Live A Lotus Life

“As a lotus flower is born in water, grows in water and rises out of water to stand above it unsoiled, so I, born in the world, raised in the world, having overcome
the world, live unsoiled by the world”

~ Buddha

My Orange Soul

Today
Sadly
I bade goodbye
To my loyal companion

For six years, we spent every day together
For six years, you brought me joy and laughter
Shielded me from harm and injury
For six years, you were the reason for my stardom
But more importantly,
For six years you gave me freedom

Oh, the places we’ve been to
Without you, I would have never dared to

We scaled mountains higher than the clouds
We conquered the east coast north to south
My best memory our journey
To land of nowhere
To wherever the may lead
The scenes, the sights
Wills always bring me
Pride and delight.

You saw it all
You heard it all

From my unforgiving curses
To my sweet praises
Those treasured moments
When my heart was opened
And when it was broken

You met my friends
Those treasured women who means so much to me
You met the men
That bastard Daniel who so betrayed me
The Boonster in my life
And the Mark in my heart

You were there
When success sent me soaring high
And failure humbled me
You were there in trying times,
When I could only cry and sigh
You always gave me peace
To find my strength within
To live life with my head held high

But you have done you duty
Been more than fair to me
I could feel you getting old
Not just age, but your soul

I hate to say goodbye
But I must
I can only thank you
With all my heart

Oh I already miss you so
My beloved orange Punto

The Siti of Puke

I woke up this morning and realize that BL did not come back last night, not that it bothered me much. However, by 11am, I figured I’d better check if he is still alive. He was.

He returned an hour later, changed, showered, and plunged straight to be, with the usual complaints of headaches and body aches (what’s new?)

I was clearing the laundry bag in my dressing room when I picked up his pants and say big patches of brown stains all over the front. Looks like some chocolate sauce to me. So imagine how grossed out I was when he told me it was vomit.

How unhygienic and inconsiderate can one be?! Pukes on his pants, comes back and conveniently just dump his pants for someone to wash. And dump where? In my dressing room, where the clean clothes are! He is well aware I have a laundry room, where he has been leaving his post-badminton-sweat-soaked shirts.

I think it’s time I change my name to Siti.

I made a point to tell him how disgusted I was. He, drowsily looks up from the pillow, apologized, and went back to bed. Talk about remedial action.

I was too disgusted, and I was in a hurry to head out the door. I drop the pants in the yard. “He had better dealt with that @#* by the time I got back”, I thought.

I got home six hours later and he was still sleeping. I nagged again, and again. Finally, he got out of bed, went to the yard and look at his pants. Spray pre-way bleach on it and left it back at the yard. That grotesque thing was there, untouched for a week. When I finally could stand the sight no more, I threw it into the washer. The pants came out…. beautiful. No more chocolaty wine stains, but bleached white patches all over. There is karma… thank you.

Ooh, but that’s not it. I fanned the pants out on the sofa and asked him what he wanted to do with the pants. He said, “What else? Throw la”. “OK, then please throw it away”, I retorted. “Okaayyy, okaayyy”, but it sat there for another week. I save myself a few breaths and bundled the pants up ad into a garbage bag.

Yuck! Pooh! Phat! I am beyond words. Even I don’t make my mom wash my puke.

Please, please, please enlighten me how can one live with a person of such tardy nature.

The Golden Buddha

Meditation in the last 3 days has been interesting. On Thursday, I started to see a bright light coming from above. The problem is every time I see this light, it makes me feel good and relaxed, and eventually I drift into sleep zone. When I catch myself, then the light comes back, and I drift again.


On Friday, I reminded myself to be more focus. That’s when I started to see the moon instead of a round sphere of light. The same moon I saw on the first night here. The moon was out in the horizon and I felt myself sailing on the sea towards the moon. It felt like an endless journey. Suddenly, the moon turned into a golden lotus. The lotus then turned around and it was Buddha, a golden one. It’s this a dream or I am just hallucinating?

Today, I saw Buddha’s image again, but this time very clearly. I can see the features on his face. The light brighter, and then I started to spin. I got to dizzy I had to open my eyes, and that was the end of that meditation session.

The most stress-free Christmas ever!

Christmas came and went. Today is Boxing Day. It could have just been any other day in Himawan. Theirs was no fanfare; it was just like any other day.


Himawan is a truly peaceful sanctuary. I enjoy the energy here. Everyone is humble, friendly, kind, patient and respectful.

3 days into the retreat, I feel the difference. My mind is more alert and free. I feel lighter, emotionally. Totally stress-free. I now know why the rule is no food after lunch. I find myself more focused during the late evening sessions. I tend to doze off during the morning meditations; I guess it because of the breakfast in my tummy.

Mark finally replied my SMS today, finally. Huge relief to know his surgery went well. His nose is still bleeding, but it’s expected as part of the recovery process. He is checking out of the hospital today.

The Light

Meditation is slowly improving. I started to see the light that the monks talk about. But it doesn’t last long. I am getting used to sitting for long periods now. The last session, I didn’t get stiff legs at the end of the session.

Meditation retreat is great for weight loss! Only 2 meals a day and no food after lunch. I can imagine Mark will keel over from starvation here.


In the afternoons between meditations, I started sitting out in the beautifully landscaped garden outside of the meditation hall. It’s great here. The grass is soft. You see the leave dance in the wind.
Since I left KL, I have not thought much about Boon Lee. On the contrary, Mark was constantly on my mind. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I am worried about his surgery in Bangkok and his recovery. But I guess it’s also a sign of where my heart is.

The kiasu Singaporeans are quite amusing - so much comments, eat like hogs and walk around clutching their belongings as if the people are going to break into their room to steal their precious stuff. There are 2 ladies among the Singaporean group who just couldn't stop farting and burping during meditation. Aside from disgusting, it's distracting. People are shifting spots to avoid them. Me too!

Loei's Moon

After an entire day stuffed up in the bus, we finally  reached Loei. I am so glad I came. This place is amazingly beautiful. Mountains in all directions, fresh crisp air, crickets sing in the night and the moon….. Oh the moon. It is so big and low in the sky, I feel I could just jump and reach for it.  I am looking at it now. It glows and shines, and just lit up the entire sky.

The meditation group is pretty interesting. There are people from all over the world – from US, Africa, Russia, Mongolia, Australia, UL and Italy… and of course a group of noisy, kiasu and ever-critical Singaporeans.

Meditation wasn’t as hard as I thought. I think it’s partly because I had a brief introduction to it in the US and partly due to my yoga practice. As in the past, I still have can shut my mind down. It goes wandering in Wonder-land. Shortly after I closed my eyes and blocked out the other senses< I start to get visions – about work, home, mom, etc. I need to work harder.

Chill, I have all the time in the world.

Here I am at LCCT enroute to Bangkok. What a bad day! Lost my ATM card, missed my flight, had a bowl of inedible laksa & mushy sandwich, and now, my new flight is delayed.

Surprisingly, I am quite cool and composed. Not angry at all. I guess if there’s anything I have now, it’s time.

The Addictive Light

Yesterday was a really good day. During the morning meditation, I started to feel a sense of joy when I was deep in the meditation. I finally saw the light the monks have been talking about. It radiates a light that warms every tiny nook on your body. It sends a tingling sensation through your skin that brings all your senses to live!

After a few experiences with the light, I think I am starting to get addicted to it. I was a little disappointed this morning when halfway through my “enlightening”, the monk guided us to end our mediation, as time was up. Not sure if this is how it shoudl be or not. Should we be rid of desire?

Hmm… apparently teaching kids to be a good person bring good karma. Good to know I am working in the right industry.

This afternoon, I took a short nap and I swear, I have never had, or remembered to many dreams. I don’t know if it’s because of my mind is clearer, dreams are more vivid.

Thank You

"There is no prize awarded for winning last words. A simple thank you will suffice as a display of gratitude and graciousness."

A Whole New Enriching Journey

I have started to get myself a little involved in publishing lately. It’s really been quite enlightening. Authors are people that we should really spend more time with, especially children book authors. Most of the authors or aspiring authors that I have met are the nicest, warmest and dearest people. They are all full of joy and hope. I love their good vibes and vibrant energy, unlike some ranting adult novel authors.

I really would like to become en editor and publisher. There is a great degree of satisfaction to bring a piece of raw test into full bloom as a book. And I certainly think that talented authors with good work deserve some recognition.

It’s e a new and interesting road. I have learned quite a bit in the last few months dipping my toes into script selection and it’s been an eye-opener. Hopefully, before the year is out, I would be able to publish at least one book.

There are so many good authors out there who really need a little help. So far, I have been pretty proud of my little project to help some local authors sell theirs books. Some people really have no idea how good they are; or likewise how bad they are. I have read some good manuscripts, and I have read some mediocre ones too. The good ones warm your heart; the others might just make you cringe and squirm.

Sometimes, authors try to force to many events into their stories and they who piece of work end up to contrived and unnatural. There also those who can argue beauty out of anything done by their kids and spouse.

Having said that, I of all people, knows better how difficult it is to create something out of nothing. Thus, for the effort, anyone’s work should be respected, and their ego taken care of. Any caterpillar has the potential to become a glorious butterfly. Some just needs a little more time and nurturing.

Serene and I are talking about starting a writers group here in Malaysia. I think that’s a splendid idea. I am quite sure it will be a it will more of a learning process for me, than for the authors.

I must say I am on the lucky end of the stick, working for a publisher and having the luxury of being exposed to so many books. I was at a workshop for aspiring authors a few weeks ago. I must say the being the publisher in that room felt like god. The moment these people heard I was from Scholastic, you can see the light in their face. Even the agents look at you differently.

Anyway, the satisfaction of helping someone far outweighs that like short moment of power. This is a new journey, and I will continue to be humble and open.

What lies...

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters, compared to what lies within us.

She Always Gets What She Wants

Britney always gets what she wants. Always. She has mastered the skill of willing things out of her parents. All she needs to do is to persevere and keep asking her parents until they give up and give in. If that doesn’t work, then she stops talking to them. Both are extreme strategies –keep talking, and not talk at all – but works every single time.

So when Britney saw this stick at the store that she thought would make great addition to her toy collection, she told her mom she wanted it. It was white and slim, and it was magical. Britney was thrilled. She could bend and twist it, and it would always spring back into its original shapes. She could tie a string at the end and go fishing with her brother. She could tie the string on both ends and it would become a bow. She could even play golf with it. She could ride on her stick and it would not break. She can’t wait to show it off to brother.

Mrs. Ng was looking doubtfully at the stick and asked Britney if she was sure she wanted it. Britney could sense some resistance coming and launch her counter-measures immediately. “Yes, I want it”, she demanded. “Really?” asked mom again. “Yes, yes, yes, I want it”, she stomped. Mrs. Ng sighed and dutifully paid for the stick.

Britney was so happy. She played with the stick all afternoon. When Aunty Ah Mei came for dinner later that evening, she proudly showed off her new toy. Strangely, Aunty Ah Mei was shocked. She looked at Mrs. Ng, puzzled. Mrs. Ng grudgingly told Aunty Ah Mei that she was force to pay for the toy. Aunty Ah Mei burst out into laughter. Mom joined the hullabaloo and laughed even louder.

Britney was confused and annoyed, but more of the latter. Obviously, there was something between them that she does not know about. “What are you both laughing about?” I had to ask.

“Why did you asked you Mommy to buy this? Do you know what this is?” asked Aunty Ah Mei, giggling between the words. She was pointing at my magic stick. “Yes, it’s my stick and it is magical.” Aunty Ah Mei was still giggling. “Stop it, stop laughing”, Britney pouted.

“Come, let me show you what this” Aunty Ah Mei took the stick from Britney.

It happened too fast. I don’t really remember what happened. All I know was Aunty Ah Mei twisted her hand lightly and I immediately fell this searing pain on my leg. “Ouch!” I screamed. “What did you do? It hurts. Why are you hurting me?”

Aunty Ah Mei smiled, “well, that’s what this is for, it’s a cane. When kids are naughty or do not obey their parents, some parents will use this to cane these naughty kids.” She moved the stick again.

I was taking any chances. I jumped away. Aunty Ah Mei and Mrs. Ng laughed again.

I felt so embarrassed. No wonder Mom was so reluctant to buy it in the first place. It’s a horrible thing! I felt so silly.

From that day onwards, I no longer wanted that toy.

I'm Older Than My Mom

Last week, Mom asked if I wanted to go up to Genting to watch a concert with her. I wasn’t very keen. For someone who has successfully stayed away from that horrendously pretentious and overcrowded mountain for the 15 years, I have been up there twice in the last 6 months. Both times were for concerts with Mom. I was really not up for another gruesome weekend among plastic Vienna and screaming kids until for at least another 10 years. “Whose concert”, I asked. She said it was Michael something. “Oh no, Michael Bolton?” I asked.

“No, Michael Learns to Rock” said Mom. I almost fell off my chair. My mother wants to go to a Micheal Learns to Rock concert! I always thought that band was for kids, albeit kids from an earlier generation. Still, they were too young for me. When did Mom become a MLOR groupie? I guess I should not have been so surprised, since she can name me Shakira's and Augilera's songs these days. Even some Justin Timberlake 'Sexy something' song.

She amazes me these days. I feel like the old fart at home.

Gosh, I still remember her long nag that evening when I wore my first bare back shirt for a party. Now, she’s the one with more back-barring shirts that me. Long before me, she already had a wardrobe of Korean pop-fashion clothes, you know, the dress and leotards thingy.

I remembered the movie I watched with Mark, ‘My Mother is a Belly Dancer’. Well, lo and behold, what do you know… my mom IS a belly dancer. She started belly dancing class last month.

I guess I am happy about it as much as I am bewildered. It’s good that she’s got some hobby.

Commitment-phobic

I almost called it off with BL last week. I have been so frustrated with our every interaction lately, persistently finding fault with him. Gosh, I feel so much like those petty women I swore I would never be. And here I am, behaving exactly like one.

Friends who were eager to dispense advice kept asking me what exactly the problem was. The problem was, and is, I am not sure what the problem is. But there’s a nagging feeling that this is just not right. Two people coming together should be about joy. My relationship is full of frustration, agitation and anger.

The girls said it my issue with commitment, the kind of commitment that BL is expecting of our relationship.

They could be right. I often wonder if all this fault-picking is not my way of finding the imperfections in the union so I can further reinforce my longtime conviction that my soul feeds on freedom.

Sometimes, I think perhaps it’s what BL has asked of me, and what he’s giving back to me simply ain’t enough to balance the scales. This commitment thing, is a huge step for me. He wanted that from me, and once I’ve convinced myself to take that step, I want to see that it’s worth my while, my effort, my courage and my sacrifice (Gee, that was 4 ‘mys’ in a row). You know, a simple transaction of exchanging values. And with everything that has happened, I am feeling cheated all the “mys”.

And yes, I am well aware that affairs of the heart cannot be treated the same way like affairs of P&L statements. What to do, what to do??? Perhaps the business world is too entrenched in me already.

I didn’t that I was really resisting commitment. But then again, I really have never gone into any relationship with the feeling that I’m ready to ride it out for the long-run. Most time, it’s the challenge of conquering and of achieving. It’s funny, isn’t it? I display such eager commitment to my job, but cannot even inch out a fraction o f the same dedication for the people I love.

The very words I coined up a few months back now ring so true in my year… the great eulogy about “Expectations kill relationships. And it’s the people we love most that we expect the most of….”

But then again, I should perhaps add a disclaimer to my infamous quote above. People who are not closed to us do encroach into our private living space. Is that disclaimer good enough? Good enough to wash my selfish sins away? I know, probably not.

Or maybe… maybe…. this is that great love that was meant to be…..

Always A Tiger

Food & Sex

OK, I think this is one of those “Texas, we have a problem” moment.

Last night, after we made hot passionate love (love, not sex because there isn’t yet), the thoughts of food kept creeping into BL’s mind. While I was planting kisses all over his body, he kept reciting names of food that he wanted to eat. A&W waffle with ice cream, pig intestine porridge, fried hokkien mee…. I told him I was not going to get out of bed, get dressed and go slap fat around my waist. Supper is the highway to obesity.

This morning, I woke up all and ready to have a big English breakfast, he says he need to sleep. It is now 11am, half the day is gone. He’s still sleeping and I am still hungry.

Something is very wrong with this scene.

A Naif's Boo Boo with Fat

How much insult can a woman tolerate in a week?

After a big bad blow, I had a big bad row.

After not seeing BL for a few days and missing him, I made an effort to go over to his place to have dinner with him yesterday. Dinner was OK, we chatted while I ate. Immediately after dinner, he moved over to the TV and turned on the mandarin news. It was the end of a long day and I was just too tired to make my brain work doubly hard to translate whatever the newscaster was reading into the lingo I comprehend. With my brain idle, I thought I’d snooze a little on the bed.

BL joined me soon after. We snuggled a bit, he wrapped his arms around my tummy, squeezed it a little and said “fat fat”. I was distraught!! Hey, I don’t usually have a body image problem, but gee, where did that attack suddenly came from? Besides, I don’t think I am fat. I may not be stick-thin like those runway models, but fat I ain’t.

He was perplexed by my display of such extreme reaction to his little remark. I tried to reason with him. It’s common knowledge – the issue of weight is very sensitive among women. “Even if a woman was fat, and she asked you what if she was, you lie!”

To this, he retorted, “But I don’t lie. I always speak nothing but the truth”. Gosh! In the context of him just branding me fat, this was a very bad recovery. It was like stabbing a knife into one’s heart and now you twist the knife around to increase the torture.

“I don’t mean you’re very fat dear, but not what I meant was that you’re not the skinny kind. See, compared to me, you’re not that fat.” And BL rub this jolly beer belly to proof his point. I think my heart sank 6 feet lower. Honestly, I thought to myself, anyone would be thin standing next to BL.

“Don’t worry dear”, BL said, “even if you become as fat as Lydia Sum, I would still love you.” At this point, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to cry and smack him. Lydia Sum?!! Lydia Sum is 6 times my size! I think if that knife was really stabbed into my heart, this would be the moment I exhale my last breath.

Vincent said I’ve got to love him to his naivety. I told him my heart is just too shrouded with frustration at the moment to see that far.

A Big Bad Blow

My relationship with BL is on the rocks. I don’t where the problem is – him, me, or just whatever that is or is not between us.

2 years of pseudo relationship with an arrogant bastard has not managed to make feel as half as small as what BL has reduced me to in just a mere 4 months.

Our lifestyles couldn’t be more different. I am a very private person. My private space and time is something I guard. I can work till the wee hours of the night on weekdays, but weekends are strictly off work. I don’t even want to think about work. For the last 3 years, I have made a conscious decision not to work from home because I don’t maintain distinct segregation between my work and private space.

BL is exactly the opposite. He doesn’t have an office to go to. He only has workstation assigned to him when he checks into his office. Unless there are meetings to attend, he works from home. Over the years, he has lost his ability to compartmentalize. He can be watching TV with you work on his notebook at the same time. Likewise, He can be physically in my space, but his mind couldn’t be further away. You pour your heart to him and end up feeling like you’ve just confessed to a blank wall.

Honestly, I am insulted that I have to compete for his attention with NST Online, Star Online and Bernama. Seriously, I would have felt much better if it was another woman than something as trivial as online news.

Yesterday morning was the last straw. I was going down on BL when we woke up in the morning. He made little moans and groans, and then it stopped. I looked up and saw his eyes starring at the ceiling. I stopped and asked him, “What’s on your mind? Work?”. He nodded shyly. I had no words to describe my anger. I stormed out of the room.

I cannot think of any blow to a woman’s ego. Even if it ain’t that great, show some appreciation – FAKE it! Besides, I don’t think I do such a bad job that department. SL has enjoyed it, as well as a line of many AFF guys.

I told a few friends, and they were all in utter disgust. SC is right, I would never be able to go down on BL again without images of yesterday’s faithful event popping up in my head.

I always thought when you find the perfect love, it's supposed to feel like one of those Jerry Mcguire "you complete me" cliches, make you feel a greater you. Why do I feel so mad all the time these days?

Blood Loss II

I feel extremely light-headed. In the midst of my mens, I went for my regular dental check this morning and end up having my wisdom tooth extracted. Bleeding top and bottom. Geez, I need some of those pig livers.

A Super-Duper Hair Dryer

I now believe that every girl should have a powerful hair dryer. Not the "cheaplak" mini travelling hair dryurer, but those big, bulky one that looks like a freaking gun and will literally blow your head away.

I finally upgraded my hairdryer last week – from 800 watts to 2100 watts!. It cost a bomb - RM180 - yes, I know you think I'm crazy - but believe me, it was money well spent.

It saves me precious minutes every morning. Dries my hair at twice the speed. My hair is fluffier and it make my head feels lighter. I swear, these days, I literally strut into the office sashaying my 'perfect' bob.

P/S: That ionizer really does works - makes your hair less dry, less brittle and smoother.

Heavenly Days

I had a very pampering day today. Went for a swim in the morning, then 2 hours of facial, followed by 2 hours of pedicure. After that, coffee and blueberry cheesecake at Celiacakes with mom; double boiled soup for dinner. Capped the day with a shower and full body scrub with BL plus wonderful love-making. I'm in heaven.....

Blissful Days & Sleepless Nights

I always told friends that I cannot imagine living with anyone. I never quite knew why. Now I know….

Whoever said loves brings blissful days were utter liars! Love only brings sleepless nights.

BL has insomnia. He wakes up every 2 hours to go to the loo. No that there’s that much to discharge, it’s just a psychological consequence of lying awake staring at the ceiling fan. But every time he gets up to do his business, he wakes me up.

With a will to get back my peaceful slumber, I found him a relaxant. Oh, very effective. He sleep like a pig. Not soundly, but noisy as a pig. I could hear his snoring from the kitchen!

This morning, I resorted to sleeping on the couch in the hall. Boy, was I grouchy…. I kicked him back to his own place tonight.

Marriage has no guarantees. If that's what you're looking for, go live with a car battery. -- Erma Bombeck, 1927-1996

Love Is When He Irons Your Clothes

Can you love someone so much you fell him deep within the pit of your gut. I think so because I feel him there.

He tells me he loves me a thousand times a day. He hugs me to sleep and warms my feet in the morning.

And for the first time in my life, a man irons my clothes!!! I was totally touched. There a many things a man would do for a woman, but to iron her clothes.... that has gotta be love. It was a dress so pleated, so delicate, that I myself dreaded ironing it. And to see him iron it with so much care... how could one not love this man?

I have always thought I would be overwhelmed with such romantic gestures. I did at first, but now, I am starting to learn to enjoy them.

I still get over the fact that 14 years ago, I’ve actually had a crush on this man. After all the drama, here we are. Destiny? I don’t know. But I think it’s more about the right time and right place, in short, luck.

Wickedly Romantic Trappings

Yes, wickedly romantic things. Not an oxymoron. It’s real.

Things that melt your heart and leave you defenseless. Things that are so sweet, they’re bad for you…

The top 2 wickedly romantic things of 2007 has got to be:
- the Starbucks Dairy
- the “have a fabulous day” sms

Karen was a victim. I have just been one too.

A very dear friend whom I have known for 14 years is suddenly wooing me. I don’t know how long he has been feeling this way, but it dawned on me the morning I received the “have a fabulous day” sms.

Then came the daily “goodnight” and “good morning” smses.

Today, I received the Starbucks Dairy.

It was very, very sweet. But I am so confused.

They attention is most certainly flattering, and I am certainly guilty of reciprocrating the flirts since this great and fabulous realization. But I am confused, and concerned. I am so almost certain I will end up hurting him. And he is too good a friend, I don’t want to see him hurt again.

Oh dear, what to do now?

A Great Love

In love, we win very rarely, but when love is true, even if you lose, you still win just for having the tingle of loving someone more than you love yourself.

There comes a time when we stop loving someone, not because that person has stopped loving us but because we have found out that, they'd be happier if we let go..

Why do we close our eyes when we sleep? When we cry? When we imagine? When we kiss?

This is because THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THINGS IN THE WORLD ARE UNSEEN.

There are things that we never want to let go of, people we never want to leave behind, but keep in mind that letting go isn't the end of the world. It's the beginning of a new life. Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched and those who have tried. For only they can appreciate the importance of the people who have touched our lives.

A great love? It's when you shed tears and still you care for them, it's when they ignore you and still you long for them. It's when they begin to love another and yet you smile and say, "I'm happy for you." If love fails, set yourself free, let your heart spread its wings and fly again. Remember you may find love and lose it, but when love dies, you never have to die with it.

The strongest people are not those who always win but those who stand back up when they fall. Somehow, along the course of life, you learn about yourself and realize that there should never be regrets, only a lifelong appreciation of the choices you've made.

Loving is not how you forget but how you forgive, not how you listen but how you understand, not what you see but how you feel, and not how you let go but how you hold on.

It's more dangerous to weep inwardly rather than outwardly. Outward tears can be wiped away while secret tears scar forever.

It's best to wait for the one you want than settle for one that's available. It's best to wait for the right one because life is too short to waste on just someone.

Definition of Success

“To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children...to leave the world a better place...to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Alone on Christmas Day

This Christmas feels a little depressing. No one is around to share the Christmas cheer.

In the last few years, Christmas has always been a time to reminisce the year that was, to share your love and joy with old friends.

This year, everyone has been busy leading up to Christmas that there was hardly any time for thanks. And everyone is spending Christmas with their men (well, I guess I would too if my man wanted to spend Christmas with me).

I finally skated this Christmas!

I have been yearning to do it for the last few years. The last time I skated was on Holmes Lake in 1995. I had a silly thought that skating on ice that whole Christmas feel – the thought of being snug-ed up in your sweater, scarf and mittens.

And Mark came with me, so I thought it would be great.

No, no, I did not dare have those Bollywood plots on my mind, of holding hands and skating round the rink.

And so we went. Boy, oh boy, it was a big reality check really. We were the oldest folks in the rink. It was so warm, girls were skating in spaghetti stripe shirts; the scarf would have made you look stupid. And the rink was so small I got bored after 10 minutes.

Mark taught me some moves. I tried and tried, only to end up hard on my ass, five times in all. It’s still aching today.

But I had fun. It’s great to feel like a kid again.

And I probably won’t do this again in another 12 years from now. Haha…

It Has Been A Year

I am finally done for the year. No more travel, no more fairs, no more stock count until 2007 (which is only 2 weeks away).

Alas, it feels like December, it feels like Christmas, when you are allowed to take time out and enjoy the last bit of the year. Yesterday, I found time to do filing! Ii left my office with table that was neat and clean - you could see the tabletop!

My schedule has been gruelling since November. I was so tired, I just collapsed last night.

2006 – as usual, went by just liked that. Worked kept me occupied and happy. I don’t know it’s that’s considered good or bad. Nothing much achieved in 2006, just worked, worked and worked. My department is doing great. Numbers are healthy, staff is happy. That is probably my greatest achievement this year.

Other than that, I really haven’t done much for myself. Didn’t travel much (except for Siem Reap and Singapore. Didn’t read much. Didn’t make new friends.

At the start of this year, I resolute-d not to resolute. Perhaps that’s the reason I feel like I have not gotten anywhere.

Daniel and Daniels

Daniel Craig, the new Bond.

There’s some uncanny resemblance between Daniel Koh and Daniel Craig.

No, I am not crazy, I am not hallucinating. Shawn felt the same way too.

Those thick lower lips and thin upper lips. That sharp chin and rugged “labourer”’ look about him.

It felt so strange. All through the movie, thoughts of Daniel keep creeping back up.

Later than night, I googled Daniel Craig just for the heck of it. And guess what I found. They are born on the same day.

What eerie coincidences….

I wonder…

Does you name shape your character? I am sure we have come across people whom we think don’t suit their name. Does a masculine name make one more macho? In Chinese, we believe that the name supports the character of a person, so why not in English.

Secondly, do people who share the same birthday also share the some common characters. After all, that’s the basis of the astrological calendar isn’t it?

Deja-Vu

This gal from AIA called me a few days back. Gosh, I can’t even remember her name. Anyway, she called to see if she could explore some joint venture opportunities with my company.

Coming from AIA, I already knew what this was all about. I asked her what department she was from, and she said she was from Direct Marketing.

This is so deja-vu. She sounded exactly like me 7 years ago. I feel like I have come a full cycle.

A few months back, a headhunter had called me offering me the position of Senior Manager in the Direct Marketing department.

I knew this girl wouldn’t be able to offer anything useful to me. But I granted her a meeting because I remember I wished people would hear me out those days.

And I secretly wanted to enjoy the shock on her face when she found out where I came from.

Insights

These stupid consultants keep giving me insights.

“This and that gives you insight to blah blah blah.”

Insights, insight, insights….

An insight in an unproven, untested theory, a educated guess.

Says who?

Says me.

Moles

Moles, known medically as nevi, are clusters of pigmented cells that often appear as small, dark brown spots on your torso, face, arms and legs.

New moles have been popping up all over my body in the last few years, and they appear in the oddest of places. I have two of them on my scalp. One under my armpit, one above my armpit. I have one right at the tip of my nose and one between my eyebrows (yes, very symmetrical).

I just found one right under my eye. The other day, I even found one on my puss. I didn’t even know there was.

Chinese believe that the moles on different parts of the body signify certain virtues or character. Apparently those on my scalp means I have brain power. I wonder what the one down the puss means (hehe).

I don’t know, but at this point, I am just I am not getting those big one with hair sprouting out.

Tourism vs. Terrorism

We were supposed to do a book review for class last week. Everyone was given a few minutes to talk about their book. When the turn went to Ms Know-It-All, she said she read a book called ‘Tourism’ by ‘Daliwal’, or something along those lines.

“A book on tourism?” I thought, sounded like a non-fic book. I looked round and swear everyone else in class has the same wonderment look on their face. Lucy actually asked for the name of the book again, and she repeated the exact same words. Well, I guess she knows something we don’t.

She went on to describe it. I could hardly make out what she was trying to say, but heard words like violence, homosexualism, etc.

I get it. “You mean your book is called ter-ror-ri-sm?”

“Yes, tourism” I swear, she pronounced it as tourism. I bit my lips and hardened my face, but my liver and kidneys were giggling.

That was a new feat. A total oxymoron. One implies welcoming the westerners, and the other is to frighten them away.

This is a typical Chinese problem, when the tongue is stuck to the base of the mouth. I sure hope those China leaders don’t mince up those words on the world platform.

Red Tie & Underwear

We are supposed to write a story. Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. I was late getting out of the house this morning after Maggie caught me online. My nasi lemak bungkus was all gone by the time I got to Devi’s. The stupid waiter messed up my roti canai order. I still have not eaten anything. My brain is still sedated. I am cranky. And I have to start writing a story.

I am hoping that the moving of my fingers will somehow help with the circulation of blood to my brain.


I caught up with Elaine a few days back. We haven’t really chatted since she joined this new ‘china man’ company of hers and I couldn’t wait to hear the stories. The company she joined was one people like us swore to stay away from. This, was after, a company renowned for conducting meeting in Chinese.

I always thought she would somehow survive that ultra chauvinistic culture by charming the ‘ah peks’ with all her innovative hokkien foul words and phrases.

It sounded like she is adapting fine in her new job. She was relating or the quirky ‘ah pek’ habits she has encountered. They were so hilarious

The CFO who had a room full of pigs. Pig pictures, pig figurines, pig cushions, pig pens. Pig was apparently his lucky animal.

Then there was the HOD presentation to the chairman. She thought she used to had it bad, when these nervous heads of departments would insist on rehearsing their presentations as a group and ‘role played’ the Q&As. In this companuy, they rehearsed 5 times. For a woman who had no qualms to ask her boss to shut up, this was a dreadful chore. This group of people were highly payed executives, and they were behaving like high school kids. Well, she was the new kid on the block, it was wise to play along, she thought. The day before the presentation, after 8 hours of bad grammar, badly rehearsed scripts and cheesy jokes, she was just about ready to go home when she was asked to stay back to make an important decision. Elaine obliged, sat up and geared herself to participate in the discussion.

Mr Wong quiet down the room and said, “OK, what are we going to wear tomorrow?”

Elaine almost dropped off her chair. “Oh my God” she thought.

Before she could say anything, someone added “ I think we should wear red. According to the charts, red is a lucky colour tomorrow.”

To this, Mr Wong said “OK, so everyone…tomorrow…. red tie and red underwear”. Someone else asked, “what kind of red?”

“Make sure it’s blood red ah” said Mr Wong.

Elaine, who has been holding her breath, could not bear it anymore. She shut her eyes tight to control, but a giggle slipped. It was a relief and she looked up and was about to let out a louder laugh. That’s when she realized, no on else was laughing.

Everyone else in the room was starring at her, solemn.

Alex nudged her elbow and sushed her. She looked down and whispered, “are they serious?”

“Yes, very. Shhh.”

I wonder if one can get away with murders if they wear red on that day.

I’ve always wondered how feng shui have made people so blind. It’s like a religion on its own. You part your money in exchange for hopes and blind faith.

Just like the silly religions. Everything is good is a result of feng shui or helping hand from God. But after you have heeded all instructions, everything bad is either a lesson from God, or you have placed your fountain at the wrong degree to the floor.

Retirement

It’s the 4th day of my five-day break. I have been enjoying every moment of it. I spend my days cleaning, napping, swimming, reading; doing things without much purpose. Most times, I just move from one space to another in my home, without purpose. It’s a lazy hermit break, and it has been decadent.

Oftentimes, I have wondered what I would do when I hit retirement age. I’m in a job now that I can’t bear to leave. It doesn’t pay well, but hell, I love it. I love what my job represents, I love how my job touch lives, I love the people I work with. I know I won’t be able to find another job like this. The trick now is to keep it.

I have thought about retiring to Australia. I have always wanted to get a small little condo on Coogee Beach, Sydney. The sunrise there has captured my heart.

Minneapolis was always an option those I have not figured out how to deal with the icy winters. But like every Minneapolian, I believe the springs, summers and falls makes it all worthwhile.

Another option would be Bali, the Ubud area. I liked the place, it’s quaint. It’s artsy and folksy at the same time. Not a metro, but near enough.

Or just stay put here in my cuddly home. A little bird was perching on my lanai yesterday. It’s such a sweet though that in this busy city, bustling with activity and pollution, I can find a bird on my window. I do hear them every day and night, and I love it.

What can I do when I retire? Open that little coffee shop that I have always wanted to? Share my joy of coffee and my job of books. I can have book readings there. I would write, I would teach (which reminds me I should check out the TESOL course), I could paint. Ah yes, I think I could be as happy as a toad just doing some of those.

The Man Who Stopped the Bus

For every man we women curse and swear about, for every time they display their aloof and careless antics, there is always one of those exceptions.

And Chong is one.

There was one time that Carol was going to catch a bus to KL. The bus was scheduled to depart at 9:30. At about 9:00, she called for a cab. Cabs in Singapore take about 5 minutes to respond to a call and reach your doorstep, so that still leave a good 25 minutes, quite good.

Chong called and was horrified to find that she had just called the cab. She was cutting it really tight. There was no room for the usual things Singaporeans worry about, traffic jam (which by their definition, is a queue of more than 10 cars at the red lights), accident (which rarely happens in Singapore), and other catastrophes.

Carol assured Chong it will be fine, but frankly, if she were to be so lucky to be caught in any one of those hold-ups, there wouldn’t be much she could do at this hour. Well, I can’t do much now, and nothing you can do too. What could you do? Stop the bus for me?” she joked and laughed off the worry-wart.

She bade her goodbyes and went downstairs to wait for her cab. Well, as she had guessed, it was all just worrying over nothing, she got there on time. The cab stopped right next to the bus, so she could conveniently just board it. She settled comfortably into a seat, and decided to call Chong to let him know that she’s fine.

He answered and asked, “Where are you?” She said she was on the bus.

“I am here”

“What do you mean you are here?”’ Carol retorted.

“I am here at the bus station. You told me to stop the bus in case you’re late mah”

Henceforth, Chong was known as 'The Man Who Stopped The Bus'.

Carol was upset and touched at the same time; upset at his stupidity, touched by his display of care and affection.

We, the bitching girlfriends, were all green with envy.

The Festive Bug

Flo and I were just discussion over lunch a few days ago, that how I wished people will just stopped inviting me to their homes for the festivities. You hate to turn down their good intentions, but really, I know I won’t show up.

Flo reminded me that a staff feels very proud to have your presence in their home, that I should at least ‘show face’.

But holidays are my private time. I cringe at the thought of giving up my precious ‘me’ time to engage in small talk and fake giggles. Small talk is hard work, even harder than 4 hours at the gym or a having to come up with a full proposal. You really need to put your brain on overdrive to come up with topics that others can relate to. And not to mention the frustration of trying to locate house in areas that are totally foreign to me.

The only time I do any ‘festive visiting’ these days is during Chinese New Year, and that is also only because I have to chauffeur mom around.

So far, I have not gone to any weddings, kids’ birthday parties or festive open houses invitations. I have never invited anyone but close friends to my home – the thought of the work involved is already too daunting. The only one thing I do attend, or at least “show face” is funeral. I know it weird, but I think a friend in grief will need me more that a friend at merrier times.

When I was a little kid, visiting was always fun. You see old friends, and you get ang pows. Even right up to high school, visiting was still fun. The whole scout group will go from one house to another on a biking entourage.

I wonder when the festive bug left me. I think it kinda stopped when I went to college, there wasn’t the need to. Friends were all back at their hometowns. And that habit stuck on since.

I told Flo that I don’t believe that my staffs don’t need me to visit their homes to know that I think highly of them.

Don't Know Much

We were in the car yesterday heading out for breakfast - Mark, Russ and me. It was one of those awkward silent moments, where the earlier conversations has ended and no one has anything new to say. We had stopped at the lights at SS2, waiting for it to turn green. I was looking out the driver’s window aimlessly.

In the silence, suddenly the chorus for the song on the radio became very clear, every word of it. And the lyrics went:

I don't know much but I know I love you.
That may be all I need to know.

Just as this chorus ended, I felt an incline from the back of my neck. I turned my head to the left and found Mark staring at me. And he met my eyes, he did not bulge.

The stare hit me, as if he is trying to tell me those three words. I was just taken aback. Out of not knowing what to say or do, I asked him “What?” It was supposed to mean “What are you looking at?” He just blinked him eyes slowly and gave me this knowing look.

I found myself in uncharted territory. I wasn’t sure if he really mean “I do love you” or he was just staring, which he do off and on and it is one of his ways of saying “he likes me” I did not dare to make that assumption. God knows what kind of damage it will to my heart, all the discipline and self-pep-talk about controlling expectations. No, no, there was too much to risk. Plus, Russ was sitting right behind.

So I did the one thing I could control – change to subject to a ‘matter-of-fact’ statement about the ESH warehouse.

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.