new year...

another year has come and gone. technically, it is supposed to be the dawn of a new year.

seriously though??? it is just another day.

no different from any other. so much for new year.

christmas...

"have yourself a merry little christmas...

let your heart be light...

from now on our troubles will be out of sight...

have yourself a merry little christmas...

make the yuletide gay...

from now on our troubles will be miles away..."

another sick twist for an already lousy christmas...

troubles will be out of sight and miles away???

the irony...

problems...

charles m schulz once said that "no problem is so formidable that you can't walk away from it"...

if only that were true...

no longer...

at this point, it is just found, that when one can no longer cannot hear self, nor see self, one no longer really exists. what then???

what does or should one see ahead??? or rather, what does one see behind???

in utter desperation, one has to go in search of oneself. however, managing to find oneself while undergoing that torturous journey is another question altogether. praying to the heavens would not help, crying to the earth would not either. in all honesty, it is just an oh so fabulous conundrum to be in, or more bluntly put, a helluva mind fuck.

candles...

christmas is just right about the corner, yet, despite all the airy merriment and fancy decorations, the feeling of christmas ain't quite around.

in all the morosity of good old gloom and doom, one would be lucky to even find a pinch of gaiety. monica forsberg once wrote, in swedish that is, "det är dags att tända alla ljusen"; meaning "it is time to light all the candles".

thank murphy for having this brilliant way of doing things. if good things like to come in pairs, bad news certainly love to come in the form of a bloody recurring avalaunche. guess in times as such, all the more so and aptly put that, indeed, "it is time to light all the candles".

a walk down memory lane...

death has this marvelous way of always being some major turning point, for any one person, at any one point of time. put simply, it either makes you, or breaks you, or at best, one would even get to have the best of both worlds in some mind boggling weird life arrangement. before one knows it, one might probably be singing "oh what a night" out loud.

there is always, somehow, a walk down memory lane with each inevitable occurrence. it never fails to shake and wake me up to life's fragility, crappy reality, and nonsensically painful obscurity. that walk down memory lane ain't no pretty sight, ever.

the best part??? it is, most unfortunately, a one way street. not to forget, a bloody long one at that.

back...

more often than not, one runs around in circles, and cycles, just running, and running, and running. before you know it, it is found, somehow, that one is back, right where one started. one wonders in amazement and disbelief after all that legwork, but to go along, there is also refound knowledge of oneself, and a whole new world, thanks to a new found perspective.

it is easier said than done for one to try to see beyond. beyond the horizons, beyond the scope and lousy limitations of the human eye and mind, beyond oneself. when finally that is attainable, the epitome is reached, and a parabola is created, strangely, somehow. the world is no different than from what it was, yet, it just ain't quite the same.

running away never helped anyone. however, in the light of true stupidity, it is all one does, without fail. oddly enough, little as it might be, there is actually merit in such an act. unfortunately, it can only be seen, after it has all been said and done, when one has reached the other side, through an idiosyncratic epiphany, after an imbecilic squander of precious time.

not around...

wispy shadows in the stealth...

creeping up and all abound...

what is lost...

can no longer be found...

days just come and gone...

without...

not around...

right at the end of the world...

darkness beckons...

how...

how does one leave what has to be left behind???

how does one walk away???

how???

knights of the round table...

brotherhood is somewhat, yet not quite somewhat, a term loosely flagged about with the species that probably like to holler "hooga chuga hooga yaga" or "oorrrh yee oorrrh yee oorrrh" and travel through the tree route by vine express. one minute, brotherhood is about that boy's night out, maybe enjoying their favourite basketball, baseball or soccer game on the tube, throwing peanut shells around, chugging beer down like water and no tomorrow, and that whole ritual of burping, farting, scratching where the sun does not shine. before your know it, it runs, no, swings in a totally different direction, a hundred and eighty degrees in the opposite direction.

so in the next minute, brotherhood becomes all about brothers getting together and drinking like a bottomless pit, no, make that a bottomless pool when you combine all them pits, when there is one in the hood who gets shot at. three main failure possibilities, namely love, money, work, in no particular order, though the probabiliy percentage is in descending order. in any case, it could be a combination of all three, or sadly just one, but totally burnt one way or another.

so the whole night through, the cups are magically full and overflowing, makes one wonder where all that gold comes from. brotherhood has morphed into an affair about drinking and accompanying, whilst getting the poor thing totally inebriated so that he gets to, or pathetically attempts to, forget his sorrowful despondence. not quite a pretty picture of knights of the round table, but guess there has to be some sort of credit given for the underlying principle, somewhat.

someone close once told me, "brotherhood is a load of bullshit", it is just a convenient excuse and clever cover for the male inane need to prove their masculinity. and no, he was no she. it was hard not to disagree with that statement, even if it might have sounded like a sweeping one. however, that someone had a point, for there has to be, is in fact, more to brotherhood than just the burp, fart and scratch and comparing whose black book had more numbers, or belt that had more notches.

when it boils down to the fundamentals, brotherhood is no different than from a girl's acclaimed sisterhood. it is really all about the knight's code, that of loyalty. some to whom it can be undying, others in slighter degrees.

seriously, at the end of the day, will you pledge your allegience to the "what"??? or will you pledge it to the "who"??? what would you do when the tide turns and runs rough???

hear ye, hear ye, knights of the round table; unite. this day, it shall be, be it brother or sister, "one for all, all for one". aye???

distinction...

my fucking smart ass girlfriend who is very close to my heart has finally gotten her results. oh my fucking god, a distinction for her masters of science. my darling dear, a happy tear was shed for you in spite of the stye that is annoying the crap out of my eye.

yes, that is how much this dodo loves you.

reminds me, my dear distinction holder, you owe me that first, okay, maybe not first, second or third at the very least, read of your brilliant thesis; even if you did have fucked up laboratory results with the mummy samples.

winter wonderland...

it has been nothing short of a hectic hayday. it is pretty amazing that am still alive and not choked by a hundred and one things that have been ongoing. it has been quite alot of work trying to organize the "big move". no easy feat doing it all on one's own. go me.

the flights here were not as bad as thought it would be. my long ass flight to the old time, not so favourite, frankfurt airport was the most relaxing that have had in a long while, thanks to being a solo passenger in a little row of three seats. no offence to the german boyfriends and girlfriends out there, but frankport really ain't my cuppa tea, especially when one has to walk from one end of the terminal to the other, carrying one's "home" without the help of a trolley, and still having to go through two to three security gantries, depending on the gate, just to get to the next transit flight. it is probably every traveller's hellish nightmare, no doubt about that.

well, basically stretched and sprawled my lazy and painfully cramped bones across the seats with three pillows and a cozy fleece blanket when it came to needing that short snooze time. scoliotic bliss. transit flight was not too bad, and the welcome mat was good, considering had the surprise and fortune of having the good old housemommy pickup, with a heartwarming fat squishy hug to boot. housemommy was even nice enough to pick up a coat at the apartment for me because she was worried that me would forget it was winter and just freeze up. the winter could get no sweeter than that.

so right here and now, am in the land of the cold where the nights are long, with days as grey as ash, and totally freezing my ass off because it is probably all of ten degrees and below out. in any case, before one can say "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious", it would be the act of gone in sixty seconds. make that gone in a week.

walking in a winter wonderland, correction, make that living in a winter wonderland. so much to do, so little time. goddamnit.

stuffed...

when stressed...

get stuffed...

still no better...

the only comfort...

at least there is tomato ketchup to go with it...

gorgeous?!?

there were, are and will be those out there who hate my guts enough to wish me instant death for some reason or other. there were, are and will be those out there who sit on the other side of the spectrum who love me enough to want to give me the world, or some part of it if they could. either way, it is still painful, one way or another when it comes to the very end.

well, love me or hate me, forget about me, am way past giving a damn about what people, especially those who ain't nothing to me, think of me. and nope, ain't going to go "oopsies" with the attitude, because it is reality that me do not give a fuck about it. period.

in any case, it is indeed somewhat ludicrous and very much unbelievable that made it in as a finalist into female's 50 gorgeous people contest. nevertheless, it is a reality, and it is imprinted for eternity, somewhat, into a precious editorial page in november's issue of female for all to laugh at, look at, libel at. seriously though, think it is the one up there having the last laugh.

history...

monumental history in the making...

nothing will quite ever be the same...

the start of something new...

oh my god...

a series of inexplicable moments...

oh my god...

really...

halloween...

halloween, a night for ghosts, ghouls, spirits and what have you to pay a visit to those still existing in the living realm. very much like the oriental's hungry ghost festival, except that it is a one night event while the hungry ghost festival goes on for a whole month.

miss the back and spoon breaking carving that can drive a person nutty, and creative devilish pumpkin faces that seemed to litter every corner of the street. miss the spooky halloween decorations of cobwebs, flickering lights and colors of orange, red and black. miss the door to door trick or treating, and candy stash enough to last a month, and more depending on how far one decided to trawl this night, that is likely to be every kid's dream and parent's nightmare.

it is a night of dress up, a night of make believe, a night of supposed absolute freedom; a night of sin, a night of all things evil, a night of debauchery and greed; a night where a person could be anyone and everyone, and yet not be anyone, but anything; a night where a person finally lets down that farcial mask, only to dorn another, and live behind that other.

in all honesty, really prefer the kids version of halloween despite the hassle from the intricate preparations needed to make this one night happen. it is after all the lesser evil, and an endless night of surprises with the mystery game of "wonder who is going to show up on my doorstep". yet, if it were possible, really would love to try doing it the traditional way when all hallows eve was still not quite so commercialized. just candlelight, and you at the grave, commemorating the dead. not quite as spooky and skin crawling as it seems. in fact, there is a peace that surpasses all understanding when one can actually muster the courage to spend the night over at the graveyard, provided one does not have skeletons hiding in the closet. maybe just not the chinese cemetary.

having said that, where will you be this very night???

and yes, the devil in me has to say, peek a boo, happy halloween.

memories...

life can be likened and metaphorically described to most if not anything. a canvas, a jigsaw puzzle, a box of chocolates, and so on and so forth as the list could go as far as the mind can go. and with that, a close loved one shared certain thoughts, experiences and teachings that was deemed gold worthy, or perhaps to some, just all of two cents.

it was heard that night, that one brings nothing with one into this world, and that one can bring nothing with one when one leaves this world. yet, when one leaves, one can leave with riches beyond one's wildest dreams. that bountiful chest of treasury, is one's memories, solely known and belonging to that one person, and the people who were involved in the making of that particular memory at that certain point of time.

the memory need not be spectacular, nor did it need to have too much meaning, nor overtly special. being the pot of optimism, of course the close loved one had to add that there has to be an elemental ladleful of happiness and joy, though of course, needless to say, it ain't always quite the case.

there was no particular disagreement with this reasoning for it did have its valid merits. it just so happened that it was and is non applicable in the life that is mine. and with what little wool gathering that was done that night, the conclusion was that a memory just needed to have a little meaning, and a whole gunny sackful of emotion.

with being born on the other extreme end of the spectrum, the blunt, but true, words that were quietly uttered with a smile that greying and misty night, in return, were cruelly brutal. a splash of cold water??? quite indeed to any other who does not know me any better. and a thunderstorm with frigidly wintry winds if might add. in a blur, it just is.

busy ears...

assiduous ears...

listening... prying... disintegrating...

a earful... so much... yet so little...

seeping... permeating... seeking...

leaving unforgettable impressions... soulful depressions...

shape shifting... everchanging...

invisible inscriptions of distinct sharps and flats...

concatenating in euphonious harmony...

respiring in quiescent respite and melancholic trite...

failure...

for no real reason why...

it always is...

it always has been...

it always will be...

somehow...

embracing another...

life as a human is absolutely detestable, so much so that there will always be a discrepant abstruse desire to have that inconceivable opportunity to relive, somewhere, somehow, as someone else, or rather, something else. erratic??? not at all.

occultic as it may be wanting that, am pretty sure it is not an unwonted longing on my part alone. really, would rather have that arcane shot at that silence, cryptic as it is. touch wood... me will not.

embracing another entity... another epoch... another existence of no vim. that of the living dead. that... is me...

boiling...

kept busy in the kitchen, pottering around like mrs potts would in "beauty and the beast", trying to make right what were predestined culinary disasters right from the start. the pots were boiling over, spewing smells of fragrant ruin. little comfort was taken in the congee that turned out barely presentable since gone were my taste buds with a taste test gone wrong. nonetheless, sent it over to granny's me did, albeit with decrepit senses. bad timing on top of that, goddamnit.

decided to retry picking up soup making, not my forte honestly, particularly that of the oriental style, though have a rough idea with the recipes. in short, another catastrophic nightmare. fifty over hours over a slow fire ain't no joke. yet, despite all the effort and time, it was pretty much fated to stay in a world where it would reach no mouths and gain no oohs and aahs. sad.

it seems that the pots were not the only ones threatening to boil over, causing splotches all over the stove. along with them, as if singing a similar tune, were my own emotions, bristling and churning in smoldering effervescence. honestly, would not be surprised if the kitchen went up in smoke, really.

pieces...

in little bits and pieces...

an enigmatic jigsaw...

pieces neither here nor there...

a world of compulsive mayhem...

casual precipitation of accidental fragments...

perfection a million miles away...

the genesis of damnation...

just another misfit of eccentricity...

hear me...

accustomed to a laconic reticence...

monumental hesitance...

hearing no one... no evil...

agonal vexation...

no one listening...

a flash in the pan...

a vermiculate stalemate...

hear me...???

trip up...

what should one do when the words fail to come to mind??? keep mum or try to toggle words of old to bring about kind intentions that may fall short??? a trip up… a crash and burn of goodbye… an awkward tumble… an effortless plummet into foolhardy glory…

unrest...

haunted sights…

disquieting sounds…

of anxious distress…

staggering bewilderment…

much… unrest…

needles and tubings...

if the heart could shatter into a million pieces with a sight, it did, just a little while ago. the surgery was a little longer than expected, so much so it was thought that complications had come up. tough not to let the mind run on this one. it mattered too much. far too much.

granny was wheeled in at one and did not come out till past nine. we only got to see her at around ten after the doctors came to check in on her. mommy and fourth uncle talked to the doctors to get an update. god knows what transpired there. moments like these make me feel the necessity and urge to complete studies as quickly as possible. that need to know and be in the know, by reading the charts, and of the procedures. that single thought aside, really was just in the land of far away; or at least, my mind was. reality was apparently taking its own sweet time to sink in.

it is impossible to watch a loved one lying on a hospital bed with needles and tubings poking in and sticking out all over the place without feeling one’s heart twist with a painful ache of such immense intensity. enough to wrench me out of my dazed silence. now, one really and truly knows, in every sense, why it is ill advised and quite nearly a taboo for a doctor to treat one’s family.

barely awake in her drowsy state from the anaesthesia, granny uttered the inaudible words of, “am i home???”. well, she was not too far off from the truth really. the hospital will technically be her second home for awhile.

granny could not even have a drink of water though she wanted one. tried to ease her discomfort by gently wetting her mouth with a moist serviette. despite the fact that tried to be as gentle and careful as possible without disturbing any of the tubings around, it was unbearable to see granny twitch, ever so slightly, from my pinkie inadvertently bumping into the nasal tube. that twitch, was a stake into the heart. it could not have hurt more that was a cause of pain, even if accidental.

we left soon after since she needed the rest. seriously, would much rather stay and be by her side twenty four seven if possible; or actually, would rather it would be me instead of her lying on that creaky hospital bed. at the very least, there would be the advantage of youth in hopes for a better and faster recovery.

quietly wished granny goodbye, and kissed her on the forehead before tiptoeing with toes of a million catties out the hospital door. hope granny will get to shift out of the high dependency ward soon enough. no, make that hospital, period.

the festival of the moon...

a requiem for a dream....

plaudit of resplendent golden silence...

beneathe dusky glistening soft moonlight...

the festival of the moon...

a quiescent call of union...

in...

in...

and all that is left...

hope and pray...

no choice...

at the very end of it all...

there was just no choice...

tired...

so tired...

it ain't funny...

barcoding...

barcoding is a field of expertise of its own. the processes of cutting the plastic to mount on the barcode stickers, then recutting the protected barcode stickers down to size, then trimming the barcode down to the exact specified dimensions, and all this done, with the regular everyday good old kitchen scissors. try repeating that process for thousands of barcodes, and you would be feeling my pain and sores, quite literally.

the final process of mounting the barcodes was probably the best part of it all, considering it was just peeling off the non sticky bit and then sticking them onto the metal invitation plates. after which, the metal plates are collated in alphanumerical order like fresh metal pieces off a factory mould in the fashion of collecting dollar change, and stacked in orderly numbers of ten in any visible space. yes, it was that bad, considering the invitation order numbers have gone up, to a crazy thousand and hundred to be more precise.

three hundred invitations had to be finished and sent off this very day. drove us all up the wall it did. all the more because there was this little problem of manpower shortage, where it eventually dwindled down to a miserable two person operation to finish, pack and deliver. not my idea of fun.

if my fingers could cry blood, sweat and tears, of which it probably did manage to for the second bit, it would. it was a day full of lousy outrageous muck ups. that was day two.

day three is expected to be so very much worse. factory production would, no, has to be working at full speed, with unimaginable over time to be clocked. not a day to look forward to.

finger kungfu...

pardon the raging rant yesternight, being ill for an overly extensive period has made a grouchy grump out of me, on top of the other stuff that one has to deal with on the plate. guess that explains the lack of appetite, because seriously, it ain't child's play to stomach. on hindsight, numerous others would have had worse, so will try to count my blessings, thank the heavens and kiss the ground. on second thought, not that last bit there, so forget that was mentioned.

in any case, honestly do not think me would go "forgive me god, i know not what i do", for am generally a pretty flexible and amiable sort. however, when rubbed the wrong way, it be best not to cross paths with me a second time if one values one's life. yes, perhaps vengeful spirit me may be in a past lifetime, for this one never forgives, and never forgets.

well, spent a good part of my day helping out a boy friend doing supposedly brainless "easy" work. it was brainless alright, just nowhere in the category of easy. the best thing about it, was that another girl who happened to be called in to help out is a close girlfriend of mine. how small can this lousy world get? apparently, very. although it was really wonderful to meet her again, so the work session became our catch up tete a tete as well.

what were we doing? being a home operational fancy smancy invitation factory production. yesterday's part was just the stage one of the whole production line, namely box folding. all bloody eight hundred of them!?! felt damn cheated when my boy friend told me it was only five hundred. five hundred my ass. thank god am paid for this, or hell, without a doubt, shall be raised.

it was seriously through sheer endurance that we managed to pull through the night to finish the folding. the floor looked like a battleground, scattered over the vast spaces of the couches and living room floor like haphazardly strewn paper carcasses of miniature mount everests. what irked the girls who were there to be factory workers, was that after all those hours of work, the works of art are more than likely to be junked into the trash. and each piece of "junk" costs thirty dollars each, the exclusive very important people's goes up to forty bucks. eyepopping? yes it was, in every sense of that word.

at a certain point, it just became body over mind. reminded me of the long distance eight hundred metre olympic swimmers. we were probably no different except for the arm, leg and body movement, for we had the achy arms, wound up shoulders so tight we would probably have developed broad swimmer like shoulders overnight, and awfully sore fingers to boot. in all honesty, we could probably do the whole hazelnut cracking thing like in an old jackie chan movie. that was really some pretty major finger kungfu training exercise. in an instance of any dangerous emergency, it would be very useful for nutcracking, literally.

the inaugural factory startup was at three in the afternoon, after which it was in continuously worked, to the bone, till past one in the morning. there was only like, a half hour dinner break? in hard work where we slog like donkeys and cows ins slavery, girls unite! somewhere along the way, a "workers' union" formed, and quite nearly successfully pulled off a strike against our "boss". the complaint was brought up to "higher management". too bad it fell through despite the terrible ill treatment, because our joints, any place that had a joint, were all creaking and cracking at the end of it. no joke.

oh well, woe is me, it is back to work at the grindmill. it would be stage two of the factory production line a little later. how fun, not.

dynamite keg...

granny's birthday dinner has come and gone. what was supposed to be a nice quiet family dinner, was the saddest occasion as could be. the turnout was not complete. Frankly, was hoping, and probably expecting better since granny would finally be going under the knife next week, and well, it could very well be the last birthday we would have with her, we really do not know...

the two female cuzzies could not make it due to classes, legitimate reason honestly, so do not blame them since school is definitely important. what was unforgivable was my first uncle who was a complete prick. fancy a fifty odd year old man throwing a tantrum and bitchfit over god knows what. as a result, he decided to not attend the dinner and even yelled at granny. granny had to call me, asking if mommy was around to talk to him in hope to change his mind to go for the dinner. to have to hear granny plead that way, was excruciatingly painful. it got my blood boiling, on top of being pissed off at the same time from being sick till, so told granny quite literally, "fuck him" in a dialect she understood. the vulgarity would probably have shocked granny out of her shoes, if not for the immense and evident disappointment. it was awfully heartrending to have to hear the dismal reply of, "okay, we will just go".

god damn respect towards the elders, with an uncle like that who behaves like a bloody insipid juvenile delinquent, there can be no respect, even if it is expected of me from this lousy no good rule of social obligation. fuck that.

in all honesty, had more than half a mind to cab over and bitchslap the stupid idiot of an uncle if not for the fact we were all rushing for time. granny did not need any further blows for the night. it was hard enough as it was for her to attend her own birthday dinner having come down with a bout of flu herself, and if she does not recover in time, her surgery would have to be postponed.

then, there was the presence of this particular extra at the table whom my disdain and distaste for surpasses human boundaries. in any normal circumstance, knowing me, would not turn up for the occasion, for the very simple reason that am unable to sit at the same table with her. if she was there, the female cuzzies and me would boycott whatever it was. yes, that is how much we hatefully resent and cannot stand that crass nitwit.

tolerated and kept it all in just for granny by mentally erasing her existence. the backup plan was to give her a dirty look and walk out for abit to calm down if the imbecilic dumbass still did not know how to shut her torpid trap, saying the most inappropriate brainless things at the most inept of timings. what was bloody annoying was that mommy gave me an unnecessary dumb warning in the car about not making a mess of things. honestly thought she ought to know better.

previously before that, mommy was a keg of dynamite herself when we went to pick her up after she went for a little fruit buying. refused to pick up her cellphone, slammed the boot, slammed the car door. as for me, was in a non plussed mood and figured that the dinner would be quite an event in itself, if she really blew up; and it would not be me igniting the start of it all.

well, accomplished what me set out to do, and that is to spend time with granny and attend her birthday. would not, ever, want to regret not being there if anything happens. cleared my schedule of work and what else, ain't taking in any assignments too to be the full time post operation caretaker for awhile. my life has enough torment and regret to last me this lifetime and the next two if there is such a thing of continual life cycles, refuse to let insufficient time with granny be one of that much as she would understand if me had to jet back for school. in a nutshell, school will always be there, granny would not.

fortunately, dinner was a quiet affair. the hebetudinous bullet train speed blabbermouth did not shoot her mouth off, the dynamite keg did not go off, neither did the walking ticking time bomb. and no, much as like to think it is, do not think my girlfriend meant it as a compliment when she termed me as that. wonder which is more scary...

heart to heart...

in conflicting times of trials and tribulations, one can only be ever so grateful for miniature life buoys that are somehow planted in the middle of nowhere for one to hang onto for life, quite literally. the truth eventually did come to light, and thankful is this little one that there is no longer a need to be a furtive sneak, captive in a complicated web, spun so as to avoid piercing questions, broken hearts, and chaffing mistakes.

to that particular you, thank you. thank you for your seemingly limitless understanding, neverending patience and kind wisdom in the heart to heart talks that never fail us whenever, should ever the opportunity arise, for us to do a little catch up. it was never my intention to harm anyone through the silence, but in a roundabout way, there is a comfort in the knowledge that you now know. such silence is hard to keep, but do it me will all over again if need be, to save the ones closest to me who would not be able to bear the cruel truth. it was also best if it was all left untold then with certain circumstances and problems that bugged you to no end. all in all, all is well that ends well, or so we hope. perhaps, and maybe just perhaps, we might be the bane of each other's lives; nevertheless, just like in the double rainbow, there just might be hope for better days ahead, at the very least for you me hope after all the dark days that you have weathered through that me know of in my limited knowledge of your life. and yes, am still just a phone call away, across the street, around the neighbourhood. if we found a piece of string sufficiently long, we could make those paper cup telephonies and save on those phone calls.

heart to heart talks with close loved ones, are liken to a cuppa hot chocolate on a cold wintery day, devoid of all warmth, that what little affection that emits from that tiny cuppa gives inexplicable immense solace. certainly a comforting nepenthe in all that is barren. in all honesty, really do not think that am deserving of such kindness bestowed upon me. having said that, it is for a fact that indebted to all these loved ones me will be, for they are never too far away, in spite of the distance over the mountains, over the seas, over the oceans and over the trees; as if... they are just next door, where one can holler out the bedroom window, or a soft whisper through that roughly manufactured paper cup phone, of anything and everything.

reminds me, that does actually correlate with the simple biological equation of how chocolate boosts the level of endorphins, especially since it is known to be comfort food, and endorphins make happy people, and happy people do not go around killing people, or themselves for the matter. well, technically, that is supposed to be a biological equation that works. nevertheless, it is known for a fact that that would pretty much just be fuzzy logic if the individual is exceptionally warped to begin with.

am one such person where the personal belief is to payback in tenfold, and it goes both ways. uncountable think me as extreme, but such is how my life has been lived in spite of the attempts to work at reaching an equilibrium. no doubt yoda made a perfect point in his cardinal wisdom of "do... there is no try", yet, it is a statement dreadfully tough to comprehend when it boils down to the emotion. makes one wonder what the damn brain is there for.

despite the fact that logic and emotion, more often than not, run irreconcilable paths, there ought to be times, even if once in a blue moon rare, when the incongruous would come to a crossroad. when that happens, and all is set in the right of way, nothing, not even a freight train, could stop the direction where one is destined to head. till that day, should it ever happen that is, this little one will just keep on working at passing on that bit of kindness, with all the callous cynical pessimistic sardonic sarcasm that comes with it.

having said that, no, am not nice, never ever said me was...

pack formation...

coughing...

certainly permits abdominal pack formation...

not bad... ouch...

the bug...

zombified and beyond...

no thanks to the bug...

brain food...

disclaimer: read a girlfriend's blog and she posted this particular one entry... no doubt an extremely long post... but was good food for thought... so if you ain't up for a long brain poking read... come back to this one when the mood swings by...

The author of The Teenage Textbook ( 1988 ) - Adrian Tan, was the guest-of-honour at a recent NTU convocation ceremony. This was his speech to the graduating class of 2008.

I must say thank you to the faculty and staff of the Wee Kim Wee School of Communication and Information for inviting me to give your convocation address. It’s a wonderful honour and a privilege for me to speak here for ten minutes without fear of contradiction, defamation or retaliation. I say this as a Singaporean and more so as a husband.My wife is a wonderful person and perfect in every way except one. She is the editor of a magazine. She corrects people for a living. She has honed her expert skills over a quarter of a century, mostly by practising at home during conversations between her and me.On the other hand, I am a litigator. Essentially, I spend my day telling people how wrong they are. I make my living being disagreeable.Nevertheless, there is perfect harmony in our matrimonial home. That is because when an editor and a litigator have an argument, the one who triumphs is always the wife.And so I want to start by giving one piece of advice to the men:when you’ve already won her heart, you don’t need to win every argument.Marriage is considered one milestone of life. Some of you may already be married. Some of you may never be married. Some of you will be married. Some of you will enjoy the experience so much, you will be married many, many times. Good for you.

The next big milestone in your life is today: your graduation. The end of education. You’re done learning.You’ve probably been told the big lie that “Learning is a lifelong process”and that therefore you will continue studying and taking masters’ degrees and doctorates and professorships and so on. You know the sort of people who tell you that? Teachers. Don’t you think there is some measure of conflict of interest? They are in the business of learning, after all. Where would they be without you? They need you to be repeat customers.The good news is that they’re wrong.The bad news is that you don’t need further education because your entire life is over. It is gone. That may come as a shock to some of you. You’re in your teens or early twenties. People may tell you that you will live to be 70, 80, 90 years old. That is your life expectancy.

I love that term: life expectancy. We all understand the term to mean the average life span of a group of people. But I’m here to talk about a bigger idea, which is what you expect from your life.You may be very happy to know that Singapore is currently ranked as the country with the third highest life expectancy. We are behind Andorra and Japan, and tied with San Marino . It seems quite clear why people in those countries, and ours, live so long. We share one thing in common: our football teams are all hopeless. There’s very little danger of any of our citizens having their pulses raised by watching us play in the World Cup. Spectators are more likely to be lulled into a gentle and restful nap.Singaporeans have a life expectancy of 81.8 years. Singapore men live to an average of 79.21 years, while Singapore women live more than five years longer, probably to take into account the additional time they need to spend in the bathroom.So here you are, in your twenties, thinking that you’ll have another 40 years to go. Four decades in which to live long and prosper.Bad news. Read the papers. There are people dropping dead when they’re 50, 40, 30 years old. Or quite possibly just after finishing their convocation. They would be very disappointed that they didn’t meet their life expectancy. I’m here to tell you this. Forget about your life expectancy. After all, it’s calculated based on an average. And you never, ever want to expect being average. Revisit those expectations. You might be looking forward to working, falling in love, marrying, raising a family. You are told that, as graduates, you should expect to find a job paying so much, where your hours are so much, where your responsibilities are so much.That is what is expected of you. And if you live up to it, it will be an awful waste.If you expect that, you will be limiting yourself. You will be living your life according to boundaries set by average people. I have nothing against average people. But no one should aspire to be them. And you don’t need years of education by the best minds in Singapore to prepare you to be average. What you should prepare for is mess.

Life’s a mess. You are not entitled to expect anything from it. Life is not fair. Everything does not balance out in the end. Life happens, and you have no control over it. Good and bad things happen to you day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. Your degree is a poor armour against fate.Don’t expect anything. Erase all life expectancies. Just live. Your life is over as of today. At this point in time, you have grown as tall as you will ever be, you are physically the fittest you will ever be in your entire life and you are probably looking the best that you will ever look. This is as good as it gets. It is all downhill from here. Or up. No one knows.What does this mean for you? It is good that your life is over.Since your life is over, you are free. Let me tell you the many wonderful things that you can do when you are free.The most important is this: do not work.

Work is anything that you are compelled to do. By its very nature, it is undesirable. Work kills. The Japanese have a term “Karoshi”, which means death from overwork. That’s the most dramatic form of how work can kill. But it can also kill you in more subtle ways. If you work, then day by day, bit by bit, your soul is chipped away, disintegrating until there’s nothing left. A rock has been ground into sand and dust.Here’s a common misconception that work is necessary. You will meet people working at miserable jobs. They tell you they are “making a living”. No, they’re not. They’re dying, frittering away their fast-extinguishing lives doing things which are, at best, meaningless and, at worst, harmful.People will tell you that work ennobles you, that work lends you a certain dignity. Work makes you free. The slogan “Arbeit macht frei” was placed at the entrances to a number of Nazi concentration camps. Utter nonsense.

Do not waste the vast majority of your life doing something you hate so that you can spend the small remainder sliver of your life in modest comfort. You may never reach that end anyway. Resist the temptation to get a job. Instead, play. Find something you enjoy doing. Do it. Over and over again. You will become good at it for two reasons: you like it, and you do it often. Soon, that will have value in itself.I like arguing, and I love language. So, I became a litigator. I enjoy it and I would do it for free. If I didn’t do that, I would’ve been in some other type of work that still involved writing fiction - probably a sports journalist.So what should you do? You will find your own niche. I don’t imagine you will need to look very hard. By this time in your life, you will have a very good idea of what you will want to do. In fact, I’ll go further and say the ideal situation would be that you will not be able to stop yourself pursuing your passions. By this time you should know what your obsessions are. If you enjoy showing off your knowledge and feeling superior, you might become a teacher. Find that pursuit that will energise you, consume you, become an obsession. Each day, you must rise with a restless enthusiasm. If you don’t, you are working. Most of you will end up in activities which involve communication. To those of you I have a second message: be wary of the truth.

I’m not asking you to speak it, or write it, for there are times when it is dangerous or impossible to do those things. The truth has a great capacity to offend and injure, and you will find that the closer you are to someone, the more care you must take to disguise or even conceal the truth. Often, there is great virtue in being evasive, or equivocating. There is also great skill. Any child can blurt out the truth, without thought to the consequences. It takes great maturity to appreciate the value of silence.In order to be wary of the truth, you must first know it. That requires great frankness to yourself. Never fool the person in the mirror.

I have told you that your life is over, that you should not work, and that you should avoid telling the truth. I now say this to you: be hated. It’s not as easy as it sounds. Do you know anyone who hates you? Yet every great figure who has contributed to the human race has been hated, not just by one person, but often by a great many. That hatred is so strong it has caused those great figures to be shunned, abused, murdered and in one famous instance, nailed to a cross.One does not have to be evil to be hated. In fact, it’s often the case that one is hated precisely because one is trying to do right by one’s own convictions. It is far too easy to be liked, one merely has to be accommodating and hold no strong convictions. Then one will gravitate towards the centre and settle into the average. That cannot be your role. There are a great many bad people in the world, and if you are not offending them, you must be bad yourself. Popularity is a sure sign that you are doing something wrong.The other side of the coin is this: fall in love.

I didn’t say “be loved”. That requires too much compromise. If one changes one’s looks, personality and values, one can be loved by anyone.Rather, I exhort you to love another human being. It may seem odd for me to tell you this. You may expect it to happen naturally, without deliberation. That is false. Modern society is anti-love. We’ve taken a microscope to everyone to bring out their flaws and shortcomings. It is far easier to find a reason not to love someone, than otherwise. Rejection requires only one reason. Love requires complete acceptance. It is hard work - the only kind of work that I find palatable.Loving someone has great benefits. There is admiration, learning, attraction and something which, for the want of a better word, we call happiness. In loving someone, we become inspired to better ourselves in every way. We learn the truth worthlessness of material things. We celebrate being human. Loving is good for the soul. Loving someone is therefore very important, and it is also important to choose the right person. Despite popular culture, love doesn’t happen by chance, at first sight, across a crowded dance floor. It grows slowly, sinking roots first before branching and blossoming. It is not a silly weed, but a mighty tree that weathers every storm.You will find, that when you have someone to love, that the face is less important than the brain, and the body is less important than the heart.You will also find that it is no great tragedy if your love is not reciprocated. You are not doing it to be loved back. Its value is to inspire you. Finally, you will find that there is no half-measure when it comes to loving someone. You either don’t, or you do with every cell in your body, completely and utterly, without reservation or apology. It consumes you, and you are reborn, all the better for it.

Don’t work. Avoid telling the truth. Be hated. Love someone. You’re going to have a busy life. Thank goodness there’s no life expectancy.
__________________________________________________________

lengthiness aside, there is pretty much only one word flashing off like a fluorescent neon sign in a dodgy street in a ghetto district, "wow".

drunkeness...

it has been a period of mad drunkeness, not so much me, but rather for those around me. whether for good, bad, happy or sad, there is always some sort of reason to drink. evidently, perhaps moreso to me where am standing at, that anything, and just about everything, can be used as a reason to get oneself into a state of inebriation.

honest to goodness truth, there ain't no escape the moment one gets on the road of getting sodden with intoxication. having said that, it therefore is a choice, and an extremely conscious one at that, although am sure that many would debate till the cows come home for the opposing argument. after all, the general stand is that no one wants to be drunk as a skunk, what more with the stinking aftermath of a hangover to deal with, yet, that has never, and does not quite stop uncontrollable brannigans from happening.

well, the boyfriends have been getting crapulous at birthdays, and girlfriends pixilated with their relationship problems. as for me, it has been an eyeopening awakening. never been quite a believer of libertine behaviour though am able to logically comprehend the want, and perhaps to an extent, the need for such dipsomaniacal debauchery.

it baffles and stupefies as to why it happens as such, but humans are a fascinating bunch in this bizarre roundabout way. times like these do make me appreciate the finer nuances in life much as there is much to hate about life. times like these, wake me up to my obtuse ignorance, and hopefully, shake me back into shape.

learning is indeed a neverending journey. thank you my dear teachers, for permitting me to partake, share, and learn from you, through you, at your expense. and frankly, it could not be more appropriate a time to give this big thank you to all of you, in view that teacher's day is just round about the corner.

first wins...

on the mahjong table, there are just as much ups and downs when there are wins and losses. despite the fact that the saying goes, "all is fair in love and war", when war has been declared and is raging on the table, nothing is ever quite so fair. having said that, apparently, it is not at all uncommon for friends to become enemies on the table.

for one, it is finally nice to break the all time curse of losing. as to my first wins, well, they were not quite on local ground, and not on the usual table of four, but rather the odd three. nevertheless, it is nice to not be on the losing end for once though it has been long accepted that winning and losing is all part of the game.

on the return, well, guess it is really back to the usual, the losing continues. the only difference this time around, is that at least the losing ain't quite so much due to lousy technique, but losing on the factor of luck. and yes, thirteen odds was still never quite formed, though it was markedly improved to missing it by one tile, or was it two???

all in all, to the victor goes the spoils. better luck next time around.

or so me hope...

letting go...

letting go is known to be one of the hardest things around to do. as much as one tries to pinpoint and tag it down to a justifiable ratiocination, be it to the despicable human greed, or the contemptible human pride, the ambiguity of the wretched process has no pound of reason, let alone an ounce of sense. so much for intellectual postulation.

in all honesty, a newly made girlfriend's amazing ability to do just that, and with the ease she did it with, was quite an eye opener. in short, think it can be said that she is one with bionic adaptability for all the angst and despondency her inner world seems to circulate around. perhaps it is just such, that this dumb dodo is really of a different make of idiosyncracy that is beyond regular comprehension.

for some reason no one can ever explain, or ever know for the matter, erratic eldritch behaviour just haunts and pervades my being. letting go is an impossibility. or if lucky, an eventuality that will be, ever elusively, out of sight, out of an internecine grasp.

in all technicality, letting go, does not equate to give up. yet, it is as it is, and it does not seem so.

the only question, how??? and... what then???

birthday wish...

it was not possible for me to be the first to wish you on this special day for it was predicted that there would be countless numbers all fighting to be the first to get that auspicious first wish to you. therefore, there was no point in being the first; despite the fact that the irony of it all, was that was the first person beside when the clock struck that damning twelve that would mark the start of an older age year for you.

it was not possible for me to give a birthday that had hoped to give, no thanks to plans that went awry from too many wanting to be able to spend your special day with you, and of course, no thanks to no ending changes that somehow switch the original courses that were set out.

it was not possible for me to give that gift that is, very much unfortunately, beyond my means to.

it was not possible for me to give a perfect birthday, though in my mind's eye, it really could have been a reality. if only.

it was not possible to be there in front, for it was just so, and had to be as such.

as it all went on whilst me hid in my small decrepit corner, it did not take much to see, this was what was possible... and became plausible.

it was not possible for me to be the first to wish you on your special day, but... it was possible for me to be the last person to wish you before the magic of your special day was over.

it was not possible to give a birthday that had hoped to give, but... it was possible for me to accommodate so that the changes became such that the end result, was somewhat, if only somewhat, similar to what was hoped for. after all, if it did not happen this time around, there is always the next birthday to try my antics, even if nonsensical, right???

it was not possible for me to give a gift beyond my means, but... it was possible for me to give a substitute that was within my means, though somewhat with much adjustment on my part.

it was not possible for me to give a perfect birthday, for there was, is, and will never be anything such as perfect, but... it was possible for me to give an unforgettable one, or so me hoped...???

it was not possible for me to be in front, but... it was possible for me to be behind, in the background, in silence.

if it were to be all relived once more, the only thing me wish, was that me could do more... so that in this world of imperfection we live in, there was this one moment where perfect was attained.

in retrospect, up till now and until then, one can only try again...

next year.

with everything that has been said and done...

with birthday wishes come and gone...

little is left for me to do...

yet much is said from me to you...

the effete one...

a jaded heart...

a weary soul...

bearing buried loss...

not...

some things broken...

are just not easily deleted...

a pocketbook full...

what was...

what is...

and what could have been...

not...

not anymore...

heat is on...

do you run a fever???

or...

does the fever run you???

while the heat is on...

it roasts my brains out...

deaf ears...

good advice often falls on deaf ears...

neverending waves of regret after the years...

all because of one's fears...

memories past that will come to be...

shutting out all that it could be...

a diamond in the rough...

too many a time when one feels the encrouching trap of a dilemma, it can only leave one with a barrage of questions to answer and an avalaunche of loss that fossilizes one's being. in all honesty, how does, or rather, the question ought to be, how should one go on??? there just is no methodology that could give a canonical riposte to that equivocal enigma.

as one ponders and relives the lessons of the past, there is, somewhat, an automated triggering of the logical thought process, much to one's dismay. more often than not, there can be no legitimate rationale, what more with the absence of clarity in the emotional thought process. the nightmare of it all, is that there is no justification to how why one cannot be distinguished with the other despite the fact that they are, or seemingly so, discrete trains of cerebration.

through it all, there is much to be said, yet all the words in the world seem to fail the true concept. perhaps, and just perhaps, it will eventually lead to discovering that it is all, but an evolution, in presdestination to forge a diamond in the rough. if not, all it was cast for, could only be a treacherous end, that of a diamond in destruct.