Retail Therapy

CirCe is a very, very bad influence. (By the way, that's just two of them.)






You Can Run

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened. You do not dismiss a muse at whim. If you will not join me - then I will come to you."

~ Sabine


Exhibit 281105



The boss finally got over her shock to tell me I reminded her of aliens.





Griffin and Sabine



"On the dawn of my fifteenth year I was lying in that east state between sleep and wake when the image of a half-drawn flower came into my head. I was entranced. Gradually, it grew and changed, lines appeared and disappeared - it was so real and clear. I could see the picture but not the hand that created it. Eventually, a noise from outside broke my concentration and the image evaporated. It was your drawing, Griffin - the first of hundreds of pictures I witnessed without knowing who made them. For 13 years I've waited for a clue, anything that would help me locate the artist. You seemed destined to be an enigma forever, when a few months ago, I came across an article in Grafica about a one-man postcard company. It said that the art was "all Moss's own work", and there was a photo of your fish card. It was the same piece I'd seen bring drawn 3 years before. Finally, I knew who you were."

~ Sabine Strohem in 'Griffin and Sabine - An Extraordinary Correspondence' by Nick Bantock

Gorgeous - GORGEOUS - art.

I want this.


Exhibit 271105

A minute or so of gawking later, she walked to the side and continued gawking. Good thing the lights turned green at that moment - if she had started to go around me, I would have stuck an upturned palm in her face and asked for loose change.





Literary Magic

" ... You cast a spell with your words, and either nothing happens or anything can happen, and that anything includes some truly painful, truly horrific stuff. I am afraid of what I might conjure up. I am afraid that it might be stronger than I am. I am afraid that it will defeat me. ... "

~ MercerMachine





The Familiar

Maybe it was MUDD.

Maybe we passed each other at the beach.

Shrug.


Starting from Scratch






How Re-minisce Cheered Up Xena

And with my 'characteristic terseness' (what can I say, I believe in getting straight to the point) ...

I says: "i want to paint your toe nails - YES or NO"

He says: " ... sigh ... the things i do for you ... ok YES"

See, I'm a simple woman with simple needs; very easy to please, ya? By the way, that was worth 24 Happy-Xena Hours. (Before I start moping and snapping at everyone again.)

Okay, who wants to try his luck next? (As a rough guide, plucking eyebrows and being smashed to smithereens against breakwaters are worth 36 and 72 Happy-Xena Hours respectively.)



Credits: Little Miss Paints-toenails-alot's pink nail polish for pets. Laugh.





Des Lys

"A big white and green flower arrangement. A tender freshness associated with the generous scent of Casablanca red lilies."

To help me 'rebuild' the cosmetic pouch that was lost, she said as I looked askance at the delicate vial that she had handed me. I breathed deeply - the scent of lilies for the heady fragrance of roses in the summer that is now a memory fading as fast as it was first taken from me.

Thank you :-)


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


The day I lost you, I knew you were never coming back again. And so I let you go - not because I had put you to a vote amongst my friends; the way you made your friends choose for you ("They all voted for you!"); the way you no longer cared enough for me to make your own decision about my future and my happiness.

You left a void in my life that has yet to be filled.

But I remain hopeful - even if the hope fades a little more with each passing day - that in this lifetime, someone will love me enough to leave me memories that will never fade; that I can love someone enough again to want to remember something new about him everyday; and that I will never, ever, have to forget any of that.


Lesson Learnt

Always keep a ready supply of nice IC-sized photos. Bad idea to wait until the need - often for all the wrong reasons - arises and then resort to instant photos at ICA. So now I have to look at my miserable moping face for the rest of my life, and be reminded of my misfortune. As an aside, what is the point of having a human operating a computer next to the photo booth if it does not come with photoshop options for my panda eyes, unshaven muzzle, double chin, kinked hair and uneven shoulders? DOH!

My only consolation is that I have never had a photo with my eyebrows looking so nice. Methinks I shall cut and paste said eyebrows onto every other photo I take from henceforth.





Inventory Check

- brand-new Fujitsu S7021B Lifebook laptop, charger, cables and bag (office property)
- Nikon Coolpix digital camera (office property)
- voice recorder and blank tapes (office property)
- calculator (office property)
- Esprit suede bag
- wallet, $400 (i.e. all my money), credit cards, atm card, identity card, dive cards, Ezylink card and broken chain
- iPod Shuffle and sports casing
- Scandisk 128MB thumbdrive
- personal notebook with scribbles
- cosmetic pouch and comb
- hotel room key
- suitcase key (i.e. for locked suitcase)
- house keys
- name cards
- miscellaneous items that I cannot recall

All gone.

Stolen - from right behind my back on Thursday morning.

What is there to say?

Shrug - stiffly.


Supper Stories

I turned and watched him contort his face to illustrate a point. I laughed out loud in the quiet of the early morning.

I laughed, because what else can I do when I have become numb to my unbelievable run of bad luck in the past year and can no longer find it in myself to feel anything for myself - or anyone else.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As I placed my krathong lightly upon the watery bearer of my half-hearted wish, I watched with envy, the warm golden glows from the other krathongs being carried swiftly off into the distance.

November full moon shines,
Loy Krathong, Loy Krathong,
And the water's high in the river and local klong,
Loy Loy Krathong, Loy Loy Krathong,
Loy Krathong is here and everybody's full of cheer,
We're together at the klong,
Each one with his krathong,
As we push away we pray,
We can see a better day.





Fuck AKA ^#$&*)

Please??? I blamed it on the cab and the rain, although it was really just ME and a series of unfortunate events. Finally, with only 20 minutes to departure, the check-in crew relented and agreed to let us board the plane with all our luggage. But we had to RUN - 200 passengers would not be made to wait for two.

800 metres. 5 minutes. Fuck. With luggage. Fuck. Menstruating female who also has not run this far, and this fast, in many, many years. Fuck. (Beat that, Hamster Boy.) And it took its toll as we were snapping on our seat belts on the plane - with each cough that threatened to break a rib or two, and caused my companion to ask if I had asthma or bronchitis.

It was a relief when I managed to get home in one piece. Then, as I stepped out from the lift at my floor . . .



What the fuck.

As if I needed to be reminded of what happened the last few days.

Fucking Astrodienst. So much for all that crap about travel.

More later.





Something in the Air

It IS for work. And yet, somehow, not having to show up at the office makes it all seem different, and not stressful (eh, yet???). Probably something in the air, something bad in the air back there . . .

Finally caught Mr and Mrs Smith :-)~~~ though I missed the last 10 minutes or so, because the flight was too short. Will catch the rest on the flight back. Heh. And maybe Must Love Dogs too . . .

"So how do you find working here? Is it challenging ... what if you were asked to ... " The Universe is conspiring to bring me a few steps closer to my dream. Now, if only it will do something about that other thing too . . .

Often, I would catch myself before I spoke too much or asked one too many questions or felt like saying something funny. And often, I would just look away at whim, breaking the connection. Lines are good. And MY line must never be crossed again. "You are married, right?" He said, almost as if he were just confirming the thought - something about seeming "mature" as opposed to "a young ah lian". Eh, thank you hor. Siow liao lor. I think maybe I need to talk like I do not sound married before I even learn how to flirt. Nodnodnod . . .

Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia. Y u m m m . . .

How do you know you are no longer in Singapore? You do not hear Christmas jingles everytime you walk into a shop. Ha. Anyway, saw a really cute flouncy dress and bag with duck prints. Think I shall pick up both when I am done with work :-)


A Memory of You and Me

Culled from ickleoriental:

"If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, even if we don't speak often, please post a comment with a memory of you and me. It can be anything you want, either good or bad. I promise not to come after you with a sharpened pencil either way."

"When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you."


Withdrawal Symptoms



Three nights. I am so going to miss my bed buddy.





Parasitic Relationships

Time spent on my blog is inversely proportional to time spent in my bed - and becoming increasingly so. My eyes are hurting so bad.

Perhaps I should stop writing for some time . . .

Someone take away the computer.

And tie me to my bed.





How I Forgot Everything About You

" ... Each women has smelt a little bit like another and so on, all the way back through my experience they have a similarity of scent that is somehow comforting, but at the same time robs a woman of complete uniqueness. Save one. And this recent meeting was not prefaced with a smell of memory, but rather something new . . . either I have found someone unique or my memory really is fading. ... "
~ One Degree North


As the afternoon droned on with words that made no sense to me - even though they were mostly mine - and served only to fill the silence between us, my nose caught a hint of my past.

It was someone who I could never have forgotten.

But as sand through my fingers, the harder I hold on, the more I forget.

And slowly, but surely, I am forgetting.

With every second-hand account of a chance meeting with you ("he is still as big"); with every quick laugh of a friend (the same strange sucking in of air that I first noticed about you); with every passing scent of a stranger (they use the same cologne); reminding me of you . . . I am forgetting you as a person, the sum total of you - and remembering only fragments of the past.

Fallen leaves by the road, swept away all too soon by the rush of every passing car. Scattered into insignificance.

Either that or I am growing senile.


You Smell

There is something about recognising a scent that you used to like smelling on someone; that reminds you of how you used to like going up close to him, your face nuzzling the slightly sticky skin on his neck or your nose pressing hard against the flesh of his cheek.

On a passing stranger on the streets, gone all too quickly. Forgotten.

But at closer proximity, an encounter prolonged only by the grace of social etiquette, you are reminded, again and again. You feel a certain intrusion of privacy, a violation, and revulsion even - for this one is nothing like the other, and you would never share the same intimacies with this one either. But you continue talking, and you continue smiling, even as you lean back just a little, turn your head away slightly, and take shallower breaths.

As they say so aptly, there is no chemistry.


Reminder to Self

When I get back this weekend, I really need to clear out my pig sty, lose the stubborn 5kg, and erm, see to some stuff that need to be sent out - my year-end resolution. Heh.





ReversO

We were waiting for the others outside a pet shop. My sister pointed to an ad of a dog with hideous pink and yellow patches of dyed fur, and asked what I would have chosen for Elmo.

Reverse the browns and whites. Evil grin.


A Blogger by Any Other Name ...

... tall or short; fat or thin; 9.5 after plastic or 4.5 even after photoshop; 10 discerning readers a day or 10,000 rabid readers a day; is still a blogger, no? Why the recent spate of territorial sentiments?

The blogsphere has certainly opened up a whole new world of opportunities for people who would have otherwise lived and died unnoticed. Without talent/looks/height/money, one can easily imagine a life - shall we say, less 'celebrated'? But, as more people begin to jump onto the bandwagon, including those WITH talent/looks/height/money, the have-nots find themselves back at Square One, contemplating a life of living and dying unnoticed, again.

Now, 'bloggers or writers' is a different thing altogether . . .





Flight

Fifteen minutes later, I finally stopped. I did not notice if my heart was still pounding or my chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

I picked up my stuff from the lockers and sat down.

And I poured. Sweat in eyes. Sweat down side of face and neck.

That was soooo good :-)


The Monkeys are Watching

You know how some people go through life being self-conscious, paranoid that their every gesture and dressing, and pore and mole on their face are being watched and scrutinised?

Well, that's because they are! Laugh.

Tonight's date at Scruffy Murphy's went better than the one at BFD. Both seemed happy enough to be there (leaning in and smiling as they sat down; and both were wearing white tops and denim bottoms - happy coincidence?). The female was definitely more enthusiastic, while the male was nervous at first (fidgeting with soup spoon while waiting for dinner to be served *aiyo*) and seemed a little subdued, possibly because it was a challenging date - vertically speaking. The female hunched to make herself a little smaller, while the male made an effort sit up straight (heh). Dinner was a civilised affair (very neat eaters *nod approvingly*) but the dreaded 'awkward silence' made its appearance all too soon (how???). Shortly after dinner, they made for the beach (ooooo!!!); the female was half a step behind, her arm almost brushing against his (heh), while his hands were firmly tucked into his pockets (alamak).

Some time later, the couple turned back and passed the dinner venue again. This time, they were holding hands (smile).

While we are at it . . . . . .

We met Sheeji the Bull Terrier again. She pounced on us eagerly and wanted to play. I think you can tell the dogs who are held a lot by their owners; the dogs hold your eyes when they come up close (awww). So, anyway, we have a plan to kidnap invite Terror to join us for dinner and drinks Saturday nights. Perhaps, he might find a willing match in the younger female? ;-)


Creative Writing Exercise

" ... And still he kept walking. He was going somewhere. It was hard to tell if it was purposefully or reluctantly. His pace was neither remarkably fast nor remarkably slow, but the shadow of exhaustion made every movement look like the weight of a thousand years pressed down on him, oppressed him. ..." ~ ScubaPro Girl





Meowww

She asked for a few minutes of The Master's time so she could report on her project - some money has been earned. As she went on and on, hoping her enthusiasm would be catching, The Master nodded impatiently. I waited quietly by my workstation as they continued behind me, and stared expressionless into my computer screen at the document The Master and I were working on. After a few minutes, The Master brushed her off and said, perhaps a little too harshly in his impatience, that it was too little to even pay for the female staff's lipstick. I thought that was a little sexist and I raised my eyebrow a little. Obviously, she was taken aback too. Lost for words and feeling a little dampened, she finally stammered that her lipsticks cost less than $50. And almost as an afterthought, perhaps to salvage some pride, she pointed to me and declared, "Nothing like hers which probably cost $100!" CLAWS.

Awkward silence. (What the fuck. What did *I* do? I was just minding my own business!!!) Everyone knew what that was all about.

"Well, actually, my lipsticks cost less than $50 TOO but I'm glad you think they actually look THAT GOOD on ME. And expensive lipstick tends to go a longer way on SMALLER MOUTHS anyway." FANGS.

But I did not say that - I was too stunned because her outburst was really rude, and it was unprofessonal to bring personal differences into the open.

Instead, I managed a long and hard look at her, and then I let it pass. It would have been most unbecoming to take a swipe in front of The Master. And probably, just as unbecoming of myself to openly demonstrate my displeasure at a lower lifeform on the hierarchy for a personal indiscretion. In any case, a woman does not give credit to a sexist remark by making ANOTHER WOMAN (that would be yours sincerely) look bad - and I most certainly was not going to make it any worse than she already had.


The First Thing in the Morning

Some mornings, when I opened my eyes before he did, and watched wordlessly, his slumber, I wished he would never wake up, so I could continue watching that face, because I never wanted to stop looking at that amazing face. In those moments, I knew forever - with him.

Some mornings, when he finally stirred from forever, and opened his eyes to find me watching him, he would smile and lean in. Lip on lip. Light as a whisper. "Morning." In those moments, I knew I wanted to wake up every morning - with him.

For several mornings after, when I woke up, he was not there - he would not be there again. In those moments, I knew forever . . . . . .

Without him.




These mornings, I find contentment in watching this :-) . . . . . . just before he wakes up and pounces on me with a face-wash doggy-style. Aaaaaargh!

But it gives me my little heaven of comfort in the meantime, that some things remain constant in my life - for now.





I Club, You Club

" ... You mean you have to flirt to get a man to notice you??? ... "

"Either that or we can just club the guy over his head and drag him back to our caves."

Strange. I always thought that was what they meant by going out there to "knock 'em dead" - guess not. No wonder some of the males I had gone out with seemed a little dead, I mean insipid quiet, over dinner. Heh.

Anyway, he reminded me to bring along my club tonight, in case something at Rouge was worth whacking over the head and dragging home. "Gives a whole new meaning to 'clubbing', doesn't it?" He laughed.

Unfortunately, there was nothing worth clubbing. (Though I sometimes felt like hitting myself over the head.) Maybe I should have just clubbed the first thing I laid my eyes on as I stepped out of the cab - he was not too bad-looking actually, and he looked like he would have been happy to get clubbed over the head ;-)

But, shrug.

PS: Rouge's sound system and music really, really cannot make it.

PPS: I still hope to catch missdrinkalot dancealot sometime! But in the meantime, I will be contented with Butterfinger and Baby Ruth. Thank you :-D


Some Kind of Everywhere

She woke up feeling disoriented and bewildered. And she felt sad - not so much for herself and something that is now irrevocably lost, but for another woman.

And maybe, later, she will feel more.

Maybe, she will feel . . . revolted . . . betrayed . . . and she will KNOW anger.





Get Your Doggy Fix



Alter Ego

"I know you who you are ... But I do not know you ... "
~ The Queen of Fairies

We have all blogged about it at one time or another, and we have probably encountered our fair share of alter egos who were nothing like their online personas (for whatever reasons) - perhaps just like ourselves. And sometimes, we might also have found ourselves having to answer one too many questions, and managing assumptions and certain expectations.

But as I was saying to The Stapler Maniac (image of friend running around a no-nonsense government institution in a stapler-snapping frenzy): if they were friends, they would know better. And if they were strangers or mere acquaintances or people whose well-being I do not care for, "Screw them."

But, admittedly, it had troubled me in the past, because the blog persona is an alter ego that is very, very different.

I would not say it is not real - it is very real. And I know better now than to let anyone cause me to think otherwise just because they cannot understand how *I* work - and not how they think I should. The bewilderment at the 'disconnect' is especially so for people who knew me first from the blog, because in a way, they had to work 'backwards' to understand where I was coming from (if they cared to - and if they did not, "Screw them."); much like how some readers catch up on new blogs by starting with the most recent entry and going back in time.

And the truth is, having been allowed the space and time to grow, the alter ego has become a more salient part of my person that can occasionally be seen and heard.

But, no, I did not become the blog - it merely helped me to become a 'fuller' person. And, no, the blog is not, and will never be, all of me.

And neither is the writer whose flights of fantasy oft takes her to places and people and possibilities which may or may not be (if only in fragments), or will soon be. And often, her words are just a tad more happy, sad, flirty, solemn, crazy, angry. (Pinch of salt. Poetic licence. Proceed at your own risk.)

Because the writer does not always write exactly what she has seen, heard, smelled, tasted and touched. Rather, she writes what she remembers seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting and touching - more than meets the eye (ear, nose, tongue, skin).

Beyond the senses.

Beyond the moment.

Where there is more.





I, Butterfly

Tis the season to meet new people? Last week: teh-tarik ice-cream. This week: green tea ice-cream. Next week: ??? Heh.

I was just a little surprised to be told that I reminded someone of a friend within the first few minutes. (But, but, don't you want to get to know me better first?)

"Don't blog about today ok?!" Orrr. Ok lor.

Anyway, thank you for coming out for dinner :-) I enjoyed myself - though the lack of sleep showed soon enough when my mouth started to run away from the head. Heh.


Benq Girl

Well, no - I do not use the Benq anymore. Not after I fried two of its compatriots in rapid succession, and was too embarrassed to return to the same shop to pick up another Benq, because the rather cute guy with the nice smile - a slow upturn of the lips that went to those eyes that always seemed bemused to see me - might think it was an excuse to see him (and that I was a dim wit who could not think of something else to buy), or he might actually ask about the keyboard situation and I would have to confess my filthy habit of dropping food crumbs in between the keys and spilling drinks once in a while.

After an unsatisfactory and noisy few weeks with the standard Compaq, I returned to the shop. They did not carry the Benq anymore, so I picked up a Logitech Ultra-Flat Keyboard Dark Shine which was regular-sized but looked pretty cool.

The rather cute guy with the nice smile was no longer there either.

It has been a few months, but I never quite got used to the new keyboard.


Breathe


"Stop running."

His breath brushed against the quivering edges of her consciousness . . . warmth . . . it has been so long.

"Slow down. Breathe. Breathe."

Each word lingered long after the last . . . memories . . . too many to live with until the day she dies.

She looked away quickly, her heart beating even faster. Don't listen to your heart. Don't listen to your heart. Breathe.

Just.

Breathe.





"I just called to tell you ... "

My favourite Number One just bought a place near mine. "Near the police post," he said. Ah. On the same street. Only a few blocks away.

Good god. I am surrounded by people I know!


CirCe

"If I had to choose, to live with you or without you, I'd choose to live with you."


Art of Flirting

"You know what's wrong? You're giving out wrong vibes, you're giving out "I'm your pal/buddy" vibe. Cannot!!! You have to give out "Look at me! I'm a woman" vibe."

Oooo. You mean you have to flirt to get a man to notice you??? Eh, they did not teach this in warrior school. Eh. How? How? This sort of thing can take classes anot?





15 km

Ahhh. Another lovely evening by the beach, just as the sun was setting and the sky was peppered with these strange orange fluffy clouds.

I will miss the week, and the cheap thrill of having to work only on alternate days (which was the only reason I did not take any leave, heh), and the incredible feeling of adrenaline coursing through my blood - like a smothered fire that has found expression.


What This Woman Wants

While we are on the subject of men ...

"We are overwhelmed by television commercials telling us where we can find the perfect match and encouraging single people to narrow their choices by selecting those things that are most important, and if it helps people find love, I can't disagree with it, but it has always struck me as far too simplistic - perhaps I'm not quite ready to believe my mind is an easily parsed algorithm."

While I am unfailingly drawn to certain attributes (e.g. intelligence, dry or quirky humour, talent, appreciation of finer things in life, good pheromones, just to name a few), and know what are non-negotiable (e.g. insipid personality, stupidity, pettiness, bad pheromones, and many many more), I also know that sometimes the one you eventually end up with might not be who you thought you wanted. In any case, there are simply too many attributes and facets to a person to list, and certainly, I too think that some things can 'make up' for the lack of others (but never the non-negotiables). And sometimes, the mere act of actually looking (and ticking off a checklist) might cause one to be closed to other possibilities.


Goodness Gracious

BFD at the beach, Thursday night.

I dismissed the young couple a few tables away after a quick glance. Probably just one of many dinners - exactly like any other they always had together - to while away an evening on a public holiday; this time, at the beach. Both seemed lost in their own thoughts and terribly bored.

But, as usual, nothing escapes the all-seeing eyes of The kaypoh Goddess. Confucius, he says, "Big eyes see even more." Grin.

The teenagers could not have known each other long - they ate in awkward silence and seemed uncomfortable. It was most probably their first date. (Was it an online chat that was finally consummated in a face-to-face?) Once in a while, the young man would speak, his face lighting up with a smile - he was obviously pleased to be there and eager to please (+1). The girl sat opposite him, but her face AND body were turned away from him (-1). After the main course, they continued to sit in awkward silence, staring into the distance and sipping their drinks (-1). Occasionally, they would speak, and each time, the young man hung on to every second of those rare moments (+1); while the girl's face AND body remained resolutely turned away (-1) from her increasingly bored - but stoically seated - dinner companion (+1 for persistance). After several more minutes of staring into the distance, the girl started messaging on her phone (-2), again (-3), and again (-1). The young man began to look a little distressed. And then, she started TALKING AND SMILING ON THE PHONE (-4), for several minutes (-5), as her stricken dinner companion started to turn his face her way and pretended to be looking over her head at something fascinating behind her. After she hung up, they continued to sit in silence, with the occasional conversation break. And then she started talking on the phone (-6), for several minutes AGAIN (-10). Though obviously displeased, the young man persisted with the evening (+10) and demonstrated the same level of enthusiasm whenever they managed to speak. When we left about two hours later, they were still at the table.

While we tut-tut like disapproving biddies at the display of rudeness, ashamedly, I could imagine myself at the same table - a less gracious and less enlightened self - justifying to myself that I was merely sending a clear signal that this would be the first and only face-to-face, so that the guy would not bear any false hopes.

But, now, older and wiser and more desperate, I would try to make the best of the remaining time. It would not be so much to prove my first impressions wrong, or hope the grinning toad would turn into my laughing prince. Quite simply, there is no logic to faulting someone just because of my own personal preferences - one woman's toad is another woman's prince.

And there are certainly better ways to spend one's time in an increasingly uncertain world, than to spoil someone else's AND your own day by being rude and unappreciative of the guy's effort to look and smell nice for you (and having the entire episode watched, recorded and rated on someone else's very public blog). There are also more polite and gracious ways of letting the guy know you would not be available for future dates.

So, I would try my best to keep conversation going, have some laughs at my own expense, and generally, be nice and gracious about the whole thing for as long as it lasts. If nothing else, at least one of us would have enjoyed the time spent. (And then, I would go home and blog about everything so I do not miss out on my share.)

But, if he turned out to be a twat, I would see no need to prolong the encounter and excuse myself immediately. (And then, I would go home and blog about everything, and I would name him and all the schools he went to.)





Tongue


Itching. Shedding. Evolving.

"The past year has certainly been interesting for us," she said.

Her new job (and very soon, a new man and a new house) was just around the corner. Another would soon morph from Uber *cough* Geek into Uber *COUGH* Stud (no more wet underwear!). And another two would soon embark into uncharted waters. (To where, no one knows. But in the darkness, one needs no light but the guiding touch of one's faith.) "And you have started talking more!" (Basket. Trying to say I am depriving you of your talk-time izit?)

I looked away - the poker face failed me. Too many words - I never found the voice for. Too many words - I should not have said. Too many words - I have no one to say to.

"And that changes things for me???"

Tell me. How???

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I have gone back to wearing ear-studs. Have you noticed?


Achy Breaky Heart

I've got news I want to tell you.
I pick up the phone
And then remember -
You don't want me
To share my life with you
Any longer.

I would like to think that the reason I cannot feel the kind of overwhelming sadness that most people might feel after reading his account of the divorce is that he just does not 'poet' very well.

Of course, a break-up is a break-up. Nobody deserves it any more just because they are 'bad people' or are not worthy of the goodness of their partner. Neither does anyone deserve it any less just because they are too beautiful to be hurt or 'poet' well.

And there is always another side to the story - another reality, another truth. "Truth is self-serving." How astute. Like a hot knife through butter. Confucius, he says, "Small eyes see more." Heh.

I would like to think all that.

Or maybe, with the passing of each day, I am just a little farther from what I once went through myself. (Of course, I know what it must feel like.) And with the ending of each day, when I close my eyes to the sound of my breathing, and lull myself into oblivion as my heart slows, something inside of me dies a little more.





Queer Eye for a Straight Guy

(Dinner at Smith Street - yum as always.)

Starring:

The Winged One with The Snout. ("How do you know I'm a dragon?" Because he had a snout, she said. Giggle hysterically.)

The Super-Styler cum Penis Enlarger. ("Spectacles ... clothes ... shoes ... hair ... The Tetanus Strut (TM) ... and penis enlargement!" Okayyy. I have no idea what HIS motivation for that last one is!)

The Wardrobe 'Mastermind' Mistress. ("I can't wait to see the final product!" Rub paws in glee at thought of watching someone else spend money.)

The Dungeon 'Tough Love' Mistress AKA Yours Sincerely. ("I will make you into a REAL MAN!" Wave oar menacingly.)


Good Enough to Eat

(Gelato at Clark Quay - very unsatisfactory + surly staff + rum-and-date does not taste like anything at all.)

The Goddess was telling me about the book that she had spotted on The Fairy King's reading list, and which he was going to lend her. (Yeah. It can be very intimidating being surrounded by so much greatness.)

"Confessions of an appetising man?" How. Interesting. "In what way is he appetising?"

"Eh?! ADVERTISING!!! It's by Ogilvy???!!! Ad-ver-ti-sing???!!!"

Oh. Ohhh.

And she gave me a very, very long look.

Erm. Ermmm.


I Once Was

('Revenge' supper and drinks at Tapas Tree, Clark Quay - avenged! Yay.)

When I was a little younger, often uncertain of myself and painfully self-conscious, I found it very hard to maintain eye contact with the (then) object(s) of my affections. My shyness - made worse if he actually deigned to look me in the eyes or smile attentively during our encounters - would often cause me to look away and start talking and smiling at everything but him.

How strange it is that the shoe is now on the other foot.

I know you.

I was you.


Little Miss Model

I is impressed! So when do we get to see THE GOODS??? Maybe you can do one with your big (and oh so cuteeeee) panting dog the next time, complete with a really thick obiang diamond-studded dog collar. Heh. Heh. Heh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hmmm. Small world. I guess after you just spent five hours in the backseat staring at the back of your boss's head, you will recognise it anywhere else.


Help

Eh, I might have accidentally set a firewall with this new AVG virus scan I'm trying out. How do I check if I have a firewall? I can't seem to surf the internet or ftp from home.

(Afternote: Managed to muddle my way into fixing the problem. Doh.)


CirCe

"If I had a whole week, a car and an accomplice ... I'd take off on a road trip across West Malaysia. The first leg of the trip would take us to Malacca Where we would stay at the Hotel Puri for the night. ... "





The Wonders of 'Yun Nan Bai Yao'

Someone made it from McDonalds to National Sailing Centre AND back leh! 90 minutes. And she only fell on her butt twice. (I fell on my side once.) She looked like she could take on the extended route outside SAFRA as well - the wonders of 'Yun Nan Bai Yao on someone who could barely last more than 20 minutes previously! But I thought it prudent to turn around at Sadako's Well before the lockers closed at 7.

Traffic situation on Thursday evening was not quite as bad as Tuesday morning, though I had a couple of close calls. (Don't ever try to overtake someone who has to cut into the next lane to overtake Holiday Cyclists/Bladers whose grandfathers own the road AKA The Slow People. And most certainly not if after *I* manage to pass The Slow People, you still find yourself left in my wake.)

And, yes, I went blading on Saturday, Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. hOp!hOp!hOp!hOp! (Methinks I need to cut back on the coffee.)


Baby, Baby

"My baby with big feet will be due in December. :)"

Go congratulate the mummy-to-be :-D





Beach Animals

0910 hours. 1 November 2005. And the beach was already crawling with cars waiting to park and people. Lots of people. EVERYWHERE.

"Holiday cyclists/bladers." I snorted to Tiger 'not-the-beer' Girl, as we avoided running down overtook yet another group taking up an entire lane of their grandfather's road AND/OR stopping right across the entire lane so that people behind can crash into them or swerve into oncoming traffic in the next lane and crash into other people AND/OR turning into the next lane without checking for traffic.

"You know, we could have easily taken on anyone we just passed - except for maybe that old guy in front, and the other one with the strange purple hair." (Now, the regulars on normal weekends are an entirely different story - that is, anyone of them could have easily taken on us.)

We turned around at Fort Road and headed back towards McDonalds where we had started, and passed Cow 'my-milkshake-brings-all-the-boys-to-the-yard' Girl, Wabbit 'looks-like-Fann-Wong' Girl, and Horse 'is-the-pole-in-pole-dancing' Girl. The three had only just hit the road - half an hour behind us.

Tiger Girl and I pushed on to the National Sailing Club but we did not attempt the extended route outside SAFRA - Tiger 'stayed-up-late-for-drinks-and-work' Girl was grumbling about being paced by murderous Energizer Bunnies. (It's the McCafe Latte, okayyy? Okayyy?!?! hOp!hOp!hOp!hOp!hOp!)

We regrouped with the rest for brunch at Scruffy Murphy's. The late arrivals, Dragon 'drank-too-much-last-night' Boy and Rabbit 'remembered-what-he-drank-last-night' Girl appeared soon after.

Over the next few hours, we ate, lazed, attempted some conversation ("He's a TWAT!" Oh. Oh shit. Gnaw nails.), waved bye-bye to Tiger Girl, lazed, waited for the manager's special not-on-the-menu fruit-cubes and ice-cream float ("It's for the kids actually."), dozed, waved bye-bye to Horse Girl, attempted more conversation, waited for the float ("Two more minutes."), read the papers, waited forever for the float ("Oh, half an hour more - the cubes are not set yet."), fell asleep, took photos of people sleeping, and lazed some more. When it became clear that the manager was not intending to serve the float - but chose to subject five very thirsty customers to a bizarre trick-and-tease game for almost two hours - we called for the bill and picked up Slurpees from 7-Eleven before heading for the kayaks at UDMC.

A short car ride later, we launched five single kayaks out to sea. The females alternated between some easy paddling and drifting, while the lone male was like a reptile possessed, paddling madly into the distance. I suppose the thought of having to go around in wet underwear because you forgot to bring a change a clothes would drive anyone insane. And then he wanted to race to the shore. Now, obviously, someone has never seen the way I play Daytona at the arcades - "If you can't beat them ... " Well, you get the idea. Anyway. The slippery reptile narrowly escaped being smashed to smithereens against the breakwater. (Curses.) And YES, he WON the race. Hmmmpppfff. Next time. NEXT TIME.

Dinner (and an invitation for drinks) was next. Wabbit 'walked-into-a-low-hanging-branch' Girl went home for dinner, while the remaining four made our way to OG so Cow 'beast-of-burden-cum-thinking-animal-cum-personal-shopper' Girl could help Dragon 'underwear-wet-wet-until-cannot-fly' Boy pick up some dry clothes. And then we stopped over at Rabbit 'owns-a-big-panting-dog' Girl's very hospitable household for a shower, root beer, mummy's cooking, and some TV. Drinks were cancelled but we were all pooped by then anyway.

And so the Rabbit snuggled up to dream in her little rabbit hole with her big panting dog, while the Dragon flew the Cow and the Mouse home.


CirCe

"It's more about me being a complete person who isn't exercising all the different aspects of herself: the friend, cousin, niece, colleague, daughter and sister are all active, while the partner and lover lies dormant."

Nod sagely.





Mirror Mirror


My dog does that a lot. I guess he just likes what he sees :-D


The Familiar

It always surprised her a little when she realised, somewhere among the words, that I was writing about her. Heh. I suppose it is the way my stories unfold, and the use of generic personal pronouns and pseudonyms. And I suppose we do not always see or remember events or people the same way as the other does; and so what one recounts might seem like a different event or person.

And sometimes, we do not even realise that we are being watched.



(And in the stillness of the watcher's mind: images of a kayak being smashed into smithereens against a breakwater to pitiful screams of "Waaaa!!! My $450 Prada glasses!!!")


Itching. Shedding. Evolving.

Aching legs stretched out, I laid back and closed my eyes, arms hanging over the sides, fingers trailing liquid air, as my kayak bobbed on the sun-kissed sea. Sometimes, arching my back, reaching for the forgiving warmth of the late afternoon, I would tilt my head back, and as tiredness fell away from my fading eyes, to look - at a sliver of the moving sea and hulls of miniature ships hanging off its heaving edges into the bright blue skies.

My world . . . is . . . changing . . .