stripped bare

I've moved on...

2009-03-16T18:24:00.002+08:00

... over to the other side.

I really hope to see you there.

First Breath After Coma

2009-03-04T18:00:00.001+08:00

Should I or should I not?

The Goodfellas.

2009-02-22T23:59:00.000+08:00

All it took was one familiar song and a look we shared from behind the back of someone who was sitting between us, and immediately, I could smell his scent and feel the warmth of his arms around my body.

Like I've always said, it's that look in his eyes.

~ written 9 February 08

One Week On: An Epilogue

2009-01-14T00:14:00.002+08:00

She remembers standing at a corner, against a wall. She remembers the warm wave after wave of sweaty bodies that swam past her. She remembers the deep bass pumping in her veins. She remembers the blinding spotlight that shone on her face. She remembers the endless sea of hands out-stretched, not touching, not feeling. But when she closes her eyes, all she remembers were the tears on her face, the music in her ears, and him in her mind.

For each forgotten kiss
For all the memories
For all the times a look said all we had to say
You played your part so well
A modern Romeo
You came on Cupid's wings and then you flew away

When you touched my face
When you call my name
I'm burned with desire
When you touched my face
When you call my name
I'm burned with desire
But you left me in the rain

For every sleepless night
Forever in your arms
For every hour spent lost in the reverie
You broke your promises
No shame and no regrets
You burned the bridges to an endless mystery

When you touched my face
When you call my name
I'm burned with desire
When you touched my face
When you call my name
I'm burned with desire
But you left me in the rain

Maybe I need to explain my actions. Maybe I don't.
Maybe I will write again. Maybe I won't.

Maybe she will love again. Maybe she won't.

Welcome, Ghosts.

2009-01-05T16:18:00.001+08:00

It's a painful decision to make, but it is one that has to be done.
I end my life as smudgie here in this world.
It has been a warm and comforting one.

The Rain Drops.

2009-01-02T16:20:00.000+08:00

I’ve been putting off the really dreary task of writing the Here-are-my-New-Year’s-Resolutions post. It’s now the second day of the new year, and I haven’t even given my would-be resolutions much thought.

As a teen, and maybe even during my early 20s, this period has always been the most exciting time of the year. Christmas, then the New Year, and then the Chinese New Year… it meant lots of holidays, lots of friends, lots of parties, lots of happiness. However, as I grew older, and as each year segues into another as seamlessly as rain into a river, these festivities seem less celebratory.

I may have, consciously or unconsciously, caused some heartache to those who love me this past year, but that’s not to say that those whom I love have not been responsible for my own anguish or insecurities. I’ve learnt a lot in 2008 about trust, maintaining a relationship, and the strength of familial ties. This may sound like a cliché, but your family may be the only ones who will accept you for who you are. I’ve also discovered my own strengths and, mostly, weaknesses. Some of them, I’m not proud of, but I have to say I am learning to deal with things my own way.

I could list 10 items I’d like to do in 2009, but I know the only time I’ll refer to it again is in a year’s time. So if I could only have one wish for this new, trying time in my life, it would be for peace. Peace within me. That may be the only way I, or anyone, can find happiness without depending on, or at the expense of, another person.

Here it is, my obligatory New Year’s post for my blog in retrospective.

Status Quo

2008-12-13T22:32:00.004+08:00

"We're going for dinner now," my dad announced to no one in particular. We were seated in a semi-circle around the hospital bed. I, the precious eldest grand-daughter, was sitting on the bed next to my grandma.

She let go of my hand and pushed me off the bed gently. "Go, go. It's late." Grandma was in high spirits today. I think it was because I kept her company for three hours today. Still wide awake, she sat upright in bed and waved us goodbye. As we made for the door, my grandfather, who had always be sullen and impatient with the frequent hospital visits, walked back towards the bed, painfully slow. His tanned, wrinkled hand reached for my grandmother's. "We're leaving now," he said, rather redundantly. Surprised, Grandma, in the usual way old Asian couples speak to one another, raised her voice at him. "I know that. Just go."

It was apparent in everyone's actions. My father and my aunt turned away; my mother stopped in her tracks; a tear rolled uncontrollably down my cheek; Grandma's harsh eyes faltered for a second. Grandpa, oblivious to the gravity of his little gesture, turned and walked to the door.

When we were still kids, my brother, the cheeky arse, often asked Grandma if she loved my Grandpa. "Rubbish!" she would exclaim loudly. "In my time, there was no such thing as love." Of course, as young children, we didn't think she was serious. But as we grow older, we watched their twin beds move further and further apart. There never was any show of affection in my family.

That was why we didn't know what to make of the gentleness of Grandpa's hand on Grandma's. She may or may not recognise what it was, but I did. We all did. If that wasn't a man's love for his old, ailing, lifelong companion, I don't know what is.

The New New Year

2008-12-11T15:24:00.002+08:00

The New Year came early for me.

Starting in November, I’ve made so many changes in my life, big and small, that it’s almost as if I’ve finally grown up. I’ve been at my company for more than year now. I had told myself some months back that I have to keep myself in this company for at least 12 months, to gain experience, to make my resume more credible. Maybe I’ve finally found a job I can settle into. This is quite an achievement for someone who never really knew what she wanted to do. I found myself giving advice to an ex-classmate last week. She was in the top class in my secondary school (and the Principal’s daughter) and went on to the top Junior College during our time. Now she’s finally finishing her PhD and doesn’t know what to do with her life.

I’ve also actually started to save. I started a new savings account that automatically draws a pre-established amount from my current account so that I won’t have to suffer the physical pain of transferring an amount over. I’ve also begun to make calculated payments for my purchases so that I can accumulate $1 gold coins and save them in a tin box I’ve allocated to store them. You won’t understand how proud I am of myself for managing to do this without crumbling.

I have put on quite a bit of weight ever since I started working in this company, which is situated right smack in the middle of an almost food paradise. My parents take turns to remind me of that fact every day and I initially felt resentment at how tactless parents can be when it comes to their children’s body issues. After I quietly took in all the insults and erupted into a vicious hatred for my body, I stopped asking D the “Do you still love me now that I’m fat” question and signed up for a full course of body slimming treatments at FIL.

I’ve also bitten the bullet and got myself a new look. I haven’t changed my hair for the longest time, and after consulting my people in the “industry”, I went and snipped off my fringe. My hairstylist was so happy with my new look he couldn’t stop giving me suggestions on how I could style my hair. The reviews were mixed though. Some loved it; some simply said I looked “Different”. “Different” can mean many things.

I have two more things to do before my year is complete. I intend to give my room a makeover as well, though it’s really dragging because of the endless overtime I have to do at work. I still haven’t gotten myself enrolled in a Japanese language school as well, and this is the one big regret of the year. In the grand scheme of things, I guess some things just have to wait.

I need to go to Japan soon.

The Venom Spreads.

2008-11-10T16:51:00.003+08:00

I've been travelling quite a fair bit this year, though for most parts, the motive for the trips were borne out of need and not out of want. This has been the year of China for me. Admittedly, China is not amongst my list of top five favourite holiday locations. But since February, I've been to Shanghai twice, Beijing once, and I've just returned from Macau and Hong Kong.

Shanghai was amazing for me for its past; the legendary Bund and the beautiful buildings on the historical side of the river gave me much to think about. Its present: the high-rise buildings, the perpetual construction, and the unfortunate impressions some of the Chinese gave me, did not make me love the country my forefathers came from.

Beijing, on the other hand, was exceptional. The wide open spaces. The snow outside the cabin window on the Z14. The somewhat friendlier attitude of the people. The Forbidden City. The Great Wall. Everyone should experience Beijing once.

I was in Macau for work, so I didn't see what most tourists and punters must have seen of Macau. I was herded everywhere by an agent in a mini-van, straight from my gorgeous hotel room, to my various work locations, to the lavish dinners that have already been paid for, then straight back to my hotel.

Hong kong on leisure with my colleagues was another matter altogether. I have never stepped into so many Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Prada, and Goyard boutiques so many times in my life. I stood in the quiet corners of each boutique watching my bosses and colleagues shuffle from shelf to shelf, and wonder why they couldn't pay me more so I can join in the fun. Still, I finally understood why Hong Kong is a shopping paradise. Too many brands, too little time. The last time I was in Hong Kong, I was all of 10 years old. I suspect I'll be going back there some time. But not so soon.

The travel bug bit me when I was 21 and allowed to finally travel on my own. I haven't stopped since. My first love will always be Japan, although my lust for travel, like my lust for most other things, is insatiable. As I clock the hours, earn my meal, fatten up my bank, and plan my next holiday, I say "Bring It". I'm never too poor or tired to travel.

Incensed.

2008-10-26T21:53:00.003+08:00

There are three kinds of people in this world.

The first kind trip over themselves offering unsolicited comments after hearing one side of a juicy story.

The second kind often wait until they have heard both sides of the story before giving their opinions about what they think had happened.

The third kind, the very rare kind, keep their mouths shut no matter what they hear and who they hear the story from.

Now which kind are you?

The Dumbing Down of Love - Frou Frou

2008-10-24T22:36:00.004+08:00

Well painted passion
You rightly suspect
Impersonation
The dumbing down of love
Jaded in anger
Love underwhelms you
No box of chocolates
Whichever way you fall

And if i tell you
Lover alone without love
What will happen
Lover alone without love
Will you listen
Lover alone without love

No, no I'll get this
I want to treat you
You're still not famous and you haven't struck it rich
Underachieving
Cos no-one's receiving
This tunnel vision
It's turning out all wrong

Music is worthless unless it can
make a complete stranger
break down and cry

And if I tell you
Lover alone without love
What will happen
Lover alone without love
Will you listen
Lover alone without love
Without love
Without love
Without love

Impressed.

2008-10-13T22:35:00.005+08:00

I love McDonald's. Not for the quality of their food, no, but for their efficiency and convenience. And who can resist a Mackers brekkie whenever they can?

And so a week ago, because D and I stayed up to watch brainless Taiwanese variety shows all night, we ordered Mackers online at about 5am. Just because we can. It was yummy; hot, sinful junk food delivered right to our doorstep at wee hours of the morning. However, yesterday afternoon, as I was doing some internet banking, I discovered that the breakfast we had cost me three times as much. The amount was credited from my account two times more than required. Intensely disturbed, I called my bank but they couldn't help because the amount had already been transferred to McDonald's, so I had to go to them instead.

Because it was a Sunday, I only had the delivery hotline to call and the only two options I had was to press 1 for New Order or 2 for Web Enquiry. Naturally, I pressed 2. The guy who picked up the phone was impatient. Instead of listening to me describe the rather long-winded situation first, he asked twice if I had wanted to make an order. However, after I got my point across, he became very helpful. He asked for my mobile number, as well as a separate contact number just in case I couldn't be reached, so that he could check with the higher-ups. He called back less than 10 minutes later to tell me that they would do a refund on Monday.

Now I was pretty satisfied at how prompt they were, but nothing impressed me more than this email I received from McDonald's today:

Hi Ms. XXX,

Thank you for your feedback on 12th Oct 08 to our McDelivery Call Centre
with regard to a charge to your credit card for a McDelivery 24/7 web order
dated 5th Oct 08.

Our investigations show that your credit card has been incorrectly charged
for a McDelivery 24/7 web order that was not completed due to an unforeseen
technical glitch. We sincerely apologise for the error and has taken
immediate steps to ensure this is corrected.

Instructions have been given to your bank to reverse the charges. This
reversal will take effect within 2 weeks from 13th Oct and should appear in
your next credit card statement.

Once again, we apologise for the error and inconvenience caused.

Your Sincerely,
XXX (Ms)
McDelivery Consultant

I mean, McDelivery Consultant? Anyway, it's been a while since I've received such an (almost) perfectly worded email, so much so that I felt it actually warranted a post. I've been too lazy to blog about much else these days, and I apologise.

Are you?

2008-10-05T15:03:00.001+08:00

I watched you sleeping soundly, like a baby, the side of your face pressed down firmly on to the pillow, your hand half-covering your face as if to block it from someone who's coming to take your dreams away. You tremble slightly from the chill in the air-conditioned room, but you could never stand the heat, baby. There's a void on the bed beside you, shaped like me. It was always a tight fit, two of us on my super-single, but I secretly liked it because it meant you'd be lying closer to me.

I'll be honest and tell you that I just read something I shouldn't have again. It started as an accident, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from it even though I recognised it the moment I saw the first few lines. It brought a tidal wave of emotions over me, and I had to look up from what I was reading to make sure you're really sleeping next to me. You are, snoring away, oblivious to the tears rolling down my face.

These two years have passed by like a dream, just as fleeting, just as surreal. The only thing real to me is your warm body, pressed firmly against mine.

I read those words because I missed them. This side of you disappeared slowly after we met. You said, "Happiness does not write, love." And I understood what you meant. I found my words slipping slowly away from my fingertips as well. But I can't help wondering—foolishly I know—if perhaps there is something lacking in me that caused this drought in you. You leave a little of you behind each time you write, a little piece of your heart, a little piece of your love…

I climbed into bed and hugged you tightly from behind. Your hands subconsciously clasped mine and you held them over your heart. I wept silently, the tears that haven't fallen in a long time.

Are you mine, really?

Are you?

I Bruise Easily - Natasha Bedingfield

2008-10-02T23:31:00.002+08:00

My skin is like a map, of where my heart has been
And I can't hide the marks, but it's not a negative thing
So I let down my guard, drop my defences, down by my clothes
I'm learning to fall, with no safety net, to cushion the blow

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can't scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath I bruise easily, I bruise easily

I found your finger prints on a glass of wine
Do you know your leaving them all over this heart of mine too
If I never take this leap of faith I'll never know
So I'm learning to fall with no safety net to cushion the blow

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can't scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath I bruise easily, I bruise easily

Anyone who, can touch you, can hurt you, or heal you
Anyone who, can reach you, can love you, or leave you

So be gentle
So be gentle
So be gentle
So be gentle

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can't scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath I bruise easily, I bruise easily

I bruise easily, so be gentle when you handle me
There's a mark you leave, like a love heart carved on a tree
I bruise easily, can't scratch the surface without moving me
Underneath I bruise easily, I bruise easily

I bruise easily
I bruise easily

More Than A Penny

2008-09-09T23:07:00.002+08:00

You always ask, "What's on your mind?"
And I always reply, "Nothing."

We both know that's a lie. Like you said, there's never "nothing". Haven't you been guilty of such a lie? I can see your worries in your frown, your pain in your eyes, your self-doubt in your fidgeting fingers. But I'd usually leave you as you were, because I know. I know in that "nothing", there lies myriad questions you are dying to ask but cannot. I know in the silence after that "nothing", there lies the invisible biting of the lips. I know.

I pretended to be you today. I caught myself frowning, and because I was thinking of you, I imagined that I were you and you were asking me what I was thinking about. In my head, I thought for a while. I lingered on that word, that word that held a heavy burden even though its meaning defined emptiness. I thought of where I should start, because I wasn't just thinking about one thing; for some strange reason, when I am plugged in to music, my mind becomes empty and I am able to let thoughts flow like slivers in my brain.

I worried if I remembered to lock the door when I left my flat. I thought of the times I'd stand at that very door, reluctant as I watch you put on your shoes to leave. I thought of you. My mind suddenly went to her. I wondered when she'd appear between us again. She haunts me like a ghost. I don't want her around and God knows I've tried to exorcise her from my life. I contemplated killing her. Then I thought of your parents, which lead me to visualise our perfect, imaginary home. I missed you. I thought of the things you said recently, those that made my heart break. Then I remembered my grandma, lying weak in her bed with a mask perpetually over her face, leaving marks on that face I'd always look up upon whenever she carried me in her arms when I was a child. I wondered when she was going to die. I think my dad will be devastated. No, that I didn't think. That I know. I thought of my parents' greying hair. They're old, and yet at my age, I can't even support them. I worried about what will happen when they decide to retire. I realised that I am a failure. I pondered about death. I prayed that I could take my grandma's place, for very, very selfish reasons.

That was what was in my head. Whenever you asked what was on my mind, did it ever occur to you that I was this fucked up? That I wasn't simply thinking of one specific thing, that these thoughts swirled around in my head, dormant, waiting to explode? Whenever you asked me that question, were you prepared to actually listen if I had said what was on my mind? Would you tune off, or brush it off as silliness? Are my fears silly? Don't you have fears?

Was I on your mind as well whenever you were clenching your teeth in thought as I walked next to you? Was that a fleeting moment of hatred I saw in your eyes? It usually disappears as quickly as it appears. You'd then turn to me and offer your hand for me to hold. But just as our palms are warming to each other, you'd let go. It's as if you were seeking assurance from my hand. Contented, you let go. Reset.

I'd turn silent, contemplating my next move. I liked your hand in mine. I would worry about that little separation of our hands and what it meant at that moment. You'd then turn to me, forehead wrinkled, your hand reaching out for mine, and in a gentle, admonishing voice, ask, "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing," I'd reply.

Six Days at the Bottom of the Ocean

2008-09-02T23:03:00.002+08:00

During the couple of days leading up to his departure, I rehearsed those lines every night in my head. I had convinced myself that those were the words I want him to have in his head the moment he turns and walks away from me. I always dealt with anger in my own terms; that’s the only way I manage it.

This evening, I sat calmly at the viewing gallery, taking in the smell of the still-new terminal, the shrill screams from the children running up and down, and remembering what sitting at the viewing gallery meant to me in my past life. A strange calm came over me. Strange because it came at the most unexpected of time. Strange because immediately after, I received his text message on my mobile.

I went down to meet him with lightness in my heart. Even as I walked with him to that little Bermuda Triangle right before where the officers stood, where all travellers disappear for any indefinite amount of time, where friends hugged and lovers kissed, I was sure what I would do.

I didn’t say what I had wanted to say. Those words were very clear in my head, at the tip of my tongue, but he kissed away my weakness. I watched resolutely as he was swallowed behind the jaws of the technology that separated us. As I turned around to make my way home, there were tears in my eyes, but they didn’t fall. I was glad I found peace—peace within myself.

These six days will pass like a breeze.

The Year of Quiet.

2008-09-01T22:30:00.002+08:00

Is it me, or has everyone suddenly decided to stop writing?

*hears crickets echoing through the dark hollowness of the blogosphere

Shot.

2008-08-18T23:15:00.001+08:00

When I first saw that photograph, I was filled with wonderful memories of that eventful day, and especially of everything we've done to make it perfect. Then suddenly, I was reminded of something more poignant, more heartbreaking.

I don't know if I should be holding on to that memory.

Or maybe I don't want to know anything at all.

Sabo-ed.

2008-08-13T20:49:00.009+08:00

This is my latest indulgence:

It's been more than a month since I walked into the Thomas Sabo store at Raffles City and went mad salivating at the trays of charms before me. I picked the plane and the cat after much thought; D set me straight about the fact that I should choose the charms that represent something I really care about, and that helped with zooming in on specific ones.

I've promised myself that I will get a new charm every month, just so I can look forward to something, since the figure on my payslip isn't worth hooting about. It's about time for my next one. Guess what it's gonna be?

Will you still love me tomorrow - Amy Winehouse

2008-08-02T23:12:00.001+08:00

Tonight you're mine completely
You give your love so sweetly
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes
Will you still love me tomorrow?

Is this a lasting treasure
Or just a moment's pleasure?
Can I believe the magic of your sighs?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

Tonight with words unspoken
And you say that I'm the only one, the only one
But will my heart be broken
When the night meets the morning star?

I'd like to know that your love
Is love I can be sure of
So tell me now, cause I won't ask again
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Will you still love me tomorrow?

August 1 2006

2008-08-01T23:58:00.001+08:00

"Don't fall in love with me," I had said.

Four years of companionship

2008-07-31T23:55:00.000+08:00

Dear Blog

I'm sorry I forgot that you turned 4 five days ago. It's been a tumultuous four years.

Happy Birthday.

Love
smudgie

Unspoken.

2008-07-30T23:58:00.002+08:00

Your bag has just been packed, but there's still fifteen minutes left before you can leave. So you chat with your colleagues who are all waiting for time to pass. Your eyes flit impatiently to the time bar at the top right hand corner of your screen. 18:48… 18:52… 18:55… every time your colleagues laugh at something you say, you check the time.

At 19:01, you stand up to leave and sing a cheery Bye to your colleagues. Wait, one of them says, give me five minutes, I'm going the same way. There goes my bus, you say jokingly, or maybe not so, if she gets the hint. She doesn't. After that, as you are about to reach the overhead bridge that separates you from where you are to the bus stop, you watch dejectedly as your bus hisses past you.

You climb into a cab, not wanting him to wait because getting on the next bus would mean another forty-five minutes gone. You grimace as you peep at the meter clicking happily away. But at least he won't have to wait long. When you arrive, you walk towards the cafe where you are supposed to meet him and you see him amongst the crowd, pen in hand, diary on the table, frown between his brows. You approach quietly and sit down. He kisses you hello, then continues writing. You know it is going to take a while. You quickly order your drink and your dinner because you are famished. Then, prepared this time, you calmly take out your book and start reading.

To live with a creative man and support him with your love, you learn to be dispassionate. Creativity, like passion, ebbs and flows. If he flows like a river downstream, you erode away like the soil around it to accommodate. Together, you meander down the mountain, aiming for the sea. Maybe one day the both of you will get there. You hope.

Finished with the writing, he turns on the laptop. You close your book because the words are giving you a headache. You reach for your mp3 player instead. Ebb and flow. After that, on your way home, he hands you one side of his earphones. You take it without question. You know he doesn't want to talk. He communicates with you through the tracks he chooses to play, the both of you having discovered a shared language of your own. That, and also through the love you make. He once told you long ago that making love to you was his way of connecting with you, and you remember all the make up sex. Every thrust a punishment, every stroke an apology. Unconsciously, your gaze rests on his lips. Noticing that, he smiles and kisses you tenderly. Your heart starts beating passionately again, so much so that it stings your eyes.

You reach your stop and he insists on getting off the train with you. You make him stay on his side of the gate as you make your way to the terminal to wait for your bus home. You watch him from your side of the world as he, standing fifty metres away behind the glass wall waiting, drifts into his own. You want to touch him, stroke his face, but he's too far away. He turns into something cold, impermeable, while you burn alone for him.

Passion. It ebbs and flows.

Remembering.

2008-07-29T22:46:00.005+08:00

"As daylight bleeds into the dark our bodies are folded into each other's, there's the jigsaw fit and I'm slamming my eyes shut and remembering the sweetness of it, can hardly bear its intensity. To be held so tightly, to stop the fight, to relax."

~ Nikki Gemmell, Lovesong

Call it whatever you want.

2008-07-28T20:59:00.004+08:00

All the fuss I make may seem ridiculous to some. So be it. I answer to no one but myself. They may choose to say I'm being over-sensitive, or choose to be in denial, but my instincts have never proved me wrong. Maybe I'm a psychic, or maybe I'm just subconsciously very protective of whatever belongs to me.

Female tigers do tolerate other females that loiter in their individual territories, but aggression arises when their positions are threatened. When dealing with such females who don't know their places, I wouldn't give any chances if I were a tigress.

And I don't just THINK so. I KNOW so.

Touch.

2008-07-25T22:58:00.004+08:00

The wait at the taxi stand was shorter than I had expected. It was the start of the weekend but the streets were less claustrophobic than usual. Maybe the rain kept everyone indoors.

It was almost our turn now. I took in the sounds around me; traffic, inane conversations, shrill voices… I was starting to get lost in them. Then I felt him come up close behind me. His hand rested gently on my waist, warming that small circle of skin that was under his palm, and suddenly, it felt like I belong to him. I turned my head slightly over my shoulder, and my eyes met his—mine full of questions, his simply questioning.

He chose, correctly, to kiss me on the cheek. My eyes softened. He kissed me again.

I wanted so much to tell him that these moments were what I live for. But I couldn't. I was afraid to break that spell. So I choose, hopefully correctly, to preserve these thoughts and these words and that memory of his touch, in places that matter most to me.

Here, and here.

Never Letchu Go - Janet Jackson

2008-07-04T00:03:00.000+08:00

A funny thing about love we choose
It ain't perfect but we do the best we can
Do you understand?

And I love you more than words can say
Here's to knowing that you'll stay with me
Through the complications
Baby what I'm saying

I don't wanna give up on our fate
And I don't wanna think that it's too late
So if something is broke
Let me go and fix it
And if something is lost
Let me go and get it
Cause I don't wanna stand when all is done
And I'll be next to you cause you're the one
I said it twice and imma say once more
You're the one I want
I'm never gonna letchu go

There are times
When I don't get around to say what I feel like saying
There are times
When it gets so hard I feel like I can't take it

You make me want you
And fight you
Love you
And despise you

Still when it feels like I ain't got nothing left
I remind myself that

I don't wanna give up on our fate
And I don't wanna think that it's too late
So if something is broke
Let me go and fix it
And if something is lost
Let me go and get it
Cause I don't wanna stand when all is done
And I'll be next to you cause you're the one
I said twice and imma say once more
You're the one I want
I'm never gonna letchu go

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Have you forgotten?

2008-07-03T23:39:00.004+08:00

You said you'd never let me go.

Courtesy. It Begins With Me.

2008-07-02T22:25:00.007+08:00

I wasn't dressed to go to town today, but because of some last minute arrangements, I was to go to some high fashion boutiques in town to collect some products. Our first stop was a French lingerie boutique. Upon hearing that we were there to loan items and not spend some $500 on bras, the staff answered our queries with as much enthusiasm as my cat when I'm preparing him for a bath.

Feeling extremely irritated, I noted her name from the paperwork she was preparing. As I left the boutique, I thanked her politely for her time, and I addressed her by name as I bid her goodbye. That caught her off guard, and she managed a small, albeit sheepish smile as she said goodbye.

Our last stop was a boutique that carries several high fashion labels. While my colleague waited for the paperwork, I did a little walk around the boutique to do my usual "pick-up-pretty-shoe-and-baulk-at-price" routine, I saw a cute little CDG pouch.

I liked it very much and I was already in the retail-therapy-ish kind of mood (I had just bought a patent cardholder from another boutique), so I went over to my colleague and showed it to her. "Buy it! There's a sale, I think." Although there were little sale cards all over the shelves, I thought I'd ask one of the suited (and glorified) sales assistant standing nearby if it was on sale.

"Oh, that's a Comme des Garçons. Comme des Garçons never goes on sale."

With that, he turned away and went back to where he was standing five seconds ago. Okay… I KNOW it's a CDG, I can read the label, hello? I thought. Well, it was affordable and I really liked it. But then I thought of all the upcoming birthdays this month and all the planned holidays at the end of the year, and I put the pouch back. I know I'll come back for it if I really wanted it bad enough.

Later on in the cab, my colleague asked about the pouch. I told her I'll go back for it (my "one purchase a day" rule), and bitched about what Spiffy Suit said to me. "Rubbish!" she screamed. "I was there last week, ogling at a CDG bag that was on sale! What's he talking about? You should have told me just now. I would have raised some hell!"

So now, I regretted not looking at his name-tag. Next time I'm in town, im'ma go grab my Comme des Garçons and kick some snooty ass.

Drifting.

2008-06-22T02:35:00.004+08:00

It's been awhile since I've met up with this group of friends. I've known them for a decade. The one who was pregnant, popped. The one who should be pregnant, got pregnant. The one who was learning driving, drove. The one who was the last to get a boyfriend, got a boyfriend. People who are happily in love are irritating in one way: By projection, they want everyone to be happily in love.

"Why didn't he come?"
"How long have you two been together?"
"When is your turn, huh?"
"Where are you meeting him later?"

To avoid answering these questions because that would mean a lot of explaining to do, I goo-goo-gah-gah-ed over my friend's new-born. It was the lesser of the two evils. It seems like, ten years on, everyone is moving forward into the future. But I?

I seem to keep sliding backwards.

I'd make a horrible mother.

2008-06-21T00:41:00.000+08:00

Recently, a friend of mine popped. A healthy, shiny baby girl. I'm not the sort who would go ga-ga over a baby. Well, if they're well-behaved, cute, and belong to someone I know, I might stroke a cheek or go over the standard limit of "awwww" allowed per day. Other than that, I simply smile politely when someone asks "Isn't he adorable?!" or glare icily at toddlers who step all over me while I'm seated on the MRT.

So, out of pure loyalty to my old friend, I agreed to go visit her and her baby with our usual group of friends. I hit the malls this evening to find an appropriate gift for her. Two of my other friends are already going to buy her books on proper child-rearing. I thought something more functional and stress-free would be nice. I picked out Monsoon's knitted giraffe and was out of the store in five minutes.

As I walked further away from the store, I started having a nagging feeling in me. The toy is too cute. In fact, I think it'd be wasted on the baby. What would a two week old baby know about expensive knitted toys? Almost on auto-pilot, I slipped into another store as soon as I decided to keep the giraffe. Then, I saw this, the Angel Bebe cotton and lace diaper cover with removable satin wings:

Isn't it just aww-worthy?

Broken.

2008-06-20T00:05:00.001+08:00

A wild mare grazes in an open field.
The horse tamer stays hidden, watching.
Curious, the mare wanders closer.
Springing forward with his stallion
The tamer throws a noose around her head.

Infuriated, she turns around to run
Only to find the tamer right beside her.
Fear, a feeling unknown to her, blinds her.
She loses direction and falters.
Sensing hesitation, the tamer leaps.

A foreign weight lands on her back.
But she has never known submission.
She lets out a wail, a cry of frustration.
The tamer pulls the halter even tighter.
He has never lost, the best in the world yet.

Her strength starts to ebb away
Like the cool stream she once knew.
She succumbs to her fate and sighs.
Her eyes soften, maybe there were tears.
She will adjust to her new life.

The tamer jumps off the mare
Kisses the long flowing mane and pats her back.
She wasn't easy but she was worth it, a prize.
He throws a new leather saddle onto her back.
She will still run, but only in circles now.

你是爱我的－张惠妹

2008-06-19T10:10:00.005+08:00

同样的一场日落
同样你还是没说
只是抱紧我　时间一到就松手

你用一万个理由
都比沉默还温柔
为什么爱我又不断退后
你害怕的是什么
你想要的是什么
站在你背后
我连呼吸都痛

我要相信你是爱我的
我要相信你是勇敢的
我烦时间是最残酷的
我怎么等
我要相信你是爱我的
不要当我每次唱情歌
眼里总有太多泪
不停拉扯

我用一万个答案
解释我们的距离
到最后发现我全都猜错
你害怕的是什么
你想要的是什么
站在你背后
我连呼吸都痛

你怀里有太多问号
告诉我怎么依靠

Time.Change.Happiness.

2008-06-15T20:25:00.002+08:00

My colleague ended his relationship with his girlfriend recently. They had been together for two years, and according to him, they broke up because they have different personalities. Somewhat angered by the shallowness of the reply, I asked him why it took them two years to realise that fact.

"We knew we were both hot-tempered. But we thought we could change each other. And we both have changed a little for the better. But there comes a time when a quarrel every night will hit a nerve. It has, and I am sick of it all."

Everyone is flawed in one way or another. I am well aware of mine, and though I am not the kind to be humble, I confront each and every one of my faults before I close my eyes every night. I may think about it for two hours, or I may just give it a passing thought as I contemplate my day, but not showing that I am regretful for my actions doesn't necessarily mean that I'm insolent.

As I age, my thought process matures. I used to think for the present, for the now, for today. My mantra was to "take each day as it goes". Even though age and the idea of settling down is not a concern to me, I've come to regard my life in "the long run". I am in a long-term relationship. I aim to be in my chosen career for a long time. I want to save for long-term commitments, like a home. My new goal, my new mantra, is to be happy. So when my own personality flaws hit me in the face, I think: "In order to be happy in the future, I should change."

Then.

"You are losing yourself," C said to me over lunch today. Of course, I am. How can I change myself without losing myself in some way? But the process of these changes have not been smooth-running. There will come a point in the transition where you will start asking yourself if it is all worth it. You will start to question your limits. You will start to fear that as you try to reconstruct yourself, you will suddenly reach your tolerance limit and find yourself back where you started. "You need to be a little selfish if you want to be happy," she says. As I listen to her, I wonder if I have come one full circle.

And then you will look into the eyes of the one you love and realise that you will always have these struggles within yourself. Because love means letting him into your heart. Because love means taking a risk at an unforeseeable future. Because there is no greater happiness for a woman than to be able to love.

That gaze.

2008-06-14T01:22:00.000+08:00

Their eyes met at a cafe at a corner of a busy intersection. Bolts of familiarity shot through the both of them—it was hard to tear away from that gaze. Five seconds. That was all it took for her to make that awkward journey past the cafe onto the other side of the road. But the different combinations of emotions that must have passed through the both of them…

She held on to the hand that was firmly holding on to hers. She didn't look back. She didn't dare to.

Flattery gets you places.

2008-06-13T23:41:00.002+08:00

Today, while in another male colleague's car on our way to a shoot, he turned to me in the midst of a rather droll soliloquy about his relationship problems and said, "You know hor, actually you're most men's type, but most men are not your type."

I slowly raised my drooping head to him in shock, not at the meaning of those words, but at the fact that he actually managed a sentence like that without getting his tongue tied. For a salesperson, this colleague of mine is just not a smooth operator. He usually has to repeat himself two or three times before he can complete a proper sentence. But I was so proud that he came up with such a quotable quote.

And of course, I have to admit I was very flattered.

Un-Girl Talk

2008-06-12T20:59:00.005+08:00

"Are we okay, baby?"

"Yeah. You think we're not?"

"No, I just want to be sure you feel the same way."

"Kiss. We're okay, love."

My colleague and I had a little chat today. We walked to the coffeeshop around the corner to get our morning cuppa. He is just a little younger than I am, and had left the education system early to earn his keep. We have little in common, except that both our grandmothers are down with chronic respiratory infections, with that being the reason why our relationship went a step closer than being just mere colleagues from different departments. He liked that I behaved like one of the boys; I like that he treated me like a lady despite my crude jokes and loud banter.

We came to the topic of our respective partners. It wasn't a long conversation—it lasted all of five minutes—but the impact was significant. I was in deep thought the whole day after that. His response was candid, frank, and I totally trusted that everything he said was out of genuine concern.

Sometimes, you need to hear from someone who isn't close to you, someone who isn't afraid to hurt your feelings. Sometimes, good advice and consolation can come from someone really unexpected.

A deep, sinking feeling.

2008-06-11T23:37:00.006+08:00

In these recent weeks, I have been dwelling deep in a very warm, moist, dank and uncomfortable cave of dissatisfaction. The soles of my feet have become prunes for having been soaked in what seems like a never ending flow of sweat and tears. I have to wriggle my toes to remind myself that blood is still circulating within me, coursing through my veins, keeping me alive, keeping my will to live alive.

I am dissatisfied with my work. I feel stifled. I want to get out. I can do more. I know I deserve more. I am a first-born. I'm an over-achiever. But I am suddenly claustrophobic in a work environment where I am being piled with information but I have no room for expansion. A wise career move would be to climb up a ladder. Instead, I am carrying that ladder on my shoulder like a burden and moving around, searching for a wall for me to lean on. It's frustrating, overwhelming, and it's eating me up inside.

I am dissatisfied with my blog. Unbeknownst to all of you, I come home every night, log into my blogger account, and stare long and hard at my blog. I have so much to say, but the words are not forming. I tell myself that it is because I am tired, and I already spend all day at work staring at the computer trying to form sentences, that it would be the last thing I want to do when I'm at home. But it's merely an excuse, an easy way out for myself. Who am I kidding? I love words. My love for words was the reason why I started this blog, the reason why I thought I had found my dream job as a wordsmith, the reason why I fell in love with my man. Because of my job, I no longer have confidence in myself. My words scare me. I am afraid to blog.

I am dissatisfied with my relationships. I am a good person. I love. I hate. I feel. I hurt. But I am bad at managing those emotions. In my rather turbulent journey of love, I've found that fear is the greatest evil of them all. I fear, therefore I hold back. I fear, therefore my imagination runs wild. I fear, therefore I make wrong moves. I fear, therefore I might lose it all. But that is exactly what I fear. How do I resolve this? I want to love. I am capable of good love. I am surrounded by good love. If only I am removed from this persistent cloud of fear that floats over me as I lay in bed, confronted by ghosts of memories past.

I am dissatisfied with my life. I want my own house. I want two cats. I want to go to bed next to my man and be woken up by his kisses every morning. I want my parents to stop giving me disapproving looks. I want to be free of their clutches. I want to break loose from the invisible moral hold they have over me. I want to own everything I possess. And I want them all now, Now, NOW.

But I am deeply, deeply dissatisfied with everything right now.

And that sucks ass.

Leaving tonight - Ne-Yo featuring Jennifer Hudson

2008-05-31T20:18:00.003+08:00

[Ne-Yo:]
I believe that love and trust are one and the same
I don't think you can truly love somebody unless you trust them
That blind trust, that beyond a shadow of a doubt
No matter what this person sayin', that person
You believe your man
Now you say you love me, but every time one of your little friends come at you with something
We gotta do this
Momma I'm tryin', I'm trying to show you that I'm for real
Tell me what I gotta do to show you that I'm for you

[Jennifer Hudson:]
Just shut up and listen

Two hundred and sixteen
That's how many times that I went
Back and forth about it in my mind
Could she, could she really be
Who he's telling me that she is
There's something about it
That don't feel right

Jennifer: Said today she called here 26 times
Ne-Yo: Oh, you counted?
Jennifer: You kept telling me not to worry
Ne-Yo: Don't worry 'bout it
Jennifer: Wanna believe that you're telling the truth
Ne-Yo: So don't doubt it
Jennifer: But if you are lying to me

[Jennifer Hudson]
You're leaving tonight
Out of my life
Everyone said you ain't no good
Then you proved them right
You're leaving tonight
It's over and done
Ain't no sense in trying to wait till the morning comes

[Ne-Yo]
Baby now hold up
Let's just settle down
Cuz there's a perfect explanation
To this situation
That we're goin' through
I swear I don't know that girl
But I seen her 'round
And she's expressed how much she want it
But baby I'm not lonely
All of me is around you

Ne-Yo: Said I got a girl like a thousand times
Jennifer: Oh, so you counted
Ne-Yo: She kept telling me not to worry
Jennifer: Don't worry 'bout it
Ne-Yo: Please believe I'm telling the truth
Jennifer: I really doubt it
Ne-Yo: Really wish you would believe in me

[Ne-Yo]
I'm not leaving tonight
Girl you're my life
All of your friends think I'm no good
Please don't prove them right
I'm not leaving tonight
It's over and done
Let's leave this alone, and let's make love
Till the morning come

Jennifer: Oh I won't deny that everything in my body wants to know that you're the one
Ne-Yo: So what's the problem, girl?
Jennifer: See I can't take this serious when you're just having fun
Ne-Yo: No, I'm not just having fun
Jennifer: Steady running around making a fool of me
Ne-Yo: Baby girl you can't listen to everyone
I'm your man, trust in me
Don't let them interfere with us being happy
Love me girl

[Jennifer Hudson]
I love you, that's a fact
But I'll be dammed if imma let you up and disrespect who's been there from the start
You claim to not know that girl
But her name and number is in your phone
She even got a ringtone
You care to explain that part?

Jennifer: Said today she called here 26 times
Ne-Yo: I know you counted
Jennifer: You kept telling me not to worry
Ne-Yo: Please don't worry bout it
Jennifer: Wanna believe that you're telling the truth
Ne-Yo: So don't doubt it
Jennifer: But if you are lying to me

Ne-Yo: I'm not leaving tonight
Girl you're my life
Jennifer: Everyone said you ain't no good and you proved them right
Ne-Yo: I'm not leaving tonight
Jennifer: It's over and done
Ne-Yo: Just leave us alone and let's make love till the morning come

Ne-Yo: Said I just need you to trust me, baby
Jennifer: I wanna trust you

(Not leaving tonight)

Toffie Goodness

2008-05-27T21:11:00.010+08:00

*28/6 Update! Toffie may not have to go to the SPCA after all! *fingers crossed

Hi everyone. Meet Toffie.

Toffie is a nice, caramel colour, but to make things easier for the owner and the cat, he's been named Toffie. Toffie's a he because after searching the web, it's been established that his anatomy resembles more of a male cat than that of a female's. Also, Toffie is not exactly very coy around the resident cat. He is a big bully.

Seconds after this picture was taken, Toffie walked over to the resident cat's bowl and ate from there. Not happy with the fact that the resident cat still continued eating without walking away, Toffie lifted up his tiny paw and swatted at the big cat's head. The resident cat, though extremely boyish- and daft-looking (like Hugh Grant), was not a pushover. He rose to his full height and Toffie ran away whimpering. Having said that, both cats were left alone at home today after three nights of socialising, and both are unscathed after a whole day without supervision. The resident cat is grudgingly happy to have a companion while the little one is happy to have three meals and a soft bed everyday.

At night, Toffie prefers to sleep with a human, especially if he was given permission to sleep on the pillow, or with his face next to the human's, or with his belly tucked under the human's chin. He will not have it any other way. In the day, Toffie is a marvellously clever tyrant who runs so fast all that can be seen is an orange blur. As much as he is a clinger during bedtime, Toffie is an independent trooper during daytime. There has never been any cat like Toffie.

Unfortunately, Toffie will be going to the SPCA tomorrow, where his future is just as bleak as was the time before he was picked up from the streets.

原来你什么都不想要 - 张惠妹

2008-05-24T23:58:00.002+08:00

我知道这样不好
也知道你的爱只能那么少
我只有不停的要要到你想逃
泪湿的枕头晒乾就好
眼泪在你的心里只是无理取闹
以为在你身后是我一辈子的骄傲
原来你什么都不想要
我不要你的呵护你的玫瑰
只要你好好久久爱我一遍
就算虚荣也好贪心也好
哪个女人对爱不自私不奢望
我不要你的承诺不要你的永远
只要你真真切切爱我一遍
就算虚荣也好贪心也好
最怕你把沈默当做对我的回答
原来你什么都不想要

Little Caramel

2008-05-23T23:38:00.001+08:00

I was at the coffeeshop at the corner of the street where my office is, minding my own business and buying my morning tea, when suddenly, I heard a distinctive meow coming from under one of the tables by the road. A caramel kitten was pawing at the guy's feet, and he was unceremoniously pushing the kitten away with his foot.

I turned away, trying to ignore what I was seeing. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw one of the stallholders moving towards the kitten with a plastic bag in his hand. Suspecting the worst but not wanting to react too soon, I waited silently from where I stood. I couldn't see what the man was doing, but when he finally walked off, his plastic bag was empty. The cat must have run off in fright. Then it occurred to me that we were by the side of the road, where there were many cars parked.

I ran to the nearest car, which was just about to drive off, and banged loudly on the door to alert the driver. He looked at me in horror but I didn't have time to be politically correct. I looked down, and there the kitten was, hiding in front of one of the wheels. I coaxed the kitten out from its hiding place, which took forever, and carried it against my chest. I then retrieved my tea and walked off with the meowing kitten back to my office, aware that there were at least ten pairs of eyes boring down my back.

Little Caramel is probably between five to seven weeks old, sex undetermined as yet, has a stubby tail, and has a very distinctive meow. Email me immediately if you'd like to bring Baby home. It's the most adorable thing and I'd really hate to bring it to the SPCA. Take this as a very earnest plea.

Tears for fears.

2008-05-22T23:01:00.001+08:00

I cried and I cried last night.

I hate it when I cry because it reveals that I'm weak, that I'm fallible. It wrongly puts across the impression that I think my tears will evoke some sympathy from the other party. Maybe I've been spoilt that way by my previous relationships. I hate myself when I cry in front of him. With him, I can only be the smart, sexy, confident me, not the insecure, immature, and silly person that I really am.

Which was why it must have shocked him last night when I decided to stop controlling my sobs, and burst into tears. The loud, wailing kind. I behaved like a wilful child, but only because I'm tired of hiding my fears from him. In the wake of the full-on confrontation that we had in his bedroom last night, I decided that was the best time for him to really know me — take me or leave me. I said all I needed to say—and he probably did too—and now I feel like a huge boulder has been lifted off my back.

I know he really loves me. But a man will always be a man, and a woman will always be on guard. After all, it's my heart he's safekeeping. Anyone who has misplaced a treasured object many times before would be extra careful when they finally entrust it in another person's care. Especially when you realise this person might be the last one you're ever going to give your heart to.

She had meant the world to him even though things hadn't worked out between them. It had been years since they were together but, just as there was a sliver of a chance of a reconciliation, I came into the picture. As her appearance at every of his friends' meet-up sessions, and also at other, most inopportune times, gnawed at my guts, I started to think if, perhaps, I was the third party in this relationship.

Now that the small part of my mind has been cleansed of (most of) its dark inhabitants, I can spend more time doing what I should be doing: Getting used to this business of being absolutely in love.

Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.

Suzi Loves Sydney

2008-05-15T23:58:00.001+08:00

Two Triumph Bras: $39.90
Joop Skirt: $39.20
Joop Blouse: $35.00
Le'Range Dress: $29.00
Hypnosis Dress: $35.00
Zara Shirt (For him): $89.90
G2000 Black Label Shirt (For him): $79.00
Hair Accessory: $19.90
Express Pedicure: $15.00
Total Dinner Bill (for 3): $93.10

The thrill of taking the day off for shopping and hanging out with friends: Priceless.
$475. That's how much I swiped today. *Faints

The Definition

2008-05-06T17:35:00.003+08:00

“I love you.”

These three words, forbidden and precious, were once whispered into my ears. To those little seeds of passionate emotions, these words were like spring water, nourishing and life-giving. I blossomed under those words, drenched in the liquid fervour that comes with every ardent enthusiasm. I often pondered over the meaning of those words; where does the intensity of its definition lie, in the spoken or in the perceived?

I was, in a previous life, prudent with these words, even though I demanded that the bearer of those same words be regular with its utterance. Did it lead to my downfall, to be all-receiving and non-giving? Now I live a renewed existence, enveloped in the buoyancy of supple tenderness, occasionally brought down to earth by thorns puncturing my skin, awakening all senses, in every sense of the word. I give and give generously, and receive and receive accordingly. Because I deserve so.

But these words, these very delicately personal declarations of my adoration, were taken away from me. They were no longer mine. Haunted by my carelessness, I pondered again, the meaning of those words: where does the intensity of its definition lie, in the truths or in the lies?

She's Not Me - Madonna

2008-05-04T23:29:00.002+08:00

I should have seen the sign way back then
When she told me that you were her best friend
And now she's rolling, rolling, rolling
And you were stolen, stolen, stolen

She started dressing like me and talking like me
It freaked me out
She started calling you up in the middle of the night
What's that about?

I just want to be there when you discover
When you wake up next to your new lover
She might cook you breakfast and love you in the shower
The flavor of the moment, cause she don't have what's ours

She's not me
She doesn't have my name
She'll never have what I have
It won't be the same
It won't be the same

I should have seen the sign when you were here
Under a different light, it's all so clear
She was stealing, stealing, stealing
And now you're feeling, feeling, feeling

She started dyeing her hair and
Wearing the same perfume as me
She started reading my books
And stealing my looks and lingerie

I just want to be there when you discover
You wake up in the morning next to your new lover
She might cook you breakfast and love you in the shower
The thrill is momentary, cause she don't have what's ours

She's not me
She doesn't have my name
She'll never have what I have
It won't be the same
It won't be the same

She is licking her lips
And she's batting her eyes
She's not me
She's got legs up to there
And such beautiful hair
She's not me
Oh, devoted for life
Make a beautiful wife
She's not me
If you spend some more time
I guarantee you will find
She's not me

I know I can do it better

Chasing Rainbows

2008-05-02T22:46:00.001+08:00

"Hey! Look behind you!"

I was concentrating on looking intense while sitting by my desk at work on a pointless post-May Day friday when my colleague shrieked from her desk behind me. I spun around on my chair and saw, to my astonishment, a tiny little rainbow on the concrete floor at my feet. As the seconds passed, it moved across the floor and grew bigger and brighter. All of us looked toward the chandelier on the ceiling at the door that had cast this wonderful gift by my feet.

"Quick! Go lie on the floor and be blessed by the rainbow!" my boss shrieked, never one to be left out. While I didn't do that, I whipped out my phone quickly and snapped this photo for posterity.

And then, in lieu of all the bad dreams and dark hauntings I've been having recently, I made a tiny little wish…

The Island of Cats - A Week After

2008-04-26T13:28:00.004+08:00

My cat would have made a lot of friends there.

Parasitic Males

2008-04-21T21:26:00.005+08:00

At work today, I was reading an article in wiki about sexual dimorphism (don't ask), and this particular bit had me in stitches:

"Some species of anglerfish also display extreme sexual dimorphism. Females are typical anglerfish, while males are tiny rudimentary creatures with no digestive systems. The males must find a female and fuse with her – he then lives parasitically, becoming little more than a sperm-producing body."

I don't know why, but that passage reminded me of a certain species of mammals too.

Our Elements

2008-04-20T23:40:00.002+08:00

I stood contently on the sandy pathway that separated the two of them.

On my left, He whispered softly into my ears, promising soft, warm arms of comfort. His deep blue eyes beckoned soothingly as He reached out to kiss my feet lightly. He was open and free, and He could take me anywhere I wanted to, even as far as the eye could reach. He was friends with the most resourceful; those who prospered above Him and below Him respected Him for His magnanimity and flexibility. He represented everything I wanted to be.

On my right, She cut a striking figure. Shy, unassuming and quiet, She spoke nothing of what She could offer me. But even from where She stood, I could smell Her alluring scent. Her luscious green raiment accentuated Her curves, yet revealed only a little of what I knew She was capable of. She was always shrouded by a mist of mystery; an aura floated around Her, enhancing her quiet elegance and strength. She represented everything I knew was inside me.

So I took a deep breath, smiled a goodbye at Oceanus, and turned towards Ourea.

"I've always been drawn to the sea," he says, noticing my fascination with the mountain in front of us. "And I've always felt at one with the mountains," I replied. And so he'll always be a child of Water, and I, of Earth.

Short-lived Clarity

2008-04-15T21:40:00.005+08:00

A random man-bashing MSN conversation with a colleague today:

O: So, would you marry someone you can live with, or someone you can't live without?
Me: All women should do the former, and men, the latter.
O: Huh? Why?
Me: Then the women will not be forever wasting tears on the men who keep breaking their hearts, and the men will stop taking their women for granted.
Me: Then the world will be a much better place.
O: Hmm. So true.
Me: But I'd still choose the man I can't live without.
O: Oi. Masochist.
Me: You would too.
O: Hmm. So true.

Secret Garden - Madonna

2008-04-13T22:53:00.001+08:00

In my secret garden, I'm looking for the perfect flower
Waiting for my finest hour
In my secret garden, I still believe after all
I still believe and I fall
You plant the seed and I'll watch it grow
I wonder when I'll start to show
I wonder if I'll ever know
Where my place is
Where my face is
I know it's in here somewhere
I just wish I knew the color of my hair
I know the answer's hiding somewhere
In my secret garden, there's

A petal that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn

If I wait for the rain to kiss me and undress me
Will I look like a fool, wet and a mess
Will I still be thirsty
Will I pass the test
And if I look for the rainbow, will I see it
Or will it pass right by
'Cause I'm not supposed to see
'Cause the blind are never free
Even at my secret garden
There's a chance that I could harden
That's why I'll keep on looking, for

A petal that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn

I still believe, I still believe
'Cause after all is said and done
I'm still alive
And the boots have come and trampled on me
And I'm still alive
'Cause the sun has kissed me, and caressed me
And I'm strong, and there's a chance
That I will grow, this I know
So I'm still looking for

A petal that isn't torn
A heart that will not harden
A place that I can be born
In my secret garden
A rose without a thorn
A lover without scorn

Somewhere in fountain blue
Lies my secret garden

A disorder, perhaps?

2008-04-11T23:25:00.004+08:00

I loathed attending the Business Communications classes that were compulsory in my polytechnic days. Turning up for class in cheap, off-the-rack suits, with awkward briefcase-like bags wasn't exactly the way I'd like to start a school day. The only redeeming fact about looking so different from the other students was the looks of awe and disgust from the IT students and the Design students respectively. Those in my cohort always felt kinda... 'upperclass' in our own twisted way.

It was only after I started looking for my first job a decade ago that I finally started to appreciate what those classes did for me. My cover letters and resumes almost always guaranteed a call from prospective employers. I even began preparing my dad's presentations and drafting business letters for him.

However, everytime I draft a letter or an email, I get nervous, even up 'til now. In my line of work, I can send out up to 10 emails to those in the upper echelons in various organisations. I would hem and haw over the appropriate terms to use. Then I would re-read my draft five times before hesitating over the 'Send' button. After sending an email out, I would go back to my 'Sent' inbox to check that I hadn't misspelt anything. And finally, I would sit at my desk and worry for five minutes with butterflies in my stomach.

Am I OCD-ing or am I just a worrier?

天涯歌女 - 周璇

2008-04-08T23:13:00.003+08:00

天涯呀海角，
觅呀觅知音，
小妹妹唱歌 郎奏琴，
郎呀，咱们俩是一条心

家山呀北望，
泪呀泪沾襟，
小妹妹想郎 只到今，
郎呀，患难之交恩爱深

人生呀谁不，
惜呀惜青春，
小妹妹似线 郎似针，
郎呀，穿在一起不离分。

Re-opened.

2008-03-27T23:42:00.002+08:00

It was a wound that had taken forever to start healing.

Then they laughingly took a knife to it and stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed...

Dare you to move.

2008-03-25T23:30:00.001+08:00

The melodious riffs from the acoustic guitar.
The build-up from the beats of the bass.
The long, tugging whines of the electric guitar.
The definite rhythm of the percussions.
The smooth rise and fall of the vocals.
The emotions behind the unexpected falsetto.

Sometimes the words become superfluous.

Perfectly Simple

2008-03-20T23:39:00.002+08:00

Dear Client

Thank you for your prompt email; you must have had a lot of time on your hands to have replied me within the hour. I wish all my clients were as efficient as you are.

In your email, you had wanted to make some grammatical changes to the press release I had written for you. Before we get to that, I would like to express my utmost displeasure with having to write your product's press release for you. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have always assumed that organisations write their own press releases and pass them on to magazines to have them published. After all, they should know their own products more than anyone else. But, no matter, maybe the times have changed, as volatile as this industry is. I have done my research and have written, in my humble opinion, an extremely exaggerated article on your product. I probably know more about your company than you do now.

Now on to the main subject. Instead of putting your MBA to good use, my dear Marketing Manager, you have chosen to correct my "grammer". I now have the most unfortunate task of having to explain to you why I had used the term "has become" instead of your preferred "has became".

It is called the Present Perfect. It expresses an action that is still ongoing, or that had stopped recently, but has an influence on the present. It places emphasis on the result. For Present Perfect Tense, we use:

[HAS/HAVE] + [PAST PARTICIPLE].
For example, "You [have] [gotten] on my nerves."

The problem, for your case, lies in the word "become". Because it is an irregular verb, its Past Participle is the same as its Base Form, which is, "become". So,

become became become

Hence, the sentence "Through the years, the brand XXX has became synonymous with quality" is grammatically wrong. I was right. If you still disagree with my explanation, I invite you to find evidence that proves your stand. Your failing to do so will simply make you look like a dullard to your boss, of whom I've cc-ed this email to. I may not claim to have a perfect command of the English Language, but I know enough to have my job and have enough clout to say, "You Suck."

Thank you for your time, and I sure am looking forward to your reply.

Yours sincerely

p/s The plural form of the word "Personnel" is still "Personnel".

Bangkok Blues

2008-03-19T23:27:00.002+08:00

I was devastated to hear that the Suan Lum Night Bazaar in Bangkok was closing down. To me, it was the only thing worth taking a flight up to Bangkok for. More than just wonderful, civilized shopping in the evening breeze and the huge beer garden surrounded by delicious hawker food and live entertainment, Suan Lum held a lot of happy memories for me.

Perhaps it is better this way, that my last memories of it were preserved this way.

Wherefore Art Thou, Sugar Daddy?

2008-03-17T14:18:00.004+08:00

It's Monday and I'm home in the comforts of the hardworking air-conditioner and my loving bed. A terrible sore throat kept me up all night and this morning, I was debating if I should forsake the yearnful arms of my bed and go to work. My body won, against my weak will, and thank god too. Two hours past the time I was supposed to start work, I started to have the runs. Running to and from my bed and the loo, to the amusement of my cat, I clutched my Henry Miller and my tummy.

I miss having all the time in the world. It's been less than five months since I started work, but it seems like forever. You'd think I'd run out of things to do at home. I have the books by the nightstand vying for my attention, endless laundry to turn in my washer, a DVD waiting to be watched, travel photos to upload, posts to write, a cat to amuse... It sure beats sitting at my desk at work, twiddling thumbs and waiting for brainless work to be dumped on my table.

I need to find me a Sugar Daddy.

My Dinner

2008-03-14T23:56:00.001+08:00

One of the problems with my job is the OT almost every month. Junk dinners at 930pm are simply tasteless. There goes my diet out the window.

What price, Happiness?

2008-03-09T23:18:00.004+08:00

My grandma has gone home.

I visited her today. She had just woken up when I arrived at the familiar apartment at which I had spent four years of my life, just before I moved to my current place. She was surprised to see me, and was in high spirits; I was not sure if my arrival was the cause of her good mood. Whatever it was, she started talking animatedly as soon as I sat down on her bed.

It was like she was making up for lost time, the poor thing. She talked about the weather, asked about my work, and not before long, she began reminiscing about the past. This was "our thing", the little chat between grandma and her first grand-daughter. When I was growing up with her, we did it every mid-day, while we were having a little siesta. She'd tell me stories of her mother, the WWII, my dad, and uncles and aunties... I must have heard those stories hundreds of times. But don't misunderstand, I loved those stories. I lived her younger years through her stories, and I was the only one who knew what "the adults" were like when they were young. Not my brothers or my cousins. I was the first grandchild, it was my birthright.

Today, those stories went on and on. But I wasn't listening. I was taking in her voice, those gentle singing notes that illustrated the stories she regaled. It mattered to me because that voice is now precious to me. A little more than a week ago, that voice was possessed by ghosts. They were mere vapour condensations behind the heavy duty oxygen mask that covered most of her face and left heartbreaking bruises on her forehead, nose and cheeks. Each time pure oxygen was forced into her failing lungs, the sheer pressure from the machines would push her head back into the pillow and dry out her lips. She'd have to wait for two seconds before she could, with all her might, shout through the mask so that we could hear her. Even then, the vacuum behind the mask swallowed her words, and we would have to guess at what she was trying to say. Then we'd watch the beeping of the machine to make sure she remained within the required oxygen levels. I can't describe our frustrations; can you imagine hers?

I know my grandma will not live forever but if there was anything within my power to make that happen, I would do it. Because she has lived a wonderful life. Because she doesn't deserve this. I want her to go healthy, smiling, painless, and worry-free. But until then, I am but my grandma's favourite grandchild who will never do enough to make her as happy as I want her to be.

Because I'm in love.

2008-03-07T17:30:00.003+08:00

No one knows more about being a woman than she does:

"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding."

Angela Anaїs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell

I want my man to hold the door for me, seat me at the dining table, guide me down the stairs, glare at any man who looks at me, arrest me with his smile, arouse me with his eyes, inspire me with his talents, surprise me with gifts, make me laugh heartily.

And he does.

Settling in.

2008-03-04T23:28:00.005+08:00

China has never been a vacation destination in my book. However, I was glad I went. Despite experiencing firsthand the atrocious cultural differences and attitudes, and, of course, getting a whiff of the infamous eau de 'toilet', I must say it was a good trip. I've seen what I needed to see, ate what I needed to eat, walked where I needed to walk. Awed by the history of the country, I am suddenly proud to be Chinese.

And definitely, it was made even more bearable because I got to wake up next to you. Looking at the super single bed in my room now, it suddenly seems too spacious for me.

When are we we doing this again, love?

China Blue

2008-03-02T23:34:00.004+08:00

It has been a tumultuous month.

The Lunar New Year came and went. And immediately after that, my grandma was admitted into ICU for the second time. She was on the brink of her last breath and the doctors were very pessimistic. She was not to have survived her first night there, but we kept vigil the entire night, and then the next night, and the next as well. It has been two weeks, and my grandma is still alive. I can't imagine what my life would be like if we had listened to the doctors and pulled that plug the very first night.

Five days after my grandma was admitted, I went overseas. The trip had been planned almost half a year ago, so the five days that I was at the hospital, I was fighting within myself. Would it be selfish of me if I went? Would I regret it if I didn't? Eventually, my mum, who had been very pragmatic and optimistic about the whole situation, asked me to go ahead. The evening before I left, I had whispered into my grandma's ear about my trip. She opened soft, almost translucent eyes, and nodded her head slightly. I grasped her fingers with mine and held back my tears as I stood beside her for an hour. I then went home to pack my bags and made for the airport.

It had been a quick and tiring 10 days. During the trip, I realised how my expectations and views of travelling have matured over the years. It's no longer about how many sights I see or how many things I buy; more important than the place of interest is the company. It makes the sky bluer and the bitter cold perfect for snuggling.

Damn, I'm already missing the weather over there.

Sometimes - Gabrielle

2008-02-22T15:19:00.002+08:00

We’ve come too far we can’t turn back
Have our good days, have our bad
When I’m feeling blue
You say that I’m hurting you
We try so hard not to fight
But sometimes we cross the line
And I wanna leave
But you
Won’t let me

We have our highs and lows
Just like everybody else
Doesn’t mean that we walk away
We work through our mistakes

Sometimes I love you
Sometimes I don’t
But I never ever
Never want to let you go
The road’s not easy
But the feeling’s strong
It’s the little things that keep me holding on

We’re both guilty of mistakes
Though you rarely take the blame
Are you coming through
Sometimes
I hate you
But it’s not mistakes in life you make
It’s the good you do along the way
The dues you pay

We have our highs and lows
Something everybody knows
Doesn’t mean that we run away
We work through our mistakes

Of all the crazy things in life there’s pain
It’s you and me
We’ve come so far sometimes I can’t believe
That I wouldn’t change a thing

Clouds in my coffee

2008-02-20T23:55:00.001+08:00

I looked at the clouds at the distance. It was approaching magic hour, but the sun was blazing amber rays. I waited for the slow, ambling clouds to shift into position, and as soon as the glaring sphere disappeared behind a painting-perfect cloud, which, at that moment, was sporting a gorgeous, glowing halo, I nudged him and said, "Look. A sign. A silver-lining."

He turned to me with a candidly sincere and assuring smile. It startled me, but Hope started to coat my aching heart like a balm.

I could tell from his eyes that he truly believed. So I should too.

Fighting on

2008-02-19T23:03:00.004+08:00

I must not be left alone. I cannot be alone with my thoughts. My mind brings me to places I never want to visit. It scares me. I don't know a world like that. And I can't stop crying.

I need to stay occupied. I go to work, even though brainless work isn't any consolation. I make silly jokes, even though I have no reason to laugh nowadays. But my mind cannot stop moving, because when it does, I am transported. I need someone to tug at my fingers to pull me back. But what happens when I lay my head down on my pillow to sleep?

How do you start preparing to fight a losing battle?

I keep chanting to myself:
No news is good news.
No news is good news.
No news is good news.

For the love of Cats.

2008-02-13T23:23:00.003+08:00

He bought me a book on cats.

Happy Lunar New Year.

2008-02-08T15:46:00.000+08:00

Am I getting older, or is the CNY atmosphere slowly disappearing year after year?

I'm shocked!

2008-02-07T01:53:00.000+08:00

Okay... so it's true. Edison Chen has a small dick and female Hong Kong stars don't shave.

I'm utterly, utterly disappointed.

Bleeding Love - Leona Lewis

2008-02-05T00:11:00.000+08:00

Closed off from love
I didn’t need the pain
Once or twice was enough
And it was all in vain
Time starts to pass
Before you know it you’re frozen

But something happened
For the very first time with you
My heart melts into the ground
Found something true
And everyone’s looking round
Thinking I’m going crazy

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I...

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

Trying hard not to hear
But they talk so loud
Their piercing sounds fill my ears
Try to fill me with doubt
Yet I know that the goal
Is to keep me from falling

But nothing’s greater
Than the rush that comes with your embrace
And in this world of loneliness
I see your face
Yet everyone around me
Thinks that I’m going crazy, maybe, maybe

But I don’t care what they say
I’m in love with you
They try to pull me away
But they don’t know the truth
My heart’s crippled by the vein
That I keep on closing
You cut me open and I....

Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
I keep bleeding
I keep, keep bleeding love
Keep bleeding
Keep, keep bleeding love
You cut me open

And it’s draining all of me
Oh they find it hard to believe
I’ll be wearing these scars
For everyone to see

Highs and Lows

2008-02-04T23:44:00.000+08:00

830pm at La Senza Express

RA: "Have you bought this before? You know your size?"
Me: "No, but I'm usually an M."
RA: "You look more like an S, actually. Let me measure your hips... yeah, it's S."
Me: "Oh alright. That sounds good."

845pm at Blush!

RA: "These camisoles are on offer. Very good bargain. Can try."
Me: "Okay... what size is this?"
Ra: "It's S. Too small for you, lah. You take L better."
Me: (thinks) "Well, thank you very much..."

I talk Bird.

2008-02-03T15:18:00.000+08:00

Jay Chou is here in town again, but instead of putting on my sexiest outfit and going down to wherever he is at to entice him into my bedroom, I was somewhere in the heartlands locking eyes with a Blue jay. As I silently thumped my chest with the dramatics of a newly widowed housewife and wailed about the point of my existence (all in my mind, of course), the African Grey beside me sqwawked loudly. He had the cheek to laugh at me!

Behind me, the orchestra of Amazons quarreled, lovebirds twittered, and turtledove cooed in what seemed to be a horrible symphony gone haywire. Yes, I was at a bird shop working, because apparently, it is my job to be there. A curious blend of bird poo, seeds and unbathed feathers mixing with the aroma of warmed up food from the buffet table almost made me throw up. I smiled rather convincingly at the boss of the bird shop as he urged me to "Eat first! You can do your things later!"

I stood right at the corner of walkway, avoiding as much as I could the seemingly obsessed bird lovers as they showed off and boasted about their own birds and kept going "Up, up, Big Boy! Puff up and show them what you've got!" Pun unintended, I swear. I waited for my colleague who should have turned up 45 minutes ago, and ended up having a meaningful conversation with a gorgeous grey Cockatoo with red tipped feathers, who was perched on a railing far away from the other parrots. Such charmers, those birds.

After one and a half hours, I ignored my colleague's messages asking me to wait for her and left. My job was completed in less than 15 minutes. I was waiting there like a fool. It was raining heavily, and even though I had walked more than 200m away from the shop, I could still hear the birds loudly in my head.

I tried to figure my way around the labyrinthine layout of the neighbourhood. Thankfully, I had remembered my way in and soon found myself on a road where every freaking person standing by the kerb was waiting for a cab. I waited fruitlessly for 15 minutes before I started walking. I didn't know where I was, the bus numbers didn't look familiar, and the rain was harsh. Many times, I stood in the middle of road looking left and right like a scene out of Lost in Translation.

It came to a point where I felt like crying. I had been walking for so long with no empty cab in sight. I simply wanted to sit down somewhere and stamp my feet until someone comes to my rescue. Then, I saw an empty cab rejecting a family of four. He's not going their way, will he be going mine?

Nine Million Bicycles - Katie Melua

2008-02-01T23:07:00.000+08:00

There are nine million bicycles in Beijing
That's a fact,
It's a thing we can't deny
Like the fact that I will love you till I die.

We are twelve billion light years from the edge,
That's a guess,
No-one can ever say it's true
But I know that I will always be with you.

I'm warmed by the fire of your love everyday
So don't call me a liar,
Just believe everything that I say

There are six billion people in the world
More or less
and it makes me feel quite small
But you're the one I love the most of all

We're high on the wire
With the world in our sight
And I'll never tire,
Of the love that you give me every night

There are nine million bicycles in Beijing
That's a fact,
it's a thing we can't deny
Like the fact that I will love you till I die

And there are nine million bicycles in Beijing
And you know that I will love you till I die

Suicide Cat

2008-01-24T23:32:00.000+08:00

My scaredy cat tried to be Spiderman today.

My mum was mopping the floor at night, when she heard a soft meow. Thinking that it was just a stray, she ignored it and continued with the housework. She then walked past my cat's water bowl and found it dry, so she refilled it and called out for my cat. She heard my cat's soft reply, so, thinking he was at the balcony, she brought the bowl to the balcony and waited for him to come running in.

He didn't.

What she heard instead was my cat's pitiful whines which reminded her of the time she had locked my cat in the shower room. Thinking the worst, she looked over the balcony and saw my cat crouching precariously on the upper ledge of my neighbour's opened window, looking up at her with Puss-in-boots eyes. My mum shrieked in horror, but promptly ran to the kitchen to grab a clothes pole to use it to alert my neighbour downstairs. My quick-thinking neighbour grabbed an empty box and placed it under him, and with my mum's prodding with the pole, my cat hopped safely into my neighbour's arms.

We deduced later that he must have leapt onto my neighbour's window in pursuit of a butterfly, and unable to find stable ground because he had all four limbs in a straight line like a tightrope walker, couldn't jump back up onto our balcony.

To think I had come home that night unaware that my cat had such a close shave with falling to his death because he behaved as he would on a normal day whenever I got home, rubbing his cheeks against my ankles and hampering for a treat.

The next day, we left the balcony door open again to test his reaction to the traumatic experience he must have had the night before. Unfazed, my silly cat walked towards the end of the balcony and slipped his body through to the unsafe side of the railings. Apparently, my cat likes living his life on the edge.

Be still, my heart.

2008-01-23T23:21:00.000+08:00

OMG, I want.
I don't need it, can't afford it, but I LoVe it.
Anyone got $800 to spare?

Music

2008-01-20T15:06:00.000+08:00

The earphones were deep in my ears, sending music straight from my ears into my brains, so loud that I could feel the vibrations in my head. They were all my favourite tracks, and I knew all the words to their lyrics by heart. But today, I couldn't hear a single thing because there were other words that sounded even more loudly in my mind.

Worth a read.

2008-01-19T23:14:00.000+08:00

I was in the office doing some research for work when I came across this passage in Wiki:

"Passion Paradox is a theory about romantic relationships created by Dean Delis in his book "Passion Paradox". According to Delis, one partner is more in love – or emotionally invested in the relationship – than the other. The more love the loving partner wants from the other, the less the other feels like giving. The more in love partner is in the one-down position, whilst the less in love partner occupies the one-up position. Men and women can occupy both positions at various times."

Intrigued, I read on and found the explanation to why seemingly perfect relationships fail; couples don't fall out of love. They fall out of balance.

"The author affirms that virtually everyone experiences love’s two sides in the same way (pleasure and pain). It does not matter whether your past experiences moulded you to be a particular person – no one, even the emotionally healthy person, is exempted from the pain of love when it tips out of balance.

In this context, love relationships would produce a paradox: ‘one-downs’ try harder as they feel insecure and want to get back in control. They attempt to enhance their attraction power. The goal of such effort is to gain emotional control over the relationship as to avoid the nightmare of rejection (that means winning his or her love). But the catch is: if you prove too appealing to the one you want – to the point where the other person is clearly more in love with you – the relationship will fall out of balance.

When such an event occurs, you have become the ‘one-up’ or, if you are frightened by your partner’s distance, you have become the ‘one-down’. It would seem that the very urge to attract someone, to bring another person under emotional control, contains the potential for upsetting the balance of the relationship. This is due to the fact that the feeling of being in love is biochemically linked to the feeling of being out of control. Once you feel completely in control or sure of another person’s love, your feelings of passion begin to fade: vanishing the challenge or excitement of the relationship."

Corsets,can-can skirts and masks

2008-01-13T23:00:00.000+08:00

"Ready when you are, babygirl."
"Go?"
"Go. Slow. The stage's all yours."

I saw Vanessa take a deep breath before picking up the hems of her gown and stepping out into the spotlight. About two minutes later, everyone backstage heaved an almost audible sigh of relief as Vanessa came back through the curtains with her arms in the air doing a silent jiggy.

The show was finally over. One and a half hours ago, when my boss asked me to go visit backstage, I was feeling quite excited. "Backstage" was a 4m by 10m, literally behind-the-curtains, standing-room only space. There were four models with nothing on but huge hair, two make-up artists, three designers, 12 dressers, a choreographer, one of my directors, and one shellshocked little me.

Five minutes later, I was putting on expensive diamond jewellery around the models' necks, zipping up tight gowns, rearranging nipple tapes, adjusting fringes, holding back the curtain for the models to scramble out of, and coordinating the projection screen slides with the AV guy over the phone. Not bad for someone who showed up at the event thinking she was just there to man the registration booth.

Some of the models were chirpy; there they were in their glamourous gowns, shaking their butts to non-existent music and fooling around. Others were grouchy: "Is anyone going to help me undress or what?" There were the boutiques who really knew what they were doing; the dressers put the gowns on the floor in a row so that when the models return backstage for their second change of dresses, they simply slip out of the ones they have on and step into the new ones. And then there was a boutique who made the models slip out of their own dresses and stand naked in the cold while they try to remember who was supposed to wear what gowns.

The FruitLoop sidled up to me and whispered, "There's so much boob going on in here even I am shy. Ooh, did you see that one with the saggy breasts?" The runway show was a success. One and a half hours of chaos backstage for us was one and a half hours of smooth, sensual fashion eye candy for all those present today.

Brain Juice

2008-01-11T23:44:00.000+08:00

No wonder they say authors are all cranky. Having to be a wordsmith for 12 hours a day reminds me somewhat of watching my grandma wring the last drop of coconut milk from the shredded coconut flesh through a cheesecloth, after it's been re-soaked for the fourth time, when I was a child.

Of all people.

2008-01-10T23:54:00.000+08:00

I wonder what the old lady at the bus stop was thinking when she kept stealing glances down my top today.

Was she thinking:

"Damn! I wish I still had those tits. Now it's nearer to my hips than to my shoulders."

or

"What on earth was she thinking when she stepped out of the house today? The youngsters nowadays..."

I'll see you in your next life.

2008-01-08T23:38:00.000+08:00

Today, I learnt the bad news of the plight of two new cats I have recently come to love. As much as I hate what has and is going to happen, I know deep down in my heart that this is for the best. As I come home everyday to the ever-reliable tinkling of the bell from my own cat's neck, I will see the cats' faces reflected off my baby's round, inquisitive eyes.

As if acknowledging my emotions, the rain poured down tonight.

And oh, how it rained.

Work sucks.

2008-01-07T23:14:00.000+08:00

I'm so tired.

If there're only 7 days a week, and you work overtime on half of those days, as well as spend your weekends doing things you don't wish to, where does that leave you?

Unappreciated.

2008-01-05T23:45:00.000+08:00

I came home from a long day at work today, wishing I could just jump right into the comforting embrace of my bed and drift off to sleep.

I looked in horror at the bags of stuff outside my room and felt, rather than heard, my mother's cheerful voice sing, "I packed your room. It looks as good as new now. Go through your stuff and throw away what you don't want."

The things I don't want are already in the bin, I thought to myself. I hate it when my mother tries to be helpful, especially when I know how she's prone to sneaking. My temper was already bad to begin with, and seeing my sanctuary disturbed like this, I swear it took all my remaining strength not to yell at her.

Wherever.

2008-01-01T15:34:00.000+08:00

Last year, I wrote this somewhere:

"The message window blinked on the screen. He was telling me about upping and leaving this country to somewhere foreign, somewhere far away. I was still reeling from hearing him tell me on the phone. Now, seeing it on the screen, and reading about how stifled he felt being in this small country, I couldn’t help but agree that he needed to escape these restrictive barriers and discover his potentials.

I felt the tears sting my eyes. I was just getting used to having him in my life, and just an hour after the beginning of the new year, I was going to lose him. Then, the next line that appeared on the window sent my heart across the room.

“If I land the job, come with me.”

I would be lying if I were to say I hadn’t want him to say those words. Deep inside, I knew I would want to be wherever he was. But was I ready to leave everything I have here behind?

It was an awkward moment. I could only reply with an ellipse."

Reading this brought a smile to my face. Because now, exactly a year on, I have an answer ready for him.

2008's New Year Resolutions

2007-12-31T15:26:00.000+08:00

I love making lists, especially the part about striking out the items that has already been done.

2007's New Year Resolutions:

1. ~~To be reacquainted with buses and mrts.~~
2. ~~To end my relationship with the University of London.~~
3. To learn to have long meaningful conversations - in Japanese.
4. ~~To deceive myself into thinking that the glass is always full.~~
5. ~~To convince myself that happiness - like Santa, the Tooth Fairy and the Perfect Male - really does exist.~~

So in response to last year's list, I have a very simple one this year:

1. To make time.
2. To be happy.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Do you celebrate Christmas?

2007-12-25T00:34:00.000+08:00

I haven't spent Christmas eve alone for ten years. I've always had parties with friends, big family gatherings, jostling with happy strangers down Orchard Road, intimate dinners for two...

This year, I spent the day curled up in bed, haunted the kitchen like a ghost, and vegetated in front of the tv. I opened all my presents, something I usually do on Boxing Day.

To hell with traditions.

And at ten seconds to midnight, I was lying in bed on my tear-soaked pillow, being watched faithfully by my cat, who had refused to leave my side for the past two days.

Merry Christmas. I hope you are happy.

Yours

2007-12-23T23:18:00.000+08:00

Those words once made love to me.
Now I want to have nothing to do with them.

Keeping up with appearances

2007-12-22T23:31:00.000+08:00

I felt my body grow cold.
I don't think I deserved all that.
I don't think I could continue putting up with that.
Maybe, just maybe
I've been all wrong about this.

Teardrop - Massive Attack

2007-12-21T23:14:00.000+08:00

Love, love is a verb
Love is a doing word
Fearless on my breath
Gentle impulsion
Shakes me makes me lighter
Fearless on my breath

Teardrop on the fire
Fearless on my breath

Nine night of matter
Black flowers blossom
Fearless on my breath
Black flowers blossom
Fearless on my breath

Teardrop on the fire
Fearless on my breath

Water is my eye
Most faithful mirror
Fearless on my breath
Teardrop on the fire of a confession
Fearless on my breath
Most faithful mirror
Fearless on my breath

Teardrop on the fire
Fearless on my breath

Stumbling a little
Stumbling a little

Toast and Eggs.

2007-12-19T23:40:00.000+08:00

A wonderfully rare, sinful and utterly yummy breakfast was a good start to what was about to turn into a long, tiring day. I was glad I let my colleague persuade me to down four egg yolks and one thick peanut-buttery toast, washed down with aromatic milky tea.

A Love/Hate Relationship.

2007-12-16T21:58:00.000+08:00

I haven't seen C since my birthday, but the miraculous thing about being friends for so long is that, even after three months worth of spasmodic MSN messages, our conversation flowed as if we were continuing an unfinished tete-a-tete as soon as we met at the crowded mall this afternoon. In this time and age where we meet new people and amass friendships on networking portals everyday, this is a kinship that I cherish very much despite my gleeful whoop everytime she picks up the lunch tab.

I need to remind myself how much this friendship means to me, because just three hours out with her today, I spent over a hundred dollars on skincare and shoes.

Two pairs of shoes, in fact. I've been looking for three-inch heels since forever. Even with a willing wallet, it took me so long to find a nice pair. But all I did was to tell her that I needed a pair of heels for work, and suddenly, I found two pairs that fitted my criteria. There's just this special something about C, this very honest and straightfoward quality of her demeanour that makes you absolutely have to listen to what she says. After all, she did say that she has gone through that stress-relieving, retail-therapy phase that everyone must go through in life, and is now sick of shopping because she already has everything. That means that when she says that something is worth buying, that something you buy immediately.

Example 1: Mango Boutique

"Should I get this bag? It's on discount and it fits my laptop."
"Can meh? Hmm. It looks... plain."
Bag goes back on shelf.

Example 2: Mango Boutique

"I love this dress! Sweet, hor? But it's $62."
"It's sweet but the material looks cheap. Not worth it."
Dress goes back on rack.

Example 3: Gripz Shoes

"Look! Isn't this cute? I like the height."
"Oh my god, it's Gripz and it's only $25.90?!"
Asks salesperson for size 38 immediately.

See what I mean?

Ōmiyage.

2007-12-02T15:33:00.000+08:00

Two weeks ago, before my father went to Tokyo for his business trip, we had a big fight about my cat. As with most fights, the issue was a very small thing but the heated words made it a very dramatic affair. What I should have said was, "Dander on the cat's coat does aggravate asthma, but does not cause it, contrary to old wives' tales", but knowing my father's stubborn, "parent-wisely" tone of voice and my reluctance at admitting defeat and impatience, regretful words were uttered.

So I didn't hear from him for two weeks, and even when he came back on Friday night, I wasn't home. This morning, we avoided meeting each other's eyes as we went about our daily Sunday rituals. My mother, the perpetual peace-maker—partly because she's oblivious to tension in the air—called me out from my room to where she was looking through my father's luggage. With my father's very awkward attempt at trying to look nonchalant, he told my mother which packages she should hand to me.

I carried three packages, small-medium-large, to my room and slowly opened them. And as I did, a quiet row of tears rolled down my cheeks. In the small package, a collar pin in the form of a bejewelled cat; in the medium, a Japanese pouch with the face of a blissful cat and a tiny bell; in the large, a new noren for the walkway to my bedroom. These were my dad's reconciliatory gifts.

And sitting magnificently in the vegetable compartment (because there's no more space) of my industrial-sized refrigerator, three gorgeous golden brown bottles of my favourite Japanese brand of milk tea.

My Work Desk

2007-11-30T23:12:00.000+08:00

My colleagues at the office have taken very nicely to the fact that:

Though I begrudgingly use the Mac to work, I am still a PC user at heart (thereby displaying my blatant use of actual Post-Its instead of the application provided by Apple)
I am obsessed with my cat
I need my iPod to work

青花瓷 - Jay Chou

2007-11-26T21:41:00.000+08:00

词:方文山曲:周杰伦

素胚勾勒出青花笔锋浓转淡
瓶身描绘的牡丹一如你初妆
冉冉檀香透过窗心事我了然
宣纸上走笔至此搁一半

釉色渲染仕女图韵味被私藏
而你嫣然的一笑如含苞待放
你的美一缕飘散去到我去不了的地方

天青色等烟雨而我在等你
炊烟袅袅升起隔江千万里
在瓶底书汉隶仿前朝的飘逸
就当我为遇见你伏笔

天青色等烟雨而我在等你
月色被打捞起晕开了结局
如传世的青花瓷自顾自美丽
你眼带笑意

色白花青的锦鲤跃然於碗底
临摹宋体落款时却惦记著你
你隐藏在窑烧里千年的秘密
极细腻犹如绣花针落地

帘外芭蕉惹骤雨门环惹铜绿
而我路过那江南小镇惹了你
在泼墨山水画里你从墨色深处被隐去

天青色等烟雨而我在等你
炊烟袅袅升起隔江千万里
在瓶底书汉隶仿前朝的飘逸
就当我为遇见你伏笔

天青色等烟雨而我在等你
月色被打捞起晕开了结局
如传世的青花瓷自顾自美丽
你眼带笑意

I crave.

2007-11-25T23:02:00.000+08:00

I crave for the first drop of rain that falls from the sky. I crave its coolness as it trails a journey down the lines of my palm. I crave for that moment when it teeters precariously at the edge of my wrist before it plunges down into nothingness. I crave for these precious moments because that split of a second means an eternity to someone who has nothing.

I crave for that rare moment his fingers reach out to tug a stray strand of hair away from my face. I crave for a long, unhurried kiss against the back of a wall. I crave for that moment when he is so close his smell fills my brain and all I can see when I close my eyes is my memory of him. I crave for the look in his eyes when he tells me he loves me. I crave for these precious moments because those little things mean everything to someone who has nothing.

A really good title indeed.

2007-11-24T23:25:00.000+08:00

I still am a bit ambivalent about the movie Lust, Caution since I caught it on Thursday night. It has been haunting me; the unforgettable aura of the 40s in China, the anguish behind the teens of that war-torn period, the decadence of the rich. It made me wish childishly that I was born in the era. That Lee Ang was able to put onto screen what Eileen Chang wrote on paper and made it all so vivid for me was simply amazing.

Oh and also the fact that the movie has now made me obsessively infatuated with Tony Leung. I can't seem to get the character he portrayed out of my mind.

Same with his balls.

Daily work stress.

2007-11-23T23:02:00.000+08:00

I leaned against his table wearily, chugging back my bottle of Ice Mountain like an old-timer with his hip flask of whiskey. "How?" I asked him, a frown etched lightly between my eyebrows. "I really can't work with nothing, you know?"

"I know..." he replied apologetically. "But I also know you're the best! You can do it! I know you can! You're the best!" Pumping both his fists into the air as a show of support, his face turned into a wide, brilliant grin for my benefit. It's funny how such a tall and lean man like him can be so theatrically agile.

I trudged back to my desk with a grunt. Setting my bottle of mineral water down onto the table on my left, I flexed my fingers, positioned them above the keyboard, and closed my eyes.

******

Half an hour later, my colleague sidled over, plopped onto an empty chair next to my desk and glided over. He peered over my shoulder and started to read aloud the first four lines of the document I was working on. Then he read them again. And again. And again. Then, he turned to me with a slight quiver of fear in his eyes. "Wah. You power, man. You're the best." He stood up, nodded, then turned and walked off.

To hear that coming from a guy who hardly minces his words, I had a warm, tingly feeling in me for the entire morning. Until I looked down and glimpsed the same skimpy profile of my next client's job bag, that is.

Spot the topics

2007-11-21T22:34:00.000+08:00

Typical 10-minute MSN conversation that covers pretty much all the topics we talk about everyday while we're both at work.

4:48:29 PM D: my noush is schtuck
4:48:47 PM smudgi3: hey! that's my sentence!
4:49:19 PM D: :P
4:49:21 PM smudgi3: my brain juices have dried up. X-)
4:49:31 PM D: ooh. need refill?
4:49:55 PM D: *thinks of a position to pump juice back into your head
4:50:02 PM smudgi3: well, how exactly are you gonna refill my brai...
4:50:05 PM smudgi3: ewwwwwwwww
4:55:45 PM D: :P
4:56:50 PM smudgi3: why is it that clients always don't know what they want, but know what they don't want?
4:57:07 PM D: that's the adage
4:57:26 PM D: cos all clients are idiots, that's why
4:57:29 PM smudgi3: i want to be a client too!!!

An Early Letter

2007-11-18T23:18:00.000+08:00

Dear Santa

I think that, other than one or two fuck-ups this year, I have been a pretty good girl. Please take me and my cat somewhere far away. It doesn't matter where. And no, it's ok. I don't wish to return at all.

Pleadingly yours
smudgi3
strippedbar3.blogspot.com