Came across my sister's post in her blog tonight. They've been many, that she typed just knowing that i wld read it, but this one is the last i'm willing to gloss over. I won't post it here, because i have no desire to look at it anymore. Nor at her mein. I burst into tears at work (no one was around) when i read it, because i didn't do it. I waited to tell her, because i didn't want to have another argument, i didn't want to nit pick. I now know that some things have to be proved, and i wish that i had done it the instant i had saw it.
When was the last time you wrung your hands out of sheer helplessess? Talking about it won't do any good, and you'll never get a chance to make her think, because she doesn't care, and she doesnt want to see. She can type anything on her blog now, because it's lost one reader forever. In fact, her life has lost one reader, pretty permanently. Some people say things out of anger, and some out of loss of control. Others, like me, say things out of self preservation, and in doing so, they mean every single word.
Suffice to say, i've never known anyone so full of malice, nor of spite, nor this vindictive. I've never had anyone offer me to take something from her hands, only to drop it in front of my face when i was about to take it. She wanted to prove me right when i had called her a bitch. I was so numb that night, it was surreal, like a scene out of a bad movie.
Suffice to say, she wouldn't care if she was wrong, nor acknowledge that i had no cause to lie.
Suffice to say, till today her behavious is akin to the girl who used to pull the rug out from under me just because. Some things never change.
Suffice to say, that she won't give a damn if i just walked out of the house.
I'll give her that pleasure she craves so much. Hopefully when i'm no longer in the house, perhaps she'll see that she makes mistakes, just as i do, simply because there'll be no one else to blame. Maybe she'll realise, but then again, i never kid myself.
No more conversations, no more explanations, no more anything, because the end of the road is here, and i'd be a fool to go near you. You win, i'm moving out. And it's because of you. You can thank your lucky stars tonight and have a celebration with the computer, all by yourself. Consider it an christmas present in advance. Im sure it'll bring you a little closer to a religious experience considering your immense gratitude.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Tossing and turning, she couldn't get her thoughts to quieten. Breathing a sigh, picking up the phone which always lay next to her pillow, she restlessly scrolled down the list of numbers and decided on one. Within an hr (she wasn't in the mood to go glam), she was dressed for drinks, and she was happy she didnt have to try to force sleep to come.
She spotted her friend, Cathy, waiting for her when she reached the taxi stand, and arm in arm, they set off. Cat, to introduce her to the new bf, and herself, simply contented to have something in the stead of another sleepless night. It felt good to be out, with the cool night air against her skin. Introductions were made, and she smiled politely, nothing that most of them were almost gone in drink and talk. Cat's new found play mate was handsomely chinese, with that dimple on his left that was always gushed about. She would have been very thoroughly charmed by him, if not for the fact that cat had not 10 minutes ago remarked it was a good thing he was good looking, because that compensated for size.
Swirling her swollen, split, lychee with the little red stirrer in her glass, she settled back into the sofa. She wasn't interested in conversation about someone's exploits at the tracks, nor was she in the mood for politics, office or otherwise. She was just there to spend time, to be occupied, to drink. Holding on to her martini, she started talking to first a female friend of cat's; all yuppie posturing and perfume, then to the boy across her table. Pleading a need of the little girl's room after a while, she excused herself and walked out, intending a few moments of fresh air. Walking to the river view, she leaned on the bannisters, and closed her eyes.
So lost, so restless. Who wasn't? Everyone she knew was looking for a miracle, looking for a way to self actualisation, looking for a way the world dictated as worthwhile to pass life by. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped as someone brushed a warm hand against her wrist. One of dimple boy's friends. She smiled, but wasn't rewarded by one of his own. Instead, he drew her in, slowly, with his intuitive comments, and his frank intelligence. She found herself laughing at his dry humour and he very nicely offered her kleenex to wipe her tears. He asked why her mascara hadn't smudged yet, and she was pleased to see him nod in approval when she said she hadn't used any. They went back in, and he sat next to her this time. She was in a much better mood after this, but all too soon dimple boy had to go. She looked at cat, recognising that she would go with them as well; she wouldn't stay with a group of almost strangers. Dimple boy could send her home, or she could simply cab it.
She was a little sad, realising that he hadn't yet asked her for a way to remain in contact, but she would rather flash granny beige undies than to show what she was thinking. She contained a smug smile when the object of her attention stood up, declaring that he would go as well. As the four of them made for the exit, cat turned and smiled at dimple boy's friend. She watched, perplexed. It was a secret smile, one that she wasn't privy to.
"I stay in the east, i'll send you safely home", he said with little smile and a slight tilt of his head. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a demand, it was stated matter of factly. With a delicious shudder, she realised that here was a man who was used to being in control. As they got ready to drive off, he leaned close. He leaned over the gearbox and murmured that he liked her perfume. He had noticed by the riverside. She took a deep breath and thanked him. Such a simple gesture, so effective for making the proximity of a man's body known. They listened to buddhabar in the car, stopped for mineral water for her and mints for him, and talked about Klimt's women in his paintings. As they made the turning into her estate, she noticed suddenly there was a glimmer on the floor boards, partly occluded by the mats. A glimmer of part of a dangly earring.
She looked at him. He smiled at her, not knowing what was going through her mind. He probably didn't understand why she pretended not to hear when he asked for her number, but he probably didn't know about the sudden tightening of disappointment in her abdomen either.
The earring could have been just a friend's, or it could have been a wife's. It could have been from that morning, or it could have been from a month ago. Either way, she was too tired to play any game, no matter how minor, no matter how imaginary. Thanking him for the ride home, faith closed the car door quietly, and started her walk home.
She spotted her friend, Cathy, waiting for her when she reached the taxi stand, and arm in arm, they set off. Cat, to introduce her to the new bf, and herself, simply contented to have something in the stead of another sleepless night. It felt good to be out, with the cool night air against her skin. Introductions were made, and she smiled politely, nothing that most of them were almost gone in drink and talk. Cat's new found play mate was handsomely chinese, with that dimple on his left that was always gushed about. She would have been very thoroughly charmed by him, if not for the fact that cat had not 10 minutes ago remarked it was a good thing he was good looking, because that compensated for size.
Swirling her swollen, split, lychee with the little red stirrer in her glass, she settled back into the sofa. She wasn't interested in conversation about someone's exploits at the tracks, nor was she in the mood for politics, office or otherwise. She was just there to spend time, to be occupied, to drink. Holding on to her martini, she started talking to first a female friend of cat's; all yuppie posturing and perfume, then to the boy across her table. Pleading a need of the little girl's room after a while, she excused herself and walked out, intending a few moments of fresh air. Walking to the river view, she leaned on the bannisters, and closed her eyes.
So lost, so restless. Who wasn't? Everyone she knew was looking for a miracle, looking for a way to self actualisation, looking for a way the world dictated as worthwhile to pass life by. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped as someone brushed a warm hand against her wrist. One of dimple boy's friends. She smiled, but wasn't rewarded by one of his own. Instead, he drew her in, slowly, with his intuitive comments, and his frank intelligence. She found herself laughing at his dry humour and he very nicely offered her kleenex to wipe her tears. He asked why her mascara hadn't smudged yet, and she was pleased to see him nod in approval when she said she hadn't used any. They went back in, and he sat next to her this time. She was in a much better mood after this, but all too soon dimple boy had to go. She looked at cat, recognising that she would go with them as well; she wouldn't stay with a group of almost strangers. Dimple boy could send her home, or she could simply cab it.
She was a little sad, realising that he hadn't yet asked her for a way to remain in contact, but she would rather flash granny beige undies than to show what she was thinking. She contained a smug smile when the object of her attention stood up, declaring that he would go as well. As the four of them made for the exit, cat turned and smiled at dimple boy's friend. She watched, perplexed. It was a secret smile, one that she wasn't privy to.
"I stay in the east, i'll send you safely home", he said with little smile and a slight tilt of his head. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a demand, it was stated matter of factly. With a delicious shudder, she realised that here was a man who was used to being in control. As they got ready to drive off, he leaned close. He leaned over the gearbox and murmured that he liked her perfume. He had noticed by the riverside. She took a deep breath and thanked him. Such a simple gesture, so effective for making the proximity of a man's body known. They listened to buddhabar in the car, stopped for mineral water for her and mints for him, and talked about Klimt's women in his paintings. As they made the turning into her estate, she noticed suddenly there was a glimmer on the floor boards, partly occluded by the mats. A glimmer of part of a dangly earring.
She looked at him. He smiled at her, not knowing what was going through her mind. He probably didn't understand why she pretended not to hear when he asked for her number, but he probably didn't know about the sudden tightening of disappointment in her abdomen either.
The earring could have been just a friend's, or it could have been a wife's. It could have been from that morning, or it could have been from a month ago. Either way, she was too tired to play any game, no matter how minor, no matter how imaginary. Thanking him for the ride home, faith closed the car door quietly, and started her walk home.
Monday, October 24, 2005
The whole world knows im the most graceful klutz in the world. I think i've mentioned that an embarrassing incident is way overdue, and i always (almost*) keep my promises.
I've been trying to do something about my maniacal laughter. Similarities to the faultless ass are getting a bit too close to home for comfort, and on fri night as i threw my head back back to laugh at someone else, karma dictated that this time i carelessly throw my head against the handle of a pushcart with all the force i could muster. Helpful hands hurried to comfort my head (Yes. it was painful.. Do i really need more hands pressing and rubbing my now slightly lumpier crown? Thank you, your concern is admirable.) I brushed concern away, feeling foolish at the cause of all this attention, and changed the subject. 3 days later, i ponder over the dull headache that has stayed to keep me company. Yesterday it invited nausea which subsuded after a bit, thank god, but if you don't hear from me for a while, you'll know why.
I called k for a spot of sympathy, bemoaning the fact that i didn't want to become more of an imbecile than i already am, and he tactfully reminded me that this kind of trauma to the occiput (back of the head) would keep me bright, but also possibly quite blind. Aww.
Someone else recommended an MRI, which is, in faith speak, simply a scan that shows the density of tissue and miscellaneous matter. In other words, if the pretty colours of my brain seem to be more abundant, it could mean it has swelled, the secondary cause of which is due to unbecoming ladylike behaviour. Free lancing has left me bereft of a nice, private room in the hospital in which to endure tests free, so i will just cross my fingers and hope the headaches go away. If in the meantime i forget excessively, or seem a bit subdued, i apologise.
I've been trying to do something about my maniacal laughter. Similarities to the faultless ass are getting a bit too close to home for comfort, and on fri night as i threw my head back back to laugh at someone else, karma dictated that this time i carelessly throw my head against the handle of a pushcart with all the force i could muster. Helpful hands hurried to comfort my head (Yes. it was painful.. Do i really need more hands pressing and rubbing my now slightly lumpier crown? Thank you, your concern is admirable.) I brushed concern away, feeling foolish at the cause of all this attention, and changed the subject. 3 days later, i ponder over the dull headache that has stayed to keep me company. Yesterday it invited nausea which subsuded after a bit, thank god, but if you don't hear from me for a while, you'll know why.
I called k for a spot of sympathy, bemoaning the fact that i didn't want to become more of an imbecile than i already am, and he tactfully reminded me that this kind of trauma to the occiput (back of the head) would keep me bright, but also possibly quite blind. Aww.
Someone else recommended an MRI, which is, in faith speak, simply a scan that shows the density of tissue and miscellaneous matter. In other words, if the pretty colours of my brain seem to be more abundant, it could mean it has swelled, the secondary cause of which is due to unbecoming ladylike behaviour. Free lancing has left me bereft of a nice, private room in the hospital in which to endure tests free, so i will just cross my fingers and hope the headaches go away. If in the meantime i forget excessively, or seem a bit subdued, i apologise.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
listening to: warning shots
thievary corporation
Last night was upsetting on two counts. The whole evening wasn't entirely marred by them, but i took the two home, and i can't stop thinking.
Work these days has been fabulous.. Have you ever exchanged coy smiles with someone over a little secret, presumably something only the two of you know? An innocent touch becomes a deliberate one, one that is all the more delicious for being so scantily veiled in intention; you notice little details about your leetle darlink' that are remembered when you are alone, and replay comes so easily. During our night at work, we shared an empty room for our break which ultimately lasted 4 hours.Too bad i fell asleep before anything could happen. Ooops. We were just talking. What were you thinking?
This morning i saw dede looking at me with a strange look. A small frown, with a slightly bitchy sidelook. (Indian, what.) It's plainly a measuring glance. She's never looked at me that way before. She knows.. Didi's a nice, godly girl whom i like, and she's the best friend of my psuedo playmate. How could she not disapprove? I feel a little sorry that she has to know, but one's orientation is not exactly chosen. it's given. i didn't have a choice. What can i say? I'm only sorry that these things are stereotyped by someone whom i treat as a good friend. A person can go to church, and want a personal relationship with god, but it doesn't mean that she has to be perfect in the world's eyes.
My little distraction at work was just that. A little later into the course of the day though, i received a msg from someone whom i've been spending alot of time with. I won't go into detail, but im so utterly crushed. Time and time again i've been terribly disappointed by this numbnut. Men can be so tactless without meaning anything. Why are they so incredibly, fantastically, irrevocably dumb? Surely they need something more solid to stand up to a woman's unreasonableness?
I should have been born a feminist butch.
Why, why, why??
thievary corporation
Last night was upsetting on two counts. The whole evening wasn't entirely marred by them, but i took the two home, and i can't stop thinking.
Work these days has been fabulous.. Have you ever exchanged coy smiles with someone over a little secret, presumably something only the two of you know? An innocent touch becomes a deliberate one, one that is all the more delicious for being so scantily veiled in intention; you notice little details about your leetle darlink' that are remembered when you are alone, and replay comes so easily. During our night at work, we shared an empty room for our break which ultimately lasted 4 hours.Too bad i fell asleep before anything could happen. Ooops. We were just talking. What were you thinking?
This morning i saw dede looking at me with a strange look. A small frown, with a slightly bitchy sidelook. (Indian, what.) It's plainly a measuring glance. She's never looked at me that way before. She knows.. Didi's a nice, godly girl whom i like, and she's the best friend of my psuedo playmate. How could she not disapprove? I feel a little sorry that she has to know, but one's orientation is not exactly chosen. it's given. i didn't have a choice. What can i say? I'm only sorry that these things are stereotyped by someone whom i treat as a good friend. A person can go to church, and want a personal relationship with god, but it doesn't mean that she has to be perfect in the world's eyes.
My little distraction at work was just that. A little later into the course of the day though, i received a msg from someone whom i've been spending alot of time with. I won't go into detail, but im so utterly crushed. Time and time again i've been terribly disappointed by this numbnut. Men can be so tactless without meaning anything. Why are they so incredibly, fantastically, irrevocably dumb? Surely they need something more solid to stand up to a woman's unreasonableness?
I should have been born a feminist butch.
Why, why, why??
Listening to: before today
chicane
Came home to find my room cleaned. My mother again. I'm so sorry..you didnt need to do it. You didn't need to tell me to eat before i left for work. I can take care of myself, to a reasonable extent, though not perhaps in the way you'd like.
I wish a better daughter had "happened" to her. I wish she could have had a more pleasant life. I wish it could have started out differently.
All i can give her are my subdued responses, to her ever more apparent, and giving gestures. My father once told me, that as he grows old, sometimes all he wonders is if he was a good enough parent, and if he will ever know that he was. All that goes through my head, is that both of them are thinking this almost constantly. A sense of resignation must have overcome them by now, and i cant understand why i dont have an an answer. The only thing i know is that my behaviour doesn't warrant any perfectness from them.
Do you ever wish you were a better person too?
chicane
Came home to find my room cleaned. My mother again. I'm so sorry..you didnt need to do it. You didn't need to tell me to eat before i left for work. I can take care of myself, to a reasonable extent, though not perhaps in the way you'd like.
I wish a better daughter had "happened" to her. I wish she could have had a more pleasant life. I wish it could have started out differently.
All i can give her are my subdued responses, to her ever more apparent, and giving gestures. My father once told me, that as he grows old, sometimes all he wonders is if he was a good enough parent, and if he will ever know that he was. All that goes through my head, is that both of them are thinking this almost constantly. A sense of resignation must have overcome them by now, and i cant understand why i dont have an an answer. The only thing i know is that my behaviour doesn't warrant any perfectness from them.
Do you ever wish you were a better person too?
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Surplus
I read a recommended blog, and it was, for lack of a better word to describe it, a blog exclusively about sex, sex, and more sex. Second time this mth someone has pointed me in the direction of one. Kink in the kitchen. Contortions in the car. Bliss on the balcony. Conjoining in the mile high club. Ok. I havn't read anyone writing about that one yet, have to admit ;)
I passed on the reading. Not because im a prude, but because, in recent times, there just seems a surplus of these floating around. Is it my imagination, or are most of these bloggies written by the women? It's like pornography. When you first start, you lap everything up, then you slowly become more discerning, and finally, it takes a special something to make you put that clip on "continous replay". Is it for increased readership? Is it because they enjoy nothing more and are nymphomaniacs? Or do they just enjoy the pleasures of writing and not feeling archytyped by our very singaporean culture, being able to give their explanations and reasons for everything? Posts on especially interesting encounters would be something; i wouldn't say i promise never to write about those provided they're not so vanilla that the next thing i do is check my mail when i should be excusing myself to my bedroom.
I'll admit it takes someone inspired to write about these tantalising encounters and the associated every post time and time again and not sound boring..
This isn't a rant and im just musing, but i wonder what the percentage is like when we talk about female readership of those blogs. I have nothing against them, but as a man, don't be surprised if i don't froth at the mouth each time i find a new sex blog.
Please. The word i'd like you to use on me is discerning. And no, prudes don't make men blush.
I passed on the reading. Not because im a prude, but because, in recent times, there just seems a surplus of these floating around. Is it my imagination, or are most of these bloggies written by the women? It's like pornography. When you first start, you lap everything up, then you slowly become more discerning, and finally, it takes a special something to make you put that clip on "continous replay". Is it for increased readership? Is it because they enjoy nothing more and are nymphomaniacs? Or do they just enjoy the pleasures of writing and not feeling archytyped by our very singaporean culture, being able to give their explanations and reasons for everything? Posts on especially interesting encounters would be something; i wouldn't say i promise never to write about those provided they're not so vanilla that the next thing i do is check my mail when i should be excusing myself to my bedroom.
I'll admit it takes someone inspired to write about these tantalising encounters and the associated every post time and time again and not sound boring..
This isn't a rant and im just musing, but i wonder what the percentage is like when we talk about female readership of those blogs. I have nothing against them, but as a man, don't be surprised if i don't froth at the mouth each time i find a new sex blog.
Please. The word i'd like you to use on me is discerning. And no, prudes don't make men blush.
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