It's good to stay in the Y! M! C! A!

Obviously another ‘happening’ wedding, heh.

A relative’s wedding this time round but under The Parents (and miscellaneous Relatives) watchful eyes coupled with the duties as designated driver, the consumption of free alcohol was impossibility. Oh how my heart bled at the sight of all that alcohol passing through the lips of less worthy people. Damn them all!

Hm. This story could probably end here as nothing of any interest happened at all i.e. No Alcohol = No Fun for Jackie.

(“Do I need you because I love you or do I love you because I need you?”)

Just a couple of observations:

If there’s a dance floor, when a love song starts playing (“Wonderful Tonight” is always a sure bet) and your lady gets that wistful, longing, dreamy look in her eyes, gently take her hand and ask her to dance. Trust me, she won’t even notice your two left feet because she will be floating on air. And that sparkle in her eyes? Priceless.

Attending weddings unaccompanied when you’re single and unattached is a curse, as we all know so well. Attending weddings ‘partner-less’ when you’re single and attached is almost equally torturous. The overdose of sappy romanticism, public declarations of love and all things ‘couply’ serve only to fuel the longing to have that someone’s hand in yours and his smiling eyes looking back at you.

I suspect the only reason that’ll be left for me to keep going to weddings (other than being duty bound) is the alcohol.

Experience (or lack of it) and Perception

I’m learning not to underestimate the strength of personal experience. New experiences and the insight they bring are the reason some days I’m almost completely convinced I know nothing at all. It is a singularly powerful motivating factor in the way we perceive, behave, and react to our surroundings. The same event can happen to a multitude of people at the same time and yet every observer’s reaction to it differs depending on each one’s internal makeup up till that point of time: a direct result of years upon years of ingrained experience.

The simplest experiment to test out this fact (I would say ‘theory’ but it’s so straightforward that I’m sure millions have thought of it way before your truly) is to try and re-watch movies after an extended period of time, a few years being ideal. Yes, it’s that simple. I’ve tried it and a previously harmless movie is set to give me nightmares tonight.

This personal experience thing is kind of funny actually. On the one hand it’s a tool that forces us to ‘grow up’, whatever that might be. We also tend to regard ‘experienced’ individuals with a respect afforded to the wise. However I think experience should also be digested with a certain sense of wariness because it’s a sure and easy path to cynicism. And while there’s nothing wrong with cynicism (only the very naïve are devoid of it), a person who puts too much store in past experience, using it to shoot down or dismiss new possibilities is in danger of ending up bitter and angry at a world that she thinks has let her down and is determined to continue to do so. Often times bad experiences especially, shrivels our courage. Making us fearful of taking risks, always expecting the same outcome.

I’ve never really needed experience before except for the purpose of cultivating empathy. Instead, what I lack in experience I more than make up for with an over active imagination as some unfortunately have been made painfully aware of. And yes, this imagination or in most cases the ‘looking ahead and imagining the worst’ is a fear just as paralyzing as experience can be.

Time

I’ve been thinking a lot about time these days.

About how futile it is to wish you could fast forward time, because eventually the time you were waiting for will come round and when it does, it has the gall to go ahead and pass you by!

It is just as similarly futile to try and hold back time, to try and make it slow down in order to keep the unpleasant at bay because whatever it is you dread will be over soon enough regardless of what you do.

The one constant about time? It passes. There’s absolutely no point trying to exercise control over it.

I know this isn’t any big revelation, everyone knows this implicitly, but if that is so, why then do we struggle so much against the passage of time? Wouldn’t it save us a whole lot of trouble to just learn to accept things as and when they come?

But you know the funny thing about ‘knowing’ things is that it has no relation whatsoever to what we actually do about it.

I really must focus on directing my smiles at the person who brought it on instead of absentmindedly glancing away at other people while I do it, which has eeriely brought many a returning smile from strangers. Yikes!

That which remains a Mystery

He’s tall, dark and bald. She’s shorter, plump. They look like 2 good friends or colleagues sitting down after work having a personal animated conversation over coffee. But before they leave they hug each other tightly, fondly, and as she turns away a huge smile is etched on her face and lingers there just a little too long, and I wonder…

There are couples everywhere, a sheer proliferation of them. I suppose they’ve always been around but I never quite bothered or noticed before, considering them unnecessary nuisances. Now, they are all I see. I notice everything, observe their minutest gestures, am thoroughly fascinated. The way he holds her arm, the glances she sneaks at him, the way they laugh, and off I go wondering….

I wonder what their stories are, how they met, how long they’ve been together, if she loves him, if he’s thinking of someone else. I wonder if they’re anything like us, what makes us different or if we all share similarities. I’m searching for that thing that makes us all tick. Trying to deconstruct the elusive makeup of that which stubbornly defies definition. Looking for the answer to “Why?”.

Thunderstorm in KL

Quote of the day:
"Don't be a hero(ine), it's a Kelisa not a submarine"

(hur! hur!)

Quick Update

Busy. Really.

Next weekend. Maybe.

Oh man.

One door closes

Yesterdays goodbye's were unexpected and rather sweet.

The colleagues full force impromtu troop dowstairs and out the office entrance to wave me off took me by surprise. Driving away in my car I finally felt a twinge of sadness and loss matching their own and wished I had displayed less calm and collectedness and more emotion at leaving. Oh well.

And so now, I will be enjoying my unemployment (I prefer the term slacking off) for all of 4 days, heh.

I love you too.

The end of the road

It has just dawned on me that in 3 days, to be precise, on Wednesday, 15^th February 2006, I will be PC-less.

Excuse me while I …ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Heh.

I was idly wondering what I would do for the 4 days before I start my new job and was pleasantly thinking that I could surf the Net, write some stuff, blog or whatever, when I realized that I’d have to surrender my notebook when I leave.

Excuse me again while I…ARGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

******

So yeah, I’ve finally gotten round to leaving after almost half a decade and will be starting fresh someplace new.

The past month has been a mixed bag of emotions: the relief at finally moving on was dampened by the nostalgia and sentimentality of leaving the comforts of all the familiar. The excitement of trying out something new in a different environment is also tempered by the fear of the unknown and the niggling voice of self-doubt. So this has left me feeling somewhat neutral and ambivalent. I am the definition of paradox.

But it’s ok. I know it’s the right decision.

******

But that still leaves me with no PC until next week…..

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Weekends like these

…..are one in a million, so complete, I could live in them forever.

I feel loved in a gleeful ‘wiggle-my-toes’ and silly grin kind of way.

And dear, the sneaky little cabaret-ish send off? Really, whatever will the neighbours think?! heh, heh!

So with that image burnt in mind, I’ll drift away tonight with a smile on my lips and laughter in my heart ;)

Not Myself

Suppose I said

I am on my best behaviour

And there are times

I lose my worried mind

Would you want me when

I’m not myself

Wait it out while I am someone else?

Suppose I said

Colours change for no good reason

And words will go

From poetry to prose

Would you want me when

I’m not myself

Wait it out while I am someone else?

And I, in time, will come around

I always do for you

Suppose I said

You’re my saving grace

John Mayer, Album: Room for Squares

As some are aware, I can’t write poetry to save my life, so sometimes it’s a relief to let someone else do the expressing for you. I stumbled on this and it is so apt, it’s uncanny: every single word dear.

It’s February: run for cover if you know what’s good for you!

It’s that time of the year again, when the romantics make dinner reservations and pre-book roses for their beloved, and the cynical (God forbid you should call them cheap to their faces) get into heated discussions as to why it’s all commercialized and just a socially accepted excuse for daylight robbery.

Personally I find both camps equally tiresome: the ones that buy in to the hoopla and the ones that sneer at their gullibility. But if I had to choose, the self righteous cynics irritate me more, at the very least the love struck sods are thinking only of the happiness of their loved ones however expensive that might prove to be.

It is also that time of the year when people start sneaking looks at their single and unattached friends/colleagues/random strangers in the mall, while shaking their heads and clucking their tongues in condescending pity. I have always wondered why people tend to think singles are all the same and the whole lot should be pitied. Do they really think that on the ‘dreaded’ day, we hide ourselves in our burrows to mope, beat our chests and cry that no one loves us, and no one ever will?

Personally the day has always been ordinary for me, occasionally punctuated with the odd card here and there from people either known or anonymous, and would pass unnoticed if not for the annoying personal questions from nosy parkers who prefer to mind your business rather than their own.

{I think I have spent too much time on my own, that I will forever feel the need to champion the rights of all misunderstood and much maligned singles out there. Heh, I know no one asked me to and probably no one cares but I’ll damn well stand on my soapbox if I want to!}

It’s not hard to tell what’s different for me this year. I feel the same way though about the day: that it has to at least be acknowledged if you have an other half. The trick is to know just how to express it in a way only the other person would understand and appreciate, which means of course that I’m in big trouble because I happen to be clueless!

My fallback plan? If all else fails, I’ll start ranting and raving, daily mind you, at the ridiculously exorbitant prices of all the accompanying celebratory paraphernalia and piously proclaim that love should be declared everyday and not just relegated to one day a year.

Yeah right. Oh shucks, who am I kidding??!

Create or Die

"The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.

To him...

a touch is a blow,

a sound is a noise,

a misfortune is a tragedy,

a joy is an ecstasy,

a friend is a lover,

a lover is a god,

and failure is death.

Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create - - - so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, his very breath is cut off from him. He must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency he is not really alive unless he is creating."

-Pearl S. Buck-

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Now I must crawl back into the cave from whence I came and wailingly (I think I might have just made up a new word ;) mourn my abysmal lack of creativity.

Post Celebration Joy

First day back to work after CNY and feeling good even though I’ve had less days off than most people this time round. There’s something about a pleasant drive thru empty streets the morning after a good night’s sleep following a good talk with the darling-est person, that puts a smile on my face, a sparkle in my eye and an unusual cheeriness in temperament.

Back to CNY, it is with great disappointment that I find the haul getting less and less each year. It’s either the relatives go into hiding from you when the time comes around or they grumpily hold a grudge against you illustrated by the less than generous angpows, because they still have to follow the dictates of tradition by doling out cash to you even though you’re as big (and possibly older) than most hippopotamuses now. Bah!

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Now back to work, and the office is so nice and quiet too. I like. ;)

That's what friends are for

I’ve never been more grateful for my friends: the friends who’ve stuck around for ages, who’ve known me since I was that high and haven’t gotten tired of me yet. The kind of friends who when you tell them your sad or unhappy immediately say “I’ll be there in 10 minutes” even though they have work to do (of course it helps when she’s just a 2 minutes drive away, heh.)

I feel so relieved to be able to share, to have an understanding, empathic ear to listen. To have someone nod in compassion and total comprehension, not just because they’re my friends and therefore under some code of conduct they must agree with me no matter what, but because they really do get me and have been there before. The load on my chest has been lifted somewhat, I finally feel I can breathe again.

I am silly. I don’t why I’ve always felt the need to hide things from people, why I’ve always felt the need to be so private. It’s taken me too long to realize that telling people I trust the turmoil I feel inside is a way to relieve the burden, to prevent myself from a self-induced meltdown. Why have I’ve always needed to protect myself from supposed embarrassment and from behaving contrary to the strong unflappable front I put up?

Whatever made me think they would not understand?

After I spilt my heart out, she grasps my shoulders and says as gently as she can with a suspicious twinkle in her eye “It’s nice to know you’re human too and more of a girl than you had ever believed possible”.

It is a shock to behave in a way I used to find contemptuous. I am so emotional attached now that I’m having a stupendously hard time dealing with it. I hardly know how to react since I’ve always conditioned myself to be the direct opposite.

“When I’m with him, control goes out the window. Don’t you laugh now”, she warns.
“I’m not laughing my dear. Don’t you see? I understand how you feel.”

Of course the problems don’t go away just by sharing things with others, but at least my head is clearer and I am encouraged that it doesn’t have to be doom and gloom all the time.

“Perhaps you struggle so much and are so anxious all the time about how the relationship is going because you really care and want to make it work. When things settle down and get sorted out, you won’t feel so needy anymore.”

She’s right.

But saying that I really care though, is an understatement.

Cold, cold water

cold cold water surrounds me now
and all i've got is your hand
lord can you hear me now?
or am i lost?
no one's daughter allow me that
and I can't let go of your hand
lord, can you hear me now?
or am i lost?
don’t you know i love you
and I always have
hallelujah
will you come with me?
cold cold water surrounds me now
and all i've got is your hand
lord.. can you hear me?
or am i lost?

Cold water - Damien Rice, Album: O

Yes I know, Damien Rice again: the poster boy for your average garden-variety depressive suicidal out there. Like I once described him to a friend as the writer of “songs to kill yourself to”. Funnily this song is precisely about that and is staged as a lament between a father, his daughter and God.

It’s all very sad and the haunting voices, including the goose bumps inducing Gregorian chants, linger with you for a very long time. I’ve listened to it so much that the song is permanently playing in my head. This is not good.

Listen with caution (and only if you are of sound mind).

On Volatility

I feel much better today, mellow even and dare I say happy, content?

I hesitate though to say this as much as I hesitated with the last post because I know whatever I write is only true at the moment when I write it and not an indication of any lasting state of mind. I hesitate because I don’t want to (depending on the situation) either scare people too much or put their minds at ease. Saying I’m ok, doesn’t mean the darkness is gone, it just means I’m ok, for now.
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I’m such a killjoy. If I’ve put a damper on anyone’s spirits, please read the first line again.

Truth is I don't feel better. I don't know why I make like I'm ok and cheerful even when I'm not. And doing that just makes me angrier and even more frustrated. I feel like I need to, have to, must, vent my anger and frustration, to find an outlet, and pounding the keyboard doesn't help. Writing doesn't help, much. Crying doesn't help. Smashing something to smithereens or ripping something apart into tiny pieces or screaming my head off till I'm hoarse or pounding something with my fists until they bleed would probably work better.

It's a struggle to appear calm and in control when I'm like this. Right now between typing, I'm clenching my fists, feeling my fingernails dig deep in my palm, holding it all in.

I don't know.

I don't have an answer to this question:

What's wrong with me?

Words are inadequate, they fail miserably and eloquence is a lie.

Melancholia

I'm feeling more than a little 'off' today. I can't quite put my finger on any one reason, it seems to be a combination of things: the anticipation and anxiety about the new job, the uncertainties of the relationship, the feeling of being out of touch with the family and of course the ever present underlying existential angst.

It manifests itself in a pervasive mild panicky choking feeling and a general light headedness resulting in the inability to concentrate or focus on tasks at hand. It's can't be attributed to the convenient excuse of Monday blues. Instead it's the feeling that things are coming to a head, of hurtling towards some inevitable combustion point. And no, it's not that I worry too much, it is however more likely the result of the paralysis that grips when it comes to trying to communicate my fears and therefore resorting to bottling it all inside.

In an uncanny coincidence, a close friend confided in me last week that she was in the throes of some deep personal conflict. That isn't the uncanny part, the part that took me aback was when she described how she's used to keeping it all to herself and it festers for so long that when she's in one of her moody spells, sometimes she can no longer point out the cause for her dissatisfaction. The reasons get buried with time and the inability to express herself and only the 'down' feeling remains, that intuition that something is wrong but no way of connecting the dots. My jaw dropped to the floor, it was like hearing my twin speak.

Have you ever wondered how many of the things we do serve merely as tools of distraction from the clamouring voices, from the burning questions that go on in our heads? We try our damnest to suppress, shut out, smoother, that we might actually get so good at it that we succeed in forgetting. But the victory is a shallow one, for these things never go away; they might lay dormant but only as dormant as an unexploded bomb can be.