crossroads

yep.

crossroads. or a forked road, if you will. do you continue on with the one on the right (the one fork you always take because if you got lost you only need back up in a spiral) - or do you find it pointless and decide to go with the left, to, y'know, see what's on the other side?

but what if it's getting dark and you can't afford to get lost?

here's the good news: you don't know where you're going anyway, and at every fork is a possible destination. live a little, i say.

i don't know about you, but i know it's definitely the people that make things worthwhile. doesn't matter if i'm cleaning the floor at the nearby restaurant. if i can get myself to be the chief cook one day (don't ask me how a floor-sweeper can become head chef) and the people there're great then sure, why not.

but if the people suck and the pay's just so-so i might do it if i really really wanted to be head chef of that place. but then that's a big IF. cause doing time in an abrasive work environment simply chips self-esteem away.

we become resentful with life, we start hating waking up and going to work in the morning - where's the joy? surely life holds more than just two laughs a month - one on the day before payday and one ON payday?

weekends fly right by - not in a good way. gosh. MCs don't even help anymore.


so.

crossroads. you can't go back - it's not good enough and unless you've time wound around your magic spindle - nah-uh. so what do you do?

where do you WANT to go? is it just fatigue? or is it the idea that you can't go anywhere else?

what if you had the choice, to say - move on, to fly the heck away from the shithole you've been putting yourself in, 10 hours a day, five days a week? not that you will, but that you can.

will you stay?

one of the things i'd thought about, that. takes the stress away, takes the low self-esteem away. because i know that i'm a good thing, it doesn't matter where i go: i'll make it.

but protect your self-image... YOU can make it. but sometimes, your self-image (read: self-esteem) takes a thrashing before you can get out of there in time. don't let that happen to you. do NOT let it happen to you.

if you like what you're doing (the job) but dislike some aspect of the job, then try for a different place (if the part that irks you is not inherent in the job i mean. one example is perhaps you hate writing and you're a writer. no-go). maybe, hey - who knows, eh? - maybe you'll be happier doing that thing you'd always wanted to do.

the break

and now that i am freelancing - it is certainly better than to turn in to work 9 - 6 every day.

security in exchange for boredom. i wonder how people can continue to work at one place continuously for decades - which happened to a lot of people back then, when times were 'simpler'. heh.

i deserve the break! and sleeping till the sun shines on my face is certainly it. now to find a source of income that allows me to do just that....

how much for consumable warmth

bloody $2.

nabeh.

on beauty and compliments

i find it hard - very hard - to not tell a person he/she is beautiful when i see beauty in him or her.

and that more often than not has gotten me into trouble. each time that happens, i wonder - what is it about a compliment as such that makes people fear, that they think that i am weird, that they will be in danger of being stalked by yours truly?

i mean, can you imagine being stalked by a tall scrawny girl who laughs a lot and is always running around doing something? do you think Yer Haute Hawtness is truly Twenty-Ye-Gods-YO-HAWT-MAMA-thousand-degrees kinda hot?

Puh-leese. take the compliment and run with it already - fear for your safety? pffft don't make me laugh.

besides, it's not like i spot some beautiful stranger on the streets and go up to them to tell them that they're gorgeous!

not that i have told anyone such things lately (shame. i say 'shame' because i have seen some very beautiful people out there but just hadn't paid them that compliment anymore); cause the idea of complimenting them on their beauty is lost on them.

not many know how to be gracious and say a simple 'thank you' anymore.

read

woman to the devil:

"i know you consider yourself truthful because all that you speak are true. you just don't speak all of it."

brevity

person a: "if brevity were the soul of wit then i can safely conclude -"


person b: "that you have no soul."

nbcb

yeah. crunch time.

fiark.

yoga and ballet

in typical jia pei angle of thought: are yoga and ballet simply sophisticated ways to train the body so it can twist itself into impossible positions, just to find some new way to polish the joystick?

too many males (mush alert)

yep. there are too many males out there.

but thankfully at this moment my emotional feet are firmly planted on planet junwei, so all these little turbulences do not bother me. ask me the same question a few days back and the answer might've been different.

well. to cut a long story short, i'm glad that he's loving me, that i'm in love with him.


thank you, my sweet, for loving me. and i love YOU.

i like mornings

ah... i like mornings. it's when i peel my eyes open and haul myself out of the bed that i feel like i'm alive. after all, what's living without pain? (good lord)

and what pain it was, last night, during when i was repeatedly dropping off to sleep. i use the word 'repeatedly' because i was woken up each time i nearly hit the proverbial dream-ground and had a field day. (well. night. but you get my meaning)

as a result i woke with gusto (ish) come morning when i knowingly overslept and was going to be late - and i realise, after i'd arrived at work, that i looked like hell. eyebags galore! my face looked like it was sliding off my skull.

i wished, at that point, i had that dermatologica tube of magic to erase away the bags and dark eyerings - unfortunately it costs $93 and i couldn't afford it.


so yes. i like mornings.

and the best bit about mornings is: if i take breakfast, i will have to (if i can italicise the next word i will) go as the adage "what goes in must come out" is very true in the mornings for me.



truly. that makes me feel better about things almost immediately. ooh i like mornings! it makes everything that happened last night worth it, even though they've nothing to do with each other.




..well, almost.

like a hiccup

like a hiccup present in my throat the sob threatens with its inevitable presence.

wah lao

eh i'd just realised that my past few posts are all about them melons.


this must be the boobie-contemplating period.

bodily observations

..i think men favour bigger-boobied women because that's a sign that there will be more than just two liters of milk for them kids. and maybe when he's hard at work at - ahem - "drilling", he can get himself a drink without having to look too far.


...you reckon?

lackitation

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

how to grow nipples

here --> http://www.abc.net.au/science/news/health/HealthRepublish_1328801.htm

but i think it's easier to just super glue one on.

work

my work consists of working in the morning and slacking through the afternoon then packing up to go at six o'clock these few days.


i've the baaaad feeling that i'm going to have to pay for this later. die.

my boy

my boy is going to the army, to become a man.

some weeks back he's still quavering about it. but just yesterday, when he was able to speak about it, i saw the possibility of the man he might become. no longer scared, a little prideful, a tad curious - he's finally come out of that mental hole he's dug for himself.

a couple more weeks. let's make these count.

new year, new year

i agree with jenn: it's been a good new year. it is also the time when i realise that i cannot take kids: they make me want to shake them. hard.

it's been a few days worth of fatigue, been a few days of good fun. all's good, thank god.

bah

and yes, it's always about the sex.

tsk

The Day

ahhh

yes. NOW i can rave about love and V-Day. it's good to be in love. the saucy way.


;)

how to grow pimples

how do you grow pimples at specific spots of your face? it's easy: i did it accidentally.


step 1: bump your chin on the edge of your office desk

step 2: wait three days



and that's it. if that doesn't work, repeat steps 1 & 2. if there aren't blemishes there'll be a nice bruise which, in my opinion, serves the same purpose.

v-day

mine was celebrated in the wee hours of the morning. it was... quite graphic.

but seriously, no. it was romantic. i got a rose and a hand-made card.



thank you, sweetheart. it's a great end to a great day.

i speakee chinese!

i'd been to ye olde chinese regions of wikipedia today and boy, did i enjoy it! i understood what they were talking about and to my delight, i still can read i'm looking at.

i need to brush up my chinese. my old chinese and modern chinese. good golly! i need to WRITE chinese too!


i looove languages!

motha earth needs you!

ohkay peeps

this is started by someone who recognises that the earth is bleeding green polluted waters and is trying to slow/stop it. i don't know what i'm to do with this suggested email format but i know that i will continue to not use the aircon at home, try not to order for 'take-away' so as to not use the styrofoam boxes.

...and not buy a car, even when i've 'made it' and can afford twelve porches at one go.


that's what riches are for: you can afford to dawdle.

thus.

do think about what YOU can do to help, cause you may enjoy your dead-cow lined metal-box (your car lah) now but you will have to put up with neon purple toxic clouds later on in life. and then we have to move underground and due to evolution we become big black-eyed, white-skinned creatures over time and WE BECOME THE ALIENS WE'D BEEN TALKING ABOUT!

do you see where this is leading us?! them aliens are what we will become! no more hair! no more sexy clothes! no more hawt high-heel boots and men - get this - no more fast toys to play with! the girls with hawt booties with die off because those get stuck when crawling about in tunnels, it's through natural selection that those will die off. both men and women will become like earthworms..... HOW, LIKE THAT??


..so you see. earth dead = BAD.

please do your part. i've given up plastic sponges myself.


i now use metal scours.




yours, loren (read on below)

---


> Hi, Child of Planet Earth,
>
> Would you take care of your mom if she was ill?
>
> I feel compelled to send you this email plea,
> because Mother Earth, our only planet and home IS
> ill. She may not have that long to live; Some
> scientists had even given her an estimate of only 10
> years (http://www.climatecrisis.org/) before things
> became hopelessly irreversible.
>
> Humans unwittingly and carelessly caused Mother
> Earth to be devastatingly ill.
> (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/02/03/science/earth/03climate.html?_r=1&oref=slogin)
> I am sure this is not news, but you can get more
> information from this site:
> http://MotherEarthNeedsU.blogspot.com.
>
> I am worried about what would happen if this
> destruction goes on. Needless to say, if our planet
> becomes inhabitable, we, along with many other
> species living on this planet, become extinct.
>
> I don't intend to sell you anything, and this is not
> a Network Marketing Sales Pitch; all I ask is for
> you to add your ideas to this list, and hopefully by
> doing so eventually help all of us.
>
> This list is about what you are presently doing or
> is committed to do, to help reduce the burden on
> Mother Earth and to restore her to health. You can
> also add links to information sources regarding
> environmental issues.
>
> It may not be much, but at the very least, it will:
> 1) Create awareness about the situation,
> 2) Serve as a compilation of ideas for those who
> don't know what to do,
> 3) Act as a information resource for environmental
> issues,
> 4) Inspire others into action.
>
> When you have added to the list, please add 1 to the
> number in the curly brackets on top before
> forwarding it.
>
> If you are lucky number 50, please
> a) forward this email to
> "omnijoe(dot)menu(at)blogspot(dot)com". (Replace
> (dot) with '.' and (at) with '@'. Just a precaution
> against spam).
> b) reset the number to 0,
> c) delete the bottom portion of the email after the
> line, before forwarding it to the next person. This
> way, it doesn't get too long.
> e) if you don't know what to do, just leave the
> number as 50 and forward it to the next person.
>
> The list gets posted on the blog as the email goes
> around. I will maintain it and do some consolidation
> if necessary, so do check the site from time to
> time.
>
> As this is not a wish or resolution list, pls post
> only things you know you can do, have done, or will
> be doing and NOT things which you have no intentions
> of doing. This will keep the list practical. You may
> wish to add your name and country of origin. Please
> also DO NOT use this as an avenue to advertise your
> products or services as this is a non-profit
> initiative, and is managed as a volunteered service.
>
> Our Home and the lives of all its inhabitants
> depends on us now...
>
> Thank you!
>
> WHHO, Singapore.
> 3:15 PM 2/12/2007
>
> Net etiquette: Please BCC or hide the emails of your
> friends when you forward them so that they would not
> be exposed to any malicious spywares and spammers.
>
> Please list as follows:-
> a) Name, Country (Optional)
> b) What I am presently doing
> c) How does it help the Earth
>
> Example:
> Caroline Heng, Singapore
> - Started a program within my company to recycle
> paper. Making it acceptable for formal internal
> documents, as well as encouraging double sided
> printing.
> - Recycling paper carriers & plastic bags
>
> WHHo, Singapore
> - I am a vegetarian. This cuts demand of meat
> produced, which cuts excessive farming needed to
> support lifestock in meat factories = Less cutting
> down forests for crop activity & less methane (Earth
> Warming) gases produced. Ref:
> http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/27/opinion/27wed4.html?ex=1170478800&en=7b8b1dc47fc20263&ei=5070
> Meat and the Planet.
>
> ================= Please do NOT Delete anything
> above this line. List Starts Here:
> ====================
>
> Caroline Heng, Singapore
> - Rejecting Plastic Bags, as often as possible
> - Bringing my handy cloth bags out with me (Most
> plastics are bio-degradable, but why bother when
> most items are handy or fits into our bags?)
> - Recycling paper carriers & plastic bags
> - Started a program within my company to recycle
> paper. Making it acceptable for formal internal
> documents, as well as encouraging double sided
> printing.
> - As much as possible, requesting for electronic
> documents instead of printed ones
> - Reduction of water wastage (Mom uses laundry water
> to scrub kitchen floors during its cycles)
>
> Whho, Singapore
> - Reduce wastage. Turn off electricity from
> appliances when not needed. Use energy saving bulbs.
> - I am a vegetarian. This cuts demand of meat
> produced, which cuts excessive farming needed to
> support lifestock in meat factories = Less cutting
> down forests for crop activity & less methane (Earth
> Warming) gases produced. Ref:
> http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/27/opinion/27wed4.html?ex=1170478800&en=7b8b1dc47fc20263&ei=5070
> Meat and the Planet.
> - I take public transport as much as possible.
> Reduces consumption of non-renewable energy
> resources and emissions of pollutants to the
> atmosphere.
> - I will help educate as many people as possible
> about what we can do to help the Earth.
> - Please do watch National Geographic's "Earth Pulse
> 2006" and "The Inconvenient Truth" by Al Gore for
> information about what's happening to the planet.
> The statistics will shock you!
>

curdled

i look for a man but found a boy
mind's a whirl but still there's joy

a child at heart but a man outside
funnily enough there is that pride

dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn
why do i feel like i'm being torn

happy one moment i cry the next
is it time i face the facts

John Philpot Curran

"If sadly thinking, with spirits sinking,
Could more than drinking my cares compose,
A cure for sorrow my sighs would borrow
And hope tomorrow would end my woes.
But as in wailing there's naught availing
And Death unfailing will strike the blow
And for that reason, and for a season,
Let us be merry before we go.
To joy a stranger, a wayworn ranger,
In every danger my course of I've run
Now hope all ending, and death befriending,
His last aid lending, my cares are done.
No more a rover, or hapless lover,
My griefs are over -- my glass runs low;
Then for that reason, and for a season,
Let us be merry before we go." - ("The Deserter's Meditation")

"O Erin how sweetly thy green bosom rises,
An emerald set in the ring of the sea,
Each blade of thy meadows my faithful heart prizes,
Thou queen of the west, the world's cushla ma chree."

scene

scene: a girl is looking at a magazine, poring over the models' outfits and faces. she sighs.

girl (without looking up from the magazine): i wish i were born beautiful. look at them! how lucky these people are!

boy (reading nearby, looks up): -grunt-

girl (takes the grunt as cue and continues): some say they've had plastic surgery - but if i were to look like them i wouldn't mind!

boy (stares, but says nothing)

girl (a tad crest-fallen): ...i wish i were pretty, too. (continues to stare at the magazine, unseeing)





boy: but you're the most beautiful girl in the world.

chicken and egg

a certain kace told me something that struck me as *very true* today, it goes something like this: -

"it's easy to think that everything's fine when you're happy and content. i never knew she was unhappy, and i wish she told me before she left."


those words, heard from the man's side of things is... quite heartbreaking. but on the other side, i'm sure the women have been sending signals and warning signs already. and we all know that sometimes things like this isn't easy to say. chicken and egg?

i don't know.

can't work together

i'd typed a lot of things in this window, but i realise it boils down to one thing: we don't work well together.

you're still playing while i'm already planning what i want to do. we're not on the same page.


we can't work together.

the story

stories aren't just words; they are alive. they are ideas and ideas have a life of their own.

they evolve, get stronger, grow weaker. and through natural selection, the ones with the stronger details live on - while the ones with the lesser literal genes die off.

and through the beliefs, fears and prides of people legends and histories live on, only people don't KNOW that.


and there is one such story that's existed since the earliest of years...

"homily"

Homily ultimately derives from Greek homilia, "instruction," from homolein, "to be together or in company with," hence "to have dealings with," from homilos, "an assembled crowd," from homos, "same." One who delivers homilies is a homilist. Homiletic means "of or pertaining to a homily."


washington homily: "That which must be done eventually is best done immediately."

hamana-hamana. :D

and then the world ends

yes, the world ends.

i've decided that i don't want to be a designer some time ago. i'd ratehr write. at least i can get published and take jobs and suchlike. contract basis, you know?

cause i know of a life i want to lead. and let me lead it. for i know no matter what path i choose it will be the right one. because it is so.

amen.

graphic designer saves the world!

well. not quite "saves the world"-saves the world but, you know, "the world".

picture this: top graphic designer, award-winning, witty, smart alecky, atheletic and sexy as hell has his family's creative firm held politically ransom by this hotshot bigger creative firm (aka Dr. Evil) that runs the show - and apparently said hero graphic designer has the link to this contact and only he can persuade her to give the Contract of the Century to Doc E (childhood friend from the The Contract's firm who's also hawt as heck - only woman) - with, of course, some percentage cut in between so the smaller firm "benefits" too.

nothing more than an underhanded political scam to win the contract, our hero scrambles to prepare for cold calls to childhood friend, stay up late nights and skip meals to rush presentation after presentation for layers and layers of management people, make frantic phone calls, decide that he's falling for hawt-as-heck childhood friend and looking so yummilicious while sporting that five-o'clock shadow.

oh, oh, wait! and, and - the girl dies as a result of double-crossing him - pretend to help him but sold his ideas to Dr E's firm for an extra buck. reason of death: got found out then got taped to the wall by designer LV tape.

sounds like a story?

here it comes...

and here it comes.

should i have said those words? maybe.

don't talk to me now, i'm so exhausted i can barely think. thank heavens for nature's self-running systems, i'd've stopped breathing otherwise!

words i'm going to regret

what i've been suspecting is true, i'm finally putting my stamp on it: he does not think for others.

he thinks OF others, but not FOR others. it's mostly still very centered around the self.


...it's like that with many things - waking up; getting dressed; going out shopping. i meet your parents you don't meet mine. i meet your extended family, you still won't meet mine. it's not as if i'm not scared of meeting them, neither.

you are not ready for this. you're ready for love but you're not ready for a relationship.

buh

and it's times like this that i almost feel fulfilled: filling in colours with photoshop for an illustration at this kind of hour when i have to wake at seven odd the next day for another 12-hour day.

...do i only live for the night?

a pencil

i took my pencil for a spin today
it's like walking a dog
in so many ways

i brought my eraser along too
firmly held in my left hand
just in case the pencil ran away

and so we walked
the three of us
on the paper that i brought

i merely held it; the pencil took me
to perceptions and lined sights
so very different from the pen's inked might


...and it is unfinished.

not a-one

and no, there is no one whom i can rely on.

not one.

politix

sometimes it doesn't get much better than this though i do have to wonder: is having something to do really all that important?

i'd like to write. for all the time i spend thinking and verbalising - i do wonder why i'm not writing. or being a psychologist? bah.


i'd prolly screw more people up. heh.

let. me. go.

convince, confuse, con

and that's what life's all about.

convince, confuse, con

and that's what life's all about.

tribute.

work is i; i is work.

thankfully my dear sweetheart's taking the time to visit! it goes a great deal easier when he's around.

thanks, sweetie. :)


and then there're the three lovely ladies who are always near even when they're not physically there - these are the people that make life worth living, that every moment i spend in the office is worth it because they're about. su, jas, jenn: you all are like fine chocolate: great anytime.

love you, i love you loads.

photographic intimacy

there is something inherently intimate about digitally enhancing someone's portrait.

having to examine the face while the eyes are staring/smiling at you; having to rid the person of a double outline (when camera shakes) positively makes me blush: you have to zoom right in and lightly brush away the double where the outline of the face is, you have to do the same for the rims and corners of the ears -

it's like caressing someone with that someone smiling at you, warm and welcoming that it is you.


...digital imaging. it is sensuous.

days, days

the days come and the days go. it doesn't even matter what day of the week it is.

and life goes on, eh?

"beliefs" and "the road VS the sea"

had a bout of blue self-reflective mood last night and the result is this: -


"beliefs"

in reflection: -

sometimes it's nice to be believed in, that i can do [whatever it is you think i can do] and do it well. sometimes, it's just nice to be believed in, period.

---

"the world owes me"

i think i'm happier a hermit on some island than one in a city. at least when i'm on an island the world has an excuse to not visit, not call, not appear. when you're in a city, however... it is so much more obvious that you're not in their thoughts

it sounds like a saying (of sorts) that i've heard some years ago: people do not lose friendships over the inability to say hello from over the seas; they lose friendships over the inability to say hello from across the street. and it makes sense, no?

drive

if you ain't got drive you ain't got nothin'.


seriously.

final fantasy

i think it's every woman's duty to give men a romance story they'll never forget. let it be tumultuous, dramatic, peaceful, loving, whatnot - but make sure it is memorable, so that when they think back of their "glorious days" they will remember you as "the one that got away", or even better: "the one he can never hold on to".

yes, it is every woman's duty. do not make him sigh with fond memories for that's what he will do for the rest of the world anyways. make him rail, rant, weep or run away from it altogether - for those are the memories that stick, and those are the memories that make a man, memories that will change how a man loves a woman; the way a woman wants to be loved.

and before you think we're the evil incarnate - it's not all a bed of sadistic roses on our side, neither: just think of all the things we have to do to get through to you. it takes dresses ($257.00), necklaces ($53.00), shoes ($119.00), hairstyle ($88.00), great skin ($8,9877.00) and a great personality (priceless) just to get you to notice us!

and on top of that, we need to have the smarts and guile to make you, the objects of our twisted desires, to love and - if things don't work out, remember - us.

...great skills in bed, of course, help.


then maybe, when you men have at least one romance story to pass on to your sons - maybe, just maybe - we women will finally find a romance story of our own as well.



maybe, eh? just maybe.

i love fridays

oooh boy. another one walked in.

well-spoken, good general knowledge and of course, well-dressed. looks established, too. yummm.

the finger exerciser

ohkay now. those who have made out - ever wondered how some men (and/or women, depending on your inclinations) seem to find inexhaustible, for lack of a better word - energy - to do their finger magic?

i think i'd just found out just where they get their "training" from: their mice. surprised?


not the furry kind, no. i'm talking about the ones with tails attached to the computer. the ones with the scroll button.

(...it'd be weird if he derives pleasure from doing the funky rubba on them furries, no? EW. mice in throes of passion: DOUBLE EW)



yeeeah you know what i'm talking about. the mice with them scroll buttons. so those people who have to do lots of surfing to look for information and administrative data-entry-ing - you know who you are.

alright alright i'll come clean. i was thinking dirty thoughts and this admin girl sitting near my was going at the scroll button with gusto. and voila.

them metros

right.

them metros. they're hawt. i like them, because the know how to choose their clothes, how to put them together and they recognise a good haircut when they get one. plus they take care of their skin and are CLEAN.

combine that with - god forbid - roguish charm and that i-know-something-you-don't grin AND suitable perfume - good golly! is that a recipe for a swoonful moment or what!

it is exciting to be near such a person, when he does not speak much - pardon, ESPECIALLY if he doesn't speak much - what a disappointment it would be, if they were to say something stupid, no? ...then again, who'm i to complain? i'm quite the blonde myself. :P

thankfully though, the metros i've met are nothing like that. they're hot. as in, seriously hot AND smart. they have good builds, speak well, are great cooks, well-educated and are so chivalrous it makes my knees weak. it's amazing. they, are the modern-day knights in shirts and shiny shoes.

of course one may argue that aiyer these people are so gu niang, real men don't do stuff like that.

heh.


...heh.

hehehehhehehehehe


you real man you go get your lady lah. see if she likes you when you have B.O. and have pimples on your face not. "real men".

hah!

i dig metrosexuals

and i'll tell you why later.

ahem

i stand below the shower stall
and turned the hot side on
i waited till the water warmed
then let the cold side flow

water drizzled upon my person
like so much fallen silk
i clothe myself with a mantle of foam
and began to sing in there

i sang of lost love and betrayal
in an overtly cheerful way
the way i sang that sad sad song
you'd think my heart went to play

more water later
while i sang some more
played one-footed ice-skating
with the soap on the bathtub floor

i wore the soap down a little
the bathtub - it seems clean
i rinsed my toes and all aglow
put back the non-offensive soap

i stepped out of the shower, put on my robe
backwards a step and forwards; two
showerfoam in hand and woo-ooh-ooh
"don't you make my brown eyes blue"

for me.

and i live.

friends, family, work: life.



and i live!

sprung

well.

now that i'd taken a nice self-indulgent dip in the pool of luuurve, shuffled out and dried myself off, reality sets in: work tomorrow. my trial period for my program also ends tomorrow. well technically it ends today... either way, i can't use the damn program then.

hmm. met up with the babes this evening, had a great time. it's always a pleasure seeing them. it's a great way to start the real week of the year!

heh heh heh and i laugh because i know something you don't.

and i proclaim!

(mush alert!)

at the risk of sounding like every other besotted dolt in history: i love him.

i love the way he looks when he smiles, the way he eats his bak kut teh (cleans off the meat and then leaves the bones back in the soup. i don't understand why), the way his hair stands up in different angles like his head'd just been the battleground of two mini typhoons -

his skinniness i now think of as sleekness and his mathematical eptitude, patience and analytical mind makes me take my hat off to him. i positively melt whenever he pulls me close, when he smiles into my eyes or when he does the manja thing. he makes me blush to the tips of my toes.

it's easy to be in love with a person like that, don't you think?


i find no shame in singing him praises and giving him my adoration. his humility and being shyly loving makes him even more deserving of all of these.

the ants and the french

i noticed, when i had the time to sit down and release a bit of tension (loo break), that ants stop to greet each other when they're on the trail to or from the nest.

it's like french people at a wedding, only with more family members. hmm.


i wonder if those customs were picked up from nature.

plain like water

i realise the beauty about blogs is that it's personal and doesn't quite interest others. in this sea of blogs and entries i can safely say that the fact that blogs are "public" is the very reason why it's selectively private.

and it works, doesn't it.


finding refuge, so to speak, in the most public of places, because it's so darned hard to find within the others. almost like sifting through trashcans to look for pearls.

beh. sunday afternoon musings.

ho boy

wow.

i guess i was naive. tried to spread a little goodness around and almost got fucked for it. maybe bitterness doesn't dissolve itself so quickly for others and no matter how long it's been, they'll always have a pair of "ugly" shades for you.

(for the uninitiated, "ugly" shades means that whatever you do, it's tinged with suspicion and some resentment. works like rose-tinted glasses in the negative way)


maybe that's why ex-es are so dreaded, eh? and maybe that's why we're ex-es now.

well. what's passed is past and if they're not over those ugly sentiments then i guess that's another pair of ugly shades in their drawer.

heh

hehehe

re-read my last post and i realised: same mouth different shit.

the toothbrush

the toothbrush is a bristled tool that you stick in your mouth every day to give it the daily cleaning-out. you stick it in with a dollop (or smudge, if you are the rationing kind) of toothpaste and brush away the powdery stuff at the back of your teeth and the cakier kind nearer the gums.

and then you wonder, where it all comes from and what you would do without the toothbrush and if you could ever survive with just toothpaste and brush your teeth by spreading some toothpaste on your index finger and doing the funky rubba with it.

or maybe the other way round; does one work without the other, can't we chew all mint leaves instead?


teeth-brushing. it's become a daily process that we take for granted. i liken it to smoking. smokers may feel that the process of smoking calms them down. it may be the effect of nicotine, it may be psychological. what smoking does for people teeth-brushing does for me: it makes me slow down, shut up, and think.

and what do you do when you have time to yourself, like that? it's the moments of truth, each day, that you stand before your sink, cleaning your mouth out, possibly staring at yourself while doing it and noting that sleep hasn't done much for your fatigue. people brush their teeth while sleeping with their eyes open. i brush mine with a zen-ness not usually found in this modern society.

every toothbrushing time is self-reflection time. i recommend it to the average person who reads this. and i have to ask: have you brushed your teeth today?

new year resolutions

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

logorrhea!

wow. what a lot of logorrhea when it comes to work.

i need some quality shit!

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.

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)

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!

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

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.

oh, dear

that ole achy-breaky feeling that so often accompanies being in a relationship is back.

f*.

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.

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.

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.

no, no, no.

no.

this is not the way to do it.


...no.

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 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.

fatigue

i hate my job.

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.

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.

happiness

..he said sorry.


and aaaall's well again.

what a surprise.

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.

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...

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.

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.

gah

ohkay now that was a yell-out-loud adoration post.

golly.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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*!

sex and steak

sex and steak are highly similar.

think about it.



KFC just doesn't cut it anymore...

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.

for once...

for once i have nothing to say.

now ain't that grand.

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.

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.