"Don't giggle when you laugh." said to me by Muffin, a faux pas he made in reference to my little giggles pre-sentence.
Woken up, and it rained beautifully. Love the rainy weather, partly because I can wear more exciting clothing to work. Like black stockings with an all-black ensemble and a double breasted beige coat. Or a dress under a trench. My office's temperature is almost like winter in Canada sometimes when it rains, the temperature difference is so great that most colleagues can tell when it rains without having to look up at the sky windows.
Can't really stand the humidity though. It's more humid this year I think! My hair grows at a really slow pace so am quite irritated with it, especially when some folks ask me "did I cut my hair" when the last hair-cutting was in January. I would like Henry to earn more from me but alas, that's the snail's pace my hair is growing. So my hair becomes 'big', like really bouncy when it has humidity like this after the rainy weather. Next time when my colleagues mention, I look different today, I shall say, "it's the humidity! the humidity!" and point to the sky and pretend to hyperventilate. How come other girls' hair not like this, ah? Maybe I have angmoh hair?
I never knew how well-read my writings were until I stopped writing for a while (actually, wrote something but was unfinished so yet-to-publish), and also been writing in the cell blog and in my journal, and "emails to chester". I don't think I'd ever stop writing, there are too many things in my head all the time. I'd have to get them out of my system. I think I can write about everything, most things. I can write a long thingy on my recent buys. I never got much satisfaction from shopping - to me it's just a checklist of what I need and what I want and the merger of the two. Of course I'm quite picky especially when it comes to clothes, and although being picky, I still make some mistakes - or not so wise choices. So, not very fun for me. But lately I derive more pleasure from shopping. Maybe because I really buy into the brand's idea and the type of stuff they create that calls out to me. I'm into scandinavian design now, after since I noticed there are actually quite a few places selling Danish, Swedish, Norwegian products, and they tend to be better made, more unique too. Going to buy tons of stuff from THE MAKE UP STORE (Marina Sq, Vivocity, Paragon.) The shop lady Tiffany is so good that I wish I could recruit her to do my job. =) Maybe it's my imagination but I think those Scandinavian shops also have really good sales training for personnel that makes the whole buying experience a memorable and satifying one... Anyways I'm rather klutzy when it comes to makeup. I can never put it on well, and I won't touch up during the day (not my style la) and usually, most products don't do well for me (Mostly because I am scared of them.) And I only dare go to the very buyer-friendly Sasa and not Tangs beauty hall or those counters. Oh, yes, and price does play a huge difference in the quality of the products, though it's better to go to a place more well-known for makeup - say M.A.C. or THE MAKE UP STORE, rather than Clinique, Estee Lauder, Chanel. At least in my personal opinion. Shu Uemura is very good. Their lip gloss thingy has 'deep sea' water inside, and it really makes a difference - natural looking too. I have Angelina Jolie lips (Or at least that's what I've been told. And that's what makes me so kissable. hahahah!) Really thick for a Chinese girl or, any other race. In fact, show me someone whose lips are thicker than mine. They are so thick I accidentally bite it sometimes when I'm eating. =( So, I don't want lipstick to accentuate it! I want to minimize it, tone it down. Nobody understands how thick-lipped girls feel. If I put any red/pink/nice shade, I look like I'm pouting at everyone. So I need like beige, natural shades. Only glossed-up ones too. And I'm ultra- uber- satisfied with Shu Uemura. Kudos to the guru. I shall be faithful to their lip glosses for the next five years. I'm like that. Like I'm faithful to Palm Treo now(my next phones will be Treos), THE MAKE UP STORE(must try the glitter liner, addicted already), I only wear Perlini's ear studs for my many ear-holes, Starbucks frappes, Khiels', Zara cardigans (not Mango, they run after a few washes), the list goes on. It's not about the brand but rather the confidence I have in their products. Really, why try another phone when I have no complaints about the Treo and the plus point is that it's a guy magnet too. =P And, many business people use it, top professionals, my heads and other top guys, so when they see my phone and our eyes meet, it's like a nod of acceptance (I didn't buy the phone for that purpose, I only realised this recently when I keep meeting biz people with the same phone). They don't GMask it though. =)
But thanks for reading, I seriously don't think my writings are very interesting or inspirational or whatever. Maybe I just write about my observations in life so it's well-appreciated by those who also know how to observe, or to realise little things about people, and ourselves.
==
Lately, been having secretive meetings with the Lonely Hearts' Club President, Grant. Actually not really secretive, just that some people do not qualify, and others have to be accepted, pending approval. It's fun. We meet at obscure places, sometimes not a single place at all, but at different destinations for a night's meeting. The Lonely Hearts' Club. I guess the reason why we can talk so much is because we have gone through similar experiences, plus the huge qualifier of having just broken up this year. Once during the weekend, we talked till the neigbours came doing their tai-ji. Haha! Then we realised it was breaking dawn, the sky was a lovely pale red, with little drizzles. I appreciate life from Grant's point of view. He is good at reading people, emotionally, without passing judgement on their behavior, of course. I tend to think that people who are less emotional are a lot more judgemental. Because it takes understanding of the person, and that person's emotions, to form a basis of sympathy, comfort and care for the person. Sometimes for me, I tend to be more rational. I cannot understand why, for example, some singaporean girls throw themselves at angmohs. Nor can I understand why some people are secretive about their likings and dates. For me, I would like to shout it to the whole world, cuz I'd be idealistically so happy, so happy!! That I'd bubble and brim over with happiness and love for the lonely hearts to share in it. But in different contexts, maybe the parties feel that they cannot express their joy, at least not yet, or not to the whole world. It's difficult like this. I once liked a colleague before realising he's married. Of course, I stopped myself from liking him knowing that, hey, the road ahead would be a secretive and painful one. And also using common sense and what I've learnt from the most recent breakup. I don't think I can take casual relationships, I tend to be a bit more serious in choosing a (life) partner. Or maybe more particular. I can't help it. Been hurt before, yes. Been with too many people, learnt too many things. But nooooo this does not make me jaded at all. What is life without love? Or love, without life itself? At certain points of time in your life, you remember certain people who were there, your personal cheerleader, supporting you, helping you to go the distance. And sometimes you fall in love with them. It's nice to have someone like that. Someone who cares a lot for you. I'm wondering why I care for some people and not for others? But the one that you love must be worth it. See the potential in him, and the way he cares about the way you feel.
Grant and I agreed that it's this part, the part where the guy is chasing the girl (Like Kie now, although he doesn't seem to take much action to keep her interested for long) is the sweetest part. I know it takes guts for a guy to tell a lady. But if you don't tell, you won't know. Of course she won't make the first move...I won't. =P
Okay... the rain has stopped and I'm going back to sweet dreams. =)
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
The Dog and The Angry Man
Sometimes, you never know what you say to someone can change the person's life. For the better, in a way you never knew possible. Lately, been having nice friendships and they tell me things about myself and about themselves; that changes our lives, forever. You know why I dare to open my heart and share? Because you did, first. And that gave me the courage to. =)
Here's a story I received via mail today from a local writer.
==
THE DOG & THE ANGRY MAN
"Watch out! You nearly broad-sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.
At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.
But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctors’ orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Rick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Rick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Rick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent.
A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human beings on this earth.
I was tired of waiting for a God who did not answer.
Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem in vain to each of the sympathetic voices that answered.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."
I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs - all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair.
As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down.
It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, and then shook his head in puzzlement.
"He's a funny one ~ Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it." Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me.
"Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently.
Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship.
Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.
Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.
I woke Rick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene; but his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Rick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church.
The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog that had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers..."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article ~ Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter ~ His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father ~ and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Written by Catherine Moore
Here's a story I received via mail today from a local writer.
==
THE DOG & THE ANGRY MAN
"Watch out! You nearly broad-sided that car!" My father yelled at me.
"Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.
"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.
At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil. What could I do about him?
Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.
The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.
Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.
At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.
But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctors’ orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.
My husband, Rick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust.
Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Rick. We began to bicker and argue.
Alarmed, Rick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent.
A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human beings on this earth.
I was tired of waiting for a God who did not answer.
Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem in vain to each of the sympathetic voices that answered.
Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article."
I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.
I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs - all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair.
As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down.
It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.
I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, and then shook his head in puzzlement.
"He's a funny one ~ Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.
As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"
"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."
I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said.
I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.
"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.
Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it." Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.
Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me.
"Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.
At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently.
Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.
It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship.
Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.
Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends.
Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.
I woke Rick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene; but his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.
Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Rick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.
The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church.
The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog that had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers..."
"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.
For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article ~ Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter ~ His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father ~ and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
Written by Catherine Moore
Monday, April 16, 2007
The answer to everything
If I could tell you the answer, you wouldn't need to ask God.
Don't deny your feelings.
Eh, but don't embrace them too much, either.
I've realised in the last weeks that strong emotions can make or break a person. It's been TOO exciting for me, being a bystander in someone else's love story that may - or may not unfold, and someone else's that already unfolded in a strange way. I can only play the devil's advocate in giving some well-meant but on hindsight deeply unsuitable advice to all parties involved. For spiritedly being spiritedly, is clearly lacking in strong sensing where matters of the heart are concerned. Maybe she has lost her heart long ago and trashed it but, she really cannot sense what's best. Grant is terribly good at this though - I call it 'reading people'. I can read people's vibes, but not when they are in love. Things start to go a little bit haywire from there. For me it's like watching a fast paced foreign movie without the subtitles. After the translation via Grant, everyone's actions begin to make a little more sense.
Being non-conventional (and hating it at times), I realise that using me as an example to 'why the lady did this and what does it mean' is definitely not a good idea. Kie said yesterday, that I was really like a man. Erm, I guess he means that I'm straightforward and...say what I want to say...and nothing else. I am so feminine... though violent at times. Heh. I'd rather they ask me something else. Because even though I've been more experienced than I care to admit, experience counts for nothing when you fall in love all over again. If I told you exactly what to do to win her heart, then I'd rather be the one chasing (but I'm not interested in women.) And if I gave you advice whether you should proceed with the love affair, I think you are not taking ownership for one of the most important decisions of your life, should it come to marriage.
Sometimes I feel that we are too close knit to actually have any unique identity of our own. Yes, we know each other too well... And encouragement is good, of course.
I think I just want everyone to be happy. And not secretive. And definitely happy when you feel like you love someone and you just want to tell someone about it. =)
So, the true answer to everything? Seek God.
If you are serious about the Mr/Ms X, ask Him. Too often, it's not your will but His be done. I've gone against it only to be hurt, mauled, maligned, abused even. Emotional scars and the loneliness after. Just ask Grant. Just ask me. For a year of wilfulness, it's not worth paying the price for a moment of love to have such emotional wounds. But the healing comes, it comes.
It's not worth the sacrifice. And definitely not worth the heartbreak.
So love with all your heart and soul. But love Him first.
And GOOD LUCK!
Don't deny your feelings.
Eh, but don't embrace them too much, either.
I've realised in the last weeks that strong emotions can make or break a person. It's been TOO exciting for me, being a bystander in someone else's love story that may - or may not unfold, and someone else's that already unfolded in a strange way. I can only play the devil's advocate in giving some well-meant but on hindsight deeply unsuitable advice to all parties involved. For spiritedly being spiritedly, is clearly lacking in strong sensing where matters of the heart are concerned. Maybe she has lost her heart long ago and trashed it but, she really cannot sense what's best. Grant is terribly good at this though - I call it 'reading people'. I can read people's vibes, but not when they are in love. Things start to go a little bit haywire from there. For me it's like watching a fast paced foreign movie without the subtitles. After the translation via Grant, everyone's actions begin to make a little more sense.
Being non-conventional (and hating it at times), I realise that using me as an example to 'why the lady did this and what does it mean' is definitely not a good idea. Kie said yesterday, that I was really like a man. Erm, I guess he means that I'm straightforward and...say what I want to say...and nothing else. I am so feminine... though violent at times. Heh. I'd rather they ask me something else. Because even though I've been more experienced than I care to admit, experience counts for nothing when you fall in love all over again. If I told you exactly what to do to win her heart, then I'd rather be the one chasing (but I'm not interested in women.) And if I gave you advice whether you should proceed with the love affair, I think you are not taking ownership for one of the most important decisions of your life, should it come to marriage.
Sometimes I feel that we are too close knit to actually have any unique identity of our own. Yes, we know each other too well... And encouragement is good, of course.
I think I just want everyone to be happy. And not secretive. And definitely happy when you feel like you love someone and you just want to tell someone about it. =)
So, the true answer to everything? Seek God.
If you are serious about the Mr/Ms X, ask Him. Too often, it's not your will but His be done. I've gone against it only to be hurt, mauled, maligned, abused even. Emotional scars and the loneliness after. Just ask Grant. Just ask me. For a year of wilfulness, it's not worth paying the price for a moment of love to have such emotional wounds. But the healing comes, it comes.
It's not worth the sacrifice. And definitely not worth the heartbreak.
So love with all your heart and soul. But love Him first.
And GOOD LUCK!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Said to me, today and yesterday
Today this happened:
Teacher: "Class, construct a sentence with the word 'chance' in it. Who wants to go... (hands raised) Ok, David?"
David: "Please give me a chance to take care of you."
The Class: "Teacher, you must respond!"
Teacher: "Nooooo!!!"
Well, that was me doing my relief work teaching English, tertiary level in a private school. Quite funny because I don't think anyone would say that nowadays. Only in the movies.
Or only in English class.
=)
==
Met up with many of my clients personally these weeks for updates and I think this is the part I love most about my work, apart from collecting cheques... I love meeting people one-on-one without any ulterior motive! Yay! I met Gavin for dinner, yesterday. I pleasantly found out that some of my clients are christians - in fact I think the majority of them, though they did not mention it to me... I think that if your heart is right with God, there are so many opportunities to just talk about God to people. And lately, this proves to be true.
I realised that Gavin said a rather long prayer before dinner and then I asked him what church did he go to. He shared some previous experiences before mentioning ( I felt, a bit sadly) that he was a sunday christian, only go to church on sunday, but during the weekdays it's work work work and nothing else. So I boldly ventured, "Oh, why don't you serve God more?" His answer broke my heart and I felt so much like crying then and there.
He said softly, "I ask myself that, everyday."
Well, I wish I had him in my cell. But I'm blessed to have him as my client! =)
Dear Gavin, I believe you will find a way to serve God, soon.
Teacher: "Class, construct a sentence with the word 'chance' in it. Who wants to go... (hands raised) Ok, David?"
David: "Please give me a chance to take care of you."
The Class: "Teacher, you must respond!"
Teacher: "Nooooo!!!"
Well, that was me doing my relief work teaching English, tertiary level in a private school. Quite funny because I don't think anyone would say that nowadays. Only in the movies.
Or only in English class.
=)
==
Met up with many of my clients personally these weeks for updates and I think this is the part I love most about my work, apart from collecting cheques... I love meeting people one-on-one without any ulterior motive! Yay! I met Gavin for dinner, yesterday. I pleasantly found out that some of my clients are christians - in fact I think the majority of them, though they did not mention it to me... I think that if your heart is right with God, there are so many opportunities to just talk about God to people. And lately, this proves to be true.
I realised that Gavin said a rather long prayer before dinner and then I asked him what church did he go to. He shared some previous experiences before mentioning ( I felt, a bit sadly) that he was a sunday christian, only go to church on sunday, but during the weekdays it's work work work and nothing else. So I boldly ventured, "Oh, why don't you serve God more?" His answer broke my heart and I felt so much like crying then and there.
He said softly, "I ask myself that, everyday."
Well, I wish I had him in my cell. But I'm blessed to have him as my client! =)
Dear Gavin, I believe you will find a way to serve God, soon.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Elusive
"Love can really CHANGE people." -Grant
Sometimes, when you love someone, it doesn't mean that you have to be with them, or that you/they will actually be happier when you are together with them. I've liked people in different ways because they are special to me. Taking long walks with me through the bushes (singapore has no forests), in the rain, along the pavement, around...my jogging track...and just talking, about life, about love, about everything. Just finding a soulmate in both cheerful souls, looking for a place to rest, for a shelter to hide in, for a shoulder to lean on, for this little moment in time where you feel that, the world revolves around the both of you - but just for this little moment alone.
Is it ever possible to love God the way we can love another human being?
Sometimes I wonder. We sing that we love Him. We listen to what the pastor says. And then? Meeting many of my clients the last month, pleasantly found that most of them are christians and one said something that I will never forget in a long time.
Its been said that sometimes if you did not forget what has been said to you about God, maybe it's the Holy Spirit giving you a nudge.
He (my client) said that if you go to those third world countries such as India, Africa...you will see the people really hunger for God. I mean, seriously, in Singapore, if your church has no aircon, and only a small open air auditorium, I can safely bet that very few people will come. But in those countries, even though the temperature is way warmer than us, the people will pack into the small, non aircon auditorium...
Because they are hungry for God.
I think we lack the hunger because there are really too much things distracting us. Making us hectic. Small issues and problems which become over-psychologised (if there is such a word) in every mature economy.
Actually, I long for the simple life where I can just live in a clean place with fresh air and talk to God everyday. Sometimes the hunger gets diluted. Sometimes the love doesn't feel that strong, that pulsating, when you remember your first love.
A pastor asked me, "so has God been speaking to you recently?"
I replied that God has ALWAYS been speaking to me, its only whether or not I choose to listen (and obey).
That is true.
==
We went to watch "Meet the Robinsons", I loved the plot. I think it's really meaningful, the basic underlying theme of 'keep moving forward', which is Disney's motto, and also one I subscribe to. The part which really struck me was that the 'bad guy' is actually the main protagonist's childhood friend and room mate who became evil because he let a bad incident which happened ruin his entire life up till adulthood, and has so much bitterness, that his main goal in life is to destroy the other's successes.
When you fall in love with someone, ultimately, his character counts. But I think more importantly, YOUR character counts. If you are on the rebound (like me, haha!) I think there are many guys that will be attractive to you. And in the long run, there will be many many many people who will be attractive to you, especially if you have not so high expectations and a huge circle of people you know and like.
There was a guy I knew recently who shared about many things with me when I first got to know this brother. Sourplum told me a lot of sad incidents wherby he was hurt and lost and I wanted to help this person. But after some time, I began to realise that he also treated me as one of his enemies instead of a friend, I was very puzzled by that. Everything I said or did, he criticized and was quite defensive. So, me being me, I focused my attention on some other people. More recently, Muffin shared with me some hard stuff too. Like how Sourplum did. At first, I was quite hesitant and perhaps traumatised in the previous instance, and began to have some doubts about Muffin.
But I realised there was one difference, like how the bad guy in "Meet The Robinsons" turned bad. In the first place, Sourplum harbored all the bitterness and anger in him, and never forgot what others had done to him. So in the present, he became ultra sensitive and even though people made harmless comments with good intentions, he thought they were against him and he became deaf to all of the people who wanted to help him. Whereas for Muffin, though I do not know him that well yet, I see that he has an open heart. Which is why he shared to me in the first place. I think the key is to let your guard down and be sincere with yourself and others. Don't let the past determine your whole adulthood. I have been through a sticky situation before, and maybe I have also took some time, a long time in fact, to get over some things. But keep trying, you will find that it is worth it.
Just as I know, when Muffin shared, he is so scared his heart is turning cold towards God. I wanted to say, I am scared, too. !@$!#$ scared!
But this Easter when I look to the cross, I remember that we are serving a risen Savior. Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives, all fear is gone.
Sometimes, when you love someone, it doesn't mean that you have to be with them, or that you/they will actually be happier when you are together with them. I've liked people in different ways because they are special to me. Taking long walks with me through the bushes (singapore has no forests), in the rain, along the pavement, around...my jogging track...and just talking, about life, about love, about everything. Just finding a soulmate in both cheerful souls, looking for a place to rest, for a shelter to hide in, for a shoulder to lean on, for this little moment in time where you feel that, the world revolves around the both of you - but just for this little moment alone.
Is it ever possible to love God the way we can love another human being?
Sometimes I wonder. We sing that we love Him. We listen to what the pastor says. And then? Meeting many of my clients the last month, pleasantly found that most of them are christians and one said something that I will never forget in a long time.
Its been said that sometimes if you did not forget what has been said to you about God, maybe it's the Holy Spirit giving you a nudge.
He (my client) said that if you go to those third world countries such as India, Africa...you will see the people really hunger for God. I mean, seriously, in Singapore, if your church has no aircon, and only a small open air auditorium, I can safely bet that very few people will come. But in those countries, even though the temperature is way warmer than us, the people will pack into the small, non aircon auditorium...
Because they are hungry for God.
I think we lack the hunger because there are really too much things distracting us. Making us hectic. Small issues and problems which become over-psychologised (if there is such a word) in every mature economy.
Actually, I long for the simple life where I can just live in a clean place with fresh air and talk to God everyday. Sometimes the hunger gets diluted. Sometimes the love doesn't feel that strong, that pulsating, when you remember your first love.
A pastor asked me, "so has God been speaking to you recently?"
I replied that God has ALWAYS been speaking to me, its only whether or not I choose to listen (and obey).
That is true.
==
We went to watch "Meet the Robinsons", I loved the plot. I think it's really meaningful, the basic underlying theme of 'keep moving forward', which is Disney's motto, and also one I subscribe to. The part which really struck me was that the 'bad guy' is actually the main protagonist's childhood friend and room mate who became evil because he let a bad incident which happened ruin his entire life up till adulthood, and has so much bitterness, that his main goal in life is to destroy the other's successes.
When you fall in love with someone, ultimately, his character counts. But I think more importantly, YOUR character counts. If you are on the rebound (like me, haha!) I think there are many guys that will be attractive to you. And in the long run, there will be many many many people who will be attractive to you, especially if you have not so high expectations and a huge circle of people you know and like.
There was a guy I knew recently who shared about many things with me when I first got to know this brother. Sourplum told me a lot of sad incidents wherby he was hurt and lost and I wanted to help this person. But after some time, I began to realise that he also treated me as one of his enemies instead of a friend, I was very puzzled by that. Everything I said or did, he criticized and was quite defensive. So, me being me, I focused my attention on some other people. More recently, Muffin shared with me some hard stuff too. Like how Sourplum did. At first, I was quite hesitant and perhaps traumatised in the previous instance, and began to have some doubts about Muffin.
But I realised there was one difference, like how the bad guy in "Meet The Robinsons" turned bad. In the first place, Sourplum harbored all the bitterness and anger in him, and never forgot what others had done to him. So in the present, he became ultra sensitive and even though people made harmless comments with good intentions, he thought they were against him and he became deaf to all of the people who wanted to help him. Whereas for Muffin, though I do not know him that well yet, I see that he has an open heart. Which is why he shared to me in the first place. I think the key is to let your guard down and be sincere with yourself and others. Don't let the past determine your whole adulthood. I have been through a sticky situation before, and maybe I have also took some time, a long time in fact, to get over some things. But keep trying, you will find that it is worth it.
Just as I know, when Muffin shared, he is so scared his heart is turning cold towards God. I wanted to say, I am scared, too. !@$!#$ scared!
But this Easter when I look to the cross, I remember that we are serving a risen Savior. Because He lives, I can face tomorrow.
Because He lives, all fear is gone.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Dear all, enjoy your holiday
Wish I had more time to read.
Note to self: I have over 2000 unread email in my gmail...Time to do something about it)
In my email this week:
Dear all,
Please be informed that Asia offices will be closed for Holiday as follows:-
Singapore - 6th April Good Friday
Hong Kong - 5th April Qing Ming Festival
- 6th April Good Friday
- 7th April The day following Good Friday
- 9th April Easter Monday
Thailand - 6th April Chakri Day
- 13th to 15th April Songkran (Thai New Year)
==
We can deduce that:
1. Singaporeans are workaholics...
2. And not very religious at that! (Surprisingly, HK, a mainly buddhist country, celebrates Good Friday and Easter more than we do. Some sort of conspiracy to make us work harder this weekend?)
I guess I'd be quite tired out seeing that I'm going to church thursday, friday, saturday and sunday! Stagger to work exhausted on monday... needing a holiday from the Easter weekend.
No fair. =)
Note to self: I have over 2000 unread email in my gmail...Time to do something about it)
In my email this week:
Dear all,
Please be informed that Asia offices will be closed for Holiday as follows:-
Singapore - 6th April Good Friday
Hong Kong - 5th April Qing Ming Festival
- 6th April Good Friday
- 7th April The day following Good Friday
- 9th April Easter Monday
Thailand - 6th April Chakri Day
- 13th to 15th April Songkran (Thai New Year)
==
We can deduce that:
1. Singaporeans are workaholics...
2. And not very religious at that! (Surprisingly, HK, a mainly buddhist country, celebrates Good Friday and Easter more than we do. Some sort of conspiracy to make us work harder this weekend?)
I guess I'd be quite tired out seeing that I'm going to church thursday, friday, saturday and sunday! Stagger to work exhausted on monday... needing a holiday from the Easter weekend.
No fair. =)
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Buynothingmonth
"I'm not here for your entertainment..." - Overheard, from a song.
I'm not going to complain about how tired I am/have been because I consider myself blessed to be able to work to this state.
Just that I wish there were more hours in a day to do my stuff!
Looking forward to holidays (Next destination: Thailand/May CONFIRMED) makes me feel so much better!!! At least, it's work hard play hard!
Been spending quite a lot - or rather, not saving as much as I would have liked - depends on how you look at it - so April's going to be my BUY NOTHING MONTH. Aye, no manicure indulgences. (I just went for one) No haircuts, no expensive items I don't really need, no accessories, no FRAPPES!!!! Died... anyways I 'assembled' a very satisfying and nice wardrobe. I have practically everything I need for work, with some (for example, a beige trenchcoat I can only wear to Sweden, Japan or any of those fashionable places) I don't need. So it's a full-stop for me, apparel-wise.
And I've already bought those sundries or whatever you call it - shampoo, conditioner,soap, etc...Even recently bought bag, shoes, yadda yadda...My card just likes to be swiped.
Except for the little emergency items...where I may need to buy something that will run out (like contact lenses.)
APRIL is BUY-NOTHING month!!!
Limitations:
1. One FRAPPE (Starbucks) a week. (Sighhhh. This is going to be very difficult.)
2. Every meal to cost MAX $8.50 (Exclude drinks...another tough one)
3. Tea break to cost $3.10 max. (Which equates to one-crab mayo sandwich and one green tea/teh/milo/kopi.
4. Only take cabs for work purposes (ie rushing to meets or too dead tired to walk)
5. 1 massage/foot reflexology allowed (after my exhibition). MY monthly facial allowed too.
6. And groceries for my family. That's it!!!
7. And Emergency Fund ($50.)
If anyone wants to join me, I won't feel so broke?
Well, am compiling a list of what I want to buy in Thailand...
hee.
I'm not going to complain about how tired I am/have been because I consider myself blessed to be able to work to this state.
Just that I wish there were more hours in a day to do my stuff!
Looking forward to holidays (Next destination: Thailand/May CONFIRMED) makes me feel so much better!!! At least, it's work hard play hard!
Been spending quite a lot - or rather, not saving as much as I would have liked - depends on how you look at it - so April's going to be my BUY NOTHING MONTH. Aye, no manicure indulgences. (I just went for one) No haircuts, no expensive items I don't really need, no accessories, no FRAPPES!!!! Died... anyways I 'assembled' a very satisfying and nice wardrobe. I have practically everything I need for work, with some (for example, a beige trenchcoat I can only wear to Sweden, Japan or any of those fashionable places) I don't need. So it's a full-stop for me, apparel-wise.
And I've already bought those sundries or whatever you call it - shampoo, conditioner,soap, etc...Even recently bought bag, shoes, yadda yadda...My card just likes to be swiped.
Except for the little emergency items...where I may need to buy something that will run out (like contact lenses.)
APRIL is BUY-NOTHING month!!!
Limitations:
1. One FRAPPE (Starbucks) a week. (Sighhhh. This is going to be very difficult.)
2. Every meal to cost MAX $8.50 (Exclude drinks...another tough one)
3. Tea break to cost $3.10 max. (Which equates to one-crab mayo sandwich and one green tea/teh/milo/kopi.
4. Only take cabs for work purposes (ie rushing to meets or too dead tired to walk)
5. 1 massage/foot reflexology allowed (after my exhibition). MY monthly facial allowed too.
6. And groceries for my family. That's it!!!
7. And Emergency Fund ($50.)
If anyone wants to join me, I won't feel so broke?
Well, am compiling a list of what I want to buy in Thailand...
hee.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Someone somewhere out there
Miserably happy?
Was having an interesting conversation/debate with Munchkin - knowing me, sometimes I like to disagree purely for discussion's sake. Were talking about self esteem and how to... find it and whether we have low, or high self esteem. Actually I thought that both low- and high- self esteem is not good but apparently the higher it is, the better. Hating yourself can be one of the signs of low self esteem. Did not tell him this, but yes, sometimes I do hate myself. I wish I was less unconventional, that I had less obscure deep thoughts, more mainstream. Maybe I won't ever be satisfied with a mediocre life - but I hope I can. I hope I can be someone who is more 'normal'.
Sometimes I feel like nothing really matters and everything is a facade. Why do we have to live up to expectations, even our own? And if we don't, does it mean we have failed ourselves? Or is there nothing to...contextualize this in the first place. Maybe I've changed in the last few short months, or maybe I haven't - I've just found a part of myself, back from the wilderness...where I belong? Never really felt at home here, that's why I like Msia so much - but almost at once they can see that I'm not a local, too... So maybe I'm just too cosmopolitan for a suburb city girl. Ideally I would like to live on a farm/ranch for a while (provided good toilet facilities are available!) I've stopped caring about how people view me - I used t get pretty upset. Not that I'm being a jerk now, I care for not hurting anyone around me intentionally. But other than that, I just don't give a shite. =) People can say anything they like and they will, as long as I know my place in God's kingdom. I hope that I get there, one day. I have so much to say to Him.
And then, later, we talked about having a soul connection.
Not sure what brought this topic up but I thought it was a really interesting time. I relish conversations like this. I realised that I can talk like this to mostly guys - maybe girls have a shorter analytical/critical brain wavelength or something but most girls can't handle such conversations for hours. Yeah guys! And so, we dissected it.
I think having a soul connection is very important in a relationship. Soulmate. Especially in the relationship with the man I love and want to spend my whole life with. Penelope said that it's the feeling of being so close that you can just sms him/her little stupid things but it means something to both of you...and someone that you miss, daily, you will think of him the last thing before you sleep and the first before you wake up. For me, I will feel sad and empty inside if my relationship does not have this soul connection. Being soulmates just makes you want to love the person more, and is also the basis for a long, loving, lasting relationship. No matter how it will turn out to be in the future, I know that if he is my soulmate, he will just understand the way I feel, the way I am. And love me, because he is a part of me - we are two halves of the same whole. It is a beautiful thing, to have this kind of connection. You can see it in couples, too. Some have it, others don't. But maybe - as Munchkin and I discussed - some people don't really need this at all. They are perfectly content to find a mate who meets all their criterias, their negiotiables and non-negiotables. And then they are comfortable, in this way. But not for me. Not for Munchkin, too. I hope that when I look into his eyes, I can see a part of myself in him, and know FOR SURE that this will be the last one for me. Too many mistakes make me apprehensive to fall in love again. And perhaps I like people too easily. But it takes more than that, for me.
Was having an interesting conversation/debate with Munchkin - knowing me, sometimes I like to disagree purely for discussion's sake. Were talking about self esteem and how to... find it and whether we have low, or high self esteem. Actually I thought that both low- and high- self esteem is not good but apparently the higher it is, the better. Hating yourself can be one of the signs of low self esteem. Did not tell him this, but yes, sometimes I do hate myself. I wish I was less unconventional, that I had less obscure deep thoughts, more mainstream. Maybe I won't ever be satisfied with a mediocre life - but I hope I can. I hope I can be someone who is more 'normal'.
Sometimes I feel like nothing really matters and everything is a facade. Why do we have to live up to expectations, even our own? And if we don't, does it mean we have failed ourselves? Or is there nothing to...contextualize this in the first place. Maybe I've changed in the last few short months, or maybe I haven't - I've just found a part of myself, back from the wilderness...where I belong? Never really felt at home here, that's why I like Msia so much - but almost at once they can see that I'm not a local, too... So maybe I'm just too cosmopolitan for a suburb city girl. Ideally I would like to live on a farm/ranch for a while (provided good toilet facilities are available!) I've stopped caring about how people view me - I used t get pretty upset. Not that I'm being a jerk now, I care for not hurting anyone around me intentionally. But other than that, I just don't give a shite. =) People can say anything they like and they will, as long as I know my place in God's kingdom. I hope that I get there, one day. I have so much to say to Him.
And then, later, we talked about having a soul connection.
Not sure what brought this topic up but I thought it was a really interesting time. I relish conversations like this. I realised that I can talk like this to mostly guys - maybe girls have a shorter analytical/critical brain wavelength or something but most girls can't handle such conversations for hours. Yeah guys! And so, we dissected it.
I think having a soul connection is very important in a relationship. Soulmate. Especially in the relationship with the man I love and want to spend my whole life with. Penelope said that it's the feeling of being so close that you can just sms him/her little stupid things but it means something to both of you...and someone that you miss, daily, you will think of him the last thing before you sleep and the first before you wake up. For me, I will feel sad and empty inside if my relationship does not have this soul connection. Being soulmates just makes you want to love the person more, and is also the basis for a long, loving, lasting relationship. No matter how it will turn out to be in the future, I know that if he is my soulmate, he will just understand the way I feel, the way I am. And love me, because he is a part of me - we are two halves of the same whole. It is a beautiful thing, to have this kind of connection. You can see it in couples, too. Some have it, others don't. But maybe - as Munchkin and I discussed - some people don't really need this at all. They are perfectly content to find a mate who meets all their criterias, their negiotiables and non-negiotables. And then they are comfortable, in this way. But not for me. Not for Munchkin, too. I hope that when I look into his eyes, I can see a part of myself in him, and know FOR SURE that this will be the last one for me. Too many mistakes make me apprehensive to fall in love again. And perhaps I like people too easily. But it takes more than that, for me.
Monday, March 19, 2007
The story of my life?
My life is NOT turning out like my story... Nooooo.
It's scary when reel life mirrors reality.
It's even more freakish when you write, and then it turns into real life. Man! Maybe this will make a formulaic win for a blockbuster hit.
Anyways I'm at the end of my short story. In my mind, at least. On the MS Word 2007 it's just about 37 pages of font size 24 calbri handwriting, scrambled up paragaphs and sentences. I can imagine the length of time it takes to write a full-length novel. Most people take about a year. I can't imagine spending a year on a story, just writing...
I didn't plan to write that much, seriously. I did attempt to start a novel (twice) once when I was 14. I sent that manuscript to Times, and some local publishers. It was sadly, rejected - which I expected anyways. The next one was some years back. It was titled "Catch a star for me when you sail away", some sappy love story which didn't seem to have enough grit to work out. I did publish a few chapters online which had nice comments from the few people who bothered to email me. One asked what the ending was like. I think the most exasperating part is that, perhaps I don't know the ending myself. But for "Sometimes we think too much", the ending came naturally for me. It's almost as if it took on a life on its own and it wrote itself. And no matter how busy I am, I want to finish writing it. Although the story might seem at times jerky, like a first time novelist who doesn't know how to blend the lines together, I hope at least people can relate to it the way I do.
It's scary when reel life mirrors reality.
It's even more freakish when you write, and then it turns into real life. Man! Maybe this will make a formulaic win for a blockbuster hit.
Anyways I'm at the end of my short story. In my mind, at least. On the MS Word 2007 it's just about 37 pages of font size 24 calbri handwriting, scrambled up paragaphs and sentences. I can imagine the length of time it takes to write a full-length novel. Most people take about a year. I can't imagine spending a year on a story, just writing...
I didn't plan to write that much, seriously. I did attempt to start a novel (twice) once when I was 14. I sent that manuscript to Times, and some local publishers. It was sadly, rejected - which I expected anyways. The next one was some years back. It was titled "Catch a star for me when you sail away", some sappy love story which didn't seem to have enough grit to work out. I did publish a few chapters online which had nice comments from the few people who bothered to email me. One asked what the ending was like. I think the most exasperating part is that, perhaps I don't know the ending myself. But for "Sometimes we think too much", the ending came naturally for me. It's almost as if it took on a life on its own and it wrote itself. And no matter how busy I am, I want to finish writing it. Although the story might seem at times jerky, like a first time novelist who doesn't know how to blend the lines together, I hope at least people can relate to it the way I do.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Sometimes we think too much #4
(kai)
Allegra, can you hear me?
Allegra, sometimes I look at the stars in the sky -now showing up so brightly, too brightly where I am; and I wish that you can be here. It's the simple things like this that really captivates you, isn't it? Those little moments of bliss where you can sit, and stare - entralled in nature's beauty.
Where I am now is near the coast, near the frightening sea you have always disliked. But in the same way that I could never share in your sorrow, I never shared your aversion for the sea. Even at night, in the dark, the big, splashing sounds the dark waves make seem more like a lullaby to me. I wished I could help you, Allegra. I am not the kind of person you make me out to be.
Through the years, I sort of realised all of us have changed, somehow. We were no longer the carefree type of college students we used to be -without a care in the world. Somehow along the way we grew up, and then we realised that we had a choice in determining our future for ourselves. Yours was nicely mapped out, too nicely, perhaps, that you chose to do something else, something many people might have condemned you for. But not me, I wanted to see you happy above all else, to see your curved eyes light up again, like they did so often when you were with him. When time steals the precious things we love, all of a sudden it seems like nothing matters anymore. How could we, both young as we were, face this world and think of it as nothing but a means of survival?
But when all else fails, love conquers all. I think I read that from a book somewhere. I never liked reading, you know. It was Allegra who taught me to love books. She was happy in them, almost in a sexualised way. She took to completely absorbing herself in them, and then when it was finished, look up, stretch and her face showed complete contentment and bliss. It was the simple things in life that pleased her the most. I believe no one wanted to make things this complicated. I hoped to make it better, for her, for all of us. Yet perhaps my part to play in this story of life is just a bystander, watching, evaluating, seeing things happening yet not knowing when it is going to end or how.
Someday perhaps I will have my own life story, where I play a central role, where I am the author of my life. Sweet. For now, I must help them, change their minds, let them know how important it is not to hurt anyone, least of all themselves.
Allegra, can you hear me?
Allegra, sometimes I look at the stars in the sky -now showing up so brightly, too brightly where I am; and I wish that you can be here. It's the simple things like this that really captivates you, isn't it? Those little moments of bliss where you can sit, and stare - entralled in nature's beauty.
Where I am now is near the coast, near the frightening sea you have always disliked. But in the same way that I could never share in your sorrow, I never shared your aversion for the sea. Even at night, in the dark, the big, splashing sounds the dark waves make seem more like a lullaby to me. I wished I could help you, Allegra. I am not the kind of person you make me out to be.
Through the years, I sort of realised all of us have changed, somehow. We were no longer the carefree type of college students we used to be -without a care in the world. Somehow along the way we grew up, and then we realised that we had a choice in determining our future for ourselves. Yours was nicely mapped out, too nicely, perhaps, that you chose to do something else, something many people might have condemned you for. But not me, I wanted to see you happy above all else, to see your curved eyes light up again, like they did so often when you were with him. When time steals the precious things we love, all of a sudden it seems like nothing matters anymore. How could we, both young as we were, face this world and think of it as nothing but a means of survival?
But when all else fails, love conquers all. I think I read that from a book somewhere. I never liked reading, you know. It was Allegra who taught me to love books. She was happy in them, almost in a sexualised way. She took to completely absorbing herself in them, and then when it was finished, look up, stretch and her face showed complete contentment and bliss. It was the simple things in life that pleased her the most. I believe no one wanted to make things this complicated. I hoped to make it better, for her, for all of us. Yet perhaps my part to play in this story of life is just a bystander, watching, evaluating, seeing things happening yet not knowing when it is going to end or how.
Someday perhaps I will have my own life story, where I play a central role, where I am the author of my life. Sweet. For now, I must help them, change their minds, let them know how important it is not to hurt anyone, least of all themselves.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Sometimes we think too much #3
(allegra)
Life is fair – I’ve always believed in that. Some things just come easier to you, some, not. Like how ugly people get really sincere, nice friends.
I guess I’ve always had an easy life. Born in a well-bred family, though only Dad was there for me, I had no lack of anything at all. Blame it on my grandfather, he opened a bank and then died of a heart attack. Guess banking is quite stressful especially when you are a womanizer like Grandpa. So I never really got to know him, mostly only through articles about how visionary a person he was. The Royal Port Bank in New Melalunia is still one of the top banks in mutual funds so, I get a decent monthly income from the estate, though I seldom touch it.
Being born rich doesn’t mean things come easy for me. I still had to study hard like everyone else. After we graduated, a few friends and I pooled together what resources we had to start a small café on the East Side of Harly.
The concept was good, we met and discussed about it for ages. There were six of us. And that was how it all started.
Mark was one of the guys who started the café with me. At first, I hardly noticed him. I never even had an impression of him. To me, he was there, just there. No one talked about him much, as he was actually a friend of Jeff, so we just left it as that. It was only much later, after the café had disbanded, that we got a little closer, then a little more.
So that was how it started. When a chapter closes, another one begins. And although life was good to me, relationships were never easy. I was happy enough to play a supporting role in any man’s life, to be a nice wife with beautiful kids. That was every girl’s dream: of a white garden wedding, and a happy family. Coming from an unusual family background however, did not bode well for me. At the very least, it made things difficult for all my previous lovers. Coming from a close knit community, I had no chance to fit into their average, white suburban middle class circle. For one, I was not purely white nor was I middle class. Thought I could pass for one on first sight. Unfortunately I used to fancy nice collegiate boys with a penchant for running under the sun playing hockey. So there goes. It’s nice to believe in love. Love is supposed to be unrealistic, where two people meet and realize that their lives are not complete without the other. But Life is not like that. In this essence Life has been unfair to me. For my privilege has brought me down in this area. Where money is concerned, most men would not choose someone from the upper class. I know things are changing now, and probably in a few years no one would care. But in my early dating days, everyone did.
The café had problems from the start. It was a great, simple concept, nice hot soups, and the usual scones, donuts, cakes and pies. With fantastic premium blends of coffee and tea. However, we had many issues with the staff and the location was simply too quiet. Well, all of us still made a bit of profit in the end.
Mark helped out the most, at the end. It turned out that he was fresh out from selling off his computer parts biz, and we were the ones left to close the café down. At that point in time, Emily was getting married, Jeff was buried in his banking job, and the rest just drifted away. I don’t even keep in touch with the rest now, only Kai. Kai was always there to help me. After all, we’ve been bosom buddies for years now. I remember that I’ve always cried on his shoulder for some tea and sympathy which he always gave freely, after my horrid turbulent relationships. After each one I vowed to stay away from guys, and I was doing quite a good job of it, till Mark came. And I was not looking for him, either. He was unconventionally nice looking, with a pouty mouth, almost too big but just alright for his slightly above average frame. His hair jutted out in strange angles, and he always had to put tons of hair products to keep it looking sane. I’ve always had thick, flyaway dark hair, thanks to Dad, so I knew what it was like to have hair with a life of its own. Even now I have to put at least three different types of products before setting out.
If I could live life over again, I wouldn’t have chosen this to happen to me. Not like this. Not a love like this. While the love and the emotions were pure, the context in which it was found was not. Call me idealistic, but I had always believed in love. True enough, it was a decision to continue on in the relationship. Was this decision made by me, or him? Sometimes in life when you make decisions, it is not in your control to choose how they turn out to be. Knowing the context, I should have closed the chapter. But knowing me, I just let myself go.
(to be continued)
Life is fair – I’ve always believed in that. Some things just come easier to you, some, not. Like how ugly people get really sincere, nice friends.
I guess I’ve always had an easy life. Born in a well-bred family, though only Dad was there for me, I had no lack of anything at all. Blame it on my grandfather, he opened a bank and then died of a heart attack. Guess banking is quite stressful especially when you are a womanizer like Grandpa. So I never really got to know him, mostly only through articles about how visionary a person he was. The Royal Port Bank in New Melalunia is still one of the top banks in mutual funds so, I get a decent monthly income from the estate, though I seldom touch it.
Being born rich doesn’t mean things come easy for me. I still had to study hard like everyone else. After we graduated, a few friends and I pooled together what resources we had to start a small café on the East Side of Harly.
The concept was good, we met and discussed about it for ages. There were six of us. And that was how it all started.
Mark was one of the guys who started the café with me. At first, I hardly noticed him. I never even had an impression of him. To me, he was there, just there. No one talked about him much, as he was actually a friend of Jeff, so we just left it as that. It was only much later, after the café had disbanded, that we got a little closer, then a little more.
So that was how it started. When a chapter closes, another one begins. And although life was good to me, relationships were never easy. I was happy enough to play a supporting role in any man’s life, to be a nice wife with beautiful kids. That was every girl’s dream: of a white garden wedding, and a happy family. Coming from an unusual family background however, did not bode well for me. At the very least, it made things difficult for all my previous lovers. Coming from a close knit community, I had no chance to fit into their average, white suburban middle class circle. For one, I was not purely white nor was I middle class. Thought I could pass for one on first sight. Unfortunately I used to fancy nice collegiate boys with a penchant for running under the sun playing hockey. So there goes. It’s nice to believe in love. Love is supposed to be unrealistic, where two people meet and realize that their lives are not complete without the other. But Life is not like that. In this essence Life has been unfair to me. For my privilege has brought me down in this area. Where money is concerned, most men would not choose someone from the upper class. I know things are changing now, and probably in a few years no one would care. But in my early dating days, everyone did.
The café had problems from the start. It was a great, simple concept, nice hot soups, and the usual scones, donuts, cakes and pies. With fantastic premium blends of coffee and tea. However, we had many issues with the staff and the location was simply too quiet. Well, all of us still made a bit of profit in the end.
Mark helped out the most, at the end. It turned out that he was fresh out from selling off his computer parts biz, and we were the ones left to close the café down. At that point in time, Emily was getting married, Jeff was buried in his banking job, and the rest just drifted away. I don’t even keep in touch with the rest now, only Kai. Kai was always there to help me. After all, we’ve been bosom buddies for years now. I remember that I’ve always cried on his shoulder for some tea and sympathy which he always gave freely, after my horrid turbulent relationships. After each one I vowed to stay away from guys, and I was doing quite a good job of it, till Mark came. And I was not looking for him, either. He was unconventionally nice looking, with a pouty mouth, almost too big but just alright for his slightly above average frame. His hair jutted out in strange angles, and he always had to put tons of hair products to keep it looking sane. I’ve always had thick, flyaway dark hair, thanks to Dad, so I knew what it was like to have hair with a life of its own. Even now I have to put at least three different types of products before setting out.
If I could live life over again, I wouldn’t have chosen this to happen to me. Not like this. Not a love like this. While the love and the emotions were pure, the context in which it was found was not. Call me idealistic, but I had always believed in love. True enough, it was a decision to continue on in the relationship. Was this decision made by me, or him? Sometimes in life when you make decisions, it is not in your control to choose how they turn out to be. Knowing the context, I should have closed the chapter. But knowing me, I just let myself go.
(to be continued)
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
It's what you do AFTER that counts.
It's what you do AFTER that counts.
Cool, huh.
I coined this phrase.
Well maybe it's been coined before but to me, it seems original?
I realised somethings I should have realised sometime ago.
Well maybe I did but I did not want to think about it. After all, always have trusted in my woman's intuition. My base instinct.
I think if you have made a mistake unintentionally, the best way is to think about how this will shape your character. Don't let the mistake continue on. Try not to hurt anyone by your actions. And most importantly, decide what to do when Life throws you curve balls.
I know it's easier said than done.
But curve balls do show me the shallowness of my character.
I wonder if I keep giving and giving, do I lose a part of myself in the end?
All I can say is that the way things are turning out, it looks like, it's only good for the short story I'm writing. After all, Allegra is in essence a part of me.
But this is like scary, because writing about it and then making it real is worse than the other way round. It's almost as though I am writing about my future, my destiny.
I'd rather have it the other way round.
I shall repeat my new mantra to myself!
Meanwhile I'm happier and more focused in work then ever.
So cheers to myself.
Cool, huh.
I coined this phrase.
Well maybe it's been coined before but to me, it seems original?
I realised somethings I should have realised sometime ago.
Well maybe I did but I did not want to think about it. After all, always have trusted in my woman's intuition. My base instinct.
I think if you have made a mistake unintentionally, the best way is to think about how this will shape your character. Don't let the mistake continue on. Try not to hurt anyone by your actions. And most importantly, decide what to do when Life throws you curve balls.
I know it's easier said than done.
But curve balls do show me the shallowness of my character.
I wonder if I keep giving and giving, do I lose a part of myself in the end?
All I can say is that the way things are turning out, it looks like, it's only good for the short story I'm writing. After all, Allegra is in essence a part of me.
But this is like scary, because writing about it and then making it real is worse than the other way round. It's almost as though I am writing about my future, my destiny.
I'd rather have it the other way round.
I shall repeat my new mantra to myself!
Meanwhile I'm happier and more focused in work then ever.
So cheers to myself.
Monday, March 12, 2007
In my heart
Quite tired out by work lately. But the short story is still on my mind, posting new stuff soon.
Aye.
I'm the type of girl that has many guy friends, who seem to love to go out with them, talk animatedly and have no qualms about sharing with the opposite gender life tales and more. In fact, I get awkward around girls, I don't really know how to talk to them (because each of them are so different and sensitive presumably) so around girls I clam up, it's hard for me to talk about my life because if I keep talking - about guys, maybe they think that's all I ever think about. But no, there's more to life.
Just that I like to talk about the boys because it's so much more interesting trying how to figure them out.
And the funny little things I remember gives me my daily dose of laughter. Guys, a little clue to make her fall head over heels for you. Make her laugh. Little giggles and bursts of laughter. Well at least for me it works. I love the guys who can make me laugh.
Now that I have this 'new vibe' - elaborately pondered upon, unintentionally having it though - I think it's quite scary. The number of people who somehow pick it up and ...interesting things happen. I must say that it beats the vibe that I'm out to find a possible life partner and analyse every male specimen I meet. Nope, not for me. In fact now I think that my life goals are becoming clearer, it puts any romantic notions to sleep. Zzz! Because I have many guy friends, I am clearer about the type that I want to spend the rest of my life with, and hopefully help him out in his biz. I am really willing to play the part of the support role, just waiting for the time I can do it! Meanwhile, I'm not really looking. Ogling maybe! =P But often, eye candy gives you a toothache and sometimes heartache as well. Sometimes they are gay too (so sad.) So it's fun for now to behave like the guys I know, and ogle guys for once. It's fun!
Sometimes I wonder what the women really see in Kie, because I know too many women who have fallen for his impish charms, and too many who have kindly but insensibly advised me 'to consider him'.
And sometimes I like to lapse into my own world, just imagining that the body of air beside me is actually an interesting, funny guy who cares for me and loves me like no one else does.
Being idealistic and unconventional rules in a world where rudimentary fragments compartmentalise reality.
=)
So here's a deep thought for the day:
Ask yourself,
Who occupies a little place in your heart... hee hee
Is there a place for God in your heart?
Aye.
I'm the type of girl that has many guy friends, who seem to love to go out with them, talk animatedly and have no qualms about sharing with the opposite gender life tales and more. In fact, I get awkward around girls, I don't really know how to talk to them (because each of them are so different and sensitive presumably) so around girls I clam up, it's hard for me to talk about my life because if I keep talking - about guys, maybe they think that's all I ever think about. But no, there's more to life.
Just that I like to talk about the boys because it's so much more interesting trying how to figure them out.
And the funny little things I remember gives me my daily dose of laughter. Guys, a little clue to make her fall head over heels for you. Make her laugh. Little giggles and bursts of laughter. Well at least for me it works. I love the guys who can make me laugh.
Now that I have this 'new vibe' - elaborately pondered upon, unintentionally having it though - I think it's quite scary. The number of people who somehow pick it up and ...interesting things happen. I must say that it beats the vibe that I'm out to find a possible life partner and analyse every male specimen I meet. Nope, not for me. In fact now I think that my life goals are becoming clearer, it puts any romantic notions to sleep. Zzz! Because I have many guy friends, I am clearer about the type that I want to spend the rest of my life with, and hopefully help him out in his biz. I am really willing to play the part of the support role, just waiting for the time I can do it! Meanwhile, I'm not really looking. Ogling maybe! =P But often, eye candy gives you a toothache and sometimes heartache as well. Sometimes they are gay too (so sad.) So it's fun for now to behave like the guys I know, and ogle guys for once. It's fun!
Sometimes I wonder what the women really see in Kie, because I know too many women who have fallen for his impish charms, and too many who have kindly but insensibly advised me 'to consider him'.
And sometimes I like to lapse into my own world, just imagining that the body of air beside me is actually an interesting, funny guy who cares for me and loves me like no one else does.
Being idealistic and unconventional rules in a world where rudimentary fragments compartmentalise reality.
=)
So here's a deep thought for the day:
Ask yourself,
Who occupies a little place in your heart... hee hee
Is there a place for God in your heart?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Happynings at The Office
It's now cool to spell words with a Y.
One of the downsides of working in The Office is my little spot at The Worker's Quarters. It was nice but now, almost everyday there is a whole array of loser guys situated in various spots that it makes working there almost like playing landmine - even when you're doing paperwork. Ever felt like your phone conversation is being eavesdropped on, for no reason? It's like that now, all the time, especially when our Quarters became even smaller after upgrading the paperwork worker's area.
And when loser guys get together, they get bitchy. Lots of comments, on each other's clothes, eavesdropped conversations, etc. Lots of well-meant but often nonsense advice dished out to each other. Lots of coffee and smoke breaks, too. It's true that the environment affects a person to a degree. Me, I get really irritated at all the humming done by Loser Guy Workers that I often escape to Manager's area, in fact most of my most productive work is done there. Manager's area is peaceful, spirited, and calm. At least there will not be anyone eavesdropping on your conversation and (you think) taking down notes and discussing about it later during smoke break. Sometimes I like to provide the poor sods with some useful information, like what is the next launch of work to do, more often than not, they are clueless. Lately it does get to me so I tend to pour out my sorrows to Manager. Rich Dad's advice was good, he always told me to be focused and never talk to any of the Workers.
Was thinking it would be nice if I have a friend (not a loser guy) in the Worker's Quarter.
And then, Carpe diem! Je ne sais quoi! Voila! Eureka!
I met BonkY! =)
He was my 'partner' in a game our Departments were hosting for guests, I guess that night was one of the best ones I had in The Office - I did enjoy myself, lots. Found out we had some same ideas, like: 1. We hate to be at the Worker's Quarter. 2. We like seats near the photocopier. 3. We like to drink xx happy juice, and blah blah.
I was quite happy I had a partner that night because I was really tired (lack of snoozing) so when our Managers told me, hey, we got a partner for you, from the Other Department, I was like, "Who? (BonkY - but I didn't know who he is) ..., " and, "Handsome anot!"
The Managers (mostly single beautiful ladies in their 30s) all agreed YES!
One even drooled about his sideburns... (Have, meh?)
Like sometimes you see familiar faces - your colleagues. And perhaps you hope to get to know the pretty face in the other department a little better, or the cool chick in the other other department, you want to find out where she shops and whether she's just all style but no substance or someone with a really nice personality. And then somehow you bump into them and the world's a better place?
Well it wasn't like that for me and BonkY. Me, I did vaguely recollect this nondescript guy - put them in shirt, tie and pants and they all look like copies of each other, handsome or not, I guess I was really focused in work. Or maybe I don't look at colleagues in THAT way, hahaha. So I really did not notice this nice colleague, only that he was constantly surrounded by female Managers (I later found out from him they were friends before.)
So in a way, that aloofness worked for me - think he was intrigued as well. In fact I was grinning most of the time from his expressions and his highly irritating way of saying things. Like in the I-want-to-clobber you way. And yes, he is kind of cute. Aloof-looking too, like me when I'm working, but really funny when the occasion calls for it.
Now, we jibe each other - he makes me laugh, being irritated and happy at the same time. For two days now, he is the first one I see when I come into The Office - a coincidence? Since I've never noticed him before... Or maybe when you are looking for someone, you will find him/her. =) It's nice anyways to have/give such attention. It sharpens my mind and soul and the warm comradeship feeling (and maybe other warmer feelings) just makes me... more motivated in my work! Yes! I'm going to excel! And beat him...yessss!
Work aside, I've always wished that I have someone to talk to/hug/scream at during a Bad Day, so now there's bonkY!
Earlier in the afternoon, we 'saw' each other in the main corridor - I was coming back from a meeting, and he was going to one. So cute, he saw me first, grinned till his mini eyes almost disappeared, cocked his head to one side and waved at me till I was nearer. I waved back. Asked him for his email add. He said, Oh, I thought you have it? Really irritating. (But fun to have someone to scream at)I said, Of course I don't have, if I had it, do you think I will ask you for it? He wanted to mark my hand with it as we had no paper but in the end we asked one from the Receptionist.
Then later he said something slightly naughty and I grabbed the paper and ran away, shrieking.
I hope this one Worker friend I have will be a boon to my biz. bonkY! I really like him, man.
And he made me wonder...When a guy comments on your shoes/sandals, is he REALLY looking at your legs?
Hee...
One of the downsides of working in The Office is my little spot at The Worker's Quarters. It was nice but now, almost everyday there is a whole array of loser guys situated in various spots that it makes working there almost like playing landmine - even when you're doing paperwork. Ever felt like your phone conversation is being eavesdropped on, for no reason? It's like that now, all the time, especially when our Quarters became even smaller after upgrading the paperwork worker's area.
And when loser guys get together, they get bitchy. Lots of comments, on each other's clothes, eavesdropped conversations, etc. Lots of well-meant but often nonsense advice dished out to each other. Lots of coffee and smoke breaks, too. It's true that the environment affects a person to a degree. Me, I get really irritated at all the humming done by Loser Guy Workers that I often escape to Manager's area, in fact most of my most productive work is done there. Manager's area is peaceful, spirited, and calm. At least there will not be anyone eavesdropping on your conversation and (you think) taking down notes and discussing about it later during smoke break. Sometimes I like to provide the poor sods with some useful information, like what is the next launch of work to do, more often than not, they are clueless. Lately it does get to me so I tend to pour out my sorrows to Manager. Rich Dad's advice was good, he always told me to be focused and never talk to any of the Workers.
Was thinking it would be nice if I have a friend (not a loser guy) in the Worker's Quarter.
And then, Carpe diem! Je ne sais quoi! Voila! Eureka!
I met BonkY! =)
He was my 'partner' in a game our Departments were hosting for guests, I guess that night was one of the best ones I had in The Office - I did enjoy myself, lots. Found out we had some same ideas, like: 1. We hate to be at the Worker's Quarter. 2. We like seats near the photocopier. 3. We like to drink xx happy juice, and blah blah.
I was quite happy I had a partner that night because I was really tired (lack of snoozing) so when our Managers told me, hey, we got a partner for you, from the Other Department, I was like, "Who? (BonkY - but I didn't know who he is) ..., " and, "Handsome anot!"
The Managers (mostly single beautiful ladies in their 30s) all agreed YES!
One even drooled about his sideburns... (Have, meh?)
Like sometimes you see familiar faces - your colleagues. And perhaps you hope to get to know the pretty face in the other department a little better, or the cool chick in the other other department, you want to find out where she shops and whether she's just all style but no substance or someone with a really nice personality. And then somehow you bump into them and the world's a better place?
Well it wasn't like that for me and BonkY. Me, I did vaguely recollect this nondescript guy - put them in shirt, tie and pants and they all look like copies of each other, handsome or not, I guess I was really focused in work. Or maybe I don't look at colleagues in THAT way, hahaha. So I really did not notice this nice colleague, only that he was constantly surrounded by female Managers (I later found out from him they were friends before.)
So in a way, that aloofness worked for me - think he was intrigued as well. In fact I was grinning most of the time from his expressions and his highly irritating way of saying things. Like in the I-want-to-clobber you way. And yes, he is kind of cute. Aloof-looking too, like me when I'm working, but really funny when the occasion calls for it.
Now, we jibe each other - he makes me laugh, being irritated and happy at the same time. For two days now, he is the first one I see when I come into The Office - a coincidence? Since I've never noticed him before... Or maybe when you are looking for someone, you will find him/her. =) It's nice anyways to have/give such attention. It sharpens my mind and soul and the warm comradeship feeling (and maybe other warmer feelings) just makes me... more motivated in my work! Yes! I'm going to excel! And beat him...yessss!
Work aside, I've always wished that I have someone to talk to/hug/scream at during a Bad Day, so now there's bonkY!
Earlier in the afternoon, we 'saw' each other in the main corridor - I was coming back from a meeting, and he was going to one. So cute, he saw me first, grinned till his mini eyes almost disappeared, cocked his head to one side and waved at me till I was nearer. I waved back. Asked him for his email add. He said, Oh, I thought you have it? Really irritating. (But fun to have someone to scream at)I said, Of course I don't have, if I had it, do you think I will ask you for it? He wanted to mark my hand with it as we had no paper but in the end we asked one from the Receptionist.
Then later he said something slightly naughty and I grabbed the paper and ran away, shrieking.
I hope this one Worker friend I have will be a boon to my biz. bonkY! I really like him, man.
And he made me wonder...When a guy comments on your shoes/sandals, is he REALLY looking at your legs?
Hee...
Monday, March 05, 2007
Sometimes we think too much #2
(allegra)
I had always believed that Love was a decision, not a feeling. I thought I could control my destiny, choose my fate, believe in my dreams and decide on a blissful future.
Faces. Look all around you. Don’t the faces all seem so nonchalant, so absorbed in their self interests, so bored with life, just walking pass you aimlessly, towards a destination that is not theirs? I used to watch these faces pass me by when I could still afford the luxury of a designer coffee. I need my mocha fix sometimes. It intrigued me how these faces reflect who they really are. If you are scheming, somehow there is that glint of the eye, or a mean streak that can be glimpsed, if you bother to look hard enough. I like people with poise. Not those hurried, scattered personalities who just walk quick paces without noticing their surroundings. Perhaps they hurry through life with eyes opened, yet seeing nothing at all.
I am like that at times.
When I am absorbed in a beautiful song, or when someone has occupied a place in my heart. Love – I had believed in it, yet it had let me down.
And with searching eyes, I was looking through the crowd for someone like me. Who saw things the way I do. A soulmate perhaps? It seems so contrived, but I do believe that one exists –or more than one, though from the way things seem to be, even one would be difficult to find.
It is always a surprise to me to find someone who could listen to my nonsense, or even bother to know me better. Yes, I fit the stereotype of a misfit – albeit with an angelic face. Apart from my long locks of raven hair framing my face, betraying my femininity, the rest of me is rather tomboyish, except for the figure, of course. I mean, if I had bothered to dress up, maybe show more skin, those lounge lizards and paperbag guys – men with the personality of a paperbag would come and offer to buy me more coffee, maybe. But anyways, being thin and almost hairless everywhere else, I am always freaking cold, so I am always decked out in sporty style, leggings paired with a thick blouse and over it, a parka. Comfort style for me. Nice too, most of the times.
So when we fell in love, idealistically, it was meant to last. But it started with an end.
I thought that if you do things knowing what the ending would be like, it would not be so painful. Like you had already anticipated it not to last, so that when it doesn’t, you can be nonchalant about it, and move on in a flash, or at least just savor the happy times and not the ones that tear you apart.
My favorite place to daydream, besides sitting by the creek with that designer coffee, is on the beaten path, along the further way to my house. There I can imagine that there are cute fluffy bunnies greeting me at every wooded shrub corner.
There I can imagine I am walking hand in hand with the man I love.
There I can imagine that Mark is there, listening to me and offering me comfort like no one else could.
Comfort is so hard to find nowadays, isn’t it?
(to be continued...)
I had always believed that Love was a decision, not a feeling. I thought I could control my destiny, choose my fate, believe in my dreams and decide on a blissful future.
Faces. Look all around you. Don’t the faces all seem so nonchalant, so absorbed in their self interests, so bored with life, just walking pass you aimlessly, towards a destination that is not theirs? I used to watch these faces pass me by when I could still afford the luxury of a designer coffee. I need my mocha fix sometimes. It intrigued me how these faces reflect who they really are. If you are scheming, somehow there is that glint of the eye, or a mean streak that can be glimpsed, if you bother to look hard enough. I like people with poise. Not those hurried, scattered personalities who just walk quick paces without noticing their surroundings. Perhaps they hurry through life with eyes opened, yet seeing nothing at all.
I am like that at times.
When I am absorbed in a beautiful song, or when someone has occupied a place in my heart. Love – I had believed in it, yet it had let me down.
And with searching eyes, I was looking through the crowd for someone like me. Who saw things the way I do. A soulmate perhaps? It seems so contrived, but I do believe that one exists –or more than one, though from the way things seem to be, even one would be difficult to find.
It is always a surprise to me to find someone who could listen to my nonsense, or even bother to know me better. Yes, I fit the stereotype of a misfit – albeit with an angelic face. Apart from my long locks of raven hair framing my face, betraying my femininity, the rest of me is rather tomboyish, except for the figure, of course. I mean, if I had bothered to dress up, maybe show more skin, those lounge lizards and paperbag guys – men with the personality of a paperbag would come and offer to buy me more coffee, maybe. But anyways, being thin and almost hairless everywhere else, I am always freaking cold, so I am always decked out in sporty style, leggings paired with a thick blouse and over it, a parka. Comfort style for me. Nice too, most of the times.
So when we fell in love, idealistically, it was meant to last. But it started with an end.
I thought that if you do things knowing what the ending would be like, it would not be so painful. Like you had already anticipated it not to last, so that when it doesn’t, you can be nonchalant about it, and move on in a flash, or at least just savor the happy times and not the ones that tear you apart.
My favorite place to daydream, besides sitting by the creek with that designer coffee, is on the beaten path, along the further way to my house. There I can imagine that there are cute fluffy bunnies greeting me at every wooded shrub corner.
There I can imagine I am walking hand in hand with the man I love.
There I can imagine that Mark is there, listening to me and offering me comfort like no one else could.
Comfort is so hard to find nowadays, isn’t it?
(to be continued...)
Sometimes we think too much #1
In the midst of writing a short story. Writing is therapeutic for me.
Based on own experiences, though some parts exaggerated and fictional ideas thrown in for good measure. For those who are looking for love... find it, and be happy.
#Chapter 1#
(kai)
My friend liked her. And that was how I got to know her. Allegra. Back then, she would look me up, each time her soul needed comforting.
Sure, most girls cry easily. But she wouldn’t cry over spilt milk. Or her own hurt. Most of the times she would cry over others. How she wished she could turn back time and be a little nicer. She was independent enough but I guess in that way she was vulnerable – she could not see it coming. You know, when guys hurt her. Saying insensitive things, or just treating her like dirt.
In some ways I felt that she was not meant to be here. She always felt that way too.
What could I do? She always told me that our friendship would end soon. I never believed her – perhaps inwardly, I did. She had an uncanny knack for predicting stuff that would happen. I was too slow, maybe I did not realize that some months later, we had grown apart so quickly in our different ways that our friendship was no longer what it was used to be.
And how I long for those times, extended times of sitting together on the wooden bench with cast iron curlicue motifs, enjoying just sitting in silence, for she was not those kind who would just blurt out everything she felt. So we would sit there, me just wanting to squeeze her hand or shoulders, looking at her pitiful forlorn face, but never really having the guts to. I thought she would mind, but looking back, I felt that maybe some physical comfort would bring more peace to her stormy feelings within.
Sometimes we still bump into each other now, being neighbors. It was quite a miracle both of us lived in the same district for so long. She is almost too friendly, waving at me furiously and exclaiming that it was so good to see me again after all this time. But we never did initiate another session. Maybe we both knew that then, and now, we were like totally different people.
And what happened to my friend who liked her? I guess they both liked each other at one point in time, just that he never told her about it, and knowing Allegra, she just moved on from guy to guy, trying to escape the pain – although each brought her more hurts and sadness. I think she just lived – simply lived for the happy times, knowing that those times would carry her through the pain.
I used to wonder how anyone could live like this but now I know, that to her, having an interesting life is better than dying from boredom. My wife hates her, I guess most women do, but I think deep down inside they admire her for going against convention, always speaking her mind, and most of all following her heart. I myself would never have the guts to admit liking someone like Mark. I think that is why after all these years, Mark is still in love with her. Even Damien has stayed single for so long – maybe he cannot forget her, or could not find any girl who was like her – the girl of his youth, the one he wanted to marry.
Allegra, Allegra. Sometimes I wonder who you really are?
(To be continued...)
Based on own experiences, though some parts exaggerated and fictional ideas thrown in for good measure. For those who are looking for love... find it, and be happy.
#Chapter 1#
(kai)
My friend liked her. And that was how I got to know her. Allegra. Back then, she would look me up, each time her soul needed comforting.
Sure, most girls cry easily. But she wouldn’t cry over spilt milk. Or her own hurt. Most of the times she would cry over others. How she wished she could turn back time and be a little nicer. She was independent enough but I guess in that way she was vulnerable – she could not see it coming. You know, when guys hurt her. Saying insensitive things, or just treating her like dirt.
In some ways I felt that she was not meant to be here. She always felt that way too.
What could I do? She always told me that our friendship would end soon. I never believed her – perhaps inwardly, I did. She had an uncanny knack for predicting stuff that would happen. I was too slow, maybe I did not realize that some months later, we had grown apart so quickly in our different ways that our friendship was no longer what it was used to be.
And how I long for those times, extended times of sitting together on the wooden bench with cast iron curlicue motifs, enjoying just sitting in silence, for she was not those kind who would just blurt out everything she felt. So we would sit there, me just wanting to squeeze her hand or shoulders, looking at her pitiful forlorn face, but never really having the guts to. I thought she would mind, but looking back, I felt that maybe some physical comfort would bring more peace to her stormy feelings within.
Sometimes we still bump into each other now, being neighbors. It was quite a miracle both of us lived in the same district for so long. She is almost too friendly, waving at me furiously and exclaiming that it was so good to see me again after all this time. But we never did initiate another session. Maybe we both knew that then, and now, we were like totally different people.
And what happened to my friend who liked her? I guess they both liked each other at one point in time, just that he never told her about it, and knowing Allegra, she just moved on from guy to guy, trying to escape the pain – although each brought her more hurts and sadness. I think she just lived – simply lived for the happy times, knowing that those times would carry her through the pain.
I used to wonder how anyone could live like this but now I know, that to her, having an interesting life is better than dying from boredom. My wife hates her, I guess most women do, but I think deep down inside they admire her for going against convention, always speaking her mind, and most of all following her heart. I myself would never have the guts to admit liking someone like Mark. I think that is why after all these years, Mark is still in love with her. Even Damien has stayed single for so long – maybe he cannot forget her, or could not find any girl who was like her – the girl of his youth, the one he wanted to marry.
Allegra, Allegra. Sometimes I wonder who you really are?
(To be continued...)
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Me and MMLee
Hello! Don't I just look like my relative here?
We do have a facial similarity, maybe I will grow up to be as influential as him.
This was taken in HongKong, Madame Tussaud's wax museum.
Beach guitar
At Sentosa, January. Cell outing.
Wish I could play guitar better but looks like my standard is capped to 'G key'.
Not really sure who took this photo of me but I really like it! I was taking photos most of the time,
so hardly had a candid shot like this. Want to go to the beach more often.
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