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.

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 write of
love,
dreamed
oft,
scoffed at
by microsoft.

Damn windows xp. I was typing a letter to you when i got the *blue screen of death.



*it pretends to want to return to the original page by asking you to press any key, but it always lies.

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??

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?

Listening to: lay your hands
simon webbe

Do you ever get the feeling that you're getting left behind?

I love animals, i'm all for self esteem but..really..

prosthethic animal testicals?

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.

Listening to: illusions
chicane


You know how friendster has added another option for the status of relationships? Now another option lets you tell everyone how confused you are, with the option of announcing that "it's complicated".

Am i the only one who gets seriously annoyed by this? Is this a cover up to avoid telling people you're single? Fercryin out loud.. How difficult is it? If you're attached, both parties acknowledge they're in a relationship. If one is unable to say for sure, doesn't that mean you're single? It's the other person's price for assumption if he gets upset. It's a yes or no thing, with some slight variation in shades in between but nothing that one cant cope with, right? If you're dallying with someone, but he hasn't asked you to be his gf, it means you're still single. If she's kissed you but hasn't talked to you since? You're single. If you regularly fuck each other , but you don't watch movies together? You're single!! What's so difficult?? Emotions are messy, and people can be attached to each other but it's mutually exclusive from being IN a relationship!

What's up with this?

Squat-ed.

I'll be a little sad when the squatters at changi beach have all gone. They never made a nuisance of themselves that i saw, and helped us with a birthday surprise for a friend when we couldn't physically be at the site all day.

Strange. Even without saying a word to most of them, i have a feeling the beach will be lonely without their presence.

Listening to: a little respect
eurasure

Tried posting some pics up; but this being the third time, and all for nuts have decided to settle for cursing blogger roundly, but softly and meekly in my corner of office.

1.
Quidam. Cirque du Soleil's latest offering was what i had been looking forward to for mths, but by the second act i was wiping tears away. Tears of sleepiness that is. The acts were there, yes, but it looked like they had peetered off from the original dramatic, eye widening and gasp inducing ones, to something that any trained gymnast could do. Fine. Some of the acts were worthy of the price, but maybe only two out of the array. i couldn't bring myself to stand for any ovations, as did most of the crowd. Liked the bag from the girls, and i'll be keeping the card forever :)

It's a bit sad, but the red shoes afterward was so much more entertaining.. Joining yet more of the throng at cineleisure after playing warcraft for a bit, we decided to catch (yet another) korean horror flick. I'm not one for taking much notice of names, but Kim Sung-soo is a rather dishy specimen. Kim Hye-soo, the female lead is seriously one of the better asian actresses i have seen, being able to act, and look versatile. Plus. She's a sex kitten in waiting. Apaprently the version i caught was a bit moralistic because steamy scenes were cut. Cencorship board, C'mon! There were no nudies, so what makes you think your audience hasn't seen it all? Moving on. Oh. On a side note, this show has one of the ugliest little girls i have seen acting. Right.

2.
Tits, boobies, jugs, hooters, funbags, bazookas. Who reading can lay claim to touching augmented ones? Oooh- i can, i can! Just thought i'd mention it :) For the benefit of those who've wondered if they're rock hard, and look real, here's the low down on how FAKE BOBBIES FEEL.

They do point at the ceiling, the pair i saw must have been done quite some time ago because scars were visible (very), slanting directly beneath the curves. If she had waited, she could have chosen the incisions either under her arms, or via the areolas.

They were perfectly round, both of equal size, perpendicular to the ceiling :) At first i was slightly apprehensive because i kept envisioning lin chiling's saline burst, but they turned out to be..uh..slightly more malleable. Im sensing thats a wrong choice of word.. They moved around, but very much limited by their firmness and size. They were not that hard, but felt like a very distended balloon with padding on top. Slightly yuck.

3.

Here's a question. If you knew that in your workplace one of your clients was a paedophile, would you let him get away with it? To my great disgust, apparently one of my subjects (a caucasian middle aged man whom i was uncomfortable being with right at the very start) was noticed surfing child porn. in the common room. When i asked if anyone had done anything about it, colleagues just shrugged and mentioned the site was now blocked on the shared computer. I mean.. my god! No one had given him even a verbal warning.

This is a man, who has no fixed address, and goes often to thailand and vietnam for business trips! Do you have any idea how prevailent child sex is there? Imagine if you will for a moment. He comes in every 3 mths to to the unit for easy money. He goes off for trips after. Repeat. We're indirectly supplying him with the means to fuck little children! Can't do anything about it now because i have no proof, and no one seems comfortable about even talking anything about it, and he's not at the unit now. I urge you..please please.. if ever a similar situation is in your control, do something about it! one voice, no matter how small, and how insignificant it is, might help destroy the fallacy that harmful social deviance in public goes completely unpunished..

Listening to: Mr super market produce putter-outer
Bud Light Presents Real Men of Genius (Real Men of Genius)

I'm sure it's not just me. With some people, very few, i get tongue tied, feel like everything i do is insufficient. I swear this foolish grin comes on, and i feel like a dumb block of grunts *grunt snort grunt* , while the other is lightness and wisdom personified. Not quite sure why this happens, and i can't remember when the last time this was but tis happening again at work. I guess the good thing is that i do respect this woman, which is a rarity in itself. How on earth can you know you did a good day's work and yet go home feeling crappy? The power of a person's good natured rib.

Was stepping out of the lift, and who did i walk into but Mr smiley painter man who watched me walk up to my house door sheepishly. Not only does he know what i look like topside now, but he's got to see me in the flesh (theoretically a bit less of the flesh, more of the clothes) trying to sidle past his bloody huge scaffold blocking the bloody lift door. So i bloody had to squeeze past while he bloody wished me a very bloody good morning. I'm sticking to the air con and closed windows from now on.

Caught up with a peer the other night, and found out that she's marrying a pastor. Astonishment. How did she know he was the one, i asked? She smiled, and made me promise not to laugh. Being afraid of a man leaving her for another woman, she prayed. I huddled closer, waiting for what she wanted the man to tell her. What term of affection, what bit of his heart would he proffer to show his ardor?

The statement, when it came, made me laugh. He had asked her to die before him, because he didn't want her to ever be alone. Aww shucks.

I can only hope that the day i fall, is the day my own prayer is answered. I'm drawing closer to the religion i lost so long ago. Not the obligation of tradition or guilt that came in early adulthood, but out of a real want to relive what was so special to me when i was young. I might not want to be a nun anymore, i don't think they look upon loving thy self that literally, but..well..we'll see.

Lyrics:
Today we salute you Mr. Supermarket Produce Putter Outer (Mr. Supermarket Produce Putter Outer)You have perhaps the greatest job known to man, squeezing giant melons all day long
(Love those squishy melons)
When women come in looking for squash, you say,
"Perhaps I can interest you in my giant zucchini (That ain't no zucchini)
Day in and day out, women step on your grapes, and you don't even flinch(Ooooooh!)
Is that a banana in your pocket?
No, it's a Plantain(Muy, muy grande)
So crack open an ice cold Bud Light
O' King of the Cumquats,
because if one guy has to fondle our plums, we're glad it's you
(Mr. Supermarket Produce Putter Outer)

Listening to: wake me up when september's over
green day

It's been yonks. I know i'll come back to write, but seriously.. The inclination to look at what i've written, going to write or even look at what some people are writing is way way overdue.. Besides- a marginal addiction to world of warcraft, (its got nothing on diablo), the free lancing and trying to get some sleep takes up my time comfortably.

It's been getting hard for me to both sleep and stay asleep again. Last night was so damn hot i decided to get rid of my top in a restless fit and let the cool air from the fan reach me uninterrupted . When i woke, i realised that my windows were closed. Strange. They were still open when i decided to fall asleep. I woke up and squinted groggily at windows, and then it hit me. The painters had closed it for me, they were just outside my window, talking in animated tones.

God no.

When was the last time you flashed someone? Thank god i was still wearing my shorts.

On a side note,small wonder the painters always appear so happy. Talk about job perks.

Litany

Is there some door closed by the Father's hand
Which widely opened you had hoped to see?
Trust God and wait - for when He shuts the door
He keeps the key.

Is there some earnest prayer unanswered yet,
Or answered NOT as you had thought 'twould be?
God will make clear His purpose by and by.
He keeps the key.

Have patience with your God, your patient God,
All wise, all knowing, no longer lingerer He,
And of the door of all your future life
He keeps the key.


Unfailing comfort, sweet and blessed rest,
To know if EVERY door
He keeps the key
That He at last, when he just HE sees best,
Will give it thee.
- Anonymous

Sometimes He's a real joker, huh? Just wish my sense of humour cld keep up.

post shopping traumatic disorder

Back from K.L.

Yeah, im traumatised. There was nothing to buy. They have huge malls that are filled to the max, pretty cineplexes that are nicer then our's but they remain intrinsically.. malaysian. No offense to those reading who hail from that beautiful country, but this is after all my blog, which means the sentiments belong to..Moi. After this, im more sympathethic to the fact that people stereotype malaysian's dressing. How can they be blamed when it's the fashion buyers who should be shot?

I never realised there were so many a.j's there. Everywhere i turned, there were couples. All the trannies were malay, and the ones i cld recognise (the bottoms) were pretty much chinese. Strange, no? Guess they've evolved into a more tolerant society than ours. Must be because they generally have more to put up with.

The taxi service remained dubious, with those who had meters rare, and the ones who were scammers, plentiful. They were upfront about it as well, saying that singaporeans were stingy, and we shld give them a lil coffee money. I agree about the stingy part. It's true i know, that singaporeans generally are known as shite tourists but no one earns my coffee money unless im willing. And unless they're deserving.

Caught a movie there, the 'plex had 18 screens, and frankly, i think that one was better than ours. The seating was slightly different, ascribing to the method of markedly raised tiers, as opposed to ours. There were multiple snack counters, multiple loo's scattered around so handle the after movie crowd. The only thing that marred my experience was an old lady who exclaimed in cantonese at every.single.fucking.action sequence. When a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g happened, she wld exclaim in fucking cantonese. Yes. I was pissed. And i didn't know how to tell her to shut her trap up in cantonese, so i had to setttle for the annoying method of turning around with my finger on my lip. Spastic as hell, but at least it worked.

Sounds like my trip was a complete waste of my time, but it really wasn't. The entitlement of being a bitch today is mine, but i acknowledge that i enjoyed myself. The eating was delicious. Perhaps it was the dirt. Certainly i got better and it didn't feel like i was trying to hack my lungs out anymore. Well well.

breakin'

Seen the original "singing in the rain'?


gene kelly


Gotta love this :)

Indolence.

Listening to: blue orchid
white strips

My nights merge into days, and my days become nights. Books litter the floor of my room, and my phone bill, like the other expenses, have gone up this mth. Umemployment both suits, and doesn't. Leisure to go out, time to stay out late, the license to spend time doing..nothing. Rolling in bed, planning the iteinery for the day. Sloth. Isn't that what they call it? *smiles lazily* Plan an impromptu trip, stay up till whenever, and sleep in till you're woozy from sleep.

It's hard to get started again once inertia sets in. Tomorrow, i'll be good.

Question.

listening to: i believe in love
the darkness

Question.

If you had found an incredible friendship, is it selfish to want it to remain as such, never letting it progress beyond that?

Because i'm convinced that marriage would screw it up, like it clusterfucks up so many other things.

Skyflowers

Listening to: stellar
incubus

Standing on the shears bridge, the rows of people all along as far as the bridge allowed, I breathed in the sea breeze and smiled. Finally I get to see the fireworks. Amazing. I had worked all the way from the carpark just after mac's at the ecp; carried along by the buoyancy of the mood, and the disappointment of the night before- Stuck on the ecp's midnight jam, hearing the whistles and explosions of the fireworks but never able to see the real thing; courtesy of trees and that damned double decker bus which seemed glued to the side of the car. I had been so upset i was dejected. Until the prata house, that is.

mushrooms that make you go whoa

When the lights finally appeared, all at the same time, I couldn't remember when last something had enchanted me so very thoroughly.. They shot up from marina, the padang, and somewhere at the very edge of the east coast beach. I turned to smile, and received his sweeter surprise. After a moment, we pulled away, the better to witness the tangible fireworks that were still blooming in the night sky..

Fleur du ciel

Magick.

Proclamations

Listening to: you're beautiful
james blunt

I was, and am thinking of having a seperate area for posts which deal with religion, spirituality, all the things that make a jesus freak :) For today however, my posts remain on one. If you don't want to read, then don't!

Festival of praise ran from Fri to Sun last weekend. I've never wanted to, or felt the inclination to go, even though the idea of all the denominations celebrating together was beautiful to me. This year i felt a strange urge to want to be there, and there i was last night:)

Lion was late in picking me up, and it was already 17.30hrs but somebody, please tell me why i knew we were going to get seats *grins* Aggie didn't come, neither did mkor, so it was just us. Once in the car i realised that i wasn't wearing any contacts . Die lah. Crowds have been queuing up since noon, i'd surely be sitting right behind. Just an itty bitty speck 100 rows from the stage. What wld i do, if i wasn't able to see anything on the stage? Frick.

We reached the indoor stadium at about 1745-1800, and made a cut thru Tanjong Rhu to the North entrance. Word was that that queue was a tad bit shorter than the others, so we joined the throngs where i had a good laugh at some of the people's conversations since we were in such close proximity. How do you tell someone where you are by saying " it's the building with the gap"? So incredibly descriptive. Turns out she meant a gap in the crowds. We finally hit the blessed cool of the interior about an hour later. Lion shook his head, and said i shld have been more aggressive in keeping up with him. I cldn't. The thought of pressing against sweaty people, girls with unwashed hair, being pressed upon on all sides.. If people want to get stampeded upon, that's their problem. Peasants. Muhar!

We were pass the gate checks, looking for seats. Frantic ushers telling us to hurry, hurry, ushers telling us to move to the seating at the back of the stage.. I stood there a little, not wanting to be relegated to seeing the back of people's heads the entire evening. I slipped pass the harrassed usher once his back was turned, grabbing lion and pulling him along after me. Amazing isn't it, then we finally were found seats after a few minutes of hunting. Or were found seats by an usher, who had made some people give up reserved ones.

We got front row seats.

The gig started off on time. I won't talk much about the bands Delirious and Hillsong, which lived up to expectations, or that half way thru the crowds thronged the pre-stage area, and i was forced to stand on my chair to see anything, pygmy that i am. I won't talk about the many instances when the loudness of the beat, and the nearness of the His presence made my heart catch, and my lids heavy with feeling. I won't elaborate on how apt the 'sermon' was for me that night either.

It was like the whole evening had been tailor made to make me leave the stadium much more fulfilled that i had in a long, long time. And for that, i offer thanks.

Ennui

Guess what? I'm not working tomorrow, and probably will have the next week off as well. Gosh. As always, with excess time, i stoop to the mundane, and the useless. Attend. *brandishes pointer*






You have moderate sub tendencies. You enjoy being
told what to do, though the domme in you kicks
and screams at times. You can be a brat,
deliberately provoking a dominant. You need to
be reminded of your place at times, bitch.

Fact or fiction? Startlingly accurate.

Are you Dominant or Submissive?
brought to you by Quizilla







You're Exotic Dancer Barbie. You have some moves,
and will do anything for a few bucks. Take it
off girl, but keep it PG-13 please.

Phlusse.

If You Were A Barbie, Which Messed Up Version Would You Be?
brought to you by Quizilla






obsessive compulsive

Lily wld have been thrilled if i had these qualities in abundance. I left before it became a full fledged..what else? Compulsion.

Which Personality Disorder Do You Have?
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You are a child's kiss. Completely sweet and
innocent and pure. You mean no harm and only
love in your sweet kisses.

We'll leave the analysis to those who know what they're talking about, shall we?

What kind of kiss are you?
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Lies, all of it!!

What does love mean to you?
brought to you by Quizilla



~ I originally wanted to write about a something a little closer to heart, but for now, must mush up the stairs to my bed. Night night, world :) ~

One last look..

Last glimpses..

Daily routines- never boring, always traumatising.

Sweet effort.

I have no idea why he's grimacing. No bits of mine were astray.

A view from a window. Mine.

Thanks for the memories.

Leave taking.

My memories will always be with me, wherever i go.

Having snuck off early on thursday, k picked me up, and we went to collect the flowers and balloons that i had ordered. Coming back to an empty office, i got to work. i wanted calla lillies, but didn't have enough time to wait. I settled on gerbera's, their lively, solid colours matching the stationery i was using.. It was only later i realised that they symbolise love of absent friends. Sigh. And so it began. Letters and gerberas left on keyboards. The gerbera's were not packaged elaborately, with only a single ribbon round their stems.. As i worked, i looked at secret bear, the care bear that sher had left with me for my last night. It's strange so much done can be squeezed into only a few paragraphs, but for now im wrung out, tired and aching in every way to write much, or want to elaborate more. As i wrote in the cards, every now and then i would look out, trying to memorise the view. The sun set which has always hypnotized. At the myna's and occasional crow, their whirling, perfect synchronised flight. Earlier in the day, adel had pressed a package into my hands, petting my hair and shoulders, yet again making it difficult for me. I hate goodbyes. So much to say, so little inclination to write about them now.

Friday loomed early and cheery After a torturous car rally, dinner at steve's house with the beautiful grounds and sonmewhat damp drinks at tango, i was ready for home. My cheeks were numb with all the smiling at the cameras, and i was almost exhausted form the day, but bed just didnt want to beckon. I hit my bed at about 5 that morning, but i didn't mind, because some nights just aren't meant to be spent alone.

It still hasnt ended. Coming home today, i checked my mail to find mail from colleagues that only made me run to get the nearest tissue/toilet roll.

Dammit.

"Don't want to leave, but we both know sometimes it's better to go. Somehow I know we'll meet again, not sure quite where and I don't know just when you're in my heart, so until then, smile, don't want to cry saying goodbye." -The Muppets

Dawning.

Listening to: office pitter patter and paper shuffles

Stabbed my subjects arm. Waited for him to stop bleeding from the pricks. Wicked at it while he looked on in fascination. I looked at him and smiled while letting him examine the blood sodden filter. He gave me a toothy grin, he of the nice voice and veiny arms, and remarked that i had to encourage his arm.

Inflictor of pain : "What?"
Inflictee: "You've got to encourage him, ask him to stop bleeding.."
I.o.P:" Him? Don't you mean..it?"
While concentrating on his arm, i hear this through my haze of concentration.
Inflictee: " Yar. The prick. You've got to encourage him"

I miss the times when i was young enough to enjoy conversation without an uncrossable long kang (read: gutter) in my brain.

After i leave, the office will also be slightly more goof proof, not just a small mercy when in an environment with a great deal of sharps and biohazards. It's no secret that i belong to a special group of the handicapped, known as the terminally klutzy. I havn't fallen flat on my face for quite some time now, so the universe must be saving the moment for a more embarrassing one when it can savour it. It deviousness can be observed when you see how it has gifted me with intermittent gracefullness, all the better for marked contrast.

Lookee this - the colour of pain.
See the girl in the left? Yeah. That, my friend, is something i can probably relate to very intimately, given enough time.

Besides finding like minded people who share my penchant for the awkwardly painful, i've also plumbed the depths of employee uselessness. Having days when one simply can't do anything work related, it was to my sweet, sweet delight that i discovered i had colleagues who were capable of being just as innane, or worse. No images will be displayed to protect the names of the guilty. The fact that i looked halloween ready in them, is of course, of no consequence. But honestly.. we could have done this and i bet no one would have batted an eye. I could also bet that they would join in. Well..Some of them anyway.

Of course all wasn't fun and play. Long long hours when deadlines were near, much eye rollin and furi0us frantic whispering in the halls of the facility were more than common.. but i guess every ending is always bitter sweet..

Sigh.

heavyheartedness

listening to: every day you've been away
Bebel gilberto

I saw a disturbance making its way through the throngs. Patiently, knowing it must make its way past me, i stilled my companion and schooled myself to alertness. Holding my yet unpaid item to my chest, i first saw a little old lady, hair all mussed up, with an apologetic smile limping her way to the queue behind me.

First came the mutters of a man, then the man himself. Shorter than i am, with the meaningless smile of the intellectually disabled, he was scratching all over with insatiable fingers. Intelligible mutters and little twitches, that emaciatedness of frame.. Suddenly a great heavyness overcame me. This old lady, way past the age when she should be caring for a child, lines of her sacrifices etched so deeply all over.. why should she be apologetic about bringing her son, now a little past middle aged, into the public? I felt a great urge to shake the auntie in front of me, she with the horrible sneer and look of disgust as she looked at the pair. What gave her the right to think she was better than the old lady who probably had to look at the most basic needs of her child?

All around people were staring, staring. Didn't they realise that the man was a person and not an oddity to be gaped at? Don't parents teach their children manners these days? I am not asking for no looks at all, but for gods sake, not stares that make a man and his mother a freakshow.

Most of all, what pains is me is that the old lady had to not only get used to unkind stares, but also feel that she had to feel bad in any way at all. That apologetic smile, that dipped head, that gnarled figure..

I think on this, and yes, im greatful for everything that has been gifted me, no matter how small a blessing it is. My burdens are considered a "norm", my appearance nothing to be freaked out about. Relatively anyway.

If there was one thing i could ask of the people who read this, it is to emphatise with those who are less earthly fortunate. So maybe the person is a con artist. Will a dollar or 5 hurt you? Will it mean as much to you as to the lady selling those overpriced tissues? Will a smile at a person who is obviously poorer kill you?

It means nothing to feel a little more human once in a while.

Intrepidity

Listening to: Feels just like it should
Jamiroquai


I'm not elated at the news. The second interview with the opthalmologist is on monday, provided i can make it.

Last wednesday, i stepped onto the 4th level of the centre. Everyone was coiffed and heeled. Glancing through the forms i had to fill out, i grimaced when i realised that i would have to fill up the equivalent of my entire bloody resume. ~Fuck me~ Let them try reading my handwriting. That'll have them reverting to my c.v.

I've never dreaded interviews. Nervousness is a problem that disintegrates when i've started talking.

I greeted my iinterviewer by name, having had the receptionist think i was genuinely interested in her day.She had leaked the number of applicants so far, the name of my interviewer, and how long they had been looking. Karen, the HR manager, was youngish, snappy and suffered no fools. Her questions came fast and i could feel her weighing every reply. At the end of the interview- she told me that i might not have the job satisfaction i craved since the interaction with the patients were far and few inbetween. The blunt woman also mentioned that she had already seen someone that day whom she had her eye on.

I feel like.. i've been tossed a candy bar as a consolation prize.

A year ago i would have inclined my head and left it as that. This time after a bit, Karen gave me a wry grin. The second interview was mine.

I laugh as i remember what i told her. She must think me an impertinent chit. I had zero temper when i first started in the hospitals. I had more tolerance when i first started at the facility. I wonder what kind of person i'll be at 30?

Dichotomy

It's striking me more and more. The duplicity of the human nature.

From reinforcement as a child, and observations when an adolescent, your behaviour is moulded; as mine is. Realizing that race can sometimes be a double edged sword, the face of the byproduct that is myself is demure, polite and apparently respectful ( to a certain degree ) . Hardly the wild child an eurasian girl might be stereotyped to be. Older now, i'm less conscious of what people think, and what the herd thinks of me is anyone's guess.

People are fooled by fascades of civility and charm all the time, and i am no exception. Often it seems to me that the people most harmless are the ones who might, at first glance, seem terribly abrasive and tactless. When these speak- people roll their eyes, give knowing smiles and seem to take it all in their stride. After all, we already know what they're like.

But what about the ones who always appear level headed and unprejudiced? Those who flinch at brash displays, moderate their own behaviour and temper their speech to genial civility? They seem to be as moral as they come but.. when things happen, we're shocked and dismayed at the displays sometimes put up for no one's benefit.

Is undesirable behaviour more shocking in someone 'quieter' because of the inevitable comparison that follows? We shake our heads, thinking they were the last people we'd think who indulge in such activity. Or do people who are generally outwardly rude/disgusting have more opportunity to air their grievances?

What's your tolerence level for being disgusted?
*warning- pics aren't of the eye candy variety*

Faith.

I know it's a cornball thing but love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? I say fall head over heels. Find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart.

Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is.. there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love -- well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try.

Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived.

Then again, i'll write when i've actually fallen :) That's would be a first.

Profanation.

Its been some time since i wrote on my dreams.

They lacked the vividness they used to infuse into my night; those nocturnal escapades into the depths of my anesthetized consciousness.

Over the weekend i had lucid dreams, recurringly of snakes. I've never been afraid of them, and it gave me a thrill to handle them when opportunity gifted me, watching the nervousness of the others around me while simultaneously looking at the beauty of the reptilian form. Smooth coils of muscle, latent power on call, all hooded eyes and small flickers. Besides, more often than not, they look half dead draped on mine , or on the arms of others. The small ones in my dream were all tiny, well camouflaged on the ground. Tracing patterns that seemingly none except myself could see, i found the head only to have them rear up and sink their fangs into the smooth flesh of my open palms. It was the same all through out; I'd scout, consciously aware that well concealed as they all were, i'd find them for sure.

Most maintain that the key to oneirology lies in symbology. Some are of the view that the interpretation lies in your own belief of what the symbol denotes to you. Others insist that a key set of meanings mean the same to all. Strangely, on animals, both concur. If a snake is to mark you, a betrayal is about to happen. I laughed, and shook my head. I'd store it up to scare people who offered up their deliverings of their unconscious to me. Whether it be a self-fulfilling prophecy or not, the supposed meaning of the dream did come true for me on monday.

Slither away. Your angel wings don't seem to be working so well anymore.

Promises all laid out, repeatedly asked till i gave in. Cave in i did finally, but again i'm reminded that words are fallible. Men have always been frail. Emotions are infirm.

Listening to: Silent all these years
tori amos


You cannot see the walls that divide your hand
From his or hers or mine when you think you touch it.
You cannot see the walls because they are glass,
And glass is nothing until you try to pass it.
Beat on it if you like, but not too hard,
For glass will break you even while you break it.
Shout, and the sound will be broken and driven backwards,
For glass, though clear as water, is deaf as granite.
This fraudulent inhibition is cunning:
wise men content themselves
with breathing patterns on it.

Of men and hair.

Bumped into my old hairdresser, and felt like i was meeting an ex boyfriend. Not that i treat them badly of course, being the nice person that i am. Right. Moving on.

This one was an exception. The last time he was doing my hair, he had found out that i had broken up with then current squeeze. Later he got a little too enthusiastic while he was cutting my fringe, and not knowing what to do, i ended up folding my arms across my chest under that protective sheet and feeling jittery. I wasn't sure if it was my imagination, but it was enough for me to swear never to go back to him.

Back to the awkward meeting. When i saw him, i felt..terrible. He smiled, and our eyes met. I couldn't just walk away, so i walked slowly to him, smiling weakly. He eyeballed my hair, and oh god.. He noticed everything that i had done to it! Perm? Check. New fringe? Check. Sideswept straggly ends that make me look just a teeny bit younger? Check. My toes curled inwards as he noted each little detail, and for some reason i felt..unfaithful. Treacherous.

I spurned my hairdresser, and im still feeling guilty.

Of moving on.

Listening to: Autograph
tears

On friday i made a decision, and now i have slightly more than a month left at nus.
How apt that my last post was one of transition. Has it been almost a year already?

A lightness of step, a release of tension from my shoulders and laughter that went on through the day. Tears as well, knowing that i'll be leaving new found people i've come to enjoy being with. God. Hopefully i don't cry when i leave.

Of settling

Listening to: Bad day
Daniel powter

Gave a impromtu mini tour to angel, and my workarea was an attraction on the way to dinner.

His expression was one of shock- He couldn't believe i had been at the same place for so long without leaving any sign of "me" on my desk. No pictures, no cutesy girly identifiers ( i'm not that kind of girl), no mess.. in short- Nothing. Of course i had the usual trays and assorted papers in a stack, but i had left no mark; if not for my handwriting on an article lying around, he would never guessed it was mine.

"No personality", i retorted.

When i first moved into my little area by the window, i had a gazillion things i wanted to do to pretty up the area. They never came to fruition. I was musing a little, and it's true that it takes a long time for me to want to personalize anything. Of course i love an area that i can call mine, and my privacy is tantamount to sacred , but I always feel like i'm passing by, that soon the urge to move will strike and less belongings will make it easier to relocate. Also, the more things you display, the more people will be able to analyse you. What? Call me anal, but it's true.

The same goes for everything else. I know once i start to feel at home, soon everything will be one big mess, and the cleaning up will be shite.

Sometimes it's easier to compartmentalise. I'm just a lazy emotional vagabond :)

Pringles when you need a salt boost

The anticipation of the trip ahead when the plane takes off

Being able to sit in a car in p.j's and being bought whatever i need. Just sit and jaga the music dial, princess.

Listening to palm leaves rustling on a cool night along the shores.

Being hugged when you least expect it.

Making a baby smile

simply sleeping with that someone you trust and know

Of moments simple

these are the ones i like best

Of stolen laughter

My mind is in the gutter. What would you think if you heard these?

*1*
Rushing along the corridoor one morning, i spotted J with a cabinet which had been overturned. I called out to him with greeting and asked him what he was doing. Brandishing a screwdriver, he innocently replied," I'm screwing! Very tiring. "

*2*
Overheard from the corridoor while with a subject. Our lab tech was talking loudly to one of the nurses in the room while i was with a subject. She was supposed to take someone's blood.
" Aye, Mr I is waiting in the room waiting for you to suck him!"
Crude, but sometimes when you're stressed, small things set you off.

*3*
A reply to me while offering someone a male friend a seat. This time i had my mind dumped back in the gutter. Not my fault.
"No thanks, i think best standing up"
I must have had a pretty spaced out look on my face because he added the next line worriedly.
"Erm, no pun intended ok?"

Of heroes and shrews

Listening to: Mariah Carey
We belong together

Last week spawned a whole new chapter in humiliation, workwise.

The investigator for my two studies is a physician who is reknowned for his curtness, directness and impatience. If you have have something to say to him, you damned well better get your rationale and facts right, BEFORE you go to him with issues. Mincing around with words simply isn't his style. Let's call him baby blues, because he has one of the most penetrating looks i have seen. I've never been afraid of him, and i've even felt a little affinity with him strangely. I sense a softening in him whenever he talks to me, and he has never snapped at me, or spoken a harsh word. Thank god for small mercies in my unit, i certainly need them. He's always running around, finding him in the office is like a treasure hunt. I've even resorted to waiting outside the loo on a tip from a patient. He was surprised, yes, but a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

In one of my routine visits to hunt him down for documentation issues, i was asked to bring with me a question pertaining to one of my subjects. To cut a long story short, he said he would get back to me on the issue. He also asked whose question it was and i told him that it was a collective decision formed by the team after discussion. When asked what i thought of the question, i shrugged and said that as this was my first study, if i received advice which was better than my own decisions i would consider them. To my flushingly great chargrin, my team leader came to me in the afternoon. B.blues had stalked to her desk after my visit to him (deigning to come into our staff office) and demanded to have a talk with her.

Apparently he guessed, correctly, that my earlier question to him had come from her. Frustrated because he thought he had been through the same issues with her, he had come to 'straighten out a few issues'. He told her off, telling her that as protocol leader i should be given more leeway in my work and not have to be a messenger for her.

To his credit, he's observant and nothing if not sharp. Managment style is overbearing, to say the least. But going behind my back and telling her this? Even if i needed a knight, i'd not find one in my work place. Torn between anger and remembering he was trying to be nice, i decided not to say anything to him just yet.

That's not the worst bit. Abovementioned team leader (TL) sent off a scathing mail to him, cc'ing it to his manager and my big boss. In it she stated that he was unreasonable to his staff among other things. My name was in it.

What the hell is wrong with these people? Are they not capable of settling grudges and talking to each other in a civil and mature manner? For fuck's sake.

i'm so bloody mortified. For the rest of the week i couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. He probably thinks im an ungrateful bitch. Spoke to him today, i felt like he wanted to ask me what the mail was about, but sher was around, and he settled for a work conversation instead. I looked into his eyes, and there was nothing there except a tiredness and tightness around his eyes.

Screw managment. Screw emotional women bosses and screw men who think they have to have heroes!

Of floozies.

I had a hunch this would happen. Went to work at 7.30am only to find i have the day off. So that's from the east to Buona Vista, and from the bloody hospital to the east again. I'd map it out but Picassa/Hello does't seem to want to play with me today.

Get with it, faith, get with the damn program already.

On the other hand a little fun when the rest are working wouldn't be remiss :)

Of surprises.

Listening to: Carnaval
lisa ono

I love, love surprises. Me and the rest of the population of women. We're female like that. Occasionally though, i get a surprise that makes my toes curl, and the rest of me want to hurl.

I noticed a rather traumatised envelope on the dining room table the other day. After eyeballing it, i decide to pick it up, and give it a more thorough visual molest. Turning the envelope over to the front after staring at tattered backing, i noted the american stamps, and after a long silent moment, my name. That wasn't the most interesting bit though. The year the postal services had stamped on the letter? 1997.

I felt terrible. The letter had come, albeit a little late, but it had. And i had doubted. The letter was written in touching earnestness, asking me to do adolescentish things. Write back. Think of him. Wait for him. Did i want the pictures? Do i have a boy friend? I placed a hand on my churning tum and closed my eyes to picture the gangly writer. Earnest.

Damn. This is a bit much. And what happened to delay it's arrival so? Still. Courtesy demands a reply. Perhaps when im 32 i'll get a reply.

i miss earnestness.

Of love of simplicity

Listening to: World
new order

While deciding whether to skewer fish or rip shrimp, i turned to look at what fi had pointed out. What i saw made me smile, and was alot more notice worthy than the saddam look alike i had leered (not the right word, but we'll move on) at a table behind. To my left was a table with 3 rather young children, one still in a high chair. In between telling the oldest to shuddup, and the others to eat up, the parents were talking to each other in a language all their own. Under the table, where no one should have noticed, a little mutual.. footsie was taking place.

I smiled. Hope for all the jaded lovers after all.

Of depths.

Listening to: the special two
missy higgins

I'm singing in the rain,
Just singing in the rain,
What a glorious feeling I know.

Glorious rain, the sweetness of the sound of cascading drops, pelting down hard on my windows. I'm always happy when it pours. Even an overcast sky turns a weekday a holiday. I've always had a fascination with water; large expanses of seas, small reflections on puddles. It's always good. I never wear mascara anyway, and i'm not averse to running through the rain. I never did maintain a glamorous image anyway.

One of my first memories.. I must have been 3 or 4. I learnt how to swim before i hit kindergarten. The father had left me on the steps of the adult pool to get a little something something. Being the fool girl that i was and still am, i decided to take a little unassisted walk into the cool blue of the pool. A baby step at a time, i walked. Slowly because of my stubby legs (some things never change), calmly because i was too young to panic even when my nose was below the water; I continued to the pool floor, and i remember.. I remember.. looking around at everyone's legs, eyes wide. I felt no distress at all. In my naviete, i breathed in. I wasn't in the slightest discomfort. There was a feeling of immense calm, the muffled gurgles of distorted sounds you get when your ears are in the water, a warm feeling of being cloaked in.. comfort. The next thing i remember was being hauled up by my arm painfully, and staring at my dad in confusion, wondering why he was so flustered. I'm pretty sure it didn't last for more than a minute, but it felt like a private eternity of deja vu.

Another memory. In a living room. No parents, siblings in church, hormones in a tizzy(some things never change), whispers amid my manic giggles.. Our warped conversation, of my dares and your promises.. Into the garden we walked barefooted and with my hand in yours, a slight drizzle adding to my goose pimples. To the pool we ran, looking out for the neighbours over their high wall. Once again i was carried down the steps, as in my toddlerhood. I swear i never felt cold even as the sodden cloth of my clothes left me, all wrapped up in the shine of your eyes as i was. I was drawing a parallel even as you moved nearer to me. This time i wasn't just submerged in the deep waters of a pool, but so much more.

To draw parallels in life from even the most basic and mundane happenstance. Whether 23 or 6 years ago, they strike at the most awkward and incongruous of times. Someone mentioned he was a karang guni of belongings. I guess that would make me an equally avid collector, but of memories.

How long will this written memory last online? Will someone stumble upon it when i've all but forgotten this blog? Will whatever inadequate read i've provided here spark off someone else's memories? An unwritten, unquantified meme.

Carl jung maintained that all consciousness and symbology is a collective one. Is it possible that we all feed off the exact same stream of emotions, the same niagara's of bliss, the same pale dredges from the deep?

When i think about this, i don't feel quite so much like a legal alien anymore.

Of expectations, great.. and small.

Listening to: Sympathethique
Costes la suite

Had to pop into office today for another subject, and had a little talk with him while we were waiting for his bloods to fill the little vacuum tubes that were nicely arrayed on my tray.
There, in the semi-sterile environment, with dimmed lights and steady hum of the machinery for backdrop, we talked of his wives, girlfriends and his present post of a big honcho for an automobile bigwig company.

"It's all about managing your expectations and priorities. Never settle, never assume".

His words, although simple, have been with me since this afternoon. I've maintained that as my own private motto for a large bit of my life. A simple thing to remember, but never easy to stomach. I've practiced it to such an extent, that it's now first nature for me to compartmentalise. We discuss, i take. A transaction, nothing more, nothing less. I'll only take something, anything, if it's been shaken into me; in the rare instances that i've given in, and asked.. when it was withheld from me i felt doubly ashamed. And now- i never make the same mistake. Flayed with the embarrassment of seeming weak, who ever said that negative reinforcement didn't make one learn was asexual as well as a frigid academic.

So now, sans expectations on others, and too many on myself, i stumble along. Raising my eyes to look at that passer by might be my undoing, and so i lower them again to concentrate on the road most travelled.

Don't expect. Don't assume.

Never want.

Of unease.

Listening to: Walking with a ghost
tegan and sara

I can't put my finger on it.

Made arrangements for the scope today. I think.. company is not needed. It's not that important and fussing over small things annoy the hell out of me. Sorry, make that irritate the Fuck out of me. Snapped at the mother for reminding me to make the appts. If she knew i had to do the scope, she'd flip, and i don't feel like discussing this with her.

What worries me the most- My lethargy. It worries me because unlike anything else, this is tangible, and can be felt, can be observed. Im so tired by the end of a work day. My head spins after a fast walk. I realise that no matter how much i sleep during the day, i can still rest at night. Easily.

So terribly tired. Tired of hearing of all the things people go through. Tired of hearing them talk of their own personal hell. What kind of place is this, that has mostly broken people walking around?

Of criminalistic behaviour.

Listening to: Before i forget
slipknot

I'm worried what's going to slip my mind next.

Went for thosai at this little place opposite the bukit timah reserve. A little stretch of coffeshops, all mostly occupied. We sat down, i took forever to choose. We ordered, we waited, and we talked. Wonderfully balmy night, with conversation and night breezes. Laughing because a guy at the table introduced himself as V.J, only it sounded more like B.j.

The threads of conversation continued, we got up, walked, and plonked down again somewhere else to fan them to greater heights. It was only when i was back home, in the middle of my bath, thinking of the evening, that something hit me on my soapy head. I didn't pay. Oh god. We didn't pay for dinner.

Oops.

As tinky winky would say.. Again!

Your Dominant Thinking Style:

Modifying Super logical and rational, you consider every fact available to you. You don't make rash decisions and are rarely moved by emotion. You prefer what's known and proven - to the new and untested. You tend to ground those around you and add stability.

Your Secondary Thinking Style:

Visioning You are very insightful and tend to make decisions based on your insights. You focus on how things should be - even if you haven't worked out the details. An idealist, thinking of the future helps you guide your path. You tend to give others long-term direction and momentum.

What's Your Thinking Style?

Of incapacitation.

Seeing as i'm pretty much useless for anything today, i've taken to equally useless online tests :)

Onward!

Your Amazing Yoda Sex Line

"Feel the force!"

The Amazing Yoda Sex Line Generator

Where would we all be without light sabers, hmm?

Of pains in the neck.

Damn.

My neck is still killing me. I can't look down or turn my head in the slightest, and anything that involves using my shoulder muscles makes me that much more nauseous. I can't even have a lie down because every position except ramrod straight involves pain.

I need a massage. A good one. A professional one. I need large hands. The nice girls who normally tend the spa have bitty hands, and the pressure isn't distributed enough for me because they compensate for small palms with strength. I need.. a gay masseur.

Preferbly if they have nice arms and are shirtless. Therapy indeed.

Rowwwl.

..Much later..

I was reading the newspapers, when i realised that my nose had been itching for some time. After much tracing, i decided to blame the papers . Not such a difficult thing since i noticed my fingers were grubby with newspaper ink. Trudging to the bathroom, i discovered i couldn't quite lift my arms enough, or bend my head down adequately to the sink to wash my whole face. What to do.. Just wash the nose lor.

Sigh.

Of dirty fingers and much licking of lips.

There are a few things that evoke a real and passionate response in the usually apathethic me. They are, in an order of randomness, these:

• Issues pertaining to those who are unable to take a stand for themselves.
• Various hedonistic pursuits of which i shall not go into at this point
• Beauty and luxury of any kind

and

• The sweet, sweet lure of.. cho-co-late. *shudders*

There are few foods that people feel as passionate about -- a passion that goes beyond a love for the "sweetness" of most candies or desserts. It's more than an after dinner mint, more than a coating that melts in my mouth, and in my hands. After all, what other little smidgen or nugget could get me needy in 5 seconds flat from the word "want"? It's a prelude to more, to satiety of senses, to getting my fingers slick, and to low mumurings of pleasure. I've had it as a bribe, a reward, and a form of pleasure in its every form ;p

I love getting chocolate from boutiques. Nothing compares to getting your little mouthfuls of shudders in something shiny. Whether the box, or the ribbons that i love to untie, whether gold, or silver, it's all good. Terribly good really. As any chocoholic worth his cocoa will tell you, after abstinence it's orgasmic even.

That's all well and good. But why does chocolate make me feel so terribly good? More than just a sugar high surely. One of the most pleasant effects of eating chocolate is the "good feeling" that many people experience after indulging. Chocolate contains more than 300 known chemicals.

Caffeine is the most well known of these chemical ingredients, and while it's present in chocolate, it can only be found in small quantities. Theobromine, a weak stimulant, is also present, in slightly higher amounts. The combination of these two chemicals (and possibly others) may provide the "lift" that chocolate eaters experience.

Phenylethylamine is also found in chocolate. It's related to amphetamines, which are strong stimulants. All of these stimulants increase the activity of neurotransmitters (brain chemicals) in parts of the brain that control our ability to pay attention and stay alert.

There are other chemicals, and more effects, but the above are the only ones which have truly been proven. And now the time has come to end this post so i can go raid my stash of anti-depressants cum aphrosadiacs.. MmmMMm.

I live to learn.

Listening to: Giving you up
kylie minogue

The importance of having a good grasp of the english language, and having never to stop learning? Imperative. I learnt a new word the day before.

Fucktard.

The first half of the word- fuck.
Pronunciation: 'f&k
Function: verb
Etymology: akin to Dutch fokken to breed (cattle),
Swedish dialect fokka to copulate

The second half stems from the word retard.
Pronunciation: ri-'tärd
Function: verb
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French or Latin;
Middle French retarder,
from Latin retardare,
from re- + tardus slow

Ahh..The beauty of a rounded education.

Of restlessness and heat

So BLOODY warm these few days.

I scurry from teh car to office, from office to the car, into whatever air conditioning i can get. I refused to meet a friend in the afternoon because i was busy hiding behind my curtained windows which, not incidentally, were cool from an internal room temperature of 25 degrees.

Was so disappinted last night there was no welwet. Of course there will be other times, of course you don't have to go with them you say.. I don't. But to me ,the shared companionship of colleagues was something i wanted, particularly after the past few weeks of being so drained. There's nothing quite like misery shared. Shall request for blueskies to remove my link. Methinks my writing will be getting more personal in the days to come.

Was feeling a little moody today, headed to the reef for some sea breeze, drinks and fresh air khaki'ship. We were talking about seriously re-locating. Her reasons? A better life away from the race, better prospects. In between stabbing at the fat, oily.. weiners on my plate, i explained i didn't, and have never particularly liked it here. "What makes you think you'll like it better any where else?" she asked. I don't know. All the times i've travelled, i've always felt a lightness of step, and not simply because i love room service.