alone in a cafe on a Sunday afternoon, when you think about that.
But well, this gives me a good chance to catch on my reading.
Fiction or not, 'Mister God, This Is Anna' surely inspires me without fail.
For one, it makes me wish I were a four-year-old again. Where worries were nothing heard of, and love still remained in its purest, simplest form.
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