We Love to be Loved

The world told me a big fat lie. The world told me that love is both ways... love is mutual.

Like I said, the world lied.

Love is a one-way street. Just like gift-giving, love in its most genuine form is about giving... giving unconditionally... giving without expecting anything in return… giving with no expectations. Kinda the same as the kind most mothers give to their child.

Love is when your heart is so big, you want to share the care and happiness with someone else.

Love is when you are so content with your life, you can shower the excess gratitude on someone else.

The problem with a lot of people these days is their love is given with expectations. I love you (therefore I expect you to love me back); or I love you therefore you must do this…

As Mark so wisely put it, to love and expect to be loved back, that is not love, that is barter.

This was the kind of love I had for Daniel, which I why I can forgive him so easily. Because other than money, he really didn’t owe me much. The love I gave him, I never expected him to love me back. I simply enjoy loving him.

I did. To love someone genuinely (free of any tinge of barter intentions) is a very enjoyable act. Really.

I say , “It’s better to love, than to be loved”, and not the other way round.

Our Obsession with Definitions

In school, we spent half our time learning the definition of terms and jargons. We must have transferred this adopted addiction into life. I don’t understand why we are so obsessed to seek clear definitions and boundaries about the state of things.

S and I have been seeing each other for the last 4 months. Sex is great. Talk is even greater. He is so brilliant and witty, so much fun to be with. He almost is always available when I need him, and he certainly wants to spend time with me too. In other words, a truly great companion.

Everyone, from girlfriends to good friends to mom to bro, has been pestering me about the status of our relationship and the direction of it (i.e. is he just a fuck friend, casual friend, long-term boyfriend, steady boyfriend? …or whatever else you could call them these days)

They just don’t get it when I tell them I have no definition nor direction. And I don’ seek it. I am truly enjoying what I have with him now. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. We may still be intrigue with each other; we may still enjoy each other’s company; he may get bored of me; I may find someone else… I don’t know.

Why can’t we live day by day, enjoying the present. Come what may, do what you heart feels and mind thinks? Spontaneity is so precious and pure, it invokes only the truest of reactions and feelings.

Why must we have a clear path of everything? When we know that despite all definitions, hopes and plans, non of them provide any real sense of certainty, not even marriage. Those are all fakes sense of security, a commercial romance that we buy into.

I don’t want to put him in any box. I don’t care if there is a future or not. I don’t know how to define him except that he is a wonderful being and I enjoy his company. Whatever that may happen tomorrow, all I know is I will always own those wonderful moments and cherished memories of truly happy times. And that’s all that matters.

Pheremones Working Overtime

I was at the bookstore last Sunday, quietly scanning through the shelves in a corner, minding my own business.

Suddenly, this young man (like boy in his 20s-young) came up to me and asked if I was Jane. I said no, I was no Jane. God, what a cliché. He then sweetly chat me up, asked for my number and asked if we could have dinner. I gave him my number and welcomed the invitation.

Wow, it was a swell! Not because the guy was a hunk. Even, you could tell he was quite inexperienced. But hey, it's not everyday you get pick up by some sweet young thing. Such occurences are rare moments, but sure swells you up from the inside. Makes you feel beautiful, confident and damn bloody good.

I guess being picked up in a bookstore is very different from being picked up in a bar. In a bar, you are oozing sex. You go dressed the part, dance the part and drink the part. But in a bookstore, in my most dressed down weekend outfit, straight out of the gym. It was absolute flattery. Now I know how Demi Moore feels.


Freaky Déjà Vu
But here’s the freaky part. As I was recounting the incident with pride to my girlfriends, I started describing how this young gentlemen looked like. To my horror, I realized he was a Daniel déjàvu. Same height, same colour, same facial texture, stays in the same area and going to move to Shanghai to work. Oh dear Lord, please stop playing games on me.

Age Discrimination

I had a discussion with a 40-something man about my 30-something girlfriend’s fear of turning 40. I was appalled to find that he consciously discriminates against women in their 40s. No wonder my dear friend is fearful of turning 40.

I grilled my poor 40-something man with guilt. But then again, don’t we all practice age discrimination?

I guess is more ways than we are aware of, we do. I know I have been filtering out young boys from my email correspondence. I don’t think any young “ciku” could possibly have the maturity to stimulate me intellectually.

And also men over 50. As much as I pep talk myself to overcome the prejudices and stereotypes, one cannot deny that men over 50 do have physical limitations when it comes to matters in the bedroom.

Gee, this is bad. I am bad.

Growing Old

It's interesting how age changes one's outlook and character, or more like the fear of aging. From carefree caring soul, the fear of aging can turn one into a selfish, self-centered, cynical soul. The fear eats into the confidence that you have worked so hard to build in the last decade.

A very good friend just told me last week that she "refuses" to be 40. She's turning 37 next year. And I least expected such remarks from her. She was someone who appreciated the meaning of life, the smaller flaws of life... she used to be that. I told her "dearie, I don't think you can refuse to be 40; you will be, like it or not".

It's not just her, I have seen it in other friends too. Age is always an excuse for their inactivity, for their lack of energy, initiave, creativity, money,etc. I say it's all a state of mind. I'm 32 and don't give a shit about it. I don't feel 32, I don't feel of any age. I just like myself for what I have become - a culmination of what I have learned and what I have come to yearn.

Age is after all just a number. Some smart ass just decided thousands of years ago decided to chop up time into blocks of seconds, minutes, hours, months and years and now we are stuck in depression because of him. If he had not, we would just be enjoying our lives without a number and wouldn't know better.

Embrace life. Everyday lived is another day of joy.

If you have to think of your days in terms of growing old, then please, grow old gracefully. Don't grow old reluctantly.

Fear of Dying

I just sat through an excruciating hour of preaching at a wake. The pastor went on and on about how Christians will go to heaven and others will go to hell when they die. And when a Christian die, we should rejoice for they are making their journey back to God's sides where life is more at peace.

It's not just the Christians. In general, everyone is afraid to die. In general, people try to avoid death. Some alter their physical state - they take herbs & hormones, eat exotic animals, practise special exercises (including sex). Some manage their astral state by immortalizing themselves. They work to become matyrs, believe we have an after life, having kids, building memorials, trust funds and wills.

The sad fact is the day we were born, we were destined to die. We grow, degenerate and rot away. That's it. No two ways about it.

Where would you want to be in 10 years time?

We have a habit of asking ourselves this, don't we? And we either have a moving answer or don't have an answer at all. Worse is we have those run-of-the-mill answers - have a loving hubby, nice house, good job, blah, blah blah...

Well this is my answer: NOWHERE ELSE!

I am perfectly happy with my life right now, with what I have and what I don't.

Don't live a life on future gratification. Don't live a life of "-oulds" (i.e. woulds, shoulds, coulds). Don't postpone your happiness.

Shit, I still miss him

I wish I could erase part of my brain. Absolutely outraged with my incapability to flush that stupid Daniel Koh out of my system after 3 months.

How it all started was while enroute from Changi to the Singapore office last week, the cab drove right past his home. And I started thinking about him again. Damn cab....

A few days ago, cleaning up my emails, I read all the mails that transpired throughout our final dispute.

Then on Sunday, out of nowhere, the radio started playing the song "Daniel".

I guess to say that I miss him may not be entirely right. I have no desire to see him or touch him. But I think about him. I hope he is well. I hope the world treats him well. Yes, he still matters to me, in some minute little way.

I almost started bashing myself up for this. But hang on, caring about someone else should not make me a bad person. It's only human... and I am a human, and a woman.(Ha!)

A Day of Many 'Coulds'

Today is my 31st birthday.

I took the day off. Not sure what I am going to do with my free day yet.

I could ponder about the milestones in my life. I could question the purpose of my life. I could go pamper myself with a massage and crazy shopping.

But alas, I think I am just going to hibernate - read and fall asleep - the purest form of luxury.

Tattoo & Kegels

I've done it! I've paid big bucks to have myself scarred for life. I now have a beautiful butterfly permanently etched to the back of my shoulder. It's gorgeous & I love it!

Now that I have "been there & done that", let me share some learnings with you:

Firstly, it's is a painful process. So many people (mostly men) have told me not to worry about the pain. Their resoning - women have a higher tolerance to pain than men. Well, I tell you now, those are maschochistic lies they use to cover up for themselves. Hell, it was painful.

Actually, I don't know which part was more painful, my shoulder or my fingers. I was gripping the chair so hard, every muscle in my te fingers was in pain. And not forgetting my jaw; 2 hours after the ordeal, my jaw was still stiff from the extreme gritting. I am sure my dentist would not approve.

Solid-colour designs are more painful. Yes, the outlining process is the most painful part of the process. The more define the line, the more painful it is. So, go fot colours. Besides, it ain't gonna cost you anymore. Cost of tattoo are measured with cigarette boxes, not colours; i.e. even a mole would cost the same as a butterfly.

Practice your Kegels, it makes the process less painful. Absurd but true. The logic is simple, the more you concentrate on the needle that ripping into your skin, the more you are aware of the pain. Put your mind on something else, and the throbiing pain becomes slightly secondary. Hey, talk about killing two birds with one stone. For the guys, I don't know - try masturbation, that is if your artist don't mind the sight and mess.

Stange beds and strangers in bed

I don't like hotel beds. Their thickness, hardness, softness, textures, sizes and smells are all different from my own bed. That is probably the only thing I hate about travelling. I don't sleep well most times.

And that's why I don't do well sleeping over at other people's homes. With or without sex as a prelude.

But even in my own bed, I don't do well. All those romantic ideas about waking up fresh and happy with someone snuggled up next to you just don't seem to work for me. I usually wake up groggy and fatique. Sometimes, I don't wake at all coz I didn't sleep to start with.

I guess I have just been sleeping alone for too long. My mind is very conscious about the person next to me. I am afraid to turn, afraid to toss. And of course, it doesn't help when they are noisy. M snores, D was a loud snorer, P was the loudest.

Gee, I think I need to drug myself the next time I sleep with another man.

It's me, Clifford! 

I love Malaysia

Just came back from a 3-day back-breaking trip to Singapore. As I sit here this Sunday enjoying my morning Milo, I gladly announce that "It's so good to be home!".

I hate going to Singapore. Many things on that tiny little island irk me, from the people to their culture to the government... the list goes on. I guess part of it is my perception. Every trip to Singapore have always been of marathon schedules, deprived slumber, and a pain to the feet. Yes, my opinion is tainted with personal preference and experience. But I think there are many admirable aspects of Singapore too, from their people to their culture to their government.

Coincidentally, the latest hot topic in the blogsphere has been a fuedal comparison between both countries. It started with this young Singaporean who posted silly rantings about Malaysia. Malaysian bloggers started flaming her, and now other Malaysia bloggers are flaming Malaysian bloggers about not being open-minded to criticisms. Admittedly, I am one of those who came to Malaysia's defence.

No country in this world is perfect. But I think one should not judge another country's culture based on one's own experience. Personal opinion and public judgments are very different. We cannot expect everyone in this world to live by our standards (that would make us bloddy arrogant Replublicans, haha)

Malaysia, as imperfect as it is, is the place I chose to call home, not because I have no other option, but I love this country for all that it is and all that it isn't and all that it almost is (lending from Jerry Mcguire).

To all those people not living in Malaysia and thinks that it is imperfect, you are probably right and are entitled to your opinions. But please know that they are only your opinions and there are plenty more people living here who loves this country as is. If it bugs you that much, please just stay away.

To all those people who are living in Malaysia and thinks that it is imperfect, and who made comments about how Malaysia is, I hope instead of just comparing and complaining, you are doing something to make it the Malaysia you want it to be. If you are not doing anything, then you have no right to complain. Call again when you have done something.

Blood Loss

There has been much ranting among women about PMS and mood swings. I am lucky I am still pleasant and sweet during such times.

But I have low blood pressure, so every month when I have to raise the Japanese flag, I feel like I could almost faint.

Today is one of those days. I have literally been in a horizontal position all day.

This leads me to wonder - what a waste of blood. Here you have the National Blood Bank, rallying hard to get blood to save lives, and on the other hand, every woman on this earth, for a good 40 years of their lives, if losing pints of it.

Common, it's just an ovulation cycle for reproductive function, right. There must be other ways the body could get rid of the unused ovary other than bleeding. Grossly speaking, it could have just popped out like poop.

Whoever created women and man-kind, this is a great oversight.

The Joy of Weddings

I don't understand couples who go to great lengths to put on a show for their weddings. I have seen so many of them - perfect selection of songs, eights changes of gowns for the bride and three for the groom, patronizing speeches and pretentious acts of love. Throw a big party and hope your guests will subsidize the bill. I just don't get it.

I don't care if I get married or not. That is not the purpose of my being. But I vowed that if I ever do, I will never put myself through the agony of a wedding reception. Honeymoon wedding would be just great, and you will get a simple card from me informing you of my latest joy and happiness.

My brother is getting married soon. And he is putting up a fairytale wedding. They have been working on it since last year, souveniours with thei names on it, designer wedding cards, customer-made outfits, photoshoots in exotic islands, song list, the whole works.

And customary to being a dear sister, I have to look nice for him on the night. So I went all the way down to Singapore and bought a Daniel Yam gown. For the record, I hate to buy gowns. It's an utter waste of money; you wear them once or twice, most times they just occupy space in your closet.

But for his sake, I made myself buy a brand new one. And I pick a really versatile gown, with 2 sashes that can be tied and twisted in many ways, in hope that I could use this gown more than once.

Yesterday, my brother made a comment that I shouldn't have bought that gown. Reason - it was white in colour and look quite similar to the bride's gown (mine is a simple RM300 gown; hers is a custom-made beige gown with crystals, and a sash too but less versatile, and cost about RM1K). The comment was initially made by the designer (I think he is just jealous) but what bothered me was the fact that my brother allowed it to affect him and passed the comment back to me (which means that he agrees with the statement).

Gee, what happened to having your loved one share the greatest moment of your life? Does it matter whose dress stands out better? Was the gown more important than me?

It's so easy to get sucked in into this whole glamorous she-bang that people forget the reason we celebrate weddings is actually to share your joy and happiness, not your show.

Crucial Conversations

Over the weekend, I attended a seminar on Crucial Conversations. The training discussed how when in a situation where objective and opnions differ, some people will retreat into "silent" or "voilent" treatment, which will not get us anywhere. But things can be solve with dialogue, if only we can creat a safety zone to encourage this.

The entire 2 days, I kept think about what has happened between NY and me. I couldn't stop feeling that we have an unfunished conversation. Karen asked me what is my objective, I said I don't know. But I felt I have unfinished business.

I believe I know what I want now. Lawsuit aside, I wish he could forgive me. That's what I want.

Size Does Matter

I think I found a partner in crime for DK.

I invited Mr EW over to my place on Friday. It's a mistake I know. I should have met him in a public place first. But when he called, and with his persistency, I thought "what the heck".

As I worked my way down, I was just shocked and disappointed. It was too small - both in length and in circumference. I barely had to open my mouth. I could not even feel him inside me.

And he came so fast. He almost did in my mouth, and I had barely started.

True to the Asian man myth, he would not go down on me, but expected me to. What is a 69 if you don't do me on the other end - it's so stupid. And right after he came, that was it, end of story. I think I was all too glad to get it done and over with too.

I guess the chemical wasn't quite there. He was just too judgemental, to opinionanted, too fatherly. But I gave him points for wanting me so badly, and pity points. And so, I gave in.

I don't mean to sound like an SPG, but guess I should just stick to caucasian men.

I miss him

I had a wonderful day today, but somehow ended on a down note because I was made to talked about DK twice. I think it started in the morning, while I was cleaning, I picked up my old dairy and read the entries about him.

How he ruffled my hair, played with my skirt under the meeting table, came to my BBQ party, peeled crabs for me, fed me durian, bought me flowers... I miss him.

And I feel this stab in my heart, and I feel it bleed, the pain exploding from my heart to my head, welling in my eyes.

Damn! I thought I was done and over with this man. I have been having a wonderful time, have been with people who are far more intriguing, and who treats me like a princess. So what's wrong with me?! Why do I still miss him?

What is wrong with me?!!!! I have no answer...

Maybe it's because he was the first man that I truly loved. The other guys before him, even John, all loved me more than I loved them. Most times, I was a selfish bastard who loved myself more. But I did love DK, and held nothing back. This is what they callled unconditional love right? But why does unconditional love hurt so bad?

A Man for Every Ocassion

SC recently told me that he knows the reason why I don't need to get married ~ because I have a man for every little need of mine.

Kenny used to be my man for companionship; SC was my man for intellectual stimulation; and PF was my man for sex. And it was just that simple - whenever any one of those needs arise, all I had to do was to pick up the phone and call.

I remembered I asked DK, which segment he wanted to belong in. The ambitious little prick egoistically told me that he would be my man for everything. After one year, he failed to even qualify for one of the segments, let alone all. Was never there for me, couldn't fuck well, and certainly wasn't too bright.

I never did believe that you could have all 3 needs satisfied by the same man. I mean, that would make the man a "perfect man", and we know this is such a myth, right?

But recently, I met this guy, and he is changing my mind about this. Is this possible, is there such a thing as the 'perfect' man? Or is this just blinded puppy love?

Women and Machines

I finally bought my dryer on Friday. My life is, alas, complete.

Hang on, there's the rhoomba. Oh well, it's complete in the landry sense at least. Ssee, I have bought my washer for over a year and have refused to use it because I don't have my dryer yet.

I remember when I watched the movie "The Love Story of a Washing Machine", I came out proclaiming how stupid it was. Now I realize how profound that movie was. It reflected the person I have become. I am obsessed with gadgets!

I am emotionally tied to my car; life becomes meaningless without it (that's is the main reason why I hate Singapore and Hong Kong; those poor souls). I love my dishwasher; can't live without my notebook, and yippee, now I have my dryer! And god will forgive me if I say I an in love with my vibrator - hey, it's a machine too. Even my toothie-brush is mechanical.

Hey this is scary. Can I live witout them - probably yes. Can I live happily without then - NO!. It's all relative. If you didn't know there was a heaven, you would have been jutt fine with hell. But I know better now, and I cannot un-know it.

Now, when can I get my rhoomba and rabbit??