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...