You are Beautiful

I like to believe that I have been missed during the long absence and decline in blog post. I like to think that someone out there misses reading about my ramblings, basking in my literary ambience and is praying faithfully that I will get my long slender fingers back to typing some amusing reading material. I'd imagine that my blog is a genteel affair, like Wimbledon, brought to you by an elitely educated and naturally beautiful girl blessed with a talented flair of entertaining the lonely destituted souls.

But No. 9 out of the 10 avid readers I have, are aged between 11-25. One, an extremely comely young man, featured in my blog post a couple of time wearing a towel over his head, is the only reader who has noticed and contacted me on my lack of posting in the last week. This has prompted me to think that my readers have only chosen to subscribe to my blog because these readers find solace in knowing there is someone out there who has a more lachrymose and abject life in comparison to theirs, rather than for its nobel-prize-worthy entries. I am also sure the ease of my words, my wide sparkling smile and my doe-eyes has done little to attract any sort of desire for any faithful followers.

In the olden days, when most writers were born, there were no photographs in the newspaper or any accompanying studio potraits in the novels, so writers were allowed to be beardy, ugly and fat. William Shakespeare was a great poet because no one knew he looks like a baboon. Jane Austen achieved success because the great english people had no idea she was a plain Jane.

Back then, skill and intelligence were the only talent needed to be famous. And maybe throw in a good agent. But now, with the zoom lens, facebook, picture albums and facebook (or did I mention that already?!), neither skill nor intelligence matters a jot.

We have now entered a world whereby beauty is not just only skin deep but ugly goes bone deep. Would you watch America's next top Model if the Models were fat and hideous? Would you read Dawn Yang's blog if she still look like an Indonesian Maid? Would you bother to know what Kim Ong does daily while her national kerian cyclist husband is away on tournaments if she is just your girl next door with bug tooth and putsal filled face? Nowadays, to get on and be famous, it's not who you know or what you know, or even what you know about who you know. All that matters is what you look like.

David Beckham, I'm told is, far from Britan's best footballer. I think Ronaldinho plays way better than David does but because he is pretty fugly, he cannot be the best. Oh heck, what do I know about football. But as I was saying, David is a popular icon and not only because he lives in Beckhingham Palace, but because he's a handsome chap. Well, not all that chiselled jaw nonsense, but put David and Ronaldinho next together, you get my drift.

I understand all of this. You wouldn't deliberately buy an ugly sofa. Keep an ugly dog or even be caught dead in an ugly car, so why would waste your time stalking an writer who does not look like Sienna Miller? The only requirement today to hollywood superstardom is perfectly square, perfectly white teeth and big arms. Think Denzel Washington.

At the moment, the only two things which are my only hope that my blog readers come back is a.)Humour and b.) my disconsolate life. so my facial handicap is saved mercily by my doughty effort to tickle your humour bone. Good looking bloggers just have to snap pretty pictures of themselves and paste them online whereas I have to resort to comedy. Just how long will the world's ugly people start to wonder why Kate Moss is making millions by being an aneroxic while their own children, who have double firsts in Aeronautical Space Astronmical Science, can't get a decent job?

Now you know why I am saving for a plastic surgery.

Easternly love on Western Shores

I live in the East and he lives in the West. And we both knew it is more than just the time difference, the distance and the work. Our problem, this problem, was that we couldn't figure out where our feelings lie. How far we are willing to go for each other and how much our hearts can be tested. We cannot imagine our future together. Too many obstacles, too much trouble and a reluctance in our souls. We still loved each other but there was a politeness and formality in our dealings that broke my heart. And we just couldn't see how this thing between us was ever going to work out. Or rather, we choose to remain myopic. We have chosen the easy way out.

"Let's just see how it goes, okie?" I said.

So we just see how it goes. each passing day, nothing changes and yet nothing remains. Just another man and woman in this world. But it seemed like the saddest thing in this world, this feeling that what we have right now was not good enough to stay and not bad enough for any of us to leave. If only one of us has a dark secret to tell. An exit sign. I try very hard trying doors to get out of this chaos. I wanted him to reveal something so painful, so tearing that it will push me away and settle the dust once and forever.

Once again, I am living in denial. Afraid to make a decision, fearful to reject and too fragile to nurse a breaking heart.

Blessings

If  I am ever to count my blessings, the list will be long. I  must say, I am highly blessed. Just one week ago, I was on the brink of adding up the numbers of unemployed graduates in the country. On a limbo and with no where to go, my forehead creased with worry lines, my soft still voice told me to Be still, my parents told me to make sure I pack up everything at my firm and not leave anything behind, my friends told me to be happy and enjoy the break, my humor told me to laugh along with my current state of unemployment and my faith told me to Trust in Him. My prayers were along the line of, "God, bless me with a job soon otherwise make sure my husband to be floors the pedals of his metallic Beemer and arrive at my doorsteps soon, Amen!"

2 days later, the Lord of all the Earth caught my falling tears of joy - my worry was like a flower quickly withering and a vapor in the wind. No, Prince Charming did not arrive with the Harry Winston nor the bouquet of stargazer lilies. I have been offered a job as an associate in one of the biggest firms in the country. What have I done to deserve this brilliant offer? *grins* Though I would think Prince Charming would have been better as he would have save me from all the stress of working  but oh Well....I need to learn to be contented with life's little blessings. I am also patting myself on the back by taking what's left from 2009 and making the most of it. This step, this first baby step of leaving my old job and finding a new one, is something I never would have dreamt of 6 months ago. Might be a fleeting thought but one that was just playing in my mind until now.

I am now getting down to writting a list of things to buy with my next pay cheque.

Things I miss about England - Part 2

Friends and the companionship of a multitude of international people. The familiar faces, the ringing of laughter, the voices, the warm embrace and the English air.

To love someone

To love someone
is to experience every other emotion outside of love and still come back to love.

To love someone
is to feel hurt or pain and be able to overcome it and forget about it.

To love someone
is to realize that the other person is not perfect. It is being able to see their bad parts, but put emphasis on the parts you love, and gladly accept them for the individual he/she is.

To love someone
is to lay a strong base for your feelings, but leave room for some fluctuation, because to feel exactly the same way all the time would leave no room for growth, experience and space.

To love someone
is to be strong at accepting new ideas and facts. It is knowing that a person will not stay the same, but also that change happens gradually.

To love someone
is to give until your heart aches. The greatest gifts shared between two people are trust and understanding which comes from love. Love is giving one-hundred-and-ten-percent of yourself and only wanting something as simple as a smile in return.

To love someone
is to be able to see not only with your eyes but with your heart. It is to develop insight into your feelings and the other person's feelings, and to have a good understanding of your relationship.

To love someone
is to give yourself totally, saying "Here I am, and all that I am loves you very much." It is not twisting and turning and changing yourself to gain approval, but it is improving yourself so that your good points catch the others' attention and overshadow your faults.

Double Dare

At every crossroads of my life, I tried to consult the wisest, the smartest, the 'experiencest', the oldest and everyone else's opinion except my own heart's desire. because I am afraid I will make the wrong choices, fall into a man hole and end up covered in human crap, literally, so I ask others. However, what others think may be the best for them, may not be the best for me. Sometimes, a plate of char koay teow may taste better than a gram of carviar, depends on who's taking it. I am allergic to unborn fishes possibly covered with the cum of a male fish, so definitely that carsinogic-vein-clotting-char koay teow is better for me.

It's always easier to make decisions in life when you are not going to have to live through it, suffer through it, and face the consequences of it. At life's biggest juncture, my brain jams up. My vision becomes myopic. I panic and choke up. I simply cannot function. This is when your maturity is tested. It's a tad like testing your courage when someone cuts your finger and throw you into a pool of hungry sharks. This time, it's not about making the right turn or even taking the road less travelled. It's gathering all the sums of your fear and compare it to the value of the lessons in life you will learn and face. Daring to make a mistake! A mistake is the best teacher you could have in life. It teaches you more than they do in University, more than the books written and sometimes, more than the adults can. A mistake is a scar of your experience. A mistake is a reminder that somethings cannot be taught, it has to be learnt.

A person who Dares to make a mistake, dares to make a decision. So here I am now, cleaning up my workdesk, packing up the memories of 9 months at work, and clearing up the cluster of a mess. I dared myself to leave. I dared myself to stop moaning. I dared myself to make a decision. It may not be the best, the wisest, nor the cleverest, but this is what my heart desires. This is the best thing for me. The road ahead may be a rough one, considering I haven't quite figure what I am going to do next, but my inner voice says, Be still and know He is God.

This could be a mistake. I may fall, stumble and cry. However, it's time I learn. It's time I mature. It's time I take up this double dare..to make decisions and to make mistakes.

Fuck that!

Fuck! It's his 23rd. Yes his! My wedding singer's.

For fucks sake.


He is 23 today. It's his birthday. (HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!*pops champagne and throws confetti) And guess what the hell he is doing now? (*singing his birthday song and blowing out the candles on his cake??)


Wrapped up in his duvet since 4pm, drinking ho yan hor, popping lemsip pills and why? Because he has a nasty cold, slight fever and a sore throat. PAH. Chow Cibai. (Smelly pussy!!) His nose is leaking (from sniffing all that Smelly pussies), his head is sore from the constant blowing of nose, he has used tissue strewn all over his bed and floor, his throat feels like sandpaper, he is hot and cold at the same time, and he feels like bleurgh. This is the first time he has fallen sick during his birthday and it sucks ass. Whyyyyyyyyy?!! (In Plan Bee's dramatic fashion - hands open up in the air, looking up to heaven)

Diu.

He is not amused. At all. What a way to usher in 23.

I fail as a seamstress

I went for this sewing class one night after work hoping to make it as a seamstress like Vera Wang in case my profession runs out of fashion. As you can see here in Exhibit A, I am a good listener. Attentive student and enthusiast.

 

I tried to find the hole in the needle, strained my eyes and almost caused my eye to pop out. However, midway through I gave up and threw a horny fit. Eiyer, Why cannot go in One?!!

While everyone was concentrating on being the next Vera Wang, I thought, what the heck, I am simply not cut out to sew, why not model instead? Tada!!

 You cannot say I didn't try Okie?!! I made this pretty little rose and TRIED to sew it to hold....but...aiyo so susah, hand pain!

At the end of the class, I just manage to cut this out to measure the width of my chest.

Whine and Dine - Act 2

We came, We Ordered, We Ate.

The End

More than words

Is silence nothing more than just words not ready to be spoken?

When mum probe me last month about the special guy in my life, I said nothing. I gave her a quizzical frown and a nonchalant shrug. When my date asked me last week if I was keen to go out with him on a serious basis, I laughed it off and starred busily into my honey lemon drink. When the astronmist asked me if I love him after all this time, I didn't say anything. I have learn to avoid committing an answer to questions I wasn't ready for. I have practiced how to stare busily into my honey lemon drinks. I have worked on my shrugs and my sheepish smiles. I have mastered the art to answer questions posed to me with silence. If you want me to stop talking, just ask me an awkward question or ask me anything that I am not ready to answer.


All this time, I fight the urge to say those 3 words. There is no one way to say it or not to say it. I had to give myself reasons not to love you. I had to tell myself that you are so insignificant in my life that the statistical odds of me feeling even a tinge of wanting to tell you that I love you was a permutation that was immunerable. that the chances of it was minute. for the first time, i found myself giving reasons why i should not be attracted, why i shouldn't be drawn to you. yet, the subtle truth was undeniable. despite the rationales, no matter the reasons, the whole was greater than the sum of its parts.


because they say, "the opposite of love is not hate. its indifference". so i tell myself i don't care enough. I do not have the apathy to love. I denied myself the emotions of being human. Truth be told, I never found the courage to fall in love. I was afraid that I will lose you. I fear to tell you this, to let you discover that deep down inside, you mean so much to me that if you leave, my ideals of perfection will disperse. My heart will crack. how do you explain to someone you love that you can't say you love them because if you did, you're not sure what it means and what you'd be giving? That you aren't even sure what your own words are worth?


There were those moments when you would stare into my eyes. trying to peep into my soul. for those were the moments that drove good men mad. good, rational men. for these moments confounded rationality, distorting and contorting the bounds of reason until only carnal instincts remained. my mind could not escape the inherent ironies and dichotomy of your existence. you were foreign, yet familiar. distant, yet dear.


still, the in-opportunity of our timing further reflected the cruelest irony in this twist of fate. for everything in that moment blurred the lines between the rational and the irrational, the palpable and the impalpable, the physical and the meta, the black and white, the right and wrong. the more i tried to process it, the more maddening it became.


yet, despite all of the scrutinizing, the processing, the confusion, i could not help but admit how right it all felt. so i have relegated myself to just that. feeling. and i have decided to commit myself to doing whatever just feels right.


and so, my dear, you must forgive me for my inability to articulate  my feelings for you. to string my feelings into words, for words alone cannot do justice to how i feel for you. Silence is my way of saying, somethings, some feelings, some people are more than words can describe.