Technology... hate it or love it?

I can still remember the good old days before technology… when you didn’t feel handicap without your notebook, and lonely without your explorer and stressed without your email.

I remember the days in Seaport where I learned to use WordStar, the days of the 8” floppy disk that incubates moles. [1988]

I remember the days of graphic designing when illustration and FA was manual – no adobe photoshop (in exchange for birthday presents, I asked for an airbrush); no scanners (the light box was my favorite tool , I would place a torch light under mom’s white wooden glass table to make a mock light box); no fonts (everything had to be typesetted). [1989]. The days in Grey when the entire company shared one Mac and the Mac had its own room, as big as the CDs. [1990]

And the days at Inti when we migrated to the 3 ½” mini disk…. the days when my reports were typed on WordPerfect and printed by the dot matrix printer. [1991]

I remember the days of emailing and chatting on DOS with Rudy, mom and dad from the CBA lab. My house was the first in SS3 to have Jaring. [1993]

Oh, the sweet joy of my first Microsoft Word document. My heart melted. And the great joy of Outlook. [1994]

I remember when I started my first workday at Parkson and I couldn’t find the mouse (they didn’t have one, they were still using WordPerfect). [1996] Yes, the year is right and the company is right. It was true and it was ridiculous.

I also remember my first mobile phone – no not the huge ‘tumbler’ phone, but the Ericsson phone with LED screen and a huge, long antenna.

Wow, what a journey is a short span of time. You wonder what happened in the 80s before technology.

There are a lot of things I don’t remember though. I don’t remember when I forgot how to write.

I forgot when I first got Skype and bosses started calling everyday. I don’t remember when the 3 ½” disk became passé and I no longer has a disk drive. Files are transfer via pen drive, skype or Bluetooth.

Or when I started getting 200 emails a day, and mails became so big that without daily downloading, they would have max out my mailbox limit of 15GB.

I forgot when I used my phone for sms-es more than phone calls.

Moments

I haven’t looked at this picture for a while. We were in Utah, on the way to Yellowstone.

I think that must have been one of Dad’s happiest moments. It was the first time he saw snowfall. Come to think of it, it was more than a snowfall, it was a snow storm. We have stopped the car on the side of the road, so we could get out and feel the snow paltering against our face. I remember the force of that wind. We could barely open our eyes. We had to shout at each other. It was wild.

My dad was cute. He’s a little on the chubby side, with the little round pot belly. Not the “obesed-ly” ugly kind, but a small cute one. I always thought he would have made a great Santa Claus. He has these small almond-shape eyes, the same one I have. His face was so young, despite his age at that time, probably from all the laughter and kindness. That’s my dad – always a helpful friend, always a happy man.

Sometimes I wonder how dad would look like if he were still alive today. He would have been 64. I think he would have still been equally jolly.

I remember his funeral and the scores of people that came. They came to pay their last respects. But they also came to relive my dad, to remember the joyful moments they had with my dad. It’s amazing how many lives my dad had touched.

That trip we made across the US was one of the best times I ever spent with mom and dad. They came for my graduation. I remember how proud dad was. I was sitting on the lower floor, and he was on the upper deck. He was so far away, his face was just a speck. But even from that distance, I saw his beaming. He was all excited, running around the Bob Devaney Center deck, snapping picture of me as my name was called and I walked up to the Chancellor to be bestowed my degree. I remember how he put his hand over my shoulder, gave me a pat and said “my daughter”.

I remember the day he died. I was still in bed that morning. It was a Monday morning. It was Thaipusam, a public holiday and I was sleeping in late. Mom was at working, overtime. He opened my room door and asked if I had wanted breakfast. My eyes could barely open. Through those small slits, I had a glimpse of him hovering at my room door. I grumbled “no”, agitated that I was jolted from my peaceful slumber. That was the last time I saw my dad. I was the last person he talked to.

That whole day was like a horrible movie. I remembered that sound – the furious clanging of our padlock against the metal grill. I jumped out of bed to check out the commotion. This kind Samaritan had found dad’s IC, followed the address and found our house. He informed us that dad had fainted in the pool’s shower room. I drove over with Rudy immediately, still in our peejays.

When I got there, I saw him lying still on the stretcher. The lifeguard told me he had called the ambulance about 20 minutes earlier, but no sign of it. To someone in vain, that news was ridiculous, totally unacceptable. I got impatient. I tried to call, but none of the phone in that complex was working. Hopeless public amenities. I had to do something. I told Rudy to stay with dad while I drove home to call for help.

I did find help. I informed Mom and gathered all the things that I thought I would need at the hospital – credit card, money, my driver’s license. By the time I got back to the pool, I was told that the ambulance has taken my dad to University Hospital.

I drove over as fast as I could, dashed into the emergency room. “Things are under control”, I kept assuring myself. “It’s just a concussion. They just had to revive him”. I wasn’t sure where to go. Then I saw Rudy walked out of into the corridors. He was mopping tears off his face. I walked up to him. Between sobs, I heard him say “Dee died, Dee died”.

Those words didn’t sink in at first. I thought it was a sick joke, I thought my brother just got too worried and nervous. Dad had just fainted from a minor fall. He was not sick. He was more than healthy.

Then I saw him. He was still on the stretcher. I called him, “Dee”. I shook him. “Dee” I called again, louder this time. “Wake up”. He didn’t. “Wake up, say something”. I went numb. This was not real, I thought. I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. I always made things happened, but now, I couldn’t make my Dad wake up. I stumbled out of the room. There has to be something that the medics have not been done. Some mistake some where.

I saw Mom walked in. She asked me how Dad was. I didn’t know what to say. I just muttered that he was inside the room. Rudy saw her. He was still sobbing. She asked him what was wrong and he continue to utter the only words he could managed, “Dee died” and broke down again.

I called Vincent. Vincent had special powers. He could tell me something. He answered. I whispered “my dad died”. The line was bad. He went “huh?”. I repeated myself, louder “my dad died”. I think he was shocked, he went “huh?” again. By this time, after myself said the words twice, it sunk in, it really did. “My dad died”. This time I was screaming, and I repeatedly screamed out the same words over phone, as if by getting the words out, the pressure would reduce. Tears gushed out of my skulls and eyes so hard. “My dad died”, I cried. I remember the people in the ward looking at me going hysterical. I don’t remember their faces. My mind had no room for them, it was too welled up with pain. I sunk into the hospital floor and cried.

I had many times wonder what ran through Dad’s mind the moment when he felt his heart cramped, his lungs contracted and his vision blacked out. What were his last thoughts? What did it feel like?

I will never know until it’s my turn. Time and time again, I wished I could turn back the clock to that moment when he opened my room door. Had I known it would be the last time I was seeing him, my last word would never have been “no”. I would have told him how much I loved him, hugged him, kissed him and would never have let him go for his swim.

Every time I think of that moment, it breaks my heart. I still miss my dad. After 8 years, the pain in not one bit lesser. It still makes me cry. Whoever said time will heel a broken heart. It doesn’t always.

The Forbidden Word

Between us, a thousands words we have said
Yet, a thousand more unsaid.

That is the only way I can describe what I have for him. And I am sure he loves me in his own little ways too. But we can never speak of it. The words that bond us are the very words that will tear us apart.

Song of the Dawn

Beautiful sunrise at Gem Isle

My Romantic Sex-capade

I am in Singapore. Cranky and tired as usual. I think I am starting to have problems walking. The short walk from Paya Lebar station to the office has actually stiffened my knee.

Oh, I must write down my most romantic holiday before I forget everything.

We went out to Gem Island over the weekend. It was a birthday getaway and he was just so nice throughout the trip. Well, he has always been nice to me, in his aloof ways, he is definitely someone who knows how to spoil his women if he wants to.

I drove for the trip. We started out in the morning after the rush hour and slowly made our way to Marang, where the jetty was. Too slow I guess, and we actually arrived 2 hours past the last boat at three. But they waited for us. Well, it was only a 10 minutes bot ride out, the island is not too far from the shore.

The resort was nice. It was the only resort on the island (there wasn’t much space on that tiny island for another one) and it had this exclusive air about it. Definitely not a family or children friendly place, which was good – there was no screaming kids. The room we got was a perfect lovers’ nest. The chalet in built over the rocks along the shoreline, so the entire day, you can hears the waves rush in and make music on the rocks. The room had was furnished in modern Balinese style, slate tiles on the bathroom walls, teak wood bed with mozzie net hanging from the top, and a big, comfy daybed.

Since we got in quite late on Friday, we really didn’t do much. Just relaxed, unpacked and had dinner. We sat out at the jeti for a bit, chatted and watched the stars. When we got back into the room, I changed into my secret weapon - the sexy lingerie I got. He could not resist ofcourse. It felt so good to feel him again after 2 long months. When he came, the sound of his moan was like music to my heart.

After breakfast on Saturday morning, we explored the tiny little island. We went back to the room and spent the entire day reading. I was so tired, I was just dozing off most times. But it was great to just be able to relax and be lazy. There was no house to clean, no gym to go to. It felt great.

Sunday was what he called “pamper him” day. I made mid-morning love to him. Kissed, nibbled and licked him from head to toe. Gave him a slow blowjob. I licked and massgae his testicales. He like thats I could tell. I straddled him. Made slow and long erotic moves. He felt obligated to reciprocate. I told him he didn't have to, I just wanted to make him feel good. We had session two later. I gave a hom full body scrub. It was so sexy to have your man standing there naked while you, naked as well, move around him and clean every nook of his body. I massaged him with my BodyShop Strawberry body exfoliator. He smelled like a fruit tart and it was cute.

On Monday, I woke him up to watch sunrise with me. It was beautiful. After the sun broke, we went back to bed. But I wouldn’t let him sleep, no, I was too horny. I don’t think we ever made love as good as that morning. I took him slowly, no rush. And god, after a while, he could not longer just watched me take him body. He went wild. He sucked my breasts so hard, oh it was good. We always have different climax positions, and usually he would make me come first. That night, we came together - same position, same time. I cannot describe how the burst of emotion felt. But it was really good.

I love him so much.

Famine & Obesity

The DJs and Francessca Peters are on the radio going on and on about this 30-hour famine event organized by World Vision. The whole idea is so we could appreciate what famine is.

Interesting considering it was just 2 weeks ago when news broke around the world that there are more people dying of obesity than hunger across the world. If this is not irony, I don’t know what is.

Sexy Lingerie and Elipses

Spent more then three hundred bucks yesterday on a lingerie set. ]It’s a top in beautiful black lace netting and matching pants. It’s almost good as not wearing anything. The material is pretty much translucent. You could see my big nipples peeping through the fabric.

But I don’t know what is it about lingerie, but that black lace outfit is extremely sexy. I swear, each time I try on the outfit and look at myself in the mirror, my pussy get juicy. I know, it’s crazy. I have never had that feeling before. But I thought if it could have that effect on me, it will drive the men up the roof.

Started art class over the weekend.

I had an easel to myself. I have never drawn standing upright. It was always a seated setting. It felt weird at first, I wasn’t sure where to rest my elbow and my wrist. Plus my back and feet were getting tired. But it does give you a sense of space and freedom.

The style that the teacher taught me was quite interesting. We started with a circle, then shrunk the circle to an elipse (the last time I came across this word, it was in the book Punctuation Power and elipese meant "...'), and then lines. And pretty much, every item can be broken down to there three basic concept. Thus, when you draw, you look at the object and breakdown it into circles, lines and elipses. Instead is drawing an over, you imagine yourself transferring the shapes from a 3D environment into 2D environment. And drawing became so surprisingly easy.

Procrastination versus prioritization…

Procrastination versus prioritization… the distinction is just a fine line isn’t it.

Yes, yes. Procrastination is when you have the time and refuse to do what you’ve plan to or have to. Prioritization is when you simply have more important stuff to attend to. It’s true, there are people who are perpetually busy… Me. Me!

This whole exercise of waking up 30 minutes earlier every morning is starting to kill me. I know I am griping, but seriously, I am not an inspired housewife trapped in a bored life.

I have more than enough excitement in my daily life. As it is, I am not sleeping enough. Now, I have 30 minutes less.

Sigh… why did I put myself through this…..

Be Mean and Be Quick

It’s a wet, lazy morning.

May as well. I went to bed at 4 this morning. The gray sky is a good excuse to stay in.

My brain is very awake, though the ache at the back of my neck tells me otherwise.

I have concluded that men need to be treated like garbage. You do that and they will come running after you like Velcro.

You become overtly nice to them, they take you for granted. Is this self-inflicted self-torture sadist attitude in them. They want to chase and hunt for their food. If food is always readily in front of them, they become lazy bastards.

So bitchiness will help you get laid. Niceness don’t.

Speaking of which, I am again reaffirmed that older men are better fucks. Younger men… I don’t know… they seem fell obligated to go through the entire kamasutra before they hit the home run.

Hallor… somebody please tell these guys, witching positions disrupts intensity.

The old fashion missionary position is under 10 minutes is anytime better than 36 positions in 30 minutes. Call me old-fashion, I don’t anything kinky nor enjoyable about it. Pussy does get tired you know. The guys is banging away, and in your mind, you keep saying “common, get on with it, I want to sleep”. Shit, I sound like some pros working on the hour now. Haha.v

Dried Sahara

This morning, my heart hurts.

I cannot really explain it, but I think it’s time I stop seeing him.

The last month, my emotions have been yo-yoing between joy and frustration.

Sure, I admit, I have developed expectations. But how can I not? We met on AFF. We met for sex.

The rules used to be quite simple. We’re free, we meet and we fuck after that, or at least try.

It has been drier that the Sahara for the last 2 months. I have been driving myself nuts trying to cook up excuses for him not wanting me. Fatigues, declining libido, tough day, inconvenience.

I have been driving myself up the wall questioning if my expectations have been unreasonable. And then ballistic trying to create justify my behavior.

But it has been 2 months! It’s has exceeded the reasonable period for inconvenience and mood swings.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it when I feel like a needy puppy and have to beg for affection.

I have been telling myself to stop seeing him many times. Each time, I allow myself to be drawn back into it.

I don’t know what it is we have between us. I have never been able to vocalize any discussion about it.

What are we? We don’t have a relationship for sure. Just-for-sex friends – that kind of friendship, I can deal with – the likes of David, Robert – it’s OK, the when-it’s convenient-I-am-horny friends. But we are definitely more than that. Then I guess we are friends who also have sex – but if it’s that, we have come to a point that I am not longer sexually desirable. Well, guess that makes us just friends.

Are we? Is he even worthy as a friend? I would like to find reasons to hate him, but I can’t. I can’t. He has been a nice and decent friend.

The problem is me, it’s my mind. I thought I was in control of these games, in control of myself. But I have lost it.

I think I should just move this whole thing into friendship mode, where even sex is not expected. That would make matters between us much clearer and totally free of expectations.

Bitten by the Learning Bug Again

I think the learning bug has just hit me again. I started a writer’s course yesterday. And I signed up for art class yesterday too. I also decided that I would pursue my PhD.

I don’t know what happened. I have been mulling and procrastinating over these decisions for the longest time. Then it just hit me yesterday. I felt that I was ready. The time felt right.

It’s amazing how your heart takes over the certain decision-making process.

But it felt good. It’s like a new beginning… a new chapter.

I have always enjoying the learning environment. It’s not really what they teach you – most times they are theories and concepts that you already know. But it’s the isolation of your interferences of live, the quietness of mind, and the voice within your soul can start to speak.

You start to discover who you are. You remember what you used to be and reflect on what you have become. And you wonder what you want to be.

My Sun Catcher

I love my sun catcher. It captures the sun rays and makes rainbows in my room, not one, but a lot of rainbows…hundreds at times. Some times, it will make the rainbow dance. Those days, my heart will dance too.

The Orchestra Outside My Window

One of the perks of living out here on the far edges of the suburb is the orchestra of birds I wake up to every morning. Some chirp, some coo, most just sing their hearts out. It’s sweet melody for the soul.

Throughout the day, the birds will be flying up and down, in big and small groups. On rare occasions, a lone ranger will wander into your home. It’s a little playground for them. It’s a sanctuary for me.

In the times that we live in now, where air, noise and spiritual pollution reins, these are precious, tranquil moments. It’s a reminder that there is more to life than just living.

You remember to be grateful for the things we take for granted all the time. The air we breath, and the fact that we are breathing. The sights we see, and the fact that we have sight. The things we feel, and the fact that we can feel, both in sense and in the heart.

Holy Cow

I live along Jalan Lapangan Terbang Subang. I love the area, except that about once every week, my drive to and from home will be greeted with a most fowl scent and scene - cow droppings.

Huge patches of them lining the streets. And after a while, the patches are rolled out along the entire street after unassuming cars run over them. And they are just left there until mother nature (rain) takes care of it. If it does not rains, that’s it, they are left stinking to the high heavens.

I have no idea where the cows come from, but surely, this ain’t no playground for cows. No, no, I have nothing against the cows. Sure, they need their space, their walks and their grazing patches.

But not along a 4-lane highway. They are a public hazard – they and their dungs. Last month, one of the cows wandered into the highway and was knocked over by a car. The poor cow died of course, but the car was in no less damage running into such a huge animal.

By the way, I live on the Petaling Jaya side of the Jalan Lapangan Terbang Subang – the half that just recently became a city. A glorious city with increased assessment fees and monthly cow droppings.

A Very Brilliant and Very Malaysian Way to Lose Weight & Save Money

I have always wondered why government agencies always find it necessary to serve food at every meeting.

I know, I know. It’s the Malaysian way, we say. We must be courteous to our guests. But seriously, do we really need to lavish colleagues with so much food. In the private sector, cold and warm water is as good as it gets.

Food is served and guests are obligated to eat. If they don’t take a bite, they feel it’s rude. So in Malaysia, more often than not, you go to five meetings with government related agencies, you end up eating five times. Each time coconut, sugar and cholesterol-laden “kuih muih”. And don’t forget the coffee and tea laced to the brim with sweetened condense milk (and we wonder why we are short of sugar supply and have too many fat people in Malaysia)

It’s a business meeting. You just want to get productive, address the issues and get back to work. No, no, you put the food on the table, you have to allocate an extra 15 minutes non-productive time for small talk and for the guests to swallow their food.

Now, let’s just play with some numbers. The food and drinks is estimated at RM3 per pax. Assuming that 5% of our entire 1.1 million civil servants workforce have to attend just two meetings a month. That’s a whopping RM3.96 million in food cost!

RM3.96 million of taxpayers’ money on food to feed “kuih muih” to civil servants (who are already paid salary and bonuses to serve the rakyat). And later, probably another RM500K on a campaign to help our obese civil work force shed the extra pounds.

So if we cut the food:
We save RM3.96 million or more.
Cut the 15 minutes required to swallow the food, we will get an extra 3 hours of productive for the staff attending the meeting (at 5% of the 1.1million work force, that’s 165K additional hours).
We save on the 500K to run a weight loss campaign.

OK, maybe my numbers are flawed, but hey, I hope someone gets the picture.

Whining Taxis

It’s quite amazing that we have the president of the taxi operator association whining about why operators should not be penalized for the acts of their drivers.

The question is: why not? The drivers are their employees. As with all businesses, employers are directly responsible for the any acts their employees perform on their behalf.

I applaud the authorities for taking this firm action and I sincerely hope they don’t relax this expectation of the operators. How many times have the operators been asked to improve? How much more tolerance do these operators expect from the public?

No need to look far, Just look south and compared our taxi drivers to Singapore taxi drivers. It’s mighty high time operators buck up.

Instead of the constant complaining, I would like to see the association come up with more constructive solutions and get relevant parties to help improve the situation.

How about paying your drivers better so the job becomes one they can’t afford to lose? How about providing your driver with a incentive plan for good behavior? How about a penalty plan for bad behaviors? How about deferred compensation based on measured KPIs?

Bite the bullet and get creative. There are many ways to address the problem other than to sit around or go to the press and whine.

Welcome to Malaysia

I was in Singapore for another one of my business trips. People who knows me knows how much I dislike Singapore. However, this time, I somehow paid attention to other details the tiny island provided.

Start with the trip from Changi Airport. As the taxi drove me to my office, the scenery was a very pleasant greeting. The highway from the airport to the city is lined with rows and rows of coconut trees, palm tress and bougainvilleas.

I returned to KL on Friday. The road from the KLIA to KL is lined with nothing much but billboards.

The drive to and from the airport is very important. It’s the first impression visitors have of our country. I remember back in the heydays when we were still flew from the Subang Airport. The stretch of road from the Federal Highway to the airport was beautifully landscaped with trees and flowering plants. It was certainly a grand welcome to visitors.
Visit Malaysia Year 2007 is coming. I am quite sure not much would change but I already know what I could expect. More billboards springing up along the highway that say "Welcome to Malaysia".

I wonder what kind of city I am living in?

Shrouded in haze by day, flooded up by night.

I cannot comprehend how, Kuala Lumpur, a city of modern standards, can be flooded after a heavy downpour.

Not a freak downpour. Don’t even call it flash flood. Something that happens repetitively year after year after year, can no longer be classified as freak or flash.

I wonder what kind of city am I living in?

I have lived all my life in PJ. Even when I bought my own home, I bought one in PJ because I cannot imagine myself living in another neighbourhood.

So it hurts me deeply to see how my beloved neighbourhood has dilapidated into its current state.

The recent billboard fiasco is a joke. Has anyone noticed how many empty billboards there are in PJ? Just along the PJ’s section of the Federal Highway. Between the Subang and Jalan Gasing intersection, there are at least 5 empty unipole billboards.

And here we have the PJ City Council allowing more billboards. Why do we need more when there isn’t even enough advertisers to take up the current ones?

I also wonder about this “billboard concession-for-pedestrian bridge” exchange. There’s a mammoth across the Federal Highway (it spreads across 6 lanes) near the Jalan 222 interchange. One wonders how many pedestrians will climb the flight of stairs to use the bridge when the can easily cross at the traffic lights at Jalan 222? I would seriously like to know what kind of study is done to determine the location of a pedestrian bridge. What’s the use of building bridges in areas where there are little or no pedestrians? If a bridge is built for the primary purpose of putting up an ad, let just call it what it is – an ad bridge, not a pedestrian bridge.

Horny Month

I think it must be the how stars are aligned in July. I am so horny this month. Last year in July was when I started meeting men from AFF. Remember that amazing fuck week?

Well, this week is an amazing fuck week too. I have a new benchmark. I finally understood the incomprehensible, undescribeable joy of multiple orgasm. I must have came at least 6 times last night. It was so good that I’m still having spasms this morning. I screamed until I lost my voice.

Nuke Them All

I have changed my mind about nuking Singapore.

I think we should save the nukes, get North Korea and Iran to work together and send the wipe out the Middle East.

All this tit-for-tat fighting over only “god-knows-what”, literally. Kill a country for 2 soldiers and put sacrifice lives of thousands more. And what was it for again? In GOD’s name? For GOD’s sake (pun intended), do the numbers! Why did your God not give you’re a brain!

The state of the world now is very sad. I have no idea where we are going to…..

One Wedding and 300 Funerals

Over 300 people perished yesterday when a tsunami washed up the shores of south Java.

The headlines on the front page of all Malaysian newspaper today is about Siti Nurhaliza’s wedding.

What is wrong with the scene? We are talking national newspaper – The Star, NST – reputable NEWSpaper – who are supposed to deliver NEWS, not tabloid gossips. How in the world can a celebrity’s wedding is more important than the plight of Indonesians and the war in Middle East. I know…can… only in Malaysia….MALAYSIA BOLEH right?

World Cup Madness

Mad indeed. The tables have turned.

Imagine this…a regular dinner of 3 guys and 3 gals. The gals are talking World Cup, the men just sit there quiet and grinning, wondering what the hell we were talking about.

Gone are the days when us gals are merely World Cup widow, ditched by the men who could rip themselves away from the TV. Nowadays, we are the one who stay up to watch game.

We know the schedules by heart, the groups, the winning and losing team. We talk about strategies, attack and defense. We know the teams and their players.

We debate who is the better player, and of course the better-looking player. We praised their great talents and scorned their unsporting antics. We even rate the coaches’ looks, fashion sense and mannerism.

We memorized the score of every game and the goals, down to the minute it was scored.

We even talk about how people bet on games these days.

As Andrew very well put it, if we were World Cup bimbos, we were certainly very professional. We have all bases very well covered.

Mastering My Mind

My mind has been very restless lately. I keep getting short burst of ideas about things that I need to do, but the thoughts are very scattered and unorganized. I have to learn to control these thoughts and channel them properly.

Right now, I really don’t know what I want. I have thought about moving to another country. I have thought about changing jobs. I have been thinking about my love life. All issues that I have always had a firm ground on. Suddenly, everything is just stirred up.

I think it’s high time I learn to meditate properly, instead of falling into semi unconsciousness during each yoga meditation session.

I should start going back to yoga regularly too. I went for yoga today, and boy of boy, my muscles are not strong at all.

I think I am going to take up photography and painting seriously. I have had inclinations towards them, I should develop them further.

Home Alas!

After 4 weeks of back-to-back traveling, I am so happy that my “road show month” has finally ended. I practically went to all four corners of Malaysia in the last month. No kidding. I am going have my both feet firmly planted in KL soil at least for the next 30 days. Nope - nothing will make me leave KL for the next month.

Perhaps it’s because I have always been a homebody. I cannot understand the prestige people stamp on those regional, jet-setting, live out of a suitcase life.

I hate hotels. I can never sleep well in them.

I love my home. I love the space. I love my bed.

Sometimes, I wonder if this is due to my clear and distinct preference, or my inability to adapt. In other words, a sign of old age….

The Holy Trinity

With the onset of World Cup fever, many companies have jumped at new money-making opportunities.

Big screen and plasma TVs sold like hot cakes.

The pizza boys have a whole new menu of pizzas in the colours of the competing teams.

F&B guys – needless to say – they are always geared for biggies like this.

I thought the VCD sellers are the cleverest yet. In anticipation of declined sales during the World Cup, they have formed a partnership with the bookies and the loan sharks. The former finance the loan sharks, who in turn extend loans via the bookies easily available to the football gamblers. Take about diversification and synergies. Hats off to them.

New Breed of Widows

First there were the poor golf widows. Now we have the World Cup widows.

World Cup fever brought with it sex drought. Yes baby, don’t bother about sex till July 10. In the evening, they are too busy watching the games. In the day, they are just dozing away.

Every man I know is sleep deprived. First work day of the World Cup and I already have my 2 male staff on sick leave.

I am quite sure global birth rates will mark a significant drop in February 2007.

GDP will drop with the temporary closure of the sex and porn trade. Revenue for condom companies will probably drop this month too. However, this drop will be balanced by the increase in F&B spending and electricity consumption.

The lucky ones will be the ginseng and tongkat ali producers – sales will probably skyrocket through the roof – spurred not by consumption as performance boosters, but for it’s “keep-me-awake” properties.

Historians, sociologist, anthropologist and economist should pay heed. This phenomenon can fuel a whole school of research and studies.

Of Snake & Friends

I drove over a 7 ft snake two nights ago. In the middle of the night, it just appeared in the middle of the fast lane on Jalan Lapangan Terbang Subang. I was just too fast, too near. Went over it and it felt like I went over a bump. Believe me, I freaked.

Firstly, I have never ran over anything, dead or alive!

Secondly, what’s a 7 ft snake doing crossing a highway. I have never seen anything that size other than in a zoo tank!

I shuddered at the thought that I have blood and snake skin splattered all over my car. And I felt awful. I was hoping against hope that the fella didn't die.

Against my better judgement, I drove back to the spot to see how bad that poor snake was. This time, I made sure I drove slower on the slow lane. But I just couldn’t find the snake.

And just when you least expect it, lo and behold, the snake was right in front of me. I was so close to running over it a second time. I swerved and was almost hit by another car. It didn’t die. In the time it took me to loop around back to the spot, it had slithered from the fast lane across to the slow lane.

Damn that stupid snake – scaring me once was not enough, it had to do it twice.

As usual, I called up my closent friends to loan some courage and shed some fear. I had mixed reactions.

One said it was bad omen (oh yes, thank you very much for being so reassuring).

Another asked me to buy 4D - the snake was a $$ sign

Another told me to keep all my doors and windows tightly closed - the snake might come after me for revenge.

Mark sent his recovery wishes to the snake - not sure whether it was the naturalist or the cynical side of him.

Don't you just love your friends sometimes.

I Love You

I love the way you look like a baby when you are asleep, on your sides with your arms between your knees.
I love you for being there for me when I open my eyes in the morning.
I love the way you sniff me out in the morning and tell me I smell great.
I love the way you loop your arms around me and it feels so right.
I love the way you call my name.
I love the way you pull and crack my toes.
I love the way you play with my hair.
I love they way you treats me like I'm a little princess.
I love you for all these sweet moments and precious memories.
I love you.
You may not know it, you may not love me back the same way I do...
But I don't need you to.
I just love you... all of you.

Don’t Ever Get Pregnant

Seriously. Don’t! For your own sake.

Despite all those dreams mothers-in-denial sell to us about the joys of pregnancy, I pregnancy is too big a sacrifice. Think about it….

You lose your body
You lose your brain cells
You lose bone mass
You lose money (this is an eternal and perpetual loss)
You lose the innocence and youth in your looks (i.e. you look haggard)
And more importantly…. You lose your self-confidence

Jennifer is pregnant. And the pregnancy has made her forgetful and perpetually blur. She is always tired. Her work is a mess - it's shoddy, overdue and simply unsatisfactory.

I don't mean to be heartless, but I just have no choice. Customers are screaming at me and she is the source of it. There’s no one else to scream at.

I don’t ever, ever want to be in that position. I don’t think a kid is worth all that, especially not my self-esteem, self-pride and self-confidence.

He’s So Damn Into You

I have not read the bestselling book called He’s Just Not That Into You. The book didn’t contain a single idea that we women all didn’t know since our first date. Men have always been assholes. Just that we women keep hoping that there is an odd one out there.

But now… now I think there may be a glimmer of hope.

Karen’s man is nuts! Imagine a man who would stop a bus for you. Yes, it’s true.

And man who would drive out to a Starbucks every morning to buy you a cup of your favorite coffee.

A man who would call you every morning to lovingly make sure you’re not late for work, and every evening to see how your day was.

A man who would just lie next to you quietly and cuddle you when you’re sick, then make porridge for you.

Yes, yes… this man does exist.

Now, I think I am going to write the rival book called He’s So Damn Into You.

Heck, if I can’t find this man for myself, at least I could get rich selling the “dream” of him to women around the world.

There’s a catch though – he is someone else’s husband.

So gals and gals, moral of the day…. don’t get married, it spells the end of your perfect man and the doom of your romantic fairytale.

I can no longer write

I can no longer write.

Serious. Writing hurts my wrist.

The only time I hold a pen now is to sign. And that too, I am getting horrible at it.

Recently, I have had to sign so many documents. My lazy wrist has reduced my signatory “S” to a squiggly line.

What has technology reduced us too. Even the wrist is getting lazy.

Of Tarot Cards and the One

Tarot cards tell me I have found my lifetime companion.

I know this man. I love this man.

I had wanted someone, some divine force to tell that he is the one. Yet now being told exactly that, I wonder if I want to believe it entirely.

He is so perfect, yet so imperfect.

My lifetime companion no longer believes in matrimony. My companion does not want kids. These… I think I can live with, gladly.

But sometimes I feel that he is too distant, too unpredictable, out of my reach. But yet, these are the exact qualities that make me keep wanting him.

I think…. I am mad.

You are worth a million

Women out there, listen up. Know that you are all priceless gem. And please, please, please, treat yourself like you would treat a 10-carat diamond. Treasure yourself. Be nice to yourself. And don’t break yourself.

Forget the shit about men treating us badly. The only way we can be treated badly is because we allow ourselves to be treated so.

How much are you worth?

Only you can answer this question. Like a painting, you set the price. And others will find the beauty in you that justify that price. Like the painting, it will find its deserving lover….somehow, some day.

It hurts me to see my friend trash herself up. It hurts me to see her lower herself to the level of begging... begging for love.

Love yourself and you shall be loved.

I hope she learns to love herself soon.

Cybersex...yawn, yawn.....

Having a erotic chat session with this man and I am dozing off. I think part of it is because I am too tired. But honestly, this cybersex thing is boring-la.

It’s a good foreplay, provided that it’s a prelude to the real thing. If it’s not, then it’s a real spirit damper. Get you all high and leave you hanging.

I've notice cybersex is THE thing for married, attached, committed men; those cowardly men who wants to cheat but don’t have the balls to. Yak, yak, yak, but when you actually invite them for the real thing, they keep quiet and retreat.

I am sorry, but I’d really rather the real thing.

Common, even if you’re supposed to enjoy the fantasy, you couldn’t even possible play with yourself effectively on this end of the screen when both you hands are supposed to be typing on the keyboard!

Please... be right in front of me, and I could put both my hands to better use!

What is the difference between sex and making love?

Sex is about yourself, about self-dicovery, self-satisfaction. It's about power and confidence. It is in many ways, selfish. It's a journey where there destination - the climax, the orgasm - is the ultimate goal. There's a lot of excitement, a lot of rush and impatience.

Making love, on the other hand, is about cherishing another person. It's about succumbing your control. Excitement is replaced with tenderness, respect, admiration and affection. You are happy to just caress, pplant light kisses alll over him, and study every nook of his body. You gaze into his eyes and you are overcome with emotions but lost for wards at the same time. It's a journey that has no end, and one that you wish would not end. It is slow

We made love last night, three times over. It was not the normal hard and raw sex that we normally have. It was full of tenderness. He just lied there, on top of me, inside me, and just looked and looked at me.

God forbid, I love this man.

To say this bring tears to my eyes. Because I just cannot bring myself to say this to him.

A UFO Experience

It’s terrible. I have a new discrimination problem. I have a UFO discrimination problem.

I met a new guy this week, someone I have been chatting with online. We have not seen each other’s picture before.

I walked up the steps leading to the restaurant, looked around and swore. That can’t be him, I hoped. But it had to be him, there was no one else… it had to be that bald guy sitting on the far end. It certainly was.

Could you sleep with a balding man?

Not a bald man. A bald man, I think, is sexy. Totally, clean-shaved bald.

I am talking those that was bald on the top, but has a rim of hair around the head. The UFO hair man. Or worse, there’s a few long strands hair stretched from one side, across the crown, to the other, in a fruitless effort to disguise the baldness… the ultimate Robin Hood hair, where you rob from the rich, to give to the poor. That, is not sexy. It’s a turn off.

I am not trying to be mean. Uncle James sports that kind of hairstyle. And I know it’s not by choice.

The guy was OK. He wasn’t entirely charming, but decent. Was a very rich and powerful. Was married looking for something interesting. As EL rightly put it, a potential sugar-daddy.

But the whole night, every timeI look at his face to talk to him, my eyes were naturally distracted by the sparkle from the top. I couldn’t have gone through with it.

One Neon Mercy Fuck was enough. And I was in a situation, unlike the past, I have a choice to not continue to a fuck situation.

At the end of the night, he asked if we were going to meet again. I lied.

As I got into the car, I have this huge sense of pride for my Mark, who at the same age, still have a heedful full of thick black hair.

As I drove off, I felt shame and guilt, I had just rejected a man because of his baldness.

But the answer was NO, I don’t think I could sleep with a UFO mam.

That poor man...

Biting My Toungue

I have been so stressed lately, I always catch myself clenching my jaw and biting my tongue.

But yesterday morning, I really had to bite my tongue. It was not sex, it was really connection of souls. I have such intense feeling for that man. So intense, it was screaming in my head. And I want so much to tell him… to tell him how much I love him.

But I know those are the very words that will drive him away. So I bit my tongue and cried in my heart.

Restlessness

Have you ever felt that you don’t know what to do with yourself?

I am in that phase right now.

Intellectually, I am not challenged, not excited. But physically I am so tired.

I don’t know what to do with myself. Even sex and alcohol is not blinding the restlessness.

I feel a little lost. I have no direction. I have always thought I could be happy doing what I am doing. But the satisfaction is leveling off.

A wild, wild F1 weekend

I did it!
I did it on the bathroom sink!
I did it on the bathroom floor!
I did it with a poster pin-up hunk!
I did it with Reg next door!

A lot of exclamation was required above because it was truly just that... unbelievable.

Nicholas (gee, I don’t even know if that’s how it’s spelt) was gorgeous. We were at the Ritz Carlton suite. The butlerwas summoned to bring up condoms (yes, Ritz really provide it all). And yes, less the door, it would have been a groupie with Al and Reg.

But alas, it is what it is, a one night stand. But sure was an exciting one.

Malaysian Shorts

Just came back from a showcase of various Malaysia short films by Kelab Filem Negara. The standard, I must say, was very disappointing. The future of Malaysia film-making industry is bleak indeed.

Most of these young producers/directors were just trying too hard to be artsy-futsy, to be controversia... yet none of them dare to dwell in with depth. When asked point blank, it was obvious none had firm opinions or deep passion for any of the issues that were raised in their films. They film was made for the sake of making. Most made with vagueness and about nothingness, but they lay their defence behind the veil called art.

Bullshit!

What was supposed to be a showcase of Malaysian film maturity ended being was just an display of amateur college-level work. A bunch of kids claiming to be “independent” when all they are really doing is to try to appeal to the masses.

I don’t understand why people (of at least this bunch of most Malaysian film-makers) feel the need to instill controversies. While inde-films have been an outlet for such issues to come out in the light, it is not a mandatory in the inde sphere.

Film-making is not necessarily about controversies. Film-making is the art of storytelling on film. One could make a darn good piece by just telling a beautiful story beautifully.

Wake up, people!

You don't always have choices

It has been 2 rough months. I am just exhausted.

It’s one thing to fire an incompetent staff. It’s horrid to ask hard-working, dedicated staff to leave. And that’s precisely what I have been asked to do.

I spent the last 2 months defending the profitability of my business unit and its potential future. Despite my best efforts and justification and promises, I lost the battle.

I understand the bosses’ point of view. I understand these are practical calls. But I cannot agree with them.

I always thought I have choices. This round, I have very few. And I am struggling with what’s on the table. I am torn, disheartened.

Perhaps it’s much better to get a regular nine-to-five mindless job and not having to deal with such issues.

I know, I know. It’s part of the package. I am the one who coined the phrase, all the more I know what it means.

Another wedding looms, another family bickering

What is it about Chinese families when it comes to wedding…they always manage to turn a happy occasion into an unhappy one. Expectation and assumptions - a poisonous combination.

Toilet Breeds Ideas

I had a eureka last week while sitting on the toilet. This is not the first time. Toilets are great places for ideas because for that brief moment in time, your mind is free. You leave all your worries at the toilet door. And when your mind is free, that’s when you brain can start conjuring ideas up.

It’s true. My mentor, SFoo, also get her idea frequently from the toilet.

However, be warned, when the idea comes, the shit doesn’t. My brilliant idea caused me 2 days of constipation.

The Man Destined to be Yours

I am a romantic fool. I have always believed that there is someone out there destined for each of us. “THE” man God or the universe will send him one day and he will land right on your lap.

It’s a foolish fantasy, I know. I know enough divorcees, widows and single folks out there to know that it doesn’t work that way. But yet, I hold out some hope that perhaps the universe does work in foolish ways. And I hold out hope that Jane’s bazhi reading and Vincent’s tarot card reading will come through for me (both readings say I will meet my companion for life around age 32). Readings are no guarantee, I know, I know.

Well, if it is true that I don’t have someone destined for me, then I should be in panic mode. I have not done much. I am still bumming around a couple of guys who are not ready for any long-term relationship. Part of the problem is I am not ready for one either.

Friends in their late 30s are showing signs of desperation. A friend of mine has already resorted to “speed dating”. Some girlfriends are hanging on dearly to whatever they have. Should I join the bandwagon before it’s too late?

But how do you rush something like this. If it’s meant to happen, it will.. right? Even if you rush it , force it, push it, there are too many factors beyond your control – timing in your life, timing in his life; your needs, his needs; your hopes, his hopes; your path, his path, your character , his character; plus the whole fuzzy area called “the future”.

There is no way to answer this question. There is no way to take control of fate in this regard. To attempt so would be frugal, too exhaustive, too consuming and too desperate.

So I guess I can only pray hard that destiny will deal you a man and not deal you’re a blow.

Tolerance

It’s amazing how we can be so tolerant of total strangers; yet so intolerant of the people we care most. The root cause of this phenomenon – EXPECTATIONS.

I was Julia Roberts

I woke up at Ascott this morning. Dressed in a white robe, I had my morning coffee at the balcony of Ascott, looking up the impressive KLCC towers. It was like living the Julia Roberts – Pretty Woman fantasy.

And for the first time in my life, a man cooked me breakfast. Not just toast, but the whole she-bang. It was a wonderful night and nice, warm morning.

Midnight Comforts

I had a nightmare a couple days back. I was at Mark’s. I was dead tired after my Singapore trip and I was talking in my sleep.

Mark woke me from it, kissed me, and hugged me. It was nice. I have never been woken up from a nightmare before. Most times, you watch it play in your head till the end, only to wake yourself up in fear, in cold sweat, in a scream or never wake at all.

I felt protected. It was comforting. It’s nice to know that someone is there for you. So that’s what it’s like to have someone next to you in bed every night.

Be Grateful

I spent some time in Cambodia lately.

It was an awesome trip… Only when you are in Angkor to see with your own eyes, can you appreciate the greatness of the architecture. You gasped at the architecture, the sheer brilliantness of the design. You wonder with amazement at how it was built at a time when machinery was not available. You immerse yourself in the fantasy of how people lived their lives in those buildings thousands of years ago.

It was also a very heart-breaking trip… I have never seen so much poverty in my life. But it was not the poverty that made me cried. It was the pride and dignity these impoverished people still hold so dearly that shattered my heart. People there are living in terrible conditions. They are struggling for basic necessities – food and decent shelter – is not accessible to a large portion of the people – not because they don’t yearn for it, not because they don’t work for it, and certainly not because they don’t deserve it. But the country is just too poor to stand on its own feet.

I didn’t understand why the market was so busy, from dawn to dusk. Then I realized that people don’t have refrigerators; they come to the market to get fresh food. I couldn’t understand why they barbequed eggs and everything else, then I realize they were still cooking with coals and wood, and it was easier to cook food that way.

Things that are so basic to us… but foreign to them, and unnecessary. Despite their obvious adversaries, they are happy people. They are at peace with the environment around them; they make do with what they have. In every Cambodian, I see more gratitude for life than I have seen in any Malaysian eye. I see more acts of kindness, and I see more love.

And I reflect upon my own life. We have so much and yet still want so much out of our lives. All these complex incomprehensible concepts that are so hard to define – understanding men, challenging jobs, stylish homes, fashionable clothes, tantalizing food and sounds, brilliant government, flawless systems and processes… endless needs.

We live a life of comfort and indulgence, so much of it is not necessary. We live in so much indulgence and comfort that we expense great energy to find imperfections around us, only to be perpetually preaching about the search for inner peace.

When we can afford unnecessary comforts, perhaps we can afford help to the poor. When we can afford unnecessary emotions, perhaps we can afford gratitude.

Don’t be blinded by comfort, don’t forget to say thanks. To say thanks for friends around us, to family around us, to strangers around us who make our lives more comfortable, to Mother Nature for giving us life.

Which is harder? A non-committal relationship or a committed one?

A committed relationship is messy. There’s expectations. There’s obligations. It’s messy and yet fuss-free. You know your boundaries. You know what to expect. You know what you can talk about and what you can’t. It’s stable and stale at the same time. The spontaneity is gone, together with the surprises.

A non-committed relationship can be torturing. There’s fantasy. There’s yearning. You don’t know where the line is and whether you have crossed it. You don’t know where he is and what he is doing and you don’t dare to ask. You tear your mind apart guessing what he is say and what he is not.

I have no answer. Both seem too much work. Better to just be friends and have sex.

Resolutions will resolute themselves

It’s so funny. When you wish to make resolutions, you can’t find good one to make.

This year, I resoluted no to resolute, I suddenly have a whole list of things that came out of nowhere that I would like to get done:

• Sky-diving (somewhere in June/July - between my Bali and Bangkok trips)
• Take up a dancing class (belly dancing probably)
• Take up an art class (saw a good one at Reka Art)
• Take up languages again (either further on Mandarin, or take up spanish)
• Take up knitting class (this one, this one I am not sure where it came from)

Got bitten by the learning bug I guess. Or just bored out with my life.

We live life in phases. Sometimes, you are ready to take the world; sometimes you just aren't. Your heart will tell you.

Good Things come in Fours

I found this list in online and thought it was a really good reflection on my life:

Four Jobs You Have Had In Your Life:

1. Barrista
2. Graphic Artist
3. Waitress
4. Dish washer

Four Movies You Could Watch Over and Over:

1. Pretty Woman
2. Steel Magnolias
3. Joy Luck Club
4. Jerry Macguire

Four Places You Have Lived:

1. Kuala Lumpur
2. Sydney
3. Minneapolis
4. Lincoln

Four TV Shows You Love(d) to Watch:

1. Sex in the City
2. That’s all

Four Most Favourite Places You Have Been on Vacation:

1. Bali
2. Santa Fe
3. Cambodia
4. Sydney

Four favourite books:

1. Expecting Adam; Martha Beck
2. Unbearable Lightness of Being: Milan Kundera
3. Veronika Wants to Die; Paul Coehlo
4. Happiness; Will Ferguson

Four Places You want to visit:

1. Mexico
2. Tibet
3. Spain
4. New Zealand

Four of your Favorite Sinful Foods:

1. Movenpick strawberry ice cream
2. Bakerzin chocolate mousse
3. Double fried roast pork
4. Century egg
   

Four things currently in your car:

1. Gym bag
2. Straw mat
3. Ang pow packet
4. Condoms
   

What I Want From A Man

1. I want him to be there with a broad shoulder and a quiet hug when I am in pain.
2. I want him to be there tell me it’s OK when I am in fear.
3. I want him to be there to laugh with me when I have joy to share.
4. I want him to be there for me to love him.
5. I want him not be there when I want to be alone.

I think these are very simple needs. Why is it so hard to find man who can fulfill all of them? Most times they can only give you one or a few, but not all.

Is it because I have not found the right man? Is it because such a man does not exist? Is it because the man I have now does not feel the way for me as I do for him?

A Brand New Year

Ah…. The first morning of a new year. Full of hopes. Hope of what? Hope of happiness and joy; hope of laughter; hope of love and friendship; hope I will be a better person.

2005 was a painful year, and it sure as hell ended painfully.

Friends betrayed me; friends grew further apart.

What do I consider my biggest joy in 2005?

• Lee Ann
• Karen
• Mark
• Scholastic

What do I consider my biggest regret and sorrow?

• Daniel
• Nyang
• Pam
• Wong

I guess net effect is the same then. No better no worse.

When I Cry

2006 is my saddest start to a new year.

I cried and cried the last 2 days. The lawsuit has been settled in what I think was the most amicable way, but left me the biggest victim in this whole saga. With the least to gain to start with, I am left with the deepest losses.

Money is one. But the disappointments in people whom I trusted were the most heartbreaking. I am usually a happy person. You seldom see me in tears. But this year, on two occasions, I had just about cried my heart out.

The pain Pam and Nyang cause me was no less than the pain Daniel caused.

But my tears are not for the injustice imposed on this settlement, my tears are not for my monetary loss. I cry because I am writing off people very dear to my heart. In every friend, you have hope. You hope the best for them, you hope they are well and they will be. This is what transcends to care. When you write someone off your life, this person is being damned to mean nothing. Even a beggar means something, so writing off a person dear to me is a very difficult parting process.

But I promise, this will not make me a less trusting or more cynical person.

I have cried until I have no more tears. I have cried until I am exhausted.

I hope to wake up tomorrow morning a happier person.

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.

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??

Ejaculation

I had a 5-hour discussion with SC on Thursday about sex, dicks and skin. The questions was whether it was possible for a man to have an orgasm without ejacualtion. Neither of us had the answer - one is anatomically unable to verify the theory; the other a virgin.

Ringgit Unpegged

Big news of the day - Ringgit has been UPPEGGED!!!

While many have much to say about this, I only have one thing to say.... Man, I feel old. It has been 7 years already? Where did all the time go?

Sex Week

It's totally mad. I have not been getting it for 9 years. Yes, I am not lying. Well, there were the few times with P and of course the famous 5-minute act with DK, but what I am talking about is regular supply. But nope, never had it. And yes, I have felt sad for myself many times over.

But this week, my world went topsy turvy. I had a refreshing Monday, a wild Tuesday, an appetizer on Wednesday, and a blowout yesterday. Hot sex every night of the week!

Friends were flabbergasted, "your chebai can take it ah". I have officially removed EL from the "Samantha" throne. Maybe the act of forgiving DK such a noble one that God decided to reward me this way.

But it is defintely a new chapter in my life. I am meeting some new interesting people. By the way, this is all a result of cyber chat (something that I didn't not believe in until recently, now I am hooked!)

I remember I once asked DK the question - "Which basket do you want to me in? Men for sex, men to mental stimulation, men for companionship?" His egoistic answer to me last year was, "I would fulfill all of those needs, 1 man for everything", which of course we know today, he was far from even any of those.

But the two that I met recently seems to have potential. Especially S... he must be a dream come true. Anyway, right now, I am just enjoying myself. Go with the flow and see where it leads me to.

But still, to be Samantha for a week is awesome!

I made peace

At the eleventh hour, before the "Ah-Longs" wannabes struck out, I betrayed the plan. Against my better judgment, I called him. Somehow, I still refused to believe that he is so rotten through and through. And I didn't want everything to get to a point of no return. Ah Long friends literally questioned my loyalty until I want to squirm into a hole.

He asked for extension, I agreed; took his word for it and made no further advances. I honoured my end of the deal. I promised to give him room and I did. I guess there is no point to corner him if fhe is already in a difficult situation - you kow, adding salt to wound.

Yesterday, he called. He fulfilled his end of the promise, and thanked me for trusting him.

It may seems silly to some, to still trust a man that has proven himself to be totally untrustworthy. But my heart was whispering to me and I couldn't ignore it. And as much as I want to deny it, I still care about him, despite all that he has done to me. There is no way to have loved one so deeply for an entire year and to be entirely unperturbed about his being now.

I don't think we can ever be lovers again, and it's probably best to leave things as is - communicate only when there is a need to. But from the bottom of my heart, I pray that he will be well, that no harm befalls him, that life treats him well.

But it feels good inside - to know that we are not enemies, although not entirely friends, and I guess it feels good just to be a nicer person.

Let's drink to Allah

Last Saturday was madness at the Rainforest World Music Festival. There were 8,000 people on that little patch of green space, over half were drunk and or drugged. Halfway through the night, we had a Pakistani group, Faiz AliFaiz, who sang songs of praises to Allah. No kidding, the guy belched and belched for over an hour. Powerful vocals. The percussion were good, but it got old soon.

The ironic part of it was here you have in Malaysian, land of hypocritival perverted Muslims, a performance of Allah devoted to an audience which the ulamaks would have cringed at. Talk about thing in life going full circle.

Life is so fragile

Yesterday was a depressing day. I found out that while I was having a time of my life in Kuching, a friend who recently gave life to a new baby girl discovered she has terminal cancer, was operated on and started chemotheraphy, all in the span of the 4 days of my vacation. If a short 4 days, while I bragged about not having to doing anything but just waste time reading by the beach, a friend's life was overturned instantaneously.

While AD is battling to stay alive, a friend PH is battling to give life in a very difficult pregnancy. Meanwhile, another (PM) is starting to enjoy the joys of motherhood, while MM grieves over her mom's passing, after battling cancer for 4 years.

It just dawned on me how fragile and precious the spectre of time we have on this earth. Anything can happen in the next moment. Anything!

And the things that seemed so important to me at this moment - my work, DK, bills, money - all suddenly seems so trivial.

I know I shouldn't mull over this. This is after all how the universe works.

I know that shit happens in life. It always does.

But still, tragedy always awakens the soul.

We truly need to remind ourselves to live life as if this was your last day.

Forgiving

It is so draining to remain angry at someone. Although it seems senseless to forgive at this point - to give up the fight for justice and fairness, I also realize that this anger really ends up eating me inside slowly.

Perhaps forgiveness is not a sign of weakness, it is not a sign of defeat.

At this point, I think forgiving is more of making peace with myself, than it is of making peace with DK. I want to move on with my life without this burden of anger holding me back.

The moment I decided to forgive him (and it was somehwere between Kuching and Santubong that this conclusion was made), it was such a sense of relief.

Perhaps this is my lesson out of the entire episode.

What a name!

Was driving into the office and saw a company that has named itself "Khidmat Agresif Sdn Bhd" (translated to Aggressive Services Sdn Bhd).

Don't know whether to be impressed by their potential service level or to be fearful.

Would be interesting if their services had sexual connotations... or even money collection.

But alas, it was a rubbish collection company...

Is the truth always the best?

I recently came to know that the fairy tale I thought I had in the last year was really an unbelievably big web of lies. He was a man I used to think I knew well, but now concede that I was the fool. I have never been so bad at judging a person, but this round, I have failed by all counts.

I never expected him to be part of my life forever. I was all ready to lap up the story about him going off to another country and that would be the end of us. We would remain friends and that's it.

But now, after confronting the facts and piecing it all together, I find the naked truth horribly ugly; so much so that I sometimes rather not face it.

Amidst the daily hustle and bustle, it's easy to pass the guy off as a cowardly bastard, a worthless scumbag. Everytime I share my unfortuante series of events with friends, we curse and swear him. It seems to go well. I get it out of my system and can almots convince myself that my wounds have healed.

But it's on quiet weekend mornings like today, the tsunami of hurt and pain wash all over me again.

It's easier to be mad and to hate, because those feelings are projected externally. But to feel pain and hurt and dejection, these are internalised and they are harder to deal with.

I loved him. I knew he did not love me back as much, but I did not love him to have him love me back. I just enjoyed loving him. And I truly doo not regret it. But it's the deception and knowing that he set out to intentionally cheat that hurts so deeply - knowing that the person you so trust and cared for was out to cause you harm.

I have many times wished I never saw the true colours. The fairy tale, although fake, was so much easier to swallow. If I didn't piece it all together, I would today feel no pain nor hurt, or at least less of it.

Sometimes, perhaps sometimes, it's better to live in a lie.

Is the truth always so important? As some say, ignorance is bliss...