okay. this is my list.
1) earn more monies
2) learn more dances
3) get better at job
4) get better at OTHER job
5) like myself better
6) be a better storyteller
7) write quality pieces more often
8) be nicely political
9) grow claws and learn to use them
10) manicure those claws.
there. not that long a list. ten is a good number. this list seems a good one, it covers the areas that i thought wanting. good.
..i should start another blog on all those emo shit that i can be do full of. all those gloomy, depressing stuff, you know? keep it outside of this part of life. this will be "healthy" and that part will the "unhealthy" side of things.
the person i don't want to become.
right. spot.
Friday, December 29, 2006
butterflies
this sense of unease is killing me. it feels exactly like the pre-break up distress and after-break up wretchedness. what is going on??
i usually i call it quits with someone when i feel this. heh, if it ends before two-month mark. that's when i usually call it quits. :/ this time round though, i actually like this one. enough to show him to more friends.
having said that... hmm.
test of faith, eh? alright. let's do this.
make up your mind, stick with it. love is just chemicals, no? a tad reductionistic, some may say, but this is one of those moments when you need it all to be boiled down to one tiny bitter tablet.
i usually i call it quits with someone when i feel this. heh, if it ends before two-month mark. that's when i usually call it quits. :/ this time round though, i actually like this one. enough to show him to more friends.
having said that... hmm.
test of faith, eh? alright. let's do this.
make up your mind, stick with it. love is just chemicals, no? a tad reductionistic, some may say, but this is one of those moments when you need it all to be boiled down to one tiny bitter tablet.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
the hermit strikes again
hmm. an hour before dinner at his place, with his mum and sister.
i know i should be going.
but i'm still here, considering the possibilities of a freak thunderstorm that will cause me to dial KFC for delivery.
...i think i need a whisky.
i know i should be going.
but i'm still here, considering the possibilities of a freak thunderstorm that will cause me to dial KFC for delivery.
...i think i need a whisky.
age is catching up with me!
this is a tad weird.
it seems that i look 'ah soh' no matter what i put on today.
}:x
uh oh.
it seems that i look 'ah soh' no matter what i put on today.
}:x
uh oh.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
all dried up
it's all dried up, baby, all dried up.
possessing someone conversely means being owned. a little like how a king's "owned" by his people and his nation being "owned" by him.
it's been a bad day. "possessed", huh.
i've my own family, too. it's just that i don't have a house for them yet; that's why i'm living alone.
possessing someone conversely means being owned. a little like how a king's "owned" by his people and his nation being "owned" by him.
it's been a bad day. "possessed", huh.
i've my own family, too. it's just that i don't have a house for them yet; that's why i'm living alone.
effaced
isn't it odd, when you seem to have everything that you asked for, but somehow isn't happy? what, then, is the issue? is it the world, or is it just you?
personally i'm feeling odd. my question is: what else is there, other than being physically together? i'm not talking about just sex here, but more about everyday interactions.
are we seeing too much of each other? are we talking enough? do we "do" stuff together, like take walks down at botanical gardens, catch plays, go to the beach, visit the library, suchlike enough? are we attracted to each other, do we like each other and "love", to a certain degree, each other but cannot live with each other?
or is it the other way round? can we function as a couple outside of the house? can we communicate, how do we measure up to each other, what are our pluses and minuses, how else do we complement each other?
i am the best; he is a pretty good match.
so then, what prompted this train of thought, this feeling of unease?
..someone told me "when i first felt happiness, i thought it was gas."
is this "my", so to speak, gas? hmm. something more to think about, eh? probably best thought-about alone.
personally i'm feeling odd. my question is: what else is there, other than being physically together? i'm not talking about just sex here, but more about everyday interactions.
are we seeing too much of each other? are we talking enough? do we "do" stuff together, like take walks down at botanical gardens, catch plays, go to the beach, visit the library, suchlike enough? are we attracted to each other, do we like each other and "love", to a certain degree, each other but cannot live with each other?
or is it the other way round? can we function as a couple outside of the house? can we communicate, how do we measure up to each other, what are our pluses and minuses, how else do we complement each other?
i am the best; he is a pretty good match.
so then, what prompted this train of thought, this feeling of unease?
..someone told me "when i first felt happiness, i thought it was gas."
is this "my", so to speak, gas? hmm. something more to think about, eh? probably best thought-about alone.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
closed.
and that's what happened with me and my soon-to-be-previous workplace. remember the part wherein felix the cat got pulled through the converyor belt through rollers big and small? i was that felix.
don't mistake me for resenting what i had to go through; don't also misunderstand that i had breezed through it a la more-zen-than-buddha-himself without a shred of frustration. i was angry; every day was venom in my veins. don't mistake that iw as happy peelign myself off my bed and sending myself onto that bus to get to work.
don't mistake that.
but like all relationships, i learnt some very important lessons from that place, from my colleagues. i am no longer as green as i used to be, i came out better than when i got in. nine months. how ironic, that. i got accepted on my birthday and two days short of ten months i'm leaving.
it's almost i'm meant to be there, to learn some intended lessons. that's what i got.
and i must then grow.
cause that's what it's all about. i pray that neither of us will stop learning, stop growing precisely because of what we had previously learnt. the ability to recognise when old knowledge is obsolete and accepting the possibility of 'new' knowledge, move on.
cause that's what it's all about.
don't mistake me for resenting what i had to go through; don't also misunderstand that i had breezed through it a la more-zen-than-buddha-himself without a shred of frustration. i was angry; every day was venom in my veins. don't mistake that iw as happy peelign myself off my bed and sending myself onto that bus to get to work.
don't mistake that.
but like all relationships, i learnt some very important lessons from that place, from my colleagues. i am no longer as green as i used to be, i came out better than when i got in. nine months. how ironic, that. i got accepted on my birthday and two days short of ten months i'm leaving.
it's almost i'm meant to be there, to learn some intended lessons. that's what i got.
and i must then grow.
cause that's what it's all about. i pray that neither of us will stop learning, stop growing precisely because of what we had previously learnt. the ability to recognise when old knowledge is obsolete and accepting the possibility of 'new' knowledge, move on.
cause that's what it's all about.
and it takes the sky to fall
...it takes the sky to fall to have you realise you've a friend under the brolly with you. it takes the sky to fall, to make you realise that person holding on to your parasol while you're oh-so-coolly walking is the person who loves you.
and it takes the sky to fall and some damn truck to splash one heckuva a roadside-tsunami of a wave at the both of you to make you understand, amidst the shivers and the laughs, that there's nowhere else on earth that you'd rather be, other than the wet, cold and merry place that you are at.
that's where love is.
and it takes the sky to fall and some damn truck to splash one heckuva a roadside-tsunami of a wave at the both of you to make you understand, amidst the shivers and the laughs, that there's nowhere else on earth that you'd rather be, other than the wet, cold and merry place that you are at.
that's where love is.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
when i was young
i write a lot. even when my hands are busy, i think a great deal. like when i was busy with my publication, busy looking at building-block pictures online to add colour to my articles (again!) i thought of this:
"when i was youg i thought i could build the tallest of buildings with my multi-coloured wooden building blocks.
"i thought i could build towers as high as my ceiling, as high as the next house, as high as the church beside e well-loved bridge. (there aren't any churches at where i used to play building blocks at. this is just me running away with my mental pen) i thought i could build one so tall i could live in it, the only issue i coudl see as a child then was the lack of building blocks. i was sure i could build one that would compete with the clock tower in that little town back home! (there aren't clock towers, neither. but there was this tower taller than the rest of the buildings standing in the middle of a roundabout that the locals were and are so fond of. i don't understand why)
and i told whomever - often my mother - was nearby so. i also told my father, who was not there, so, as well.
and my mother would often respond with a "no, you can't," to which i'd stubbornly and angrily rail against. (nothing like that has happened, because i shrieked instead of railed. no reasoning involved, just blind rage)
and i determinedly did not believe her realistic but discouraging words. so i built my tower, over and over again, each time it toppled i would stubbornly rebuild it.
i built it and built it day after day. each time i ran out of blocks i would demolish my tower and start over and my towers would always be drastically different, even my mother wondered how i came up with this many variations. my mother did not say anything more about my towers not being able to reach the sky, but she simply watched, as mothers do.
and i built, frustrated by the irony of not having enough blocks, not having something to preserve their structure and shape and HATING the idea that they may be forever confined to a particular idea of what building blocks AREN'T.
and thus, i built on, each day for many days, when i was young. and every day i demolished them, to start over the next moment.
i was obsessed with the blocks.
and my mother said nothing. and my father, who was not there, said nothing as well.
and i built on.
"when i was youg i thought i could build the tallest of buildings with my multi-coloured wooden building blocks.
"i thought i could build towers as high as my ceiling, as high as the next house, as high as the church beside e well-loved bridge. (there aren't any churches at where i used to play building blocks at. this is just me running away with my mental pen) i thought i could build one so tall i could live in it, the only issue i coudl see as a child then was the lack of building blocks. i was sure i could build one that would compete with the clock tower in that little town back home! (there aren't clock towers, neither. but there was this tower taller than the rest of the buildings standing in the middle of a roundabout that the locals were and are so fond of. i don't understand why)
and i told whomever - often my mother - was nearby so. i also told my father, who was not there, so, as well.
and my mother would often respond with a "no, you can't," to which i'd stubbornly and angrily rail against. (nothing like that has happened, because i shrieked instead of railed. no reasoning involved, just blind rage)
and i determinedly did not believe her realistic but discouraging words. so i built my tower, over and over again, each time it toppled i would stubbornly rebuild it.
i built it and built it day after day. each time i ran out of blocks i would demolish my tower and start over and my towers would always be drastically different, even my mother wondered how i came up with this many variations. my mother did not say anything more about my towers not being able to reach the sky, but she simply watched, as mothers do.
and i built, frustrated by the irony of not having enough blocks, not having something to preserve their structure and shape and HATING the idea that they may be forever confined to a particular idea of what building blocks AREN'T.
and thus, i built on, each day for many days, when i was young. and every day i demolished them, to start over the next moment.
i was obsessed with the blocks.
and my mother said nothing. and my father, who was not there, said nothing as well.
and i built on.
it's so because...
it's called "man's best friend" cause you can trust it.
(i was looking for pictures of dawgs online for my publication when my mind retraced what it read about dogs - how they save their masters from burning houses, how they guard the house, what a joy they can be when they greet their masters at the door with such enthusiasm... i think people love dogs because it is almost always a given that they will be loved in return)
(i was looking for pictures of dawgs online for my publication when my mind retraced what it read about dogs - how they save their masters from burning houses, how they guard the house, what a joy they can be when they greet their masters at the door with such enthusiasm... i think people love dogs because it is almost always a given that they will be loved in return)
in new light
(this is scrawled onto a piece of paper more than a few days ago, two weeks after i had handed in my resgination letter)
the shift in perspective is always interesting when you've come to a conclusion.
it's like it does not matter anymore;the hang-ups that been a large part of your daily life are no longer important, nor urgent.
...how unlike back then, when it all mattered!
the shift in perspective is always interesting when you've come to a conclusion.
it's like it does not matter anymore;the hang-ups that been a large part of your daily life are no longer important, nor urgent.
...how unlike back then, when it all mattered!
Monday, December 11, 2006
there's something about tsetse
oh, the tsetse in the office. it be so cheery when i walk in. 'din-din' at someplace cool and posh.
almost like i were the trigger to show off. haha
bluebottle against the windowpane. rather amusing. hahaha
almost like i were the trigger to show off. haha
bluebottle against the windowpane. rather amusing. hahaha
a friend in need
i read in an email from a friend, five days too late, that she's facing some trouble in a foreign land. it's not work trouble, that's easy to solve. it's not exactly money issues, that's still alright-ish. not friendships, she's an affable person - it's familial.
anyone who's not an orphan probably would have witnessed - or worse, tasted - the sting of family politics. hers, is probably the best and the worst position to be at the same time. now. the said friend is a sassy young lady with smarts and a sense of justice. she speaks her mind, has opinions, is strong mentally, emotionally. package that with a likeable character and a pretty face and you will begin to see how it might be if you were to meet her.
from what i gathered, she is, as i said, in the best and worst position to be in in family politics.
no, she's not directly involved but rather she had to witness the injustices carried out right before her eyes. for fifteen years she had endured that and hadn't said a word about it. now that she's facing it full in the face, being stuck as a student overseas where her family businesses are, it got worse.
she still isn't saying anything about it. or maybe she did and had gotten stung in return. one thing's for sure, is that she's now keeping it all in and i know it's killing her, changing her; as mine had killed me, is killing me, is changing me.
i don't know how such human ugliness transpired into a monster such as this exactly but i do know this is not an environment i want to forge with my future family, friendships, etc.
thus... i beseech anyone who reads this: if you dislike someone, please, do not oust that someone. if you must, remove yourself civilly. if you do not deem it possible for you to move or that the other person should move out instead, well, do what you need to but please do not allow others to get caught up in YOUR web.
because it is YOUR web and no one else's. keep it that way.
anyone who's not an orphan probably would have witnessed - or worse, tasted - the sting of family politics. hers, is probably the best and the worst position to be at the same time. now. the said friend is a sassy young lady with smarts and a sense of justice. she speaks her mind, has opinions, is strong mentally, emotionally. package that with a likeable character and a pretty face and you will begin to see how it might be if you were to meet her.
from what i gathered, she is, as i said, in the best and worst position to be in in family politics.
no, she's not directly involved but rather she had to witness the injustices carried out right before her eyes. for fifteen years she had endured that and hadn't said a word about it. now that she's facing it full in the face, being stuck as a student overseas where her family businesses are, it got worse.
she still isn't saying anything about it. or maybe she did and had gotten stung in return. one thing's for sure, is that she's now keeping it all in and i know it's killing her, changing her; as mine had killed me, is killing me, is changing me.
i don't know how such human ugliness transpired into a monster such as this exactly but i do know this is not an environment i want to forge with my future family, friendships, etc.
thus... i beseech anyone who reads this: if you dislike someone, please, do not oust that someone. if you must, remove yourself civilly. if you do not deem it possible for you to move or that the other person should move out instead, well, do what you need to but please do not allow others to get caught up in YOUR web.
because it is YOUR web and no one else's. keep it that way.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
the toy
the toy that someone inevitably picks up because it looks pretty gets picked up often. it gets loved, gets attention. but then comes a time when something else beckons - like work, or family, whatnot.
that's when the toy is left.
not to say that the toy isn't important - the toy's role is quite crucial in times of crisis. it's a symbol of safety, of normalcy, if i may. it is something some may cling to as a token of the past, or an ideal, or maybe even a dream of an idea of how a person may be.
..toys.
they can be dreams. however real or unreal, there are the things that you hold to yourself each night when you go to sleep, because 'everything else' can't be trusted. just like a certain cousin of mine said: i love walt disney's productions. they're so beautiful. and yes i believe in the romance in those productions. that's what you can hold on to when you go to bed at night.
..and he, in typical fashion, said that it is not possible in real life in the following breath.
"that's why i love walt disney's," he would say, "because that's the ideal. my kinda ideal."
...by and by, i'm beginning to see how he sees it.
and i wonder, if it's such a bad/good thing being a toy.
that's when the toy is left.
not to say that the toy isn't important - the toy's role is quite crucial in times of crisis. it's a symbol of safety, of normalcy, if i may. it is something some may cling to as a token of the past, or an ideal, or maybe even a dream of an idea of how a person may be.
..toys.
they can be dreams. however real or unreal, there are the things that you hold to yourself each night when you go to sleep, because 'everything else' can't be trusted. just like a certain cousin of mine said: i love walt disney's productions. they're so beautiful. and yes i believe in the romance in those productions. that's what you can hold on to when you go to bed at night.
..and he, in typical fashion, said that it is not possible in real life in the following breath.
"that's why i love walt disney's," he would say, "because that's the ideal. my kinda ideal."
...by and by, i'm beginning to see how he sees it.
and i wonder, if it's such a bad/good thing being a toy.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
tribute
so sometimes right, you discover that you'd stepped into a hole and had been walking in the same hole for some time now, and when you finally realise that you're in a hole and you're getting out - you also realise that there is the mud and funky twigs and whatnot sticking to your socks and legs and the damn mud's trying to steal your shoe.
then you work it out, without calling for help, thinking that it's alright, things are okay, you can get out of this alone - when you realise that that trudge out of the said hole is not that easy-peasy as you thought it was, and that it had cost you more than you thought you would expend. not that it's a whole lot more but the fact that the 'getting out of hole' episode caused you more trouble than what you thought it should - well - does have a tendency to surprise you.
that's when you get friends out to have a good dinner, a nice game of ball, a gung-ho few round of drinks. and then the world seems right again, without you having to say anything. mud, twigs, lost shoe -
it just seems right again. because there are them friends around.
that's right. because there are them friends around.
then you work it out, without calling for help, thinking that it's alright, things are okay, you can get out of this alone - when you realise that that trudge out of the said hole is not that easy-peasy as you thought it was, and that it had cost you more than you thought you would expend. not that it's a whole lot more but the fact that the 'getting out of hole' episode caused you more trouble than what you thought it should - well - does have a tendency to surprise you.
that's when you get friends out to have a good dinner, a nice game of ball, a gung-ho few round of drinks. and then the world seems right again, without you having to say anything. mud, twigs, lost shoe -
it just seems right again. because there are them friends around.
that's right. because there are them friends around.
Monday, November 20, 2006
love, actually is a puppy
once again.
love. it's arrived at my doorstep in a basket and blankie. knocked on my door and tucked itself back in so it can stare at me with its big googly eyes when i open the door.
...i don't think i survived that gaze attack.
love. it's arrived at my doorstep in a basket and blankie. knocked on my door and tucked itself back in so it can stare at me with its big googly eyes when i open the door.
...i don't think i survived that gaze attack.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
when it comes
it all comes.
when it comes it all comes. you get pounded you break you bend you behave like a rounded rubber block of red - you get body-slammed into a wall you stick you break you explode you slide onto the floor you fly right back at them.
and when it all comes you realise you're getting slammed no matter what and breaking bending sliding exploding aren't options open to you.
if you're going to get fucked, let your response not be that of a loser's.
no sticking or sliding allowed.
none.
when it comes it all comes. you get pounded you break you bend you behave like a rounded rubber block of red - you get body-slammed into a wall you stick you break you explode you slide onto the floor you fly right back at them.
and when it all comes you realise you're getting slammed no matter what and breaking bending sliding exploding aren't options open to you.
if you're going to get fucked, let your response not be that of a loser's.
no sticking or sliding allowed.
none.
Friday, November 17, 2006
when it all gets too much
and sometimes it all gets too much to handle, too hard to take, too tough to swallow.
and all we can do is go on. and if you're lucky — maybe, just maybe - you get a call from a friend asking if everything's alright, if you need any company and/or help.
not that you need any of that. but because it's always good to know that you're not going it alone. and no, you're not alone.
i want you to know that.
and all we can do is go on. and if you're lucky — maybe, just maybe - you get a call from a friend asking if everything's alright, if you need any company and/or help.
not that you need any of that. but because it's always good to know that you're not going it alone. and no, you're not alone.
i want you to know that.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
how can it be?
it's amazing.
how sometimes what others tell you about you when you've known yourself foryour entire lifetime reveals what you hadn't noticed about yourself.
i have amazing friends, an amazing life, and even more amazing friends.
i am lucky.
...nay. i am blessed. thank YOU, for being in my life. sincerely.
thank you.
how sometimes what others tell you about you when you've known yourself foryour entire lifetime reveals what you hadn't noticed about yourself.
i have amazing friends, an amazing life, and even more amazing friends.
i am lucky.
...nay. i am blessed. thank YOU, for being in my life. sincerely.
thank you.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
neither is this a story
jane listened to the heaving sounds just behind the door.
the door rattled periodically, punctuated by breathless moans.
swallowing, she decided that this isn't the best time to call on lynn. as she turned to go, she noticed lynn's roguishly handsome neighbour hanson leaning on his door frame, watching her. she blushed and hastily tugged on her luggage to hurry down the corridor to the lift.
but before she could walk five steps hanson called out to her: "in trouble?"
too embarrassed to say anything, she kept walking. he must've seen the tear tracks on her face. damn not having a mirror handy at a time like this! her mascara must've been so smudged she KNOWS she looks like a racoon. yeah. a racoon with red puffy eyes.
"i have a spare bed," he called after her.
she kept walking.
"in the other room," he added.
she stopped. even though she's not in the right frame of mind - who'd be in the right frame of mind when your step-father's told you to get out after he couldn't get you to do what your ma did to earn the monies for him? - she knew she needed a roof over her head, for tonight at least. hanson, seeing her pause, called out again, his own hesitation echoing hers.
"you can stay here until tomorrow when lynnette's in a better - position - to house you properly."
jane started to tear. she hung her head and blinked quickly, pinching the part of the bridge of her nose where the corners of her eyes were with her free hand. that's where tears flowed from, she read in a book somewhere.
"don't cry," she thought, "you're tougher than this. you know how it is, you know it. you knew it all along that he would eventually kick you out and she won't even stop him or or help you in any way. what you knew all along can't hurt you, can it? don't give them the triumph of crying again. don't."
suddenly hanson was beside her, taking the handle of her luggage from her hand. she started, the urgency of tears fled, if only for a moment, and involuntarily looked at hanson.
the gentle kindness on his face broke whatever resolve she had not to cry and she began to sob ugly, racking sobs that robbed her of breath. hanson, taking pity on the girl, held her head to his chest and let her cry, saying "there, there" awkwardly.
as time passed he hoped she wouldn't notice the rattling of the door had grown more urgent and had developed into a steady pounding, the moans replaced by soft shrieks. so he steered her gently and slowly, with her head still firmly on his chest, to his place. she went with him meekly, not seeing and clinging to him as if he were the only lifeline she had, her eyes burning the dryness of his shirt away the whole time. he hoped they would make it to his place in time. goodness knew he winced as they walked past lynn's door.
just as he was about to close the door of his own apartment behind him, he heard a shriek followed by a triumphant cry.
hanson rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.
the door rattled periodically, punctuated by breathless moans.
swallowing, she decided that this isn't the best time to call on lynn. as she turned to go, she noticed lynn's roguishly handsome neighbour hanson leaning on his door frame, watching her. she blushed and hastily tugged on her luggage to hurry down the corridor to the lift.
but before she could walk five steps hanson called out to her: "in trouble?"
too embarrassed to say anything, she kept walking. he must've seen the tear tracks on her face. damn not having a mirror handy at a time like this! her mascara must've been so smudged she KNOWS she looks like a racoon. yeah. a racoon with red puffy eyes.
"i have a spare bed," he called after her.
she kept walking.
"in the other room," he added.
she stopped. even though she's not in the right frame of mind - who'd be in the right frame of mind when your step-father's told you to get out after he couldn't get you to do what your ma did to earn the monies for him? - she knew she needed a roof over her head, for tonight at least. hanson, seeing her pause, called out again, his own hesitation echoing hers.
"you can stay here until tomorrow when lynnette's in a better - position - to house you properly."
jane started to tear. she hung her head and blinked quickly, pinching the part of the bridge of her nose where the corners of her eyes were with her free hand. that's where tears flowed from, she read in a book somewhere.
"don't cry," she thought, "you're tougher than this. you know how it is, you know it. you knew it all along that he would eventually kick you out and she won't even stop him or or help you in any way. what you knew all along can't hurt you, can it? don't give them the triumph of crying again. don't."
suddenly hanson was beside her, taking the handle of her luggage from her hand. she started, the urgency of tears fled, if only for a moment, and involuntarily looked at hanson.
the gentle kindness on his face broke whatever resolve she had not to cry and she began to sob ugly, racking sobs that robbed her of breath. hanson, taking pity on the girl, held her head to his chest and let her cry, saying "there, there" awkwardly.
as time passed he hoped she wouldn't notice the rattling of the door had grown more urgent and had developed into a steady pounding, the moans replaced by soft shrieks. so he steered her gently and slowly, with her head still firmly on his chest, to his place. she went with him meekly, not seeing and clinging to him as if he were the only lifeline she had, her eyes burning the dryness of his shirt away the whole time. he hoped they would make it to his place in time. goodness knew he winced as they walked past lynn's door.
just as he was about to close the door of his own apartment behind him, he heard a shriek followed by a triumphant cry.
hanson rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.
not a story.
laiye treaded softly towards that gilded door, the one that marks it as the Master's. it was late, the white silvery moon casting a delicate veil of spidery light throughout the estate, outlining it in a patina of magic. though it was warm and humid, as this pixie-forsaken place is wont to be, all year round, she rubbed bare arms to ward of the chill that the cool morning was capable of inflicting. she had never gotten used to the weather here.
by the look of the undisturbed line of moon-cast luminance under the sturdy door, the Master seems asleep.
"as his bed-companion should be, most probably," she thought, with a bit more acid than a servant girl should have.
she lingered just a little away from the door, keen to be near her Master, yet holding back, for she knew where the wards would be. she would be shielded from the effects, but the Master would know if anyone's there and she certainly couldn't well make it to any hiding place in time should he choose to awaken and come to the door.
he would punish her, as he did others who attempted to spy on him: serrated hooks were inserted into hips and jaws and strung, like spiders on a fisherman's thread, just outside of the estate. and he would, before he hangs them up like so much linen, take their glowing life essences to put into a jar, so they wouldn't die.
if he were kind, he would allow a day for the hapless offenders to get used to the idea of eternal suspension. if he weren't, he would start the critters on them. it depended on his mood, mostly. it was worse when he chose to host festivals in the forests near them. the merry-making, the scent of roast and pies and ale -
oh, he wasn't all bad, for that was how things worked. you come into the estate you swear fealty to him. and if you were to be a spy - oho! that's what happens to you: suspension. you always knew what you were headed for with the Master; he was not just the maker of the law, he WAS the law.
by the look of the undisturbed line of moon-cast luminance under the sturdy door, the Master seems asleep.
"as his bed-companion should be, most probably," she thought, with a bit more acid than a servant girl should have.
she lingered just a little away from the door, keen to be near her Master, yet holding back, for she knew where the wards would be. she would be shielded from the effects, but the Master would know if anyone's there and she certainly couldn't well make it to any hiding place in time should he choose to awaken and come to the door.
he would punish her, as he did others who attempted to spy on him: serrated hooks were inserted into hips and jaws and strung, like spiders on a fisherman's thread, just outside of the estate. and he would, before he hangs them up like so much linen, take their glowing life essences to put into a jar, so they wouldn't die.
if he were kind, he would allow a day for the hapless offenders to get used to the idea of eternal suspension. if he weren't, he would start the critters on them. it depended on his mood, mostly. it was worse when he chose to host festivals in the forests near them. the merry-making, the scent of roast and pies and ale -
oh, he wasn't all bad, for that was how things worked. you come into the estate you swear fealty to him. and if you were to be a spy - oho! that's what happens to you: suspension. you always knew what you were headed for with the Master; he was not just the maker of the law, he WAS the law.
Monday, November 06, 2006
a story
i am going to write a story about a society wherein people get so pompous that rudeness is condoned, as long as you do it with style and panache. and i'm going to throw in a magic doorknob that listens to all this pomp, and laughs about this to itself.
wherein warlocks are common, witches are aplenty and where gold is no longer of much value because anyone can make it. the currency, therefore, is glamour, sold in little sachets like little packets of SK II; where barter trade owns the society and where laughter is the food of all beings.
yes, laughter is food.
and the little doorknob has it, only nobody knows it laughs, or that it has an awareness, or that it even has an intelligence.
nobody knows about this little knob, until one day...
wherein warlocks are common, witches are aplenty and where gold is no longer of much value because anyone can make it. the currency, therefore, is glamour, sold in little sachets like little packets of SK II; where barter trade owns the society and where laughter is the food of all beings.
yes, laughter is food.
and the little doorknob has it, only nobody knows it laughs, or that it has an awareness, or that it even has an intelligence.
nobody knows about this little knob, until one day...
Sunday, November 05, 2006
dreams
i've had dreams fo being someone prominent before. y'know, like a singer, actor, smart and witty and gorgeous to boot - talented, yes: talented. the kind of talent and/or beauty that will turn heads anywhere and the ability to raise awareness for some god-forsaken and human-forgotten country just by doing a walk there.
i'm still having them dreams now by the way, but that doesn't mean that it's any easier to acheive. on the contrary, now that i'm looking at it, it looks like it's one big mountain to climb.
everyone hopes for someone who happened to think that they're heaven's gift to theatre/music/whatnot but truth be told, just how many temperamental gay directors do they expect to think that they're JUST what they need in their newest movie? ...okay maybe i was being judgemental about prominent/influential people being gay.
but truly, do you really expect proud, established, confident people with track records to GROVEL for your esteemed presence? (oh please)
thus. having no such illusions about my humble self, i can only strive to be the best that i can be, be it simply being a person pleasant enough to be around or being a conscientious worker in the office or giving it your best shot when it comes to the lessons you sign up for and not treat it like a joke. have fun while at it, but don't treat it like a joke.
there's a distinct difference there.
ergo. i had dreams. i still have dreams. and the purpose of the dream is so i can make others' lives easier and better. let me have my dream, so i may do the proverbial walk in human-forgotten countries.
because where i tread, i want to leave it better than it originally was.
i'm still having them dreams now by the way, but that doesn't mean that it's any easier to acheive. on the contrary, now that i'm looking at it, it looks like it's one big mountain to climb.
everyone hopes for someone who happened to think that they're heaven's gift to theatre/music/whatnot but truth be told, just how many temperamental gay directors do they expect to think that they're JUST what they need in their newest movie? ...okay maybe i was being judgemental about prominent/influential people being gay.
but truly, do you really expect proud, established, confident people with track records to GROVEL for your esteemed presence? (oh please)
thus. having no such illusions about my humble self, i can only strive to be the best that i can be, be it simply being a person pleasant enough to be around or being a conscientious worker in the office or giving it your best shot when it comes to the lessons you sign up for and not treat it like a joke. have fun while at it, but don't treat it like a joke.
there's a distinct difference there.
ergo. i had dreams. i still have dreams. and the purpose of the dream is so i can make others' lives easier and better. let me have my dream, so i may do the proverbial walk in human-forgotten countries.
because where i tread, i want to leave it better than it originally was.
and i shan't talk about it.
no, i shan't talk about it.
whatever happened today, however unpleasant it was, what i did in the moments of being left in the wake of life's little dance steps - i won't mention it.
and that's it. time out.
whatever happened today, however unpleasant it was, what i did in the moments of being left in the wake of life's little dance steps - i won't mention it.
and that's it. time out.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Lord, i want it to be You
i want it to be You, my Lord, the person who tucks me in at night, a goodnight kiss before You turn off the light.
i want it to be You, my Lord, One i can respect and adore. gentle, sweet, understanding, deep. has a sense of humour and sensitive to my needs. maybe that's why You're You. for You gave me two best Gifts.
first you gave You to me, then you gave me to me.
thank You, o Lord. thank you, for the gifts you give to me. bless You, Father, bless you.
in Jesus's name i pray. Amen.
i want it to be You, my Lord, One i can respect and adore. gentle, sweet, understanding, deep. has a sense of humour and sensitive to my needs. maybe that's why You're You. for You gave me two best Gifts.
first you gave You to me, then you gave me to me.
thank You, o Lord. thank you, for the gifts you give to me. bless You, Father, bless you.
in Jesus's name i pray. Amen.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
freedom of speak (spee-ack)
what's scary about "free will" is having to make the "right" decision and coming out smelling like roses each and ever time.
no, really.
"free will" is not what you want unless you understand, completely, how you are responsible for your moves. truly. nobody "made" you do anything anymore. you did it.
the end.
...
take free will and fate. Fate, if you prefer. if everything were preordained, then why do we struggle with these decisions? i mean, if it were, doesn't it mean that whatever we did it's meant to be? whatever we had lost or whatever it is that we had gained - doesn't that mean we're meant to have them that way?
people keep talking about free speech. free will. free this free that, in a celebration - so to speak - of individualism and the "freedom" of choice.
i won't rehatch the arguments that had been done to death - i'm sure you've heard them all before; you say what you want, you think what you will. the only true shackling of any freedom is when your thoughts have been conditioned to flow one particular way by someone else. like how it's important to not shut yer yap and get your pretty arse thrown into jail for being stupid. like insulting a powerful someone in a manner that may not be ignored; in the name of "protest" and "the right way" of doing things, so your voice too, can be heard.
now THAT's called shackled. and the best bit? you won't be unhappy about it.
maybe you'll even call it freedom. yeah. freedom of speech, when all you really are, is noisy.
no, really.
"free will" is not what you want unless you understand, completely, how you are responsible for your moves. truly. nobody "made" you do anything anymore. you did it.
the end.
...
take free will and fate. Fate, if you prefer. if everything were preordained, then why do we struggle with these decisions? i mean, if it were, doesn't it mean that whatever we did it's meant to be? whatever we had lost or whatever it is that we had gained - doesn't that mean we're meant to have them that way?
people keep talking about free speech. free will. free this free that, in a celebration - so to speak - of individualism and the "freedom" of choice.
i won't rehatch the arguments that had been done to death - i'm sure you've heard them all before; you say what you want, you think what you will. the only true shackling of any freedom is when your thoughts have been conditioned to flow one particular way by someone else. like how it's important to not shut yer yap and get your pretty arse thrown into jail for being stupid. like insulting a powerful someone in a manner that may not be ignored; in the name of "protest" and "the right way" of doing things, so your voice too, can be heard.
now THAT's called shackled. and the best bit? you won't be unhappy about it.
maybe you'll even call it freedom. yeah. freedom of speech, when all you really are, is noisy.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
death by shampoo - roach assassination chrolonicles
i met a roach on the way to the loo today. rather, i met it when it was skulking behind the door.
i wasted to time, no action and fired shots with my squirt-head lotion bottle - and missed. mostly, anyway. then the cunning villain scuttled underneath some piece of furniture with legs and i had to do battle with it through the obstacles.
managed to get some on it; but it got away. thought it'd have dropped into the pipeline through the holey leaf-stopper plastic things to have a nice bath to wash the shower foam off and taunt me in the morning -
but oho! it greeted me in the morning with legs in the air right beside the loo seat.
now that's a good start to the day!
i wasted to time, no action and fired shots with my squirt-head lotion bottle - and missed. mostly, anyway. then the cunning villain scuttled underneath some piece of furniture with legs and i had to do battle with it through the obstacles.
managed to get some on it; but it got away. thought it'd have dropped into the pipeline through the holey leaf-stopper plastic things to have a nice bath to wash the shower foam off and taunt me in the morning -
but oho! it greeted me in the morning with legs in the air right beside the loo seat.
now that's a good start to the day!
weather? bah.
this day i wonder: people learn things from me. and do i learn things from people? am i too obstinate to see the lessons in which i provide to others is also, in itself, a lesson to me? heh.
and what do i have to offer, save self-respect, a semi-strong grip on my sense of being, and an obstinate optimism tinged with negativity at the frayed edges?
thus tonight, i asked my good, respectable self, what i had gained from all of this. if i were so respectable and so good, why am i finding myself not being able to tell right from - well, the other one? why do i write people off, after having decided that "enough is enough" then feeling weighed down about it? is it just feeling "under the weather"?*
most importantly, "am i a lesson?"
- ever read the email that's titled: "everybody occurs for a reason, a season or a lifetime"? i think i might just be the "reason and/or season". the only one stuck with me for a bloody lifetime is probably my ma. then again, she's not stuck with me, i'm stuck with HER.
...
..alright, other-deprecating jokes aside. methinks i'm one of those who can't see past her own glow of self-greatness. tis all about me me me me me and then, if i have the time, myself. it's the glow from my cocky being, i tell you. but truth be told what does that light of greatness do? other than granting me confidence and poise, i mean?
also, to quote a well-loved terry pratchet, "in the dark the light blinds you - " apparently you do not strike the match when you're surroundedby the "oppressing darkness". you stare at it till it backs down. and that's just it. light blinds you when you're in the dark, and you can see only where it reaches; you're blind beyond that. and god-forbid the possibility of someone training his end of the gun at you.
that's why ninjas wear black and don't carry lanterns when doing their funky roof-hopping, no?
anyways. methinks it's all a load of bull and maybe i should dim the self-glow and try to see past my pretty nose for a change, eh? look past the mirror, through the mirror and AT my SELF. and see what's there, what's REALLY there. then maybe, just maybe, i can figure out what might be the cause of this want to slam the door shut, lock the windows and bury my head underneath a big, hardcovered book.
and if i stared really hard, maybe, just maybe i'll see what's there in the mirror, y'know, complete with minute refractions and absolute reflections - and maybe i'll realise that the pimple on my my nose is really the issue.
---
* i realise there's no way you can stay be above the weather unless you live in the mountains. even then, the snowstorms get to you sometimes.
and what do i have to offer, save self-respect, a semi-strong grip on my sense of being, and an obstinate optimism tinged with negativity at the frayed edges?
thus tonight, i asked my good, respectable self, what i had gained from all of this. if i were so respectable and so good, why am i finding myself not being able to tell right from - well, the other one? why do i write people off, after having decided that "enough is enough" then feeling weighed down about it? is it just feeling "under the weather"?*
most importantly, "am i a lesson?"
- ever read the email that's titled: "everybody occurs for a reason, a season or a lifetime"? i think i might just be the "reason and/or season". the only one stuck with me for a bloody lifetime is probably my ma. then again, she's not stuck with me, i'm stuck with HER.
...
..alright, other-deprecating jokes aside. methinks i'm one of those who can't see past her own glow of self-greatness. tis all about me me me me me and then, if i have the time, myself. it's the glow from my cocky being, i tell you. but truth be told what does that light of greatness do? other than granting me confidence and poise, i mean?
also, to quote a well-loved terry pratchet, "in the dark the light blinds you - " apparently you do not strike the match when you're surroundedby the "oppressing darkness". you stare at it till it backs down. and that's just it. light blinds you when you're in the dark, and you can see only where it reaches; you're blind beyond that. and god-forbid the possibility of someone training his end of the gun at you.
that's why ninjas wear black and don't carry lanterns when doing their funky roof-hopping, no?
anyways. methinks it's all a load of bull and maybe i should dim the self-glow and try to see past my pretty nose for a change, eh? look past the mirror, through the mirror and AT my SELF. and see what's there, what's REALLY there. then maybe, just maybe, i can figure out what might be the cause of this want to slam the door shut, lock the windows and bury my head underneath a big, hardcovered book.
and if i stared really hard, maybe, just maybe i'll see what's there in the mirror, y'know, complete with minute refractions and absolute reflections - and maybe i'll realise that the pimple on my my nose is really the issue.
---
* i realise there's no way you can stay be above the weather unless you live in the mountains. even then, the snowstorms get to you sometimes.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
horror, horror!
about a man who likes a girl who shagged a girl who wasn't.
ye gods. the stories you hear when the lights are dim and the music's loud and the drinks are flowing all the way to your nostrils.
f*!
ye gods. the stories you hear when the lights are dim and the music's loud and the drinks are flowing all the way to your nostrils.
f*!
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Monday, October 23, 2006
coming home to roost.
tired.
aye, tired. being there for people isn't as glamourous as it sounds. especially when the morons take you as a safety net. when they're happy they don't quite recall that you're there but hey when they're clawing at the threads of reality when they're merrily sliding downhill you're the first person they call.
don't mistake me, i'm perfectly fine with the whole idea of 'being there' for someone. but truly, where the heck are they when YOU're tired?
..some people never learn to treasure those they rely on.
and then there are the random people i find on my msn contact list when i sign in. where the hells do they come from???
might be a stroke of luck if i want to loose my tongue at someone.
yes... that must be it.
aye, tired. being there for people isn't as glamourous as it sounds. especially when the morons take you as a safety net. when they're happy they don't quite recall that you're there but hey when they're clawing at the threads of reality when they're merrily sliding downhill you're the first person they call.
don't mistake me, i'm perfectly fine with the whole idea of 'being there' for someone. but truly, where the heck are they when YOU're tired?
..some people never learn to treasure those they rely on.
and then there are the random people i find on my msn contact list when i sign in. where the hells do they come from???
might be a stroke of luck if i want to loose my tongue at someone.
yes... that must be it.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
lions and gazelles
i'd met some people who are apparently members of the yatch club and then some.
they opened bottle after bottle of johnny walker and talked and laughed and talked some more. it was nice company.
but one incident made me take a step back and look harder at this bunch of people: i remarked that i was hungry and it was one in the morning - this gentleman offered to get the kitchen to whip something up. but alas, only the cleaners were about.
said gentleman casually took out a hundred dollar note and tossed it onto the counter to the cleaner, asked for a steak.
the cleaner would've taken it if there weren't any cameras fixed on the ceiling directly above them two. heh. i was bemused, but i was a little put off. what's he trying to say?
please, correct me if i read this wrong but it sure looked like a bid to impress this young seemingly wide-eyed girlie with double-zeroed notes. i've seen money before, thank you very much, having notes tossed about like that seemed like an insult. there is a very distinct difference between being a gentleman and being an educated but unschooled rich man.
i may be poor and despite my rants about being a gold-digger and rich, naive young men, i guess i'm not as "gold digger" i made myself out to be.
no, i was not impressed. flattered that such generousity be displayed to get me some food when i said i was hungry, but if that gesture was meant to prove a point i must say that the point was blunt. and i suppose i'm not quite suited to this kind of crowd.
they're a pride of lions and i am but a gazelle. different species altogether.
they opened bottle after bottle of johnny walker and talked and laughed and talked some more. it was nice company.
but one incident made me take a step back and look harder at this bunch of people: i remarked that i was hungry and it was one in the morning - this gentleman offered to get the kitchen to whip something up. but alas, only the cleaners were about.
said gentleman casually took out a hundred dollar note and tossed it onto the counter to the cleaner, asked for a steak.
the cleaner would've taken it if there weren't any cameras fixed on the ceiling directly above them two. heh. i was bemused, but i was a little put off. what's he trying to say?
please, correct me if i read this wrong but it sure looked like a bid to impress this young seemingly wide-eyed girlie with double-zeroed notes. i've seen money before, thank you very much, having notes tossed about like that seemed like an insult. there is a very distinct difference between being a gentleman and being an educated but unschooled rich man.
i may be poor and despite my rants about being a gold-digger and rich, naive young men, i guess i'm not as "gold digger" i made myself out to be.
no, i was not impressed. flattered that such generousity be displayed to get me some food when i said i was hungry, but if that gesture was meant to prove a point i must say that the point was blunt. and i suppose i'm not quite suited to this kind of crowd.
they're a pride of lions and i am but a gazelle. different species altogether.
the purpose
sometimes the things you do follow a purpose. sometimes it's hard to follow through and sometimes, it's easy.
all in all, to skip all the explanations that you already know and arguments you'd heard before: purposes are there for a reason. paths are there so you can get to your goals.
it ain't easy. nobody said it would be.
and all we can do is to try to go through it swimmingly.
strength.
all in all, to skip all the explanations that you already know and arguments you'd heard before: purposes are there for a reason. paths are there so you can get to your goals.
it ain't easy. nobody said it would be.
and all we can do is to try to go through it swimmingly.
strength.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
fancy schmancy cars
these few days walking back home had been quite a pain. literal pain.
reason? someone bought a glittery silver two-seater BMW with red seats (red seats!) and is making funky appearances out of nowhere when i return home. not only that, it sometimes is parked two doors down and i cannot help but notice its deliberately quiet presence. each time i pass by it i pinch myself to make sure i'm really seeing liquid acceleration in statis - the gorgeous things that's got enough sparkle and shine to last them through enough starless nights in a lifetime paired with just the right amount of sexual leather. and the steering wheel - OH good heavens the steering wheel! wrapped in leather and stitched just so - and not dreaming.
what i would give to sit inside, have a feel of the vehicle, run my hands on the inside of the car, knowning what i touch will be c-l-a-s-s (trust me, if i could change the font for 'c-l-a-s-s-' to something curvy and elaborate here, i would) - though i do think i would be even more appreciative if i knew how to drive. THAT's when sitting in the driver's seat will really, REALLY, make my day. (wow) did i mention i have a thing for being the driver? i have a thing for being the driver.
anyways - back to the two cars that appear in my neighbourhood - sometimes when the silver surfer's real life steed is parked on my lane, his friend wonder woman must have decided to visit cause i ALSO get a leather-topped blue two-seater SOMETHING (i don't know what it's called) cruising through my lane with what, maroon seats (?) and furry white dice dangling from the rearview mirror.
oh. wait. dangling white dice - maybe that'd be superman.
but i digress. so these two very pretty cars make their independent appearances and i go weak in the knees though i try very hard not to stare and be cool about it, walking down my lane jauntily, pretending not to give a hoot whether it's a lotus or a panini. but after it passes i would say to myself - good golly, that's a FINE car! - and mean it.
for, motor moron or not, i certainly appreciate a hot ride; whether i can tell a lamborghini HEATHEN and jaguar 5000 series X1322 apart is another question altogether. (merc? too common these days and nobody really bothers what its model name is. not me, at least. heh)
...having said that, i do, of course sometimes question the sensibility of parking the convertibles in the open with the hood still tucked away somewhere. i mean, what if people aren't polite appreciators like me and aren't content with just admiring it without touching it? what if they - God forbid - decide that they'd take liberties with my apple red Siren and hop in, have their way with the steering wheel and gear shift and (oh good heavens) have a friend take pictures - PICTURES! - of them with their low-quality mobile phone cameras?? what if they make obscene F1 racetrack noises while they're still inside my baby??!?!
OH GAWDS NOHOHOO!!
what if it rains? people keep a lid on their drinks for a reason too you know - and it's not because they like to drink outdoors when the storm is brewing. i would NEVER want my beloved darling car to be caught out in the rain like that - i would hold a BIG brolly over it and sit with it through the dark frightening nights when it's pouring buckets.
because putting a plastic sheet over it and allowing the rain to pound on it is wrong. just wrong. and even more wrong because it's like a blanket party. >:x
yes i could simply draw up the hood and sit inside while playing the radio but you're missing the point altogether.
hm. you know what?
i wouldn't want to own a car like that. i know, i know, after talking about them as if they're gifts from the Almighty - and they may well be - i wouldn't know how to keep them in their best condition and i'd hate have to deal with the aftermaths of nonsensical people taking turns at my car without my key. heck, even that sounds like molest, or worse, indecent exposure. think of the horrors my baby-poo would have to put up with!
...best leave it to the people with the knowledge and the means to upkeep these pretty things. meanwhile, i guess i can only look on in envy and appreciation, and respect the sleek little thing for what it is.
a toast to that.
reason? someone bought a glittery silver two-seater BMW with red seats (red seats!) and is making funky appearances out of nowhere when i return home. not only that, it sometimes is parked two doors down and i cannot help but notice its deliberately quiet presence. each time i pass by it i pinch myself to make sure i'm really seeing liquid acceleration in statis - the gorgeous things that's got enough sparkle and shine to last them through enough starless nights in a lifetime paired with just the right amount of sexual leather. and the steering wheel - OH good heavens the steering wheel! wrapped in leather and stitched just so - and not dreaming.
what i would give to sit inside, have a feel of the vehicle, run my hands on the inside of the car, knowning what i touch will be c-l-a-s-s (trust me, if i could change the font for 'c-l-a-s-s-' to something curvy and elaborate here, i would) - though i do think i would be even more appreciative if i knew how to drive. THAT's when sitting in the driver's seat will really, REALLY, make my day. (wow) did i mention i have a thing for being the driver? i have a thing for being the driver.
anyways - back to the two cars that appear in my neighbourhood - sometimes when the silver surfer's real life steed is parked on my lane, his friend wonder woman must have decided to visit cause i ALSO get a leather-topped blue two-seater SOMETHING (i don't know what it's called) cruising through my lane with what, maroon seats (?) and furry white dice dangling from the rearview mirror.
oh. wait. dangling white dice - maybe that'd be superman.
but i digress. so these two very pretty cars make their independent appearances and i go weak in the knees though i try very hard not to stare and be cool about it, walking down my lane jauntily, pretending not to give a hoot whether it's a lotus or a panini. but after it passes i would say to myself - good golly, that's a FINE car! - and mean it.
for, motor moron or not, i certainly appreciate a hot ride; whether i can tell a lamborghini HEATHEN and jaguar 5000 series X1322 apart is another question altogether. (merc? too common these days and nobody really bothers what its model name is. not me, at least. heh)
...having said that, i do, of course sometimes question the sensibility of parking the convertibles in the open with the hood still tucked away somewhere. i mean, what if people aren't polite appreciators like me and aren't content with just admiring it without touching it? what if they - God forbid - decide that they'd take liberties with my apple red Siren and hop in, have their way with the steering wheel and gear shift and (oh good heavens) have a friend take pictures - PICTURES! - of them with their low-quality mobile phone cameras?? what if they make obscene F1 racetrack noises while they're still inside my baby??!?!
OH GAWDS NOHOHOO!!
what if it rains? people keep a lid on their drinks for a reason too you know - and it's not because they like to drink outdoors when the storm is brewing. i would NEVER want my beloved darling car to be caught out in the rain like that - i would hold a BIG brolly over it and sit with it through the dark frightening nights when it's pouring buckets.
because putting a plastic sheet over it and allowing the rain to pound on it is wrong. just wrong. and even more wrong because it's like a blanket party. >:x
yes i could simply draw up the hood and sit inside while playing the radio but you're missing the point altogether.
hm. you know what?
i wouldn't want to own a car like that. i know, i know, after talking about them as if they're gifts from the Almighty - and they may well be - i wouldn't know how to keep them in their best condition and i'd hate have to deal with the aftermaths of nonsensical people taking turns at my car without my key. heck, even that sounds like molest, or worse, indecent exposure. think of the horrors my baby-poo would have to put up with!
...best leave it to the people with the knowledge and the means to upkeep these pretty things. meanwhile, i guess i can only look on in envy and appreciation, and respect the sleek little thing for what it is.
a toast to that.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
when you realise you're in love
yes.
when you realise you're in love. with your friends, with your family, with everyone that you ever called when it's dark and quiet all over your neighbourhood. you realise that it is these very people that you call friends, and they, you.
sometimes it takes just a hello call, regardless whether it is you calling them or they calling you, to be reminded just why you love them so.
and because of that particular call, i am inspired to write about how to kill a cockroach. read on.
---
there had been rumours that, if you were to take a roll of newspaper and smack the literal living daylights out of the roach you see, chances of you having:
1) to wipe up the brown stinking remains are - very high
2) them trailing all over your vanity (or your trophy case) because you missed - very high
3) smashed a few things - low; cause i hope you know to pick your battles
4) spread them eggs wherever you brought The Newspaper Roll of Cockroach Doom down onto that brown scuttling no-good - super duper sky-high
and the best part is that you can't see them eggs. those brown guinea pig-output-like pellets you see stuck onto some surfaces? they're not roach poo, neither. no, they don't exactly work like lizards that leave little surprises on random surfaces - those are roach eggs in a case.
..but you know that. ;P
so. if rumours were true (i don't want to find out, though i probably should have done the research, considering that the saying "the more you fear/hate someone/something, the more you should know about it" is my motto) - then smacking them would be a BIG no-no. plus insecticides don't work as well no more cause the roaches are developing resistances.
therefore if we were to continue trying to eradicate them with insecticide, we will eventually knock our kids and dogs out with the very same can of yuck. that's also why, on top of marketing/business strategies, we get "STRONGER, MORE POWERFUL THAN BEFORE!" cans of spray every once in a while: they get updated.
thus, to nip that in the bud: kill said six-legged freaks with shampoo. or body lotion.
rationale? nothing - i repeat: NOTHING - survives without air.
(well YOU try breathing when your head's submerged in shampoo. it's thick and gooey, easy to wash off only when you have a steady stream of water AND hands: something insects do not have a habit of having brought with them)
so - do try to muster whatever quivering courage you have, get near to the scuttling creep, and generously dollop the cancer-causing concoction over its head.
that's right. it's head. and when i say dollop, i mean DOLLOP - plural if you've bad aim - for if its head is slimed then running will be quite hard indeed. that's when you cover the sucker with goo on its head and shoulders.
i normally concentrate on its head for i've noticed that they stop moving after a while and continue to stop moving for a few days after when i didn't have the guts to remove the body.
you may, of course, choose carry on with the rest of its body. just to make sure it's dead, you know. i, for one, will understand perfectly. :D
good points of this method: -
1) whatever mess you have created smells nice. it should, for you wouldn't buy anything that stinks to wash your body with, now would you.
2) cleaning up is easy, considering it's just shampoo/lotion AND still in one piece. it's simply about wiping it all away, sans the yuck juice. plus a bit of water, if you're conscientious. insecticides tend to leave an oily film that not only smells bad it's not healthy to keep about. never mind that it helps KO unsuspecting wandering insects - you know how often you have to pass by that spot. if it's worth it, by all means. otherwise - don't, cause cleaning up an insecticide stain can be as bad as having to clean up roach juice (chemicals. hello?) - that and you require some soap to get rid of it and that's additional work on top of you having to endure every moment of its fragrant insecticidey existence.
3) said dead insect still intact, so chances of tiny eggs getting stuck between the wood on your parquet flooring after being splattered all over - assuming, of course, that the egg-spreading rumour's true - are reduced to a virtual zero.
4) great way to ensure the roach is deader than dead, cause insecticides only KNOCK THEM OUT. if you threw them out without some friendly crushing (assuming you're not keen to stomp on them outside only to wade back to your home with roach eggs on the soles of your footwear) to they actually come to and make a happy meal out of your thrash.
thus.
of course, killing roaches like that involves some dexterity and it helps you get over your fear of them. having said that, though, i have to mention that it's an entirely different issue they're flying.
that's when you run the heck away.
when you realise you're in love. with your friends, with your family, with everyone that you ever called when it's dark and quiet all over your neighbourhood. you realise that it is these very people that you call friends, and they, you.
sometimes it takes just a hello call, regardless whether it is you calling them or they calling you, to be reminded just why you love them so.
and because of that particular call, i am inspired to write about how to kill a cockroach. read on.
---
there had been rumours that, if you were to take a roll of newspaper and smack the literal living daylights out of the roach you see, chances of you having:
1) to wipe up the brown stinking remains are - very high
2) them trailing all over your vanity (or your trophy case) because you missed - very high
3) smashed a few things - low; cause i hope you know to pick your battles
4) spread them eggs wherever you brought The Newspaper Roll of Cockroach Doom down onto that brown scuttling no-good - super duper sky-high
and the best part is that you can't see them eggs. those brown guinea pig-output-like pellets you see stuck onto some surfaces? they're not roach poo, neither. no, they don't exactly work like lizards that leave little surprises on random surfaces - those are roach eggs in a case.
..but you know that. ;P
so. if rumours were true (i don't want to find out, though i probably should have done the research, considering that the saying "the more you fear/hate someone/something, the more you should know about it" is my motto) - then smacking them would be a BIG no-no. plus insecticides don't work as well no more cause the roaches are developing resistances.
therefore if we were to continue trying to eradicate them with insecticide, we will eventually knock our kids and dogs out with the very same can of yuck. that's also why, on top of marketing/business strategies, we get "STRONGER, MORE POWERFUL THAN BEFORE!" cans of spray every once in a while: they get updated.
thus, to nip that in the bud: kill said six-legged freaks with shampoo. or body lotion.
rationale? nothing - i repeat: NOTHING - survives without air.
(well YOU try breathing when your head's submerged in shampoo. it's thick and gooey, easy to wash off only when you have a steady stream of water AND hands: something insects do not have a habit of having brought with them)
so - do try to muster whatever quivering courage you have, get near to the scuttling creep, and generously dollop the cancer-causing concoction over its head.
that's right. it's head. and when i say dollop, i mean DOLLOP - plural if you've bad aim - for if its head is slimed then running will be quite hard indeed. that's when you cover the sucker with goo on its head and shoulders.
i normally concentrate on its head for i've noticed that they stop moving after a while and continue to stop moving for a few days after when i didn't have the guts to remove the body.
you may, of course, choose carry on with the rest of its body. just to make sure it's dead, you know. i, for one, will understand perfectly. :D
good points of this method: -
1) whatever mess you have created smells nice. it should, for you wouldn't buy anything that stinks to wash your body with, now would you.
2) cleaning up is easy, considering it's just shampoo/lotion AND still in one piece. it's simply about wiping it all away, sans the yuck juice. plus a bit of water, if you're conscientious. insecticides tend to leave an oily film that not only smells bad it's not healthy to keep about. never mind that it helps KO unsuspecting wandering insects - you know how often you have to pass by that spot. if it's worth it, by all means. otherwise - don't, cause cleaning up an insecticide stain can be as bad as having to clean up roach juice (chemicals. hello?) - that and you require some soap to get rid of it and that's additional work on top of you having to endure every moment of its fragrant insecticidey existence.
3) said dead insect still intact, so chances of tiny eggs getting stuck between the wood on your parquet flooring after being splattered all over - assuming, of course, that the egg-spreading rumour's true - are reduced to a virtual zero.
4) great way to ensure the roach is deader than dead, cause insecticides only KNOCK THEM OUT. if you threw them out without some friendly crushing (assuming you're not keen to stomp on them outside only to wade back to your home with roach eggs on the soles of your footwear) to they actually come to and make a happy meal out of your thrash.
thus.
of course, killing roaches like that involves some dexterity and it helps you get over your fear of them. having said that, though, i have to mention that it's an entirely different issue they're flying.
that's when you run the heck away.
Monday, October 09, 2006
cut it out.
cutting it out. i think i'd cut someone's heart out today.
i must be heartless.
i don't feel good about it, i don't feel bad. maybe i really am emotionless, eh.
i'm so sorry.
i must be heartless.
i don't feel good about it, i don't feel bad. maybe i really am emotionless, eh.
i'm so sorry.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
existing in my own home
today i existed in my own home.
cruised the waters of time after i stepped off its sands. typing out something while sitting on my bed with the radio singing oldies goodies in the background. and i felt at ease with my staying at home.
no, i didn't need a companion. if there were to be 'the other half' somewhere it wouldn't have quite made any difference. ...and i guess i'm happy being single, being solitary.
cruised the waters of time after i stepped off its sands. typing out something while sitting on my bed with the radio singing oldies goodies in the background. and i felt at ease with my staying at home.
no, i didn't need a companion. if there were to be 'the other half' somewhere it wouldn't have quite made any difference. ...and i guess i'm happy being single, being solitary.
there's a hole in my bucket!
There's a Hole in the Bucket
Traditional
(Boys)
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
(Girls)
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.
But the straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long.
So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it!
With what should I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I cut it, dear Liza, with what?
Use the hatchet, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the hatchet, dear Henry, the hatchet.
But the hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, too dull.
So, sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So sharpen it dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it!
With what should I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I sharpen, dear Liza, with what?
Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, the stone.
But the stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.
So wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So wet it dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.
With what should I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I wet it, dear Liza, with what?
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.
With what should I carry it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I carry it dear Liza, with what?
Use the bucket dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, the bucket!
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Traditional
(Boys)
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
(Girls)
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So fix it dear Henry, dear Henry, fix it.
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I fix it, dear Liza, with what?
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With straw, dear Henry, dear Henry, with straw.
But the straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long.
So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So cut it dear Henry, dear Henry, cut it!
With what should I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I cut it, dear Liza, with what?
Use the hatchet, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the hatchet, dear Henry, the hatchet.
But the hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The hatchet's too dull, dear Liza, too dull.
So, sharpen it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So sharpen it dear Henry, dear Henry, sharpen it!
With what should I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I sharpen, dear Liza, with what?
Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the stone, dear Henry, dear Henry, the stone.
But the stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza,
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry.
So wet it, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
So wet it dear Henry, dear Henry, wet it.
With what should I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I wet it, dear Liza, with what?
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
With water, dear Henry, dear Henry, water.
With what should I carry it, dear Liza, dear Liza,
With what should I carry it dear Liza, with what?
Use the bucket dear Henry, dear Henry, dear Henry,
Use the bucket, dear Henry, dear Henry, the bucket!
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza,
There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, a hole.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
flaky li'l tart
...and since i don't have the wealth, let me be the money-hungry gold-digging little tart that the naive (but rich!) young man falls in love with.
and then i shall, through his determination to be with a poor shrimp like me and opposes family wishes and therefore absconds from his gilded and cushioned jet-setting cage and abandons his platinum credit cards and elopes - against my wishes - with me - realise that love is not about money.
it's about leaving money for love.
...and i have to curse the living daylights out of my stars. nabeh.
how romantic. :D
and then i shall, through his determination to be with a poor shrimp like me and opposes family wishes and therefore absconds from his gilded and cushioned jet-setting cage and abandons his platinum credit cards and elopes - against my wishes - with me - realise that love is not about money.
it's about leaving money for love.
...and i have to curse the living daylights out of my stars. nabeh.
how romantic. :D
another brick in the wall am i
this is another reason why i don't want to fall in love.
you think you'd found the perfect one. then you realise you're doing that thing you do again. and you step back, reminded why you aren't attached to start with, the reason why you're 'a player' then, and when you're not 'a player' you're 'heartless', even 'cold'.
who's this magnanimous to accept you for who you are?
who'll be so blind to say 'i love you for you' and mean it, and take you, warts and shoe fetish and all, and endure 'to have and to hold'? men don't do that. and women, progressively, don't do that neither.
methinks i'm one of the few.
on the other hand, i may be wrong.
and then there's the third hand................ good Lord.
you think you'd found the perfect one. then you realise you're doing that thing you do again. and you step back, reminded why you aren't attached to start with, the reason why you're 'a player' then, and when you're not 'a player' you're 'heartless', even 'cold'.
who's this magnanimous to accept you for who you are?
who'll be so blind to say 'i love you for you' and mean it, and take you, warts and shoe fetish and all, and endure 'to have and to hold'? men don't do that. and women, progressively, don't do that neither.
methinks i'm one of the few.
on the other hand, i may be wrong.
and then there's the third hand................ good Lord.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
how true!
courtesy of msn:
1. Everything we buy for ourselves--shoes, a skirt, even just stuff from the drugstore--really costs 20 percent more than we tell you it did.
Just because it's a classic sitcom plot doesn't mean it isn't true. "Sometimes I'll buy an outfit and charge half of it on our credit card and pay for the other half in cash so my husband doesn't know what I'm actually spending," admits one 32-year-old, who requested anonymity to protect her sneaky secret. Yeah, we know honesty is the best policy, hiding your spending habits is bad, blah blah blah. But sometimes we just don't want the hassle of arguing over the price of the fancy shampoo. Is that so wrong? We don't think so.
2. We actually think about sex--with you!--a lot.
Sometimes we think about it all day long. It's just that by the end of the day we're too damn tired to do anything about it. Now, if you could only catch us at lunchtime....
3. We're just as nervous about commitment as you are.
True, many girls grow up dreaming of Prince Charming, the white wedding, and happily ever after. But we're human, just like you, and when it comes down to the reality of tying our life to another person's, we get scared, too. "The idea of getting married completely freaked me out at first," says my friend Lisa, 34. "I know this sounds like a guy cliche, but I saw it as giving up my independence and being tied down." The good news is, once we're hitched, we're generally pretty delighted about it. Says Lisa, "Now that I am married, having a life commitment is so comforting and wonderful. I love knowing that we are a team and that we're going to be on the same team forever."
4. We may be modern and independent, but we still want you to be "the man."
We do want you to be sensitive, caring 21st-century males, but even the most ass-kicking, take-no-prisoners woman still wants to feel taken care of by her man somehow. Whether that means you take charge in bed, know how to fix the car and kill spiders, or even just carry the big suitcase when we're on vacation--when you act all manly, even if you're 98 pounds soaking wet, it makes us feel more feminine, more safe.
"I love that my friends and family always comment on how my husband opens the door for me and does all kinds of other chivalrous things--especially when I was pregnant, when he was so protective of me and my belly," says Lorraine, 29, of New Hartford, NY. "At the end of the day, being in his strong arms is definitely a good feeling, no matter how independent I know I am."
5. Our ex-boyfriends were not completely terrible in bed.
You know how we're always telling you things like, "Oh yeah, you're definitely the biggest I've ever had" or "No one does it like you do"? Um, yeah. Well, we may have been stretching the truth just a teensy bit. But we'll never actually tell you that a past lover was a bedroom dynamo--we're smarter than that. Just know that whatever toe-curling orgasms the other guy gave us, sex with you really is a million times better--because it's you, and you're the one we really want.
6. We're scared that we'll turn into our mothers.
We love our mothers, really. We admire them, we're grateful to them, we think they're the most amazing women on the planet. We just don't want to be them. That's why one of the worst insults you can hurl at a woman is, "You're acting just like your mother."
But here's one that's even worse: "You're acting just like my mother." It sends a horrible oedipal shiver down our spines--did he marry me because I'm like his mom? Will he start expecting me to cut the crusts off his PB&J? So please, if you value your sex life, never ever compare your wife to your mother. Out loud, anyway.
7. We want you to be jealous--but just a little bit.
We want you to notice--and care!--when the waiter flirts with us, or when other guys check us out on the street. It makes us feel that we matter to you. But please don't get all Neanderthal and possessive on us. "I'm very loyal, and if my guy can't understand that I would never do anything with anyone else, then that just makes me mad," says Paulina, 22, from Brooklyn. So, to recap: Raising your eyebrows when we introduce you to our cute coworker--good. Punching him out--very, very bad.
8. Yes, we fantasize about hot celebrity guys, but that doesn't mean we want you to be them.Christian Bale is sexy and all, but can you imagine having to clean that Batcave?
9. We tell our girlfriends more than we admit to you (but less than you fear).
Yes, we tell them about the latest marital spat, complain about our mothers-in-law, and sigh over the hobby that sucks up all your free time. But we don't tell them how big your you-know-what is or that you cried in our arms when your dad died. Some things are just too important and intimate to share. "I definitely don't tell my girlfriends details like what my husband said when he proposed, the feeling I have every time I see him look at our daughter, and the little wonderful things he does for me every day," says Lorraine. "Those are just for me."
10. We really do notice and appreciate all the chores you do.
Why don't we say so often enough? Because we can't get over all the things you don't do. My husband, for example, is incredibly diligent about keeping a 6-by-10-foot carpeted patch of our apartment vacuumed and cat hair-free, and I love that. But it kills me that it never occurs to him to dust the furniture sitting on top of that piece of carpet, or to sweep the hardwood floor adjoining it.
Blame our lack of positive feedback on that stubborn female belief that there is Only One Right Way to do any given household task--our way. It's probably the real reason why men don't shoulder a greater share of housekeeping duties; we complain about how you did it wrong, so you never want to do it again. (Sounds familiar, right?) Let's make a deal: You promise to dust the lampshade (or wipe down the kitchen counter after you wash the dishes, or take out the garbage and then put a new liner in the can) once in a while, and we promise to sing your praises. Agreed?
11.We love you with all our hearts, but we still get wistful about the fact that we'll never feel that falling-in-love sizzle and spark again.
I'll just come right out and say it: Most women are love addicts. And while we appreciate the depth and richness of long-time love, there is simply nothing like the giddy, fluttery, crazy feeling we get (or rather, used to get) with a brand-new guy. We know we'll never feel that high again, and there's a little part of us that will always miss it. (Why do you think we watch so many romantic comedies?) But in the end, what we get instead--you, and a lifetime of true devotion--is more than worth the price.
1. Everything we buy for ourselves--shoes, a skirt, even just stuff from the drugstore--really costs 20 percent more than we tell you it did.
Just because it's a classic sitcom plot doesn't mean it isn't true. "Sometimes I'll buy an outfit and charge half of it on our credit card and pay for the other half in cash so my husband doesn't know what I'm actually spending," admits one 32-year-old, who requested anonymity to protect her sneaky secret. Yeah, we know honesty is the best policy, hiding your spending habits is bad, blah blah blah. But sometimes we just don't want the hassle of arguing over the price of the fancy shampoo. Is that so wrong? We don't think so.
2. We actually think about sex--with you!--a lot.
Sometimes we think about it all day long. It's just that by the end of the day we're too damn tired to do anything about it. Now, if you could only catch us at lunchtime....
3. We're just as nervous about commitment as you are.
True, many girls grow up dreaming of Prince Charming, the white wedding, and happily ever after. But we're human, just like you, and when it comes down to the reality of tying our life to another person's, we get scared, too. "The idea of getting married completely freaked me out at first," says my friend Lisa, 34. "I know this sounds like a guy cliche, but I saw it as giving up my independence and being tied down." The good news is, once we're hitched, we're generally pretty delighted about it. Says Lisa, "Now that I am married, having a life commitment is so comforting and wonderful. I love knowing that we are a team and that we're going to be on the same team forever."
4. We may be modern and independent, but we still want you to be "the man."
We do want you to be sensitive, caring 21st-century males, but even the most ass-kicking, take-no-prisoners woman still wants to feel taken care of by her man somehow. Whether that means you take charge in bed, know how to fix the car and kill spiders, or even just carry the big suitcase when we're on vacation--when you act all manly, even if you're 98 pounds soaking wet, it makes us feel more feminine, more safe.
"I love that my friends and family always comment on how my husband opens the door for me and does all kinds of other chivalrous things--especially when I was pregnant, when he was so protective of me and my belly," says Lorraine, 29, of New Hartford, NY. "At the end of the day, being in his strong arms is definitely a good feeling, no matter how independent I know I am."
5. Our ex-boyfriends were not completely terrible in bed.
You know how we're always telling you things like, "Oh yeah, you're definitely the biggest I've ever had" or "No one does it like you do"? Um, yeah. Well, we may have been stretching the truth just a teensy bit. But we'll never actually tell you that a past lover was a bedroom dynamo--we're smarter than that. Just know that whatever toe-curling orgasms the other guy gave us, sex with you really is a million times better--because it's you, and you're the one we really want.
6. We're scared that we'll turn into our mothers.
We love our mothers, really. We admire them, we're grateful to them, we think they're the most amazing women on the planet. We just don't want to be them. That's why one of the worst insults you can hurl at a woman is, "You're acting just like your mother."
But here's one that's even worse: "You're acting just like my mother." It sends a horrible oedipal shiver down our spines--did he marry me because I'm like his mom? Will he start expecting me to cut the crusts off his PB&J? So please, if you value your sex life, never ever compare your wife to your mother. Out loud, anyway.
7. We want you to be jealous--but just a little bit.
We want you to notice--and care!--when the waiter flirts with us, or when other guys check us out on the street. It makes us feel that we matter to you. But please don't get all Neanderthal and possessive on us. "I'm very loyal, and if my guy can't understand that I would never do anything with anyone else, then that just makes me mad," says Paulina, 22, from Brooklyn. So, to recap: Raising your eyebrows when we introduce you to our cute coworker--good. Punching him out--very, very bad.
8. Yes, we fantasize about hot celebrity guys, but that doesn't mean we want you to be them.Christian Bale is sexy and all, but can you imagine having to clean that Batcave?
9. We tell our girlfriends more than we admit to you (but less than you fear).
Yes, we tell them about the latest marital spat, complain about our mothers-in-law, and sigh over the hobby that sucks up all your free time. But we don't tell them how big your you-know-what is or that you cried in our arms when your dad died. Some things are just too important and intimate to share. "I definitely don't tell my girlfriends details like what my husband said when he proposed, the feeling I have every time I see him look at our daughter, and the little wonderful things he does for me every day," says Lorraine. "Those are just for me."
10. We really do notice and appreciate all the chores you do.
Why don't we say so often enough? Because we can't get over all the things you don't do. My husband, for example, is incredibly diligent about keeping a 6-by-10-foot carpeted patch of our apartment vacuumed and cat hair-free, and I love that. But it kills me that it never occurs to him to dust the furniture sitting on top of that piece of carpet, or to sweep the hardwood floor adjoining it.
Blame our lack of positive feedback on that stubborn female belief that there is Only One Right Way to do any given household task--our way. It's probably the real reason why men don't shoulder a greater share of housekeeping duties; we complain about how you did it wrong, so you never want to do it again. (Sounds familiar, right?) Let's make a deal: You promise to dust the lampshade (or wipe down the kitchen counter after you wash the dishes, or take out the garbage and then put a new liner in the can) once in a while, and we promise to sing your praises. Agreed?
11.We love you with all our hearts, but we still get wistful about the fact that we'll never feel that falling-in-love sizzle and spark again.
I'll just come right out and say it: Most women are love addicts. And while we appreciate the depth and richness of long-time love, there is simply nothing like the giddy, fluttery, crazy feeling we get (or rather, used to get) with a brand-new guy. We know we'll never feel that high again, and there's a little part of us that will always miss it. (Why do you think we watch so many romantic comedies?) But in the end, what we get instead--you, and a lifetime of true devotion--is more than worth the price.
Monday, October 02, 2006
there you go. definitions.
"a misandrist hates persons of the male sex, a misogynist hates persons of the female sex, and a misanthrope is a hater of mankind."
a rose by any other name...
what if i were to call myself 'rose' one of these days, while wearing some pouffy thing with lacey sleeves?
with my current arched and thin seductive eyebrows and bob, i could've easily introduced myself as 'mary. rose. mary,' while i try not to die of swallowed laughter as i struggle not to add 'and you may kiss my hand'. >XD
i mean, ye gods! it'd be so wayang! and go around with the smouldering look in my suitably mascara-ed eyes and slight pout and batting my eyelids at people coyly when they talk to me - wah piang. that's going to be a killer.
geez. the weird things i think up. -laugh-
with my current arched and thin seductive eyebrows and bob, i could've easily introduced myself as 'mary. rose. mary,' while i try not to die of swallowed laughter as i struggle not to add 'and you may kiss my hand'. >XD
i mean, ye gods! it'd be so wayang! and go around with the smouldering look in my suitably mascara-ed eyes and slight pout and batting my eyelids at people coyly when they talk to me - wah piang. that's going to be a killer.
geez. the weird things i think up. -laugh-
Saturday, September 30, 2006
and he returns
yep.
friend who's overseas has returned to singaporean lands.
hum. i was k-ing tonight and i realised, as if i knew this fact all along, that i wanted a man who's got angular features, a nice smile and a nice build. you know, nice muscular arms and the swoonsome grin. look at andy hui and wang li hong and you get the picture.
yes, tall dark handsome men. no pansies for me. no pretty-boy/metrosexual chaps.
sorry but beckham doesn't cut it no more. MANLY MEN! RAWR!
friend who's overseas has returned to singaporean lands.
hum. i was k-ing tonight and i realised, as if i knew this fact all along, that i wanted a man who's got angular features, a nice smile and a nice build. you know, nice muscular arms and the swoonsome grin. look at andy hui and wang li hong and you get the picture.
yes, tall dark handsome men. no pansies for me. no pretty-boy/metrosexual chaps.
sorry but beckham doesn't cut it no more. MANLY MEN! RAWR!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
bodily observations 2
and the conversation went like this...
jenn says: has anyone wondered why we have hair?
me: to keep the head warm lah. greatest loss of heat there what
jenn: really?
me: mmhm
jenn: if tts the case
me: eyebrows to keep water off eyes
jenn: then why was there evolution such tt ppl grow bald too?
me: ..and hair down there to keep pheromones - eh?
me: well. i suspect it's something got to do with the thickening of the skull.....
me (as afterthought): more inherent in men, i noticed.
jenn says: has anyone wondered why we have hair?
me: to keep the head warm lah. greatest loss of heat there what
jenn: really?
me: mmhm
jenn: if tts the case
me: eyebrows to keep water off eyes
jenn: then why was there evolution such tt ppl grow bald too?
me: ..and hair down there to keep pheromones - eh?
me: well. i suspect it's something got to do with the thickening of the skull.....
me (as afterthought): more inherent in men, i noticed.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
reality check
the world is full of amazing things. they're blown all over the media: papers, tv, radio. shirts, shipping bags, on the sides of lorries, mobile phone screens. and i wonder: how much of it do you believe, and howmuch of it do you notice?
do you believe the news? do you hear it or do you listen to it?
do you believe advertisements? do you understand how the creatives came by the underlying reasoning to manifest into the piece you see say, on the streets, at the bus station, the departmental stores? or do you merely see the direct message that they advocate?
but what i am trying to ask is merely: how much gets to you when you read, when you see?
does reading evoke certain feelings in you, or have you become somewhat like me, slightly jaded, a little world-weary (yes, already!) and do you notice that the news in newpaper tend to be more tragic than that of the straits times (imho anyway) but you're hardly bothered anymore because it must be 'sensationalised news'?
and what if it weren't news? what if it were a letter from a family member, saying hello and giving you an update on how the baby girl is; or an email from a friend complete with pictures, of her trip to brazil?
you would believe that and you would take time to read and appreciate that for they're 'real'. how many links would you accept in the chain of events before you say that it's not good anymore?
how much do you believe in those words you read?
...i know i'm a naive person. i tend to believe bydefault. i think the world is prettier when it's a little blurred around the edges and i've never understood why some prefer to see each and every grain of colour when a picture is presented to them.
is it another way of seeing 'the blurry world'? or is it just being myopic?
hmmm.
and how much gets to you, how much do you see?
do you believe the news? do you hear it or do you listen to it?
do you believe advertisements? do you understand how the creatives came by the underlying reasoning to manifest into the piece you see say, on the streets, at the bus station, the departmental stores? or do you merely see the direct message that they advocate?
but what i am trying to ask is merely: how much gets to you when you read, when you see?
does reading evoke certain feelings in you, or have you become somewhat like me, slightly jaded, a little world-weary (yes, already!) and do you notice that the news in newpaper tend to be more tragic than that of the straits times (imho anyway) but you're hardly bothered anymore because it must be 'sensationalised news'?
and what if it weren't news? what if it were a letter from a family member, saying hello and giving you an update on how the baby girl is; or an email from a friend complete with pictures, of her trip to brazil?
you would believe that and you would take time to read and appreciate that for they're 'real'. how many links would you accept in the chain of events before you say that it's not good anymore?
how much do you believe in those words you read?
...i know i'm a naive person. i tend to believe bydefault. i think the world is prettier when it's a little blurred around the edges and i've never understood why some prefer to see each and every grain of colour when a picture is presented to them.
is it another way of seeing 'the blurry world'? or is it just being myopic?
hmmm.
and how much gets to you, how much do you see?
Monday, September 25, 2006
the dreaming.
"nobody knows when they might wake up"
some words i heard sung from a song. and it made perfect sense. truly, what if we were merely sleeping, and 'death' were e last part of the dream that we will wake from?
and suppose everyone is a part of your dreaming, who you are is what you made yourself out to be. and maybe like how some powerful people dream about being dominated, you are now working for someone else, instead of being at the top. and maybe, just maybe, you're really someone at THE top, and this is soem weird dream, in which you are not yourself and are working in the company that you own, only you don't know that.
and you'r busy climbing this corporate vine so you can afford to not step on others. and maybe, when you wake, you will remember these stories, these "people" you'd dreamt, the stories you'd read, the paths you'd taken and the conversations you had.
and you are simply dreaming all of this, and in your dream, everyone wakes up by havign the ultimate nightmare of dying.
..maybe.
some words i heard sung from a song. and it made perfect sense. truly, what if we were merely sleeping, and 'death' were e last part of the dream that we will wake from?
and suppose everyone is a part of your dreaming, who you are is what you made yourself out to be. and maybe like how some powerful people dream about being dominated, you are now working for someone else, instead of being at the top. and maybe, just maybe, you're really someone at THE top, and this is soem weird dream, in which you are not yourself and are working in the company that you own, only you don't know that.
and you'r busy climbing this corporate vine so you can afford to not step on others. and maybe, when you wake, you will remember these stories, these "people" you'd dreamt, the stories you'd read, the paths you'd taken and the conversations you had.
and you are simply dreaming all of this, and in your dream, everyone wakes up by havign the ultimate nightmare of dying.
..maybe.
oh, look.
http://www.icq.com/friendship/pages/browse_page_18964.php
something i found that cheered me up.
something i found that cheered me up.
i want to like you for you.
i had stopped by to visit my mother this afternoon, and we were bantering as usual when she mentioned that she's got more business coming from my aunt's place - and since my aunt lives in the better part of town it means that the customer she gets is actually quite well-to-do.
and when she mentioned that the other family is worth even more than my aunt's family i felt this cold rock at the bottom of my stomach...
will i ever get there? at that point i really didn't want to continue the conversation.
..not that "there" is an important place to be or that i MUST get there but rather, will i ever have a chance to live in the kind of "opulence" - not needing to care whether or not i have to return that book i rented, where to go for that meal of da zha xie (fried crabs), and WHEN i may go for that meal of da zha xie, whether i have the necessary to not bother where i'm headed or when and that all i have to think about is what i want to do and when.
and i look at the people about me. my colleagues seem happy. not that i am not - i am. i am blessed in every way possible - or "lucky", if you don't believe in an Almighty - to have the education, the accommodation, the smarts to make it through to a good school and then to getting some skills behind me, jobs, a place of my own, great friends who will help me out, who i will help out and who i love -
i am blessed. triply blessed. because. because of the above-mentioned reasons and then some.
but when i look at the people about me, and when i look. i see people struggling with work, with deadlines, with stress: the same things i struggle with.
but then comes lunch time and people start talking about the places they're headed to for drinks, who's got them invites and how "her dad said 'money's not yours until you spend it' and how he bought ANOTHER television set (or something)" and how she's got cars back in wherever she came from. and my friends, they've got lovely homes with wonderful parents who seem to know just what advice to give. it helps that they're beautiful too.
and all i can do is to try to keep up, you know?
and the people i know. the people i get to know. if i like them i really don't want to know more about them. i only want to know their names, their contact numbers if we happen to exchange numbers but even then. i just want to know their names, and that be it.
for to know more would mean i will have preconceived notions about you. just like if i were to know that you're well-to-do or even better than "just" well-to-do. i don't want to know that you live in a penthouse and own two shophouses in emerald hill plus a pub down the road AND seven cars, all lamborghinis of different colours to suit different outfits. i don't, i really don't.
it scares me, i feel like i'm not worthy, because i simply do not have the things you have. i have not seen the things you have, and probably have not done the things you did. like owning more than forty-six pairs of shoes. it's ridiculous, i don't need forty-six pairs of shoes and unless you're aspiring to be a millipede chances are you won't, neither. but you get what i mean?
i know i'm cool. i know i'm beautiful. i know i don't have to be worth a thing but still be priceless. i know that. YOU know that.
and i don't want to know who you are. i was curious about someone who impressed me. and i asked.
what a mistake. the more impressed i was, the dumber i got. the dumber i got the more ingratiating i became.
me. lapdog. ME.
..and i must not be like that. and i don't want to know who you are, whether or not i have met you, will meet you. i don't want to know who you are. i want to know you as you, ilke you for you, as you are; not what you have, where you'd been, who you'd seen. i can offer you the friendship and camaraderie that you may have found so lacking in the world, that spark of genuine-ness.
but i must not know who you are. i don't want to know who you are.
and when she mentioned that the other family is worth even more than my aunt's family i felt this cold rock at the bottom of my stomach...
will i ever get there? at that point i really didn't want to continue the conversation.
..not that "there" is an important place to be or that i MUST get there but rather, will i ever have a chance to live in the kind of "opulence" - not needing to care whether or not i have to return that book i rented, where to go for that meal of da zha xie (fried crabs), and WHEN i may go for that meal of da zha xie, whether i have the necessary to not bother where i'm headed or when and that all i have to think about is what i want to do and when.
and i look at the people about me. my colleagues seem happy. not that i am not - i am. i am blessed in every way possible - or "lucky", if you don't believe in an Almighty - to have the education, the accommodation, the smarts to make it through to a good school and then to getting some skills behind me, jobs, a place of my own, great friends who will help me out, who i will help out and who i love -
i am blessed. triply blessed. because. because of the above-mentioned reasons and then some.
but when i look at the people about me, and when i look. i see people struggling with work, with deadlines, with stress: the same things i struggle with.
but then comes lunch time and people start talking about the places they're headed to for drinks, who's got them invites and how "her dad said 'money's not yours until you spend it' and how he bought ANOTHER television set (or something)" and how she's got cars back in wherever she came from. and my friends, they've got lovely homes with wonderful parents who seem to know just what advice to give. it helps that they're beautiful too.
and all i can do is to try to keep up, you know?
and the people i know. the people i get to know. if i like them i really don't want to know more about them. i only want to know their names, their contact numbers if we happen to exchange numbers but even then. i just want to know their names, and that be it.
for to know more would mean i will have preconceived notions about you. just like if i were to know that you're well-to-do or even better than "just" well-to-do. i don't want to know that you live in a penthouse and own two shophouses in emerald hill plus a pub down the road AND seven cars, all lamborghinis of different colours to suit different outfits. i don't, i really don't.
it scares me, i feel like i'm not worthy, because i simply do not have the things you have. i have not seen the things you have, and probably have not done the things you did. like owning more than forty-six pairs of shoes. it's ridiculous, i don't need forty-six pairs of shoes and unless you're aspiring to be a millipede chances are you won't, neither. but you get what i mean?
i know i'm cool. i know i'm beautiful. i know i don't have to be worth a thing but still be priceless. i know that. YOU know that.
and i don't want to know who you are. i was curious about someone who impressed me. and i asked.
what a mistake. the more impressed i was, the dumber i got. the dumber i got the more ingratiating i became.
me. lapdog. ME.
..and i must not be like that. and i don't want to know who you are, whether or not i have met you, will meet you. i don't want to know who you are. i want to know you as you, ilke you for you, as you are; not what you have, where you'd been, who you'd seen. i can offer you the friendship and camaraderie that you may have found so lacking in the world, that spark of genuine-ness.
but i must not know who you are. i don't want to know who you are.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Thursday, September 21, 2006
bodily observations 1
through the days of aimlessly milling about places during rush-hour cheong-to-office-time and lunchtime, i can't help but notice these oddities and/or differences in the human body: -
if women can sit up ramrod straight and so can men, when women do not have any - obstacles, if you will - to speak of, does it mean them said obstacles are positioned slightly forward?
...so is that where the extra folds of skin come in?
and if everyone were biologically a woman to start with does it therefore mean we actually come with under-developed penii? and then there's the womb. if we have the womb and men don't, is that why they can eat loads more food than we can, and is that why they tend to have easier times in the bathroom and seem to have more resistance to irritable bowel syndrome (it afflicts MANY more women than it does men)?
...is that also why men sport pot-bellies after their tummy elasticity wears out?
hmm.
if women can sit up ramrod straight and so can men, when women do not have any - obstacles, if you will - to speak of, does it mean them said obstacles are positioned slightly forward?
...so is that where the extra folds of skin come in?
and if everyone were biologically a woman to start with does it therefore mean we actually come with under-developed penii? and then there's the womb. if we have the womb and men don't, is that why they can eat loads more food than we can, and is that why they tend to have easier times in the bathroom and seem to have more resistance to irritable bowel syndrome (it afflicts MANY more women than it does men)?
...is that also why men sport pot-bellies after their tummy elasticity wears out?
hmm.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
urban famine
yes, one of the three riders has got a new face.
it's called fashion, in all of its metallic eyeshadow-ed glory. skinny girls having waists smaller than a wasp's and yet still manage to have curves. feh. modern-day stuffings. put it on during the day and take it off at night. easy-peasy. can wash some more.
then there's powder, make-up; the 'glamour' that seems to come with it.
thank heavens su isn't that stick-insecty and she doesn't have to slap on too much powder to look good. i may look like a grasshopper but i've always been the skinny kambing.
but hey, i love my food. i just don't happen to like eating when i'm not hungry. and therein lies another facet of urban famine: living standards. it's called 'lifestyle' these days. the tendency to pay for one good meal versus many run-of-the-mill meals now is higher than the tendency to pay for one good meal versus many run-of-the-mill meals back then.
and the want to 'live the better life' is there and so you live the life of a well-to-do for a week then for the rest of the month you're drying up like a limpet stuck too high on the pier. but either way, i suppose now that a large percentage of the world population is well-to-do enough to be able to afford fat-laden burgers - famine must've appealed to vanity.
...and succeeded, no less. with brilliant gay designers/stylists around, who, more often than not tend to be male and therefore have nonexistent hips - man. that just makes being a woman hard. not to mention the glamourous transvestites about: they make a woman want to crawl into the nearest manhole and take up residence there.
they are more 'woman' than a woman. it's amazing.
eh girls we lose to the 'women' leh. and we're the real women. how do they out-bitch us, out hiao us, and out-glam us?
-shake head-
it's called fashion, in all of its metallic eyeshadow-ed glory. skinny girls having waists smaller than a wasp's and yet still manage to have curves. feh. modern-day stuffings. put it on during the day and take it off at night. easy-peasy. can wash some more.
then there's powder, make-up; the 'glamour' that seems to come with it.
thank heavens su isn't that stick-insecty and she doesn't have to slap on too much powder to look good. i may look like a grasshopper but i've always been the skinny kambing.
but hey, i love my food. i just don't happen to like eating when i'm not hungry. and therein lies another facet of urban famine: living standards. it's called 'lifestyle' these days. the tendency to pay for one good meal versus many run-of-the-mill meals now is higher than the tendency to pay for one good meal versus many run-of-the-mill meals back then.
and the want to 'live the better life' is there and so you live the life of a well-to-do for a week then for the rest of the month you're drying up like a limpet stuck too high on the pier. but either way, i suppose now that a large percentage of the world population is well-to-do enough to be able to afford fat-laden burgers - famine must've appealed to vanity.
...and succeeded, no less. with brilliant gay designers/stylists around, who, more often than not tend to be male and therefore have nonexistent hips - man. that just makes being a woman hard. not to mention the glamourous transvestites about: they make a woman want to crawl into the nearest manhole and take up residence there.
they are more 'woman' than a woman. it's amazing.
eh girls we lose to the 'women' leh. and we're the real women. how do they out-bitch us, out hiao us, and out-glam us?
-shake head-
insomnia
insomnia. i don't have that problem.
but oddly enough, i am sleeping at 2 am these few days. hum. things kept me up
like chatting online. hair-cutting.
you know? it's not like i'm lying in bed, staring at the back of my eyelids wondering what that splotch is going to evolve into. but i sleep late like everyone else.
i wonder why how i survive.
heh.
but oddly enough, i am sleeping at 2 am these few days. hum. things kept me up
like chatting online. hair-cutting.
you know? it's not like i'm lying in bed, staring at the back of my eyelids wondering what that splotch is going to evolve into. but i sleep late like everyone else.
i wonder why how i survive.
heh.
the mirror
as i looked into the mirror this evening, with a cigarette in hand, the possibility of me being one of those ciggie-toting ah lian aunties flashed across my mind.
didn't help that i had my overgrown hair tied up in a ponytail, with wisps of fringe trailing down the side of my face. it was late, i just got home from the office - i don't usually smoke but tonight i had managed to uncover my superbly stale ciggies from some obscure corner of my vanity and smoked it while chancing upon my humongous mirror.
hm. not pleasant.
now i understand why older women feel insecure about younger, more supple ones.
...do i really have to go through this phase in life?
didn't help that i had my overgrown hair tied up in a ponytail, with wisps of fringe trailing down the side of my face. it was late, i just got home from the office - i don't usually smoke but tonight i had managed to uncover my superbly stale ciggies from some obscure corner of my vanity and smoked it while chancing upon my humongous mirror.
hm. not pleasant.
now i understand why older women feel insecure about younger, more supple ones.
...do i really have to go through this phase in life?
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
words to listen to
words to listen to, to fall asleep with, but not words to believe in.
someone told me, just recently, that he'll 'make me a tai-tai'. i melted inside. how do i not smile at that statement, made so simply, meant as simply?
..but this sweetness came from this innocent boy, who, in his seeming naivete, hurt me when i thought i could trust him. and trust him i did - bad mistake.
i.. don't blame him. maybe he was just learning. about people, about life, you know? but why has it got to be me? is it so hard to find a person who you can rely on, trust without having to fear being betrayed?
and another said, 'i'll never forget you'.
...so you didn't. true that i left you. but so what? i'm sorry.
not sorry for you; sorry for us. all three of us and everyone else in between. i'm not ready. i'm... very happy to hear these words from you, i do. but i'm just not sure if i can trust these words. i'm sorry to have to say that.
if i could cry i will, but i suppose i've hardened into a husk, like a coconut, where the waters are locked inside. and even that, will later dry.
but ah, enough about me. what about you?
what do you see it this, eh?
what made you say these? inebriation? late nights that lower the guard?
love me. but love me discreetly.
someone told me, just recently, that he'll 'make me a tai-tai'. i melted inside. how do i not smile at that statement, made so simply, meant as simply?
..but this sweetness came from this innocent boy, who, in his seeming naivete, hurt me when i thought i could trust him. and trust him i did - bad mistake.
i.. don't blame him. maybe he was just learning. about people, about life, you know? but why has it got to be me? is it so hard to find a person who you can rely on, trust without having to fear being betrayed?
and another said, 'i'll never forget you'.
...so you didn't. true that i left you. but so what? i'm sorry.
not sorry for you; sorry for us. all three of us and everyone else in between. i'm not ready. i'm... very happy to hear these words from you, i do. but i'm just not sure if i can trust these words. i'm sorry to have to say that.
if i could cry i will, but i suppose i've hardened into a husk, like a coconut, where the waters are locked inside. and even that, will later dry.
but ah, enough about me. what about you?
what do you see it this, eh?
what made you say these? inebriation? late nights that lower the guard?
love me. but love me discreetly.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
weird
i was just looking through a siteful of weird news - and found 'odd' events ranging from 'pigs withstanding taser to avoid slaughter' and 'heart attack over ugly toupee' - even 'goat turns into brother's corpse'.
and i was wondering - why's that weird?
the pig's scared of death, as is every natural living thing, it's easy to have a heart attack when you're worked up and it's easy to understand how that kind of statements are made when people believe in black magic (nigeria). is it very hard to understand, really?
why is it weird when it's uncommon? does it mean if you cannot understand it you therefore should label it as 'weird'?
uncommon, yes. but weird - hmm.
think about it.
and i was wondering - why's that weird?
the pig's scared of death, as is every natural living thing, it's easy to have a heart attack when you're worked up and it's easy to understand how that kind of statements are made when people believe in black magic (nigeria). is it very hard to understand, really?
why is it weird when it's uncommon? does it mean if you cannot understand it you therefore should label it as 'weird'?
uncommon, yes. but weird - hmm.
think about it.
Monday, September 11, 2006
about poverty
yes. i'm poor.
because i tried to live the better life, tried to do so before i could afford it. the feeling of seeing tasty-looking bread on the glass shelves of bakeries down town and having to continually swallow - is not pleasant indeed.
but how could i have refused that chance, finally, when it presented itself to me? i wouldn't have said no even if i could. no. i'm happy with my choice. but the down side is that i will have to go through famine.
i'd considered borrowing some, but that'd be stupid. if i made that choice i have to bloody live with it.
alright. i can do this. i'm not used to but i can. time to learn how to cook and not poison myself in the process.
..i can. if not then there's always po chai. >:x
because i tried to live the better life, tried to do so before i could afford it. the feeling of seeing tasty-looking bread on the glass shelves of bakeries down town and having to continually swallow - is not pleasant indeed.
but how could i have refused that chance, finally, when it presented itself to me? i wouldn't have said no even if i could. no. i'm happy with my choice. but the down side is that i will have to go through famine.
i'd considered borrowing some, but that'd be stupid. if i made that choice i have to bloody live with it.
alright. i can do this. i'm not used to but i can. time to learn how to cook and not poison myself in the process.
..i can. if not then there's always po chai. >:x
Thursday, September 07, 2006
influence
influence. what is influence?
...it's the number of and/or kind of people who will take your word for it if you do give your reviews about someone or something or some place. and the more people who will listen to your views (i.e.: take it seriously and base their actions and/or judgements on that), the more influential you are.
and that comes from knowing the right people at the right places. all these add to your value. and of course, you should have some substance to back it all up most of the time. i say "most of the time" because sometimes, it's just easy when you have a sort of a charm and know enough people but say, don't know nothing about mathematics. or computers. you know?
but you know people who do. and that's when you put two and three together and get six. the extra one point from yourself, because you know how to get people together and create a team. and that in itself is the so-called "substance" that i'm talking about as well.
but i digress.
so influence: it does not matter if you know loads of people who are int he working class (for example) but what does is that they hold you in good regard. doesn't ahve to be "high" regard, "good" regard will do. and truly? when you're in that kind of position, it's hard not to get noticed. by the commonfolk, like me, by the "better ones".
and assuming you don't suddenly turn into a bumbling fool, chacnes are you'll get to be one of the "better ones" one day.
...and there's no need to fear that you aren't influential NOW. because it's something that will grow.
...it's the number of and/or kind of people who will take your word for it if you do give your reviews about someone or something or some place. and the more people who will listen to your views (i.e.: take it seriously and base their actions and/or judgements on that), the more influential you are.
and that comes from knowing the right people at the right places. all these add to your value. and of course, you should have some substance to back it all up most of the time. i say "most of the time" because sometimes, it's just easy when you have a sort of a charm and know enough people but say, don't know nothing about mathematics. or computers. you know?
but you know people who do. and that's when you put two and three together and get six. the extra one point from yourself, because you know how to get people together and create a team. and that in itself is the so-called "substance" that i'm talking about as well.
but i digress.
so influence: it does not matter if you know loads of people who are int he working class (for example) but what does is that they hold you in good regard. doesn't ahve to be "high" regard, "good" regard will do. and truly? when you're in that kind of position, it's hard not to get noticed. by the commonfolk, like me, by the "better ones".
and assuming you don't suddenly turn into a bumbling fool, chacnes are you'll get to be one of the "better ones" one day.
...and there's no need to fear that you aren't influential NOW. because it's something that will grow.
phantom skin
have you ever felt an itch on your chin when you chin's under local anesthesia?
had a toothache a couple days ago and had to go to the dentist. after the chap gave me a jab with a metal canistered thing in the mouth i couldn't feel my left chin and lip for about four hours after.
and it's weird, during that time, how i managed to get an itch and "feel" it, and scratched it and it "felt" good, relieved. don't ask me how, please. its' a certain contentment that my skin felt, like it's happy when i scratched on that spot. and funnily enough i seemed to be able to locate that spot and when i scratched it, all i consciously felt was pressure but there was this inkling of pleasure when i did.
weird, huh.
well, should you have the chance in the future to be under some numbing, you should try getting a serendipitous itch over there.
and then you may get what i mean. :P
had a toothache a couple days ago and had to go to the dentist. after the chap gave me a jab with a metal canistered thing in the mouth i couldn't feel my left chin and lip for about four hours after.
and it's weird, during that time, how i managed to get an itch and "feel" it, and scratched it and it "felt" good, relieved. don't ask me how, please. its' a certain contentment that my skin felt, like it's happy when i scratched on that spot. and funnily enough i seemed to be able to locate that spot and when i scratched it, all i consciously felt was pressure but there was this inkling of pleasure when i did.
weird, huh.
well, should you have the chance in the future to be under some numbing, you should try getting a serendipitous itch over there.
and then you may get what i mean. :P
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
realisation
it is with a little surprise that i realise i have grown a little pompous in my scribing.
i must tune it down.
i must tune it down.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
online appeal
i don't quite understand why girls take half-naked pictures of themselves and post them all online. and the angles that you don't normally show people - weird that those are shown. it's all those cute shots and/or sexual ones.
what is THAT all about?
if it's cute i understand. but somehow, they look like they're trying to get people to bid for them. and if that's the objective just why on earth are they giving out free samplers like that? it would make sense to make people pay, no? take pictures of self in underwear adn post online to up the 'friends' quota? hello?
little wonder how the world's coming to an end... there's no need for tsunamis or plagues - sheer human stupidity will work. it's really ben si.
then there are the boys who want to look like anime characters with only one eye. i mean, dye your hair ash brown by all means but good heavens when your pictures are done so your face only shows ONE eye - that's freaky. and they think it's cute.
i mean, i'm not exagerrating here: the kid actually put four of his pictures together, ran it through some funky filters in photoshop and typed in "Cutie [name here] ^O^" - that's just impossible to overlook lah.
girls who want to look japanese are also guilty of this. if you're trying to do things like that, my advice is: don't. it takes a certain kind of face to pull off the hamster look.
i don't understand this. if you're a jap girl wannabe, then i suppose you would.
what is THAT all about?
if it's cute i understand. but somehow, they look like they're trying to get people to bid for them. and if that's the objective just why on earth are they giving out free samplers like that? it would make sense to make people pay, no? take pictures of self in underwear adn post online to up the 'friends' quota? hello?
little wonder how the world's coming to an end... there's no need for tsunamis or plagues - sheer human stupidity will work. it's really ben si.
then there are the boys who want to look like anime characters with only one eye. i mean, dye your hair ash brown by all means but good heavens when your pictures are done so your face only shows ONE eye - that's freaky. and they think it's cute.
i mean, i'm not exagerrating here: the kid actually put four of his pictures together, ran it through some funky filters in photoshop and typed in "Cutie [name here] ^O^" - that's just impossible to overlook lah.
girls who want to look japanese are also guilty of this. if you're trying to do things like that, my advice is: don't. it takes a certain kind of face to pull off the hamster look.
i don't understand this. if you're a jap girl wannabe, then i suppose you would.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
and sometimes
and sometimes i think - why do people ask me out to a function with them, specifically to hang off their arm when they should be asking their other halves? i mean, i don't want no catfights on my hands, and especially not if it will make it look like we're fighting OVER him.
no way. i don't fight over men. especially not if he's using me as gold dust to make himself look better. bah. please! appearances are appearances are appearances. how much's it worth to you, eh, darren?
thankfully, unlike you, i got nothing to prove.
apologies to su though, this is that event i had told her about - and i had no idea that the ass's got an other half when he asked if i'd head to that event with him!
there are just too insensitive men about. lustful ones, bastards, clueless ones, and those who are just too shrewd for anyone's own good, you know? just amazing.
no way. i don't fight over men. especially not if he's using me as gold dust to make himself look better. bah. please! appearances are appearances are appearances. how much's it worth to you, eh, darren?
thankfully, unlike you, i got nothing to prove.
apologies to su though, this is that event i had told her about - and i had no idea that the ass's got an other half when he asked if i'd head to that event with him!
there are just too insensitive men about. lustful ones, bastards, clueless ones, and those who are just too shrewd for anyone's own good, you know? just amazing.
the chat with the man who knows everything.
oh lord. it's this fluttery feeling again. butterflies in my stomach; the kind that makes me want to shriek out loud and break something.
..i'd just had a chat with the most charming man in the office - and ye gods, AM i CHARMED!
and the conversation left me feeling like - that in my scant 23 years i had not collected enough knowledge to carry out a conversation with a man of 42 years of age.
it seems that he knows everything. from religion (he quoted verses from the bible) to diving (spouted technical terms) and anything that i could throw at him, not to mention that we argued the philosophy of happiness, the meanings of it enjoyment and what makes a life 'idyllic' and whether or not it can be idyllic NOW - and hwo it can be acheived simply by seeing past prices and materials and appreciating the things that are already there.
yes, even in the old kopitiam chair that your family's had for the past five decades.
all of this, within an hour and a half of a first sit-down-and-chat. it's quite amazing how a chap that age can be flirtatious and so charming. is there any question that i like older men???
he is beautiful: mentally and physically. and he's aged like good leather (please ah, don't crack any cute jokes about implications about his skin and suchlike - every part of him is very well-kept. or the parts that i can see, at least) and he wears it like a glittering mantle.
trust me, it's simply impossible to look at him and not notice that square jaw, that oh-so-cute tan, those (oh good heavens) broad shoulders and muscles that show even under his clothes - the lean kind, mind - that ready smile and the combined flow of intellect and charm set to 'stun' -
and the fact that he's at the upper tier of an upmarket magazine only adds to the sheen of glamour. how could i have resisted? oh no, i would not have been able to even if i tried. how to, you tell me, how to???
...but coming back to earth after a full four minute's worth of coming apart at the head: like all beautiful things, there has to be a flaw. and this one, it seems, it quite fatal.
he's gay.
AUGH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!!!
why all lie dat one?!
..i'd just had a chat with the most charming man in the office - and ye gods, AM i CHARMED!
and the conversation left me feeling like - that in my scant 23 years i had not collected enough knowledge to carry out a conversation with a man of 42 years of age.
it seems that he knows everything. from religion (he quoted verses from the bible) to diving (spouted technical terms) and anything that i could throw at him, not to mention that we argued the philosophy of happiness, the meanings of it enjoyment and what makes a life 'idyllic' and whether or not it can be idyllic NOW - and hwo it can be acheived simply by seeing past prices and materials and appreciating the things that are already there.
yes, even in the old kopitiam chair that your family's had for the past five decades.
all of this, within an hour and a half of a first sit-down-and-chat. it's quite amazing how a chap that age can be flirtatious and so charming. is there any question that i like older men???
he is beautiful: mentally and physically. and he's aged like good leather (please ah, don't crack any cute jokes about implications about his skin and suchlike - every part of him is very well-kept. or the parts that i can see, at least) and he wears it like a glittering mantle.
trust me, it's simply impossible to look at him and not notice that square jaw, that oh-so-cute tan, those (oh good heavens) broad shoulders and muscles that show even under his clothes - the lean kind, mind - that ready smile and the combined flow of intellect and charm set to 'stun' -
and the fact that he's at the upper tier of an upmarket magazine only adds to the sheen of glamour. how could i have resisted? oh no, i would not have been able to even if i tried. how to, you tell me, how to???
...but coming back to earth after a full four minute's worth of coming apart at the head: like all beautiful things, there has to be a flaw. and this one, it seems, it quite fatal.
he's gay.
AUGH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!!!
why all lie dat one?!
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
my love for a cup of milk
today, i had found out that a dear friend of mine has had a budget of yay dollars for an entire term. and that, when translated, equated to something very much worse than my own.
and that made me think of another time almost a month and a half ago when she bought me my cup of milk when we were out then, probably because she wanted to 'help me out'. not that the milk came with a shot of caramel AND gold flakes, but that was enough for her to have my love.
understand that she already has it (my love), but the gesture was so sweet that i felt the warm fuzzy feeling rise to the fore.
it's easy, i suppose, when you know you want to care for someone and when that someone suddenly cares for you - words fail you.
...i know it failed me. :)
and that made me think of another time almost a month and a half ago when she bought me my cup of milk when we were out then, probably because she wanted to 'help me out'. not that the milk came with a shot of caramel AND gold flakes, but that was enough for her to have my love.
understand that she already has it (my love), but the gesture was so sweet that i felt the warm fuzzy feeling rise to the fore.
it's easy, i suppose, when you know you want to care for someone and when that someone suddenly cares for you - words fail you.
...i know it failed me. :)
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
pop-pop-pop culture
i had always been the unpopular kid - preschool, during school. and while it got lonesome sometimes, it was mostly amusing.
why, you may ask. and you may well wonder if i'm a little unhinged, especially when popularity can be quite the purpose of existence when everyone else has a clique and seem to be hanging out together and is always laughing. happy, you know?
and i was there, watching it all, thoughtful look on my face, sometimes grinning at the scene(s). and people often wondered why, especially when i'm nursing an unglam plastic cup of something, seated by myself facing no one in particular.
i was the ultimate loner. loser? hardly. but neither was i the winner. but one thing was clear to them - i was WEIRD - or so they thought and possibly still do - think. i didn't blame them though, still don't; for i even had the 'artist' persona down pat (i had been in every art class and artistic activity since primary 3)- it's hard not to think i'm one of those accidents people like to call artists.
they probably don't know this but i derived great pleasure in watching them interact; the ways they play nice, the times when they complain/bitch about something that usually involves a commonly-disliked someone else. it's like they needed a target to focus their sense of purpose on.
not to mention how i laughed, afterwards, when i doggedly followed a bunch of the older cool kids wherever they went when i was in primary 4 once. to be seen with me was to be 'uncool' and that meant that i had the same social effect as poison to your body. imagine how much distress i had caused these hapless people! -laugh-
i can still remember the warnings to 'not to follow' them and the worried looks when i saunter in their general direction!
and for a while, i enjoyed my little game. then i got interested in badminton and went on to be the school's best player - and that's when i had a little trouble getting people to stop hanging about ME (namely the younger kids). it helped that i was liberal with my threats and carrying them out, though. and so things changed: the same groups of people who thought i was somewhat of a cling-on suddenly found my rare 'visits' absolutely charming. heh. and i laughed some more.
and it's certainly amazing, to find that the very same high-school terminologies, manners of expression and dynamics are still being used today by those people who are already out of it for like, you know, at least, like, five years. yeeeah. i mean, it's, you know, like, so (italicise) weird (/italics), you know?
now it still makes me laugh but mostly it irritates me. the talk about mango having sales and 'how many percent' and the pair of shoes that are sooooo cute when paired with this bracelet - gods. if you have any sense of colour (ie: not colour blind) chances are you would know how to coordinate your clothes. and so what if you fly in the teeth of fashion? if you carry it well then you're the one riding the crest of the wave, no? then YOU're fashion.
or does nobody about me understand that?
i hope the idea to 'be a diamond, not glass' is as famous as aesop's fables. why? because diamonds have less to prove and as everybody knows, too much glitter spells 'c-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s t-r-e-e'.
not that i'm not guilty of being 'glass' at times. of course i have made my overtly stupid moves to say that 'hey i'm cool too'. alas, i need a little bit more time to be a self-assured diamond, but i'm slowly getting there. note though, that being a diamond does not equal to not being open to people trying to tell you that there is something majorly wrong with you.
of course, if it's someone telling you that you have 'an accent' when you're merely being your good charming self AND the said kind-hearted (if self-blinded, if you will) person has 'an accent' herself - then the diamond will know that it is graceful to not laugh in that person's face. but of course, i wish now that i were quite the glass when THAT happened to me. :P
but anyways. now that i'm out in the working world, it seems that the popularity thing is still ongoing. i don't understand it, but i see the benefits of knowing how to work it. hmm.
and it's life, ya?
..oh, by the way, if you're wondering why i never did get pummelled when i was dogging others when in primary school: i had always been a good runner. and when i didn't run: the pursuers quickly realised that i have a sharp stinging slap.
and nope, they never did have the guts to gang up on me.
why, you may ask. and you may well wonder if i'm a little unhinged, especially when popularity can be quite the purpose of existence when everyone else has a clique and seem to be hanging out together and is always laughing. happy, you know?
and i was there, watching it all, thoughtful look on my face, sometimes grinning at the scene(s). and people often wondered why, especially when i'm nursing an unglam plastic cup of something, seated by myself facing no one in particular.
i was the ultimate loner. loser? hardly. but neither was i the winner. but one thing was clear to them - i was WEIRD - or so they thought and possibly still do - think. i didn't blame them though, still don't; for i even had the 'artist' persona down pat (i had been in every art class and artistic activity since primary 3)- it's hard not to think i'm one of those accidents people like to call artists.
they probably don't know this but i derived great pleasure in watching them interact; the ways they play nice, the times when they complain/bitch about something that usually involves a commonly-disliked someone else. it's like they needed a target to focus their sense of purpose on.
not to mention how i laughed, afterwards, when i doggedly followed a bunch of the older cool kids wherever they went when i was in primary 4 once. to be seen with me was to be 'uncool' and that meant that i had the same social effect as poison to your body. imagine how much distress i had caused these hapless people! -laugh-
i can still remember the warnings to 'not to follow' them and the worried looks when i saunter in their general direction!
and for a while, i enjoyed my little game. then i got interested in badminton and went on to be the school's best player - and that's when i had a little trouble getting people to stop hanging about ME (namely the younger kids). it helped that i was liberal with my threats and carrying them out, though. and so things changed: the same groups of people who thought i was somewhat of a cling-on suddenly found my rare 'visits' absolutely charming. heh. and i laughed some more.
and it's certainly amazing, to find that the very same high-school terminologies, manners of expression and dynamics are still being used today by those people who are already out of it for like, you know, at least, like, five years. yeeeah. i mean, it's, you know, like, so (italicise) weird (/italics), you know?
now it still makes me laugh but mostly it irritates me. the talk about mango having sales and 'how many percent' and the pair of shoes that are sooooo cute when paired with this bracelet - gods. if you have any sense of colour (ie: not colour blind) chances are you would know how to coordinate your clothes. and so what if you fly in the teeth of fashion? if you carry it well then you're the one riding the crest of the wave, no? then YOU're fashion.
or does nobody about me understand that?
i hope the idea to 'be a diamond, not glass' is as famous as aesop's fables. why? because diamonds have less to prove and as everybody knows, too much glitter spells 'c-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s t-r-e-e'.
not that i'm not guilty of being 'glass' at times. of course i have made my overtly stupid moves to say that 'hey i'm cool too'. alas, i need a little bit more time to be a self-assured diamond, but i'm slowly getting there. note though, that being a diamond does not equal to not being open to people trying to tell you that there is something majorly wrong with you.
of course, if it's someone telling you that you have 'an accent' when you're merely being your good charming self AND the said kind-hearted (if self-blinded, if you will) person has 'an accent' herself - then the diamond will know that it is graceful to not laugh in that person's face. but of course, i wish now that i were quite the glass when THAT happened to me. :P
but anyways. now that i'm out in the working world, it seems that the popularity thing is still ongoing. i don't understand it, but i see the benefits of knowing how to work it. hmm.
and it's life, ya?
..oh, by the way, if you're wondering why i never did get pummelled when i was dogging others when in primary school: i had always been a good runner. and when i didn't run: the pursuers quickly realised that i have a sharp stinging slap.
and nope, they never did have the guts to gang up on me.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
war vs life
i had been reading this story about ffx - how auron and rikku fought their - mortality - and had managed to frolic during their pilgrimage.
and things while hard was 'alright', because they had each other and the hardships stuck them together. which in turn made me think about the urbane side of things - why we have this many divorces today is simply because it's hardly 'you and me against the world' but rather i'm fighting the world AND you.
i would merrily give my love and gentleness (assuming i am capable of that, of course) to the man who's braving clawing monsters and suchlike outside of my cave to bring back bacon and such - or even rebel against my family to follow a man who's in love with me (whom i adore as well. duh) but whom my clan hates.
of course, bombs and roaming monsters help, too. that is, of course, assuming he's entirely capable of defending himself and us against the said monsters.
truly 'you and me against the whole damn world', capisce?
but tough to acheive in this urban universe, it seems. staying together's easy when both make the effort. but staying together when Life is in the way - well.
suddenly nobody's as sweet as they should be anymore, eh? the sweet girl with dulcet tones has become the virago who has unkemp hair and dowdy clothes and the gentlemanly young chap has turned into the paunchy ole man who addresses you by 'oei'.
sigh...
romance dies when peacetime comes.
ain't it grand.
and things while hard was 'alright', because they had each other and the hardships stuck them together. which in turn made me think about the urbane side of things - why we have this many divorces today is simply because it's hardly 'you and me against the world' but rather i'm fighting the world AND you.
i would merrily give my love and gentleness (assuming i am capable of that, of course) to the man who's braving clawing monsters and suchlike outside of my cave to bring back bacon and such - or even rebel against my family to follow a man who's in love with me (whom i adore as well. duh) but whom my clan hates.
of course, bombs and roaming monsters help, too. that is, of course, assuming he's entirely capable of defending himself and us against the said monsters.
truly 'you and me against the whole damn world', capisce?
but tough to acheive in this urban universe, it seems. staying together's easy when both make the effort. but staying together when Life is in the way - well.
suddenly nobody's as sweet as they should be anymore, eh? the sweet girl with dulcet tones has become the virago who has unkemp hair and dowdy clothes and the gentlemanly young chap has turned into the paunchy ole man who addresses you by 'oei'.
sigh...
romance dies when peacetime comes.
ain't it grand.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
it's sooooo highschool!
a: helloy! how're yoy? ooh yoy got those earrings, do yoy have a date tonight?
b: good day! well no, not really, some of my friends are coming and i'm picking them up at the airport... i got these earrings at [location deleted to preserve privacy], and they're like, four bucks a pair? the others were like, you know, pearly, and there's one that has got pink stuff on it. they're sooo cuuute!
a: oh wow, only two bucks?
b: yeah... oh by the way, c is going back to [said location that's been deleted to preserve privacy] soon, do you need anything from there?
a: hmmm noy, not at the moment. i'll think about it (or something to the like. i can't quite recall).
b: well yeah... clothes back there fit better! the stuff they sell here are sooo weird; they fit kinda funny.
a: (nods with a smile but says nothing)
b: well i'm probably going ask c if she can, though i'll probably wait till she gets my package. it'd be so cool! (laughs)
----
man... if that's not high school i don't know what is. isn't it time to break out of the high school cheerleader act already?
b: good day! well no, not really, some of my friends are coming and i'm picking them up at the airport... i got these earrings at [location deleted to preserve privacy], and they're like, four bucks a pair? the others were like, you know, pearly, and there's one that has got pink stuff on it. they're sooo cuuute!
a: oh wow, only two bucks?
b: yeah... oh by the way, c is going back to [said location that's been deleted to preserve privacy] soon, do you need anything from there?
a: hmmm noy, not at the moment. i'll think about it (or something to the like. i can't quite recall).
b: well yeah... clothes back there fit better! the stuff they sell here are sooo weird; they fit kinda funny.
a: (nods with a smile but says nothing)
b: well i'm probably going ask c if she can, though i'll probably wait till she gets my package. it'd be so cool! (laughs)
----
man... if that's not high school i don't know what is. isn't it time to break out of the high school cheerleader act already?
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
death by cuteness
try this: http://mfrost.typepad.com/cute_overload/unusual_animals/index.html
check out the racoon vid. so cute~~~~
check out the racoon vid. so cute~~~~
sick and rashed
i had gone to see the doctor, it burnt a hole in my wallet.
then i headed to my mum's with my burnt wallet to let it rest and recuperate. and oh, my good self, too. :D
then my mum dearest decided that she must take the heat out of my body and therefore mixed some dubious concoction that consisted of some powdered bright blue crystal and white crystal - AND vinegar. and using some pulped vegetation wrapped in cloth, she dabbed - nay, RUBBED it onto my neck, chest and back area.
ow. the taking it off with rice wine part wasn't too bad though.
now i am super aware whenever i sweat, even a little. because it feels like i were pricked by many, many little needles. eating is a pain (who doesn't sweat when eating?) and sleeping is trying (doesn't help that i wasn't supposed to turn the damn fan on and the windows have to STAY closed).
argh.
but well. it's born of a love she has for me... never mind that i will never again appreciate the ideas for TCM she's got for me, especially not if it involves crystals (the first was when she decided to rid me of the mole i have on my face - yes the part that's now a crater).
then i headed to my mum's with my burnt wallet to let it rest and recuperate. and oh, my good self, too. :D
then my mum dearest decided that she must take the heat out of my body and therefore mixed some dubious concoction that consisted of some powdered bright blue crystal and white crystal - AND vinegar. and using some pulped vegetation wrapped in cloth, she dabbed - nay, RUBBED it onto my neck, chest and back area.
ow. the taking it off with rice wine part wasn't too bad though.
now i am super aware whenever i sweat, even a little. because it feels like i were pricked by many, many little needles. eating is a pain (who doesn't sweat when eating?) and sleeping is trying (doesn't help that i wasn't supposed to turn the damn fan on and the windows have to STAY closed).
argh.
but well. it's born of a love she has for me... never mind that i will never again appreciate the ideas for TCM she's got for me, especially not if it involves crystals (the first was when she decided to rid me of the mole i have on my face - yes the part that's now a crater).
Monday, August 21, 2006
truth is...
truth is the worst is not as bad as it sounds.
truth is the misunderstanding does not require your clearing up.
truth is the person you love and think does not love you in return thinks the same way about you.
truth is the idea of 'sticking by it' and 'through thick and thin' only happens when you perceive it to.
..truth is, it all doesn't quite matter.
truth is the misunderstanding does not require your clearing up.
truth is the person you love and think does not love you in return thinks the same way about you.
truth is the idea of 'sticking by it' and 'through thick and thin' only happens when you perceive it to.
..truth is, it all doesn't quite matter.
woi
i just realised. the world doesn't just consist of me.
jasmine! are you alright?
hadn't heard squeak from you. i'm starting to worry.
jasmine! are you alright?
hadn't heard squeak from you. i'm starting to worry.
misunderstood
woh-oh-oh yeah
that be me. felt rather crappy about it.
but that was just now. i'm feeling sleepy, now.
that be me. felt rather crappy about it.
but that was just now. i'm feeling sleepy, now.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
a funny dream
i woke too late as usual, the bbc was on the radio in the background - and i had a funny dream.
it was nice and sweet, in an evil sort of way.
i dreamt that i was working at some place as an admin sorta person or something to the like for i had to deal with loads of paper adn such... and funnily enough my boss is my adversary, someone set out to ruin me. and it seems that i am rather unwillingly famous, that the chap was dying to find out every single thing about me to drive me to destruction (ahem. other times i'd be flattered but in the dream i was suitably unaware).
enter short fart, who's charming and funny and ah beng to boot. he's been looking out for me and been sweet to bring bring me blankets and food if i remember my dream correctly - and we spent happy time together, laughing. and that's just in a friendly kinda way, you know?
so when things turn crappy (boss got the necessary dirt on me and was planning to start the deadly spreading of rumours - i don't know how this works but apparently it will kill me) - the said short fart told me to stay well and be good, last-word like .
and, with an ice-pick like thing in hand, inserted it into the boss's head.... and the boss doesn't die.
the chap didn't even see short fart head up to beside him, insert that thing, walk back out. neither did the girl he was speaking with. something was wrong. that sweet short fart isn't whom he seemed to be. and as it turns out, he's from 'another place' - and i had forgotten to ask what that insertion of the needle would do.
so soon after that incident he's got to return. he's got a friend with him, one i seemed to recognise but didn't. they had to wait for dusk, which happened rather promptly also, considering it was 2 o'clock in dreamtime - and when it happened, i was biting my knuckles trying not to cry and when the portal (for lack of a better word) opened - it was the size of a blackhole - he hopped right in, back facing the blackhole and facing me, insouciant grin on face complete with an easy wave, bidding goodbye.
that's when he started becoming a demon..........
it was nice and sweet, in an evil sort of way.
i dreamt that i was working at some place as an admin sorta person or something to the like for i had to deal with loads of paper adn such... and funnily enough my boss is my adversary, someone set out to ruin me. and it seems that i am rather unwillingly famous, that the chap was dying to find out every single thing about me to drive me to destruction (ahem. other times i'd be flattered but in the dream i was suitably unaware).
enter short fart, who's charming and funny and ah beng to boot. he's been looking out for me and been sweet to bring bring me blankets and food if i remember my dream correctly - and we spent happy time together, laughing. and that's just in a friendly kinda way, you know?
so when things turn crappy (boss got the necessary dirt on me and was planning to start the deadly spreading of rumours - i don't know how this works but apparently it will kill me) - the said short fart told me to stay well and be good, last-word like .
and, with an ice-pick like thing in hand, inserted it into the boss's head.... and the boss doesn't die.
the chap didn't even see short fart head up to beside him, insert that thing, walk back out. neither did the girl he was speaking with. something was wrong. that sweet short fart isn't whom he seemed to be. and as it turns out, he's from 'another place' - and i had forgotten to ask what that insertion of the needle would do.
so soon after that incident he's got to return. he's got a friend with him, one i seemed to recognise but didn't. they had to wait for dusk, which happened rather promptly also, considering it was 2 o'clock in dreamtime - and when it happened, i was biting my knuckles trying not to cry and when the portal (for lack of a better word) opened - it was the size of a blackhole - he hopped right in, back facing the blackhole and facing me, insouciant grin on face complete with an easy wave, bidding goodbye.
that's when he started becoming a demon..........
Saturday, August 19, 2006
moodswung
met two of my girlfriends today - it's a pleasure seeing them, as always, but i got moodswung halfway.
sucks. sorry babes, if i made you both uncomfortable. :( the lack of a voice to be chatty forestalled considerations and/or attempts at easing the conversation.
let's start over, next week. my voice would have returned by then.
sucks. sorry babes, if i made you both uncomfortable. :( the lack of a voice to be chatty forestalled considerations and/or attempts at easing the conversation.
let's start over, next week. my voice would have returned by then.
oops i did it again
ho gods. it seems that when i'm not sending signals i'm sending signals.
i've just had some chap at work say that i'm like a lil sister to him, 'don't know why he wants to take care of me' - and the likes. it's almost like he's trying to tell me that 'i'm not his type' without saying it.
wah. irritating and embarrassing at the same time, no?
amazing.
i've just had some chap at work say that i'm like a lil sister to him, 'don't know why he wants to take care of me' - and the likes. it's almost like he's trying to tell me that 'i'm not his type' without saying it.
wah. irritating and embarrassing at the same time, no?
amazing.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
doctor, doctor!
good grief. pierce chow.
gastro doctor in SGH. this is one doctor lacks bedside manners. went for our appointment set at 11am and had to wait in line till noon to be told what we already had been told before: scan needed.
i mean, hello? we have too much time issit? must go aaaaall the way to SGH take a number jostle with the screwy crowd so we can pop into your little room to hear what we've heard before?
kao.
pierce chow. gastro doc in SGH. remember him.
gastro doctor in SGH. this is one doctor lacks bedside manners. went for our appointment set at 11am and had to wait in line till noon to be told what we already had been told before: scan needed.
i mean, hello? we have too much time issit? must go aaaaall the way to SGH take a number jostle with the screwy crowd so we can pop into your little room to hear what we've heard before?
kao.
pierce chow. gastro doc in SGH. remember him.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
hot pot
went to jenn's this sunday, to have hot pot.
and by golly it felt like home. jenn's mum and dad were so unflappably friendly and warm that it's hard not to feel like part of the family! and wow the food - the SOUP - yummm
food was good, company was easy... the starting was a bit shy but we got along pretty well once we got used to each other. it helps that dave was about, too. haha! he's got a pretty good sense of humour!
thanks babe, it was lovely. one of the precious things that makes me feel wonderful to be alive.
love you. :)
and by golly it felt like home. jenn's mum and dad were so unflappably friendly and warm that it's hard not to feel like part of the family! and wow the food - the SOUP - yummm
food was good, company was easy... the starting was a bit shy but we got along pretty well once we got used to each other. it helps that dave was about, too. haha! he's got a pretty good sense of humour!
thanks babe, it was lovely. one of the precious things that makes me feel wonderful to be alive.
love you. :)
Monday, August 07, 2006
something terrible happened today.
it was worse than when my hamster died. the atmosphere as wrong. i knew it. i had an inkling that it might happen and could have taken the steps to prevent the tragedy from happening but i had trusted in what others called 'faith' and -
MY LANDLADY TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!!
MY LANDLADY TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!! can you believe it?!! SHE TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!!!!!
i KNEW something hideously wrong has happened the moment i opened the fridge! AW sweet angels and the universe above! why did i WAIT to eat the strudel?!
good lord, i had WAITED to eat that one, looked forward to it, merrily skipping back home (not an easy thing in 4-inch heels) after not thinking about it for an entire DAY at that god-forsaken cemented dungeon of a workplace to come back home to NO-STRUDEL?!!?!?
the injustice! AUGH!
and this is the second time. the first one was my favourite chocolate tarts from fricken katong. a gift from a friend, bought by the boxful. also another belonging to the yum-yum category.
nabeh! i, like the villain waiting for meester bong to die, trusting - too much - in life and the impossibilities of other people. most people took one chance to get to once bitten twice shy - it seems that it's taken me more than one bite. of my tarts and pastries, no less!
...i'm deeply sorry to say i can't help the dejection i feel at this moment. no strudel. monday blues in the morning and now the blue's turning a brilliant shade of purple. oh, if emails could cry!
-sob-
...if emails could cry this one'd have pounded on the other side of your screen and shrieked blue murder to avenge my wrongfully eaten pastries.
it was worse than when my hamster died. the atmosphere as wrong. i knew it. i had an inkling that it might happen and could have taken the steps to prevent the tragedy from happening but i had trusted in what others called 'faith' and -
MY LANDLADY TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!!
MY LANDLADY TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!! can you believe it?!! SHE TOOK MY STRUDEL!!!!!!!
i KNEW something hideously wrong has happened the moment i opened the fridge! AW sweet angels and the universe above! why did i WAIT to eat the strudel?!
good lord, i had WAITED to eat that one, looked forward to it, merrily skipping back home (not an easy thing in 4-inch heels) after not thinking about it for an entire DAY at that god-forsaken cemented dungeon of a workplace to come back home to NO-STRUDEL?!!?!?
the injustice! AUGH!
and this is the second time. the first one was my favourite chocolate tarts from fricken katong. a gift from a friend, bought by the boxful. also another belonging to the yum-yum category.
nabeh! i, like the villain waiting for meester bong to die, trusting - too much - in life and the impossibilities of other people. most people took one chance to get to once bitten twice shy - it seems that it's taken me more than one bite. of my tarts and pastries, no less!
...i'm deeply sorry to say i can't help the dejection i feel at this moment. no strudel. monday blues in the morning and now the blue's turning a brilliant shade of purple. oh, if emails could cry!
-sob-
...if emails could cry this one'd have pounded on the other side of your screen and shrieked blue murder to avenge my wrongfully eaten pastries.
prayer and praise
wow.
back to church. sang. met jenn, met a cutie cellmate, all's good.
went to prayer and praise fest, real good. had to cabut from another 2 meet-ups though. through the prayer and praise i was able to let go of 'man'; to not put too much emphasis on them adn focus.
yes, focus.
back to church. sang. met jenn, met a cutie cellmate, all's good.
went to prayer and praise fest, real good. had to cabut from another 2 meet-ups though. through the prayer and praise i was able to let go of 'man'; to not put too much emphasis on them adn focus.
yes, focus.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
lightbulbs and potatoes
contrary to the title, this one doesn't have anything to do with potatoes. not literally anyway.
people are like lightbulbs.
when they first get into the working world, they do their best to shine. like a new lightbulb.
they work hard, they put forth a strong presence in their field, like new lightbulbs that you freshly pop into the lamp to replace that one that blew. and as those who have changed their own lightbulbs would have noticed, the new lightbulb often 'doesn't feel the same' though you undoubtedly understand the desire and/or need for a new one, and that 'the new one' isn't 'the old one'.
that applies to lovers and spouses as well as people within the workplace, no?
and unless you have one of those electrical mojo gadgets that control the brightness (i believe they're called radiance regulators?) - chances are the light's going to be too bright, too harsh, too 'white', too - you get the idea - and while it is 'like the other one that left you groping in the dark' it is 'not the same'. you, regrettably, prefer (or shoudl i say 'miss' - should it be possible to actually miss a blown lightbulb? heh) the one that gave on you all the while understanding that it won't be the same. you'd endured through that one's first stark efficacy and as time went by, it not just did its job of illuminating the words of your nighttime read but mellowed and provided you with a seasoned glow that you grew comfortable with and had accompanied you through many an adventure in a book you're using as a bedtime read.
...but when a bulb's blown a bulb's blown - you have to get a replacement or you'd be stumbling in your daily (nightly) trials.
and the office tube giving on you and blinking incessantly trying to give you what it used to or remembering the bulb in your bedside lamp has died only after you'd flicked the switch on is something anyone can relate to.
- isn't that terribly like people too?
when someone joins the company, he tries his best to shine, to make his presence known and felt. that chap may be too cheerful, too hardworking, too efficient - an eager beaver. a new bulb. efficient, but irritating.
but as time goes by, the new bulb settles in to the flow of things and instead of casting harsh shadows it becomes "warm" and "forgiving" though at the same time still glows enough to allow you to see the faults/details of the surroundings should you WANT to examine the plaster on the wall.
and when the bulb's at that stage you enjoy it; its presence, its function. you will continue to enjoy that for a while, too. until of course, something happens and that bulb goes.
sometimes it's not the bulb, but a case of decayed wire (don't ask me how that happens - it does. but don't ask me how) and can be fixed. other times, something in the bulb's broken though it still tries to give you its support (them blinking office lights) but acheiving possibly nothing more than supreme irritation - and it makes better sense for you to get a new one.
or make do without one, let the nearby florescent chip in with their radiance until you get around to getting a replacement. if it's not crucial that you have that lightbulb up and lighting, of course.
..and isn't that similar to people?
amazing what the mind turns up in the middle of the night, eh.
people are like lightbulbs.
when they first get into the working world, they do their best to shine. like a new lightbulb.
they work hard, they put forth a strong presence in their field, like new lightbulbs that you freshly pop into the lamp to replace that one that blew. and as those who have changed their own lightbulbs would have noticed, the new lightbulb often 'doesn't feel the same' though you undoubtedly understand the desire and/or need for a new one, and that 'the new one' isn't 'the old one'.
that applies to lovers and spouses as well as people within the workplace, no?
and unless you have one of those electrical mojo gadgets that control the brightness (i believe they're called radiance regulators?) - chances are the light's going to be too bright, too harsh, too 'white', too - you get the idea - and while it is 'like the other one that left you groping in the dark' it is 'not the same'. you, regrettably, prefer (or shoudl i say 'miss' - should it be possible to actually miss a blown lightbulb? heh) the one that gave on you all the while understanding that it won't be the same. you'd endured through that one's first stark efficacy and as time went by, it not just did its job of illuminating the words of your nighttime read but mellowed and provided you with a seasoned glow that you grew comfortable with and had accompanied you through many an adventure in a book you're using as a bedtime read.
...but when a bulb's blown a bulb's blown - you have to get a replacement or you'd be stumbling in your daily (nightly) trials.
and the office tube giving on you and blinking incessantly trying to give you what it used to or remembering the bulb in your bedside lamp has died only after you'd flicked the switch on is something anyone can relate to.
- isn't that terribly like people too?
when someone joins the company, he tries his best to shine, to make his presence known and felt. that chap may be too cheerful, too hardworking, too efficient - an eager beaver. a new bulb. efficient, but irritating.
but as time goes by, the new bulb settles in to the flow of things and instead of casting harsh shadows it becomes "warm" and "forgiving" though at the same time still glows enough to allow you to see the faults/details of the surroundings should you WANT to examine the plaster on the wall.
and when the bulb's at that stage you enjoy it; its presence, its function. you will continue to enjoy that for a while, too. until of course, something happens and that bulb goes.
sometimes it's not the bulb, but a case of decayed wire (don't ask me how that happens - it does. but don't ask me how) and can be fixed. other times, something in the bulb's broken though it still tries to give you its support (them blinking office lights) but acheiving possibly nothing more than supreme irritation - and it makes better sense for you to get a new one.
or make do without one, let the nearby florescent chip in with their radiance until you get around to getting a replacement. if it's not crucial that you have that lightbulb up and lighting, of course.
..and isn't that similar to people?
amazing what the mind turns up in the middle of the night, eh.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
this day
this very day i fell in love - was so discomfited i fell right out again.
i so, so hate this feeling.
reminds of me of the song that goes - i guess you sunk in/ oh yeah you made it in/now i'm fumblin' somewhere deep within/
gawds. hate this one! cute guy but MAN! HATE IT!
i so, so hate this feeling.
reminds of me of the song that goes - i guess you sunk in/ oh yeah you made it in/now i'm fumblin' somewhere deep within/
gawds. hate this one! cute guy but MAN! HATE IT!
Sunday, July 30, 2006
i dare not think...
no. i dare not think.
i dare not think that i'm in love.
...naaaaaaah.
(got you concerned there didn't i? :D)
i dare not think that i'm in love.
...naaaaaaah.
(got you concerned there didn't i? :D)
Saturday, July 29, 2006
the perfect man
found this off the net. haha
...The perfect man is gentle Never cruel or mean He has a beautiful smile And keeps his face so clean. The perfect man likes children And will raise them by your side He will be a good father As well as a good husband to his bride. The perfect man loves cooking Cleaning and vacuuming too He'll do anything in his power To convey his feelings of love on you. The perfect man is sweet Writing poetry from your name He's a best friend to your mother And kisses away your pain. He never has made you cry Or hurt you in any way Oh, screw this stupid poem The perfect man is GAY.
...The perfect man is gentle Never cruel or mean He has a beautiful smile And keeps his face so clean. The perfect man likes children And will raise them by your side He will be a good father As well as a good husband to his bride. The perfect man loves cooking Cleaning and vacuuming too He'll do anything in his power To convey his feelings of love on you. The perfect man is sweet Writing poetry from your name He's a best friend to your mother And kisses away your pain. He never has made you cry Or hurt you in any way Oh, screw this stupid poem The perfect man is GAY.
Friday, July 28, 2006
wa.
checked this out, just for fun, at
Your Psyche or Nature Number is - 8
You are very sincere to others and give up everything for the sake of society and family. You always think ahead of time and possess a sharp instinct. You have a strong will power and individuality. You usually hide your feelings and allow people to think what they like. You may either be a great success in life or a great failure. Even though other people oppose you, you continue to do the work and hence succeed in making a lot of enemies. You have a very good memory and never forget your resentment against anyone. You are regularly misunderstood in your life by others. For this reason, you usually feel extremely lonely at heart. You are always commanding. You may undergo many ups and downs in your life, but you will prosper and be successful in the later part of your life. If you lead a simple and religious life, you are bound to rise to high positions in life. The birth of a daughter in your house will prove to be very lucky for you. You are inclined towards the sufferings of the people. Your work may not be noticed during your lifetime but it will be remembered and recognised after your death. You generally aim for public life or government responsibility of some kind. You will want to go deep into the mysteries of the nature. Events will take place in a fast pace in your life. In the later part of your life, you may prefer to lead a lonely life due to your previous experience of marital life. Health wise, you should be careful about certain ailments in your old age. You may suffer from problems related to liver, kidney and constipation. You may also have headaches and intestinal problems. You should avoid meat and have as much vegetables and fruits as possible.
You may sometimes become lethargic and lazy. Though you have all the qualities in you, sometimes you tend to ignore them and earn easy money. You always hide your emotions and feelings from others. You believe a job is done only after you have completed it. You sometimes worry a lot.
Your Psyche or Nature Number is - 8
You are very sincere to others and give up everything for the sake of society and family. You always think ahead of time and possess a sharp instinct. You have a strong will power and individuality. You usually hide your feelings and allow people to think what they like. You may either be a great success in life or a great failure. Even though other people oppose you, you continue to do the work and hence succeed in making a lot of enemies. You have a very good memory and never forget your resentment against anyone. You are regularly misunderstood in your life by others. For this reason, you usually feel extremely lonely at heart. You are always commanding. You may undergo many ups and downs in your life, but you will prosper and be successful in the later part of your life. If you lead a simple and religious life, you are bound to rise to high positions in life. The birth of a daughter in your house will prove to be very lucky for you. You are inclined towards the sufferings of the people. Your work may not be noticed during your lifetime but it will be remembered and recognised after your death. You generally aim for public life or government responsibility of some kind. You will want to go deep into the mysteries of the nature. Events will take place in a fast pace in your life. In the later part of your life, you may prefer to lead a lonely life due to your previous experience of marital life. Health wise, you should be careful about certain ailments in your old age. You may suffer from problems related to liver, kidney and constipation. You may also have headaches and intestinal problems. You should avoid meat and have as much vegetables and fruits as possible.
You may sometimes become lethargic and lazy. Though you have all the qualities in you, sometimes you tend to ignore them and earn easy money. You always hide your emotions and feelings from others. You believe a job is done only after you have completed it. You sometimes worry a lot.
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