The difference

Being capable of foresight now, I realize that in hindsight, I was never really lonely; at least not in the way I define loneliness. I equate loneliness with enduring sadness and despair and a deep aching for a meaningful connection with another.

To me, there’s a difference between being lonely and being alone which is what I was. It’s a state of existence that does not necessarily involve emotion. Being alone for me was never coming first to anyone, be it family or friends. I imagine this sounds harsh and ungrateful, but I’m not complaining, just stating facts. It was not that I wasn’t loved, but I knew that if push ever came to shove and a choice had to be made, there wouldn’t have been anyone remaining beside me.

There really was nothing to be resentful, angry or even sad about the seeming unfairness of it all. It was just the way things were and it went on long enough for it to become second nature, implicit even. And to an extent it even had it’s uses as a shield that prevented hurt from intruding. I was securely closed off, believing I didn’t need anyone to get by. I suppose I thought it was admirable since it took strength to be alone without realizing that it takes even greater strength and courage to take a gamble at trusting someone else. The other thing I’ve come to realize now is that loneliness is not a choice, but you can always choose to remain alone regardless of whether you are or not.

There were the occasions when the solitariness would overwhelm me, but looking back it was probably more self-pity than the very real pain of loneliness. So drifting along like that, it became an acceptable way to live and a not too terrible one either.

Now that I’m technically not alone anymore, the irony is that loneliness has become an absolute surety in some possible endings of a future that fortunately can’t be predicted. As scary as it sounds, it is the result of a gamble built on trust and there are no regrets to be had even when in pessimism the consequences are dire.

Dreams (Unfinished)

This morning I woke up from a sleep heavy with dreams. They (the dreams) have been increasing in volume and complexity over the past few days. Maybe there’s something about having deep long sleep minus the minor interruptions in the shape of mysterious jolts and random noises that is conducive to dreaming. These dreams are so immersing that waking up is a disorientating affair. The reality of time and place seem like rude intrusions to a fully fleshed out alternative universe.

Anyway, the dreams have been neither happy or sad nor anything else, quite devoid of emotion really. The feeling is that of floating along passively watching a story play out with some ‘surprising bits’ here and there. However it’s the surprising bits that stay. If you, like me, believe that our dreams are a manifestation (though often times warped) of our conscious and sub-conscious waking lives, then these bits have a way of alarming the dreamer. You start to wonder how your mind could have conjured up something so far out and if you are indeed so depraved and unbalanced.

I think I wanted to go somewhere with this, but seem to have lost my bearings.

That’s it.

Proof.

Senility has set in.

Lights, Camera, Action!

Cinema going has always been challenging. It typically starts with ‘touring’ the shopping mall parking lot at least a million times before you can lock on to & trail some poor hapless shopper that has inconveniently forgotten where he’s parked. Once in the mall, be prepared to jostle with the surging weekend crowd as you try and cut a path to the cinema floor only to resign yourself to lining up for ages in a snaking line only to get front row seats (that's if you're lucky to even get tickets!).

Well of course you can reserve tickets right? Wrong. By some secret conspiracy, weekend shows are always fully booked. I imagine an entire battalion of people hunched in front of their PC’s waiting for the very moment the show opens for booking on the cinema website.

Which bring me to the fact that last week we watched 3 movies in Cathay Cineleisure at The Curve: Pirates of The Caribbean Dead Man’s Chest, Superman Returns & Slither, the first one free and the last two, back-to-back. It just occurred to me that we’ve never done this standard couple extra-curricular activity ever before. And while we’ve occasionally exclaimed that we ought to ‘one of these days’ we never got round to it. Guess this time we might have been mysteriously bitten by the mainstream cinema bug.

Back to the movies, fortunately all were pretty decent. Slither was tongue-in-cheek funny in a totally gross-out way as only movies about alien slugs with nefarious plans to take over the world can be. Definitely recommended, however it's still advisable to watch on an empty stomach ;)

Superman Returns was a nicely rounded story. I didn’t expect much but it turned out well anyway. Must say that the Superman theme did stir memories, though not as strong as that of the Star Wars theme (Big fan, big fan. I remember getting all sparkly-eyed and almost bouncing in my seat with excitement during the opening theme of the Star Wars prequels even though they eventually turned out to be huge letdowns)

The best part of this rare cinema-going experience? The look of rapt attention, complete with ‘goggly’ eyes and gaping mouth of my movie mate who for all intents and purposes might as well not have stepped into the cinema since they stopped making silent movies!

So next in line to watch will be the new M. Night Shyamalan movie, Lady in the Water. The movie snippets seem quite promising. Now whether we watch it in the cinema or via other ‘alternative’ means remains to be seen.

Banter

Noun: banter bantur

1. Light teasing repartee

Verb: banter

1. Be silly or tease one another

Call it what you may, I find myself getting tired of it sometimes, even dreading it.

Case in point, I go early for my classes so that I might have time to sit down and have dinner. I’m usually the earliest one at the coffee shop since I work so close by. And as I wait for my food to arrive I find myself hoping against hope that none of my fellow trainees will join me. They always do.

I’d much rather sit alone with my thoughts and or let my mind wander off into the great unknown if I so please. But I find myself interrupted, which could be all right under certain circumstances except that the ‘conversation’ always involves a lot of teasing, ribbing, smart aleck comments and I find myself obliged to respond in kind or even defend myself sometimes. If it happened once in a while, it’d be refreshing even invigorating perhaps, but after one too many times (even though I can more than hold my own) I just get fed-up and find myself longing for privacy or some kind of meaningful conversation. Unfortunately I have to grin and good-naturedly bear it, because if I am moody or silent or calm and reflective, that draws even more attention.

Perhaps I am getting more and more anti-social: having less of a stomach for frivolity. I used to hold it (banter) in quite high regard actually, having some talent for it, but now it just seems…empty. Sure it’s good for a few laughs and it does break the ice. But how many times do you need to break the ice before you can go beyond it? I suppose if it never gets past that, then it’s time to walk away.

It’s raining, quite heavily. Astro’s out as is usual, not like I was watching it anyway, just had it on mute, flickering at me so as not to disturb a certain slumbering someone. It’s past 12 midnight which means essentially it’s Monday already. Hm, don’t feel blue yet, that’s good I suppose.

I was just thinking of how bored I always feel. Nothing seems to interest me very much. Life just seems to plod on at a sedate pace with nothing but drab scenery all around. Whenever I dwell on it for even a short period of time it’s enough to set of an extended round of moodiness and depression. Conjuring things to look forward to does help to an extent of making the drudgery more bearable but it’s just a temporary means.

I want a passion that lasts, an interest that sustains. I guess it’s the cliché of wanting to find meaning, a reason for continuing to live, a purpose. Without it, everything seems so trivial, so unnecessary, such a complete and utter waste of time. And all the while time just slips by unchecked. I dare not think about a future filled with this never-ending emptiness.

There has to be something more than this.

My kind of woman

There’s this woman where I work who wears brightly coloured brassieres under white shirts. Today it’s electric pink. Hm. Is she just clueless or is this what unattractive women do to attract attention? And she’s not the only one here. Inappropriately short skirts, low cut tops with unsupported jingling boobs (they bounce in step with her stamping feet: her usual mode of ‘walking’), loud brash voices and garish make-up are some of the other attention-grabbing gimmicks they employ.

Oh, they certainly get the attention they seek, but none of it is complimentary, and much of it falls under the category of ‘crude’. I should know, I’ve had to listen to the guys commenting while I remained neutral and tried not to wince. Perhaps these women should realize that overt, in-your-face posturing is just terribly unattractive and completely tasteless. Wouldn’t they rather be on the receiving end of admiration and regard? And I mean this in both the professional sense as well as in personal appearance.

My kind of woman would be unusual in appearance, unique, none of that conventional beauty for me. She’d be attractive but unselfconsciously so. She doesn’t try too hard and she doesn’t have to. She’d exude a quiet intelligence, evident in her eyes (sparkling bright) and her manner, collected and reserved. Her laugh is easy and her wit sharp. A genuine person with no hidden agenda’s but yet intriguingly mysterious all the same. She is her own person, a person that is, after my own heart.

And she doesn’t exist! More’s the pity.

Zipping by

Just after lunch and I’m sitting in the pantry writing with a packet of fruits as a convenient excuse. I could of course type this on my PC at my workspace but it’s too open and I’d feel uncomfortable with the possibility of people looking over my shoulder.

This is going to be a very short week. I’m on leave this Friday and out of office the whole day on Thursday for training. So essentially it’s Monday to Wednesday and it’s already Tuesday afternoon, oh joy!

There isn’t any particular reason for taking leave, just decided on the spur of the moment on one of those down-in-the-dumps days. A feeble attempt at making work more bearable I suppose.

So anyway I’m wondering what I should do this weekend. Hm. Ooo-kay. I’m all out of ideas, but still looking forward to it despite having no plans. It’s all good. :P

A little too close for comfort

Back in Centrepoint again, this time a little earlier than usual (came here straight from a customers office in KL) and feeling a tad unnerved. Was quite freaked out after I found out that the recent kidnapping & rape of the air-stewardess in a shopping mall happened right where I am right now and that I was here on that same very night, the same night I wrote about Centrepoint being the place “to be”. How so very ironic. And driving in just now, there was a police roadblock right in front, I wonder why.

What’s very scary and continually frustrating is the fact that the knee-jerk reactions and finger-pointing from the authorities, random ministers and parties involved like the mall management solves nothing because it’s all too little action too late for the victims. It’s obvious that prevention & safety precautions are non-existent in the Malaysian culture and even experience (Canny Ong for one) teaches us nothing.

I try to be careful and take care of my own self, as everyone should. But sometimes it is so easy to assume that bad things won’t happen to us, and who wants to live under constant fear and vigilance anyway? And so we do what we can, and hope for the best.

Coming home

Sometimes I think about what it would be like coming home to you after a long day at work, of being able to say “Honey I’m home” and feeling your warm embrace lifting all the days worries away.

On the days when I get home late, you would have already gotten me dinner and I can see us both sitting there in a comfortable silence with you smiling indulgently as I slowly consume the meal. I can hear you ask, “How was your day sweetie?” and my replying sigh would tell you all you needed to know. Then pulling me close to kiss my forehead, you would have understood how after a tiring day, the last thing I am, is chatty.

Feeling that much more relaxed after a warm shower, the first thing I would do is rub your back and kiss you fondly on the cheek in appreciation of your calming presence and affection for me. And now I would ask you in return about your day, certain that I’d be able to focus my attention on listening to you.

I’d then sit back in bed and perhaps turn the TV on and gradually you’d come sit by me, automatically taking my hand and clasping it in yours. We might talk a little or just lapse into quietness, my head resting on your chest. After a while, if you gauge that all is well with me and that I am suitably occupied, you would gently extricate yourself and return to what you were doing previously. At other times when you find me restless or out of sorts, you devise ways of amusing me and making it better: whether sharing a tub of ice-cream or watching a movie together or just coaxing me to talk to you.

And as the night draws to a close and I find myself wilting, I’d ask you if you were coming to bed. If you answer “Soon sweetie”, then I would wait for you because sleep is lonely without you. On nights when I involuntarily doze off before you, I remain watchful. Then when you finally do come to bed, you would gently brush my hair in the quietest good night you can muster so as not to awaken me. But I am always aware and will sleepily search for you hand to hold and your lips to kiss my own good night to you.

And finally contented with you beside me, we drift off together into the night

Is Centrepoint the place to be?

Surprisingly, it’s turned out to be quite the people-watching place.

Here’s a checklist of the things I’ve seen so far from my little corner of the cafe:

1. Young professionals’ after work in their spiffy suits and lugging laptops
2. Young adults dressed casually (don’t these people have to work?)
3. Kids everywhere! (Is there a Gymboree or something around here?)
4. A Pomeranian with its lady owner trailing behind on a leash (heh, shouldn’t it be the other way round?)
5. A monitor lizard in a portable aquarium (sans water) carefully cradled by it’s young mistress

And imagine, all this in the space of less than half an hour since I arrived.

Still unconvinced? Well then, sitting right across from me are 3 lovely TV3 newscasters having a leisurely chat over their evening cuppa’s.

Now if only I didn’t find this old building rather depressing, I’d hang out here more often.

Oh! Look at the time, gotta run, got a class to catch!

.

.

.

5 minutes into class: (Damnit! Why must it be freezing on the day I wear a skirt?!)

Ambling along, rambling on.

8.30AM, at my cubicle and the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. Ugh. (Which explains why I’m writing here about nothing in particular.)

Woke up this morning feeling oddly grateful to be waking up in my own bed. As usual the first thought was a wish that I could sleep the day away and the second was a quick mental calculation of the number of hours before I could crawl back in under the covers again. Heh, talk about being motivated.

These days I feel odder and odder and odder, more and more out of place sometimes. For instance, yesterday, it occurred to me that I’m quite the geek, lacking in the social graces that makes other people appear ‘normal’. This after my trainer made a wisecrack at my expense and my fellow students took to teasing me after. Being the only female student also makes me stand out just that little bit more, so hooray for me. Hmph. Maybe I should attempt to control my expressions and stop frowning all the time. Unfortunately this comes naturally to me and I’m rarely aware of how I odd appear until someone stares or makes a comment.

Weekend’s almost here, yippee! However this weekend marks the start of my effectively becoming a football widow for a month. Hopefully I’ll have enough things to keep me amused ;)

Memories of weekends past

Oh no, neglected again.

I really do mean to. Even have things written out on paper and all but somehow can’t bring myself to actually post.

So anyway, it’s the start of another week with the promise that it will be yet another long drawn out one. Sometimes the only way to deal when you try but are unable to take a day at a time is to temper the dread by focusing on things to look forward to. Time warped weekends tucked away in the seclusion of two, is what carries me through the weekday. Indeed, what would I do without you?

Last weekend felt strangely…lengthy. Normally the precious two days zip by in such a blinding flash leaving me unsatiated and hankering for more by the always-depressing Sunday night. But this time it was different. I can’t put my finger on as to why. And apart from the hitches: mood swings (my fault as usual) & sleep interrupted by work-worry, I still feel it was one of our better weekends and I can’t wait for the next.

(We really, really must stop discussing things till the wee hours of Monday morning! Oh, but how difficult it’ll be because I do so love the ‘discussing’ and feel loathe to stop even if we pay dearly for the rest of the day :)

Feeling blah

I sit here (im)patiently waiting for him to return and gnawing at my lip trying to think of something to write.

I think I need to be much more careful with work matters. No, I don’t think, I have to. It’s just so easy to slip into apathy and disinterest when there are no pressing deadlines as motivating factors. That and the little persistent voice at the back of my head that says “this can’t be it forever and ever”.

In other news, am going back home this weekend, something I haven’t done for the longest time for personal reasons I’m well acquainted with. I’m not looking forward to it because I already know that it is going to be an exhausting exercise in damage control. I can also predict that I will be losing my temper and cool before long. It’s the result of thinking/hoping/wishing that the world could revolve only around the two of us. That’s not true for me though, the outside world intrudes and makes demands. And the result? Alternating guilt and anger.

There has to be something to look forward to. Hm. A sweet chocolate-y dessert should be an effective stopgap measure :P

(Hurry up hun! ;)

It really is just a stupid movie

I need to work out why I’m so angry. It’s just a stupid movie. But there’s a reason. I know there is.

……think, think.

It’s about responsibility. About doing the right thing no matter what. It doesn’t matter if you don’t really love her. If you’re still with her, then you stand by her: NO. MATTER. WHAT. Especially those times when she’s not at her most charming best. When she makes a faux pas. When she makes a mistake and embarrasses herself and you in the process. That’s when she needs you most, that’s when you prove that you’re around not just for the good times but for all times. You don’t run after the most accessible skirt around the moment you hit a rough patch. And even if you wanted to, at least show her a little respect and have the decency to end it first before you do so. (Oh, and yeah, it works both ways)

I have often debated this scenario to myself. What happens if while in a relationship, you meet someone else whom you unintentionally develop feelings for (yes, I do believe it is possible). Logic tells me that the right thing to do would be:

1. To NOT encourage/cultivate the other ‘friendship’
2. and while doing 1, try you best to figure out if you really do love your partner, if you want to make it work and if you do want to keep the relationship. (And by this I do not mean comparing the two even though that would be the instinctual response)

Easier said than done?

I suspect so, and I hope I never have to find out.

The Other

I know.

I haven’t written in a while. This is fast becoming the norm. Increasingly, it seems that the only reason I even write is to either assuage some kind of misplaced guilt or because I had nothing else to do. This was never my original intention.

And here I sit actually seriously considering starting another blog. Completely anonymous, not semi, like this one is. No editing. No mulling over grammar and phrasing, over whether a sentence is catchy enough, whether there’s an attention grabbing heading and if the closing is suitably graceful. Just free ranting - a faithful regurgitation so to speak. In fact I already have a name for it. I found it apt.

Yes, I realize even writing about it here instead of quietly going about my business is evidence of my ego. Yes, I have considered if this ego of mine could handle complete anonymity and the almost absolute certainty that no one would ever stumble across it or even care to stay. But this is the way I figure it will work: This space is for attention, and the other will be an outlet for the dissonance that would otherwise clutter, muddle and weigh down. It doesn’t mean whatever’s written here is put on, just that it is for the palatable and (marginally) less self-indulgent material, otherwise called my ‘good’ side. Admittedly, every once in a while this space is also used as a means to reach a select audience. I just hope I can keep the dividing line clear.

(and yes, bad as it is, this piece was actually edited!)


“..and by this we shall know that she has reached bottom and what more, is scraping away at her empty barrel.”

Perfection is overrated

(…..spoken like a true sore loser :)

You know what I wish sometimes?

That I was this cool, calm, collected, perfectly put together young lady. The very image that in one breath speaks of the effort put into it but at the same time is carried so effortlessly and with such amazing grace.

Instead my modus operandi is more aptly described as “scruffy” than anything else. You see, I’m the casualty of one too many “Why bother’s?” which usually follows swiftly after “I have nothing to wear!” and “Oh God I’m late!”. Once in a long while though I do force myself to try and expand some energy into this area. However the fleeting results from these sporadic attempts and the intimate knowledge of my makeup ensures that nothing has changed and sad to say, nor will it ever change.

Ah well, but I can dream....and secretly hate those rare women who can pull off this feat.

It's the little things that count

I spilled my coffee this morning, on the table and a little on myself. Is it serendipity that I wore dark today? Fortunately my reaction was an audible ‘Oh shit” instead of “Oh fuck!” (No, I’m not repressed, there’s just a certain appropriateness of time and place to follow). My neighbour turned around and said with a straight face, “Jackie, do you need a bib?”

That made me laugh and laugh before I answered with a resounding “Yes!” For all her flaws that girl sometimes has spot on humour.

So I hurried to the bathroom, to clean up the mess. I took one long look at myself, heaved many sighs and it dawned on me what my response should have been:

“I don’t need a bib, I need a bed and the rest of the week off”

The thing about working with sales people is that while they’re not the most hardworking of people, their social skills livens the environment and lifts the stress every now and then.

Strangely though, now I feel ready to face the week ahead.

I hope it lasts.

(In case you didn’t get it, the thing that counts is laughter)

The creative juices: Watch them flow

Hm.

I was going to write about work then thought the better of it since it’s a little too close to home (i.e. it would positively identify me. Yes, still that paranoid).

So I’m exploring other possible topics, like for instance:

1. How Not to be Mundane.
   
   (Hm, nope. Nada. Zilch. No ideas.)

2. My Exciting Weekend!!!
   
   (Err…I’d have to lie for this one. And just looking at the exclamation marks wears me out)

3. The Art of Zen.
   
   (ah hah hah hah hah! Someone stop me before I bust a blood vessel!)

4. Three Easy Steps to Growing Your Bank Balance.
   
   (Step 1: Rob The Bank.)
   
   

5. ………*I’m thinking damnit!*
   
   
   

Arghh! To hell with it, I’m going to sleep.

Work

It’s been a slow week and this marks the first time I’ve ever seen my calendar scarcely populated since I started work here about a month plus ago. And even though I’ve worked late a few times this week, it was to do re-work on past proposals, nothing new and exciting. In a way it’s been a good break from the usual hectic schedule. It’s given me the opportunity to hang out a little and get to know the new colleagues. They’re an amiable bunch. I foresee good working relationships being formed.

Work-wise, it’s been a pretty steep learning curve. Most of what I’m being thrown into now is completely new to me. It’s both good and bad. Good because the room to grow is virtually limitless and bad because often it can be so overwhelming sometimes that I end up feeling like a drowned rat (and often end up looking like one too!).

But at least I know I don’t regret anything, and that is enough for now.

Update: That was written sometime late last week. As of now, work has piled up with several looming deadlines in the near horizon. That’s how quick things change. And even though I won’t be back to work till Wednesday, the thought of checking my email & calendar when I do, makes me shudder.

“Make no sudden movements, and no one will get hurt”

I long for escape. The blessed ability to let go. Release from having to be someone I no longer recognize. The silencing of the disquieting voices. Relief from sudden, unexplainable anger. The end to all this melodrama. Blissful blankness.

I am so tired.

From the push and pull. From the up and down. The brief peaks, the debilitating lows.
(Rinse and Repeat: the only thing that’s constant)

Can you be divided and yet expect not to rip yourself apart?

How far must you run from yourself before you realize you haven’t budged an inch?

I did this.

(and I think I’m losing it)