Analogy of Men

There are 4 kinds of men:

1. Those who are intelligent and know that they are – they are your ARROGANT MAN.
2. Those who are intelligent and don’t think that they are – they are your DO-OINKKK NERDS.
3. Those who are not so intelligent but think they are – that’s your typical JERK.
4. The 4th kind – I shall be a kind soul and not mention

Brain on Strike

Boo hoo hoo...

Everyone is on holiday and I am still slogging away in the office.

I am really dragging myself through this week. Am in absolutely no mood to think, let alone get work done.

The day after Christmas is called Boxing Day. The week after Christmas should just be called "Filing Week".

If you have had a lot of sex with a man you really like, how do you stop wanting him?

I crave for him all the time. It is no longer just sex and companionship, it has grown beyond, but I don’t know what it is. I constantly remind myself to not expect anything, and I don’t. This thing between us simply won't go anywhere – just stop here.

But expecting and wanting is different. And I really want him.

I think wanting is a auto-reactive impulse of not being wanted. Do you always crave for what you can’t have? Things that are easy attainable, you don’t give a damn. I do, I always torture my ego that way... self-inflicted torture.

It’s a constant pattern that I put myself through. But I can’t seem to get out of it. It’s like I have been programmed that way – to constantly deny myself of joy of contentment, opting to feed my ego - only to end up disappointed, hurt and frustrated most times. I do agree that there is a small sense of achievement and excitement in conquering unattainable man. But does that make it all worthwhile? I don’t know. I have no answer.

The only thing I can say is ... "we women are all Gloria Jeans".

Love is...

Maybe I am foolish. Maybe I am plain naïve.

But I believe in unconditional love. That to love is a joy; and that love is like a gift – given with all your best wishes and happy thoughts for the other, and given with no strings attached i.e. conditions.

Because I am so steadfastly affirmed on this, it becomes the foundation of my next principle – that because love is given in its purest form is simply an act of giving, one should share it with more people. Thus, just as you could love many friends, and you love each of them in their own ways, a man likewise, could love many women. And loving another woman does not mean that he love me any less.

This is a difficult concept to accept I know. SC and I have had countless debate on the issue, but I think I finally won my battle last Wednesday. But if someone as open-minded as SC took months to admit defeat, I could only imagine how many people out there would think that I am nuts.

When you say “I love you” to someone, or when these 3 words are bestowed onto you, remember:

• Love does not equate to ownership.
• Love does not equate to commitment.
• Love does not equate to monogamy.
• Love does not equate to being on call 24/7.
• Love does not equate to gifts.
• Love does not equate to an excellent memory of dates and likes and pet peeves blah blah blah
• Love does not equate to you losing yourself.
• Love does not equate to him losing himself.

• Love simply means you care about the other person.
• Love means you always wish that he is happy, regardless of what he is doing.
• Love means you don’t need to see each know 24/7 or know each other’s schedule, but when you meet, you still care for him and wish him well.
  

I am thankful

It’s Christmas today and I feel so good.

I am no Christian, but I am a huge non-Christian Christmas fan. It’s a wonderful season. Right before the end of the year, a think to recollect the year and say thanks; a time to appreciate friends and loved ones; a time to forgive and to ask for forgiveness.

It has been an exciting year - bad lover, great lover(s); good boss, bad boss; bad business, good business; good friends, but no bad friends. This Christmas, I am so thankful to have good friends around me.

'Tis the Season to be Snappy

Nowadays Christmas makes me feel lonely and bitchy.

Isn't this the season to be thankful and to be forgiving; the season to call up friends and tell them you love them? Yes, I do buy into all these fru-fru nicety stuff. I lived in the midlands of America. Believe me, I am the most Christian non-Christian when it comes to the spirit of Christmas. But the more I wallow in it, the more I agitate myself.

What’s wrong with people these days? Good friends you used to spend Christmas religiously with now prefers a disco party than a nice sit down dinner to catch up events we have missed and to tell each other how much we still care. Common, there are 51 other weekends to kills your liver and kill your lungs right?

I guess I am more disappointed than mad. My friends are important to me. While I don’t need them to be constantly in my life, or me in theirs, they are always part of my life. And Christmas, also being the wrap-up of the year, is they time I’d like to catch up and reaffirm the friendship. It’s the time you spend with the people you love most right? But another night at the pub; another chance to flirt is more important than our years of friendship… and that’s disheartening.

It’s not easy to keep a friendship going strong. I am not talking about the kind where you bump into them at the mall, hug, catch up, then turn around and forget each other (or worse, gossip about each other). I am talking about the kind whom you will call to share happy moments with, the kind you would openly ask for a loan of a firm shoulder to cry on, the kind who you love. If you don’t make it a point to dedicate some time to each other, the foundations of that friendship can fall apart just like that.

Perhaps I am just too much a commercialized, Americanized Christmas lover.

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.