Wednesday Ramblings

My ebullient nature fell like leaves during autumn time. My obsession with the pass reflects in my incessant return to the same few themes, scenarios and questions; mine meticulous examination and re-examination of banal minutiae for hidden meanings that simply aren't there; like cancer, it has its way like how an idee fixe usurp other important organs of function. this obsession is a mental exhaustion that threatens to black out my life -- is that it is confining, not rebellious, and not fascinating but maddeningly dull.

The french screams merde when they can't orgasm after 20 minutes of thrusting. I feel like an exemplar of someone drowning in a sewage of merde. After 1 year of thrusting, the vaginal stays in a dry spell. No succor seems to be available to rescue me from the dry spell or any e.coli infection from all the thrusting in a sewage system.

No cadging for the past 366 days seems to work. There seems to be no light to my black hole of abulia, feeling feckish by each slow thrust, numbed. Oh man, this is eating my up.

Dear dairy, will i lose my raillery one day with this draught of sagacity? what do you think can mollify me? A taste of some Michelangelo paintings in Italy or perhaps a rendezvous of the sex museum in Paris? A walk down the Thames in London or to catch a picturesque aplenglow in Switzerland again? Maybe feed some kangaroos in Australia or walk till corn sprouts on my feet in Hong Kong?

Its time the public who call themselves my friends start showing some generosity to my Disneyland fund. I should start writing emails to them, highlighting my plight and destitute life. I must do something to precipate my trip to Disneyland...sell my collection of adult toys, write some adult novels and direct some adult films. anything adult to fulfill my childhood dreams. Life is a box full of chocolates. Currently I am chewing on the dark ones. Bitter and I am beginning to long for the raisin filled saccharine ones

Bonfire night

loose ends are meant to be burned, not tied.
they were romanticized by the written word - simply for the fact that it was not oral, vocalized, nor wantonly discarded into the thinness of the air. never trust a smooth talker, they believed. writing lent itself to some semblance of permanence. accountability, at the very least.
he rifled his fingertips through the box of letters - a portrait of their passion and pain spilt onto plain stationary in blue, black, and sometimes lavender gel ink - she once said it was pretty. the letters spoke of the volumes that existed between them, now brittled and yellowed by the years. more recently, the heartache had finally bore through her worn, tattered patience for sentimentality until all that remained were the straggling threads of indifference. I held the box up.

what shall we do with these?

burn them, she stated. i want you to freakin' burn them.

Okie..lets have a bonfire then tonight!! Last night in Newcastle will see us both skipping around a huge pile of sentimental burnt belongings. Brrrr...what a way to warm up for winter!

Pondering Christmas thoughts...

This year all I want for Christmas is a magical one. A magical wand waved over the holiday season and let all the sparkles and delights of magical cheer fall like snow flakes on me. Its been a tumultuous week for me. Having serious work deadlines to commit to and a whole series of unfortunate, or rather, traumatic events befall upon me. Sometimes I wish God would allow my life to be like filming a movie whereby He booms from above - 'take two' whenever a 'not so good take' happens. On many things, there is no re-filming of a terrible act but for Christmas, you possibly could have 'take two'. If last year's Christmas was a whole big mess - can this year be a better one? a second round of helping of christmas pressies and festive goodness, perhaps?

Can this Christmas be my second take on a Christmas romance? 

Distance has taken a toll on many things. its a killer of a many good things. a silent killer that creeps up on you during the night, put a pillow over whatever tingamagically good in your life and muffle it to death without you ever realizing. at least, so for me. Every time I find someone who makes the rhythmic beats of my heart play a slow duet, distance has to appear and take it away from me. In just less than a week, I lost the reason I was going home to or rather, I find myself slipping away from the fingers or passion from the person I was going home to. It became oddly cold. just like the winter wind. If I knew - if only I had found a fortune cookie that told me my allotted time - would I have live or cherish this short-lived romance in a different way? would i waste less time? would I carpe diem - seize the day(s) I had with him? REALLY? 

I daresay I would still have think of him as another pretty face. and I would still not text him or rang him insanely because my womanly conscience of 'the guy should make the first move if he is interested in you' still triumphs over. But I'd have learn to relax more around him. laugh, cry, sob, be softer when I still have his attention. try not to be so tough. let him in abit more on the softy side of me. would that have scared him off? frightened him and send him running for the hills? i don't know but i would have done that and at least I know - i have given him and myself and us the chance to know the person in me. it wasn't that i wasn't me before. i just was tougher. braver. stronger. which really doesn't depict the true me. would I have love better? definitely! would i have love him more - i don't think i can possibly love more than i already had. 

Some people think while they ran. I think better when I shower. the rain of waters on my skin gives me the peace i need to send me brains running. the neurons works more rationally. with my eyes close, i see clearer. its a calming sensation that sends me spiraling to a world of my own. washing all my worries down the pipe hole. leaving only good vibes and a fresher me. i had lots brainstorming sessions in my shower. its where i found the valiancy to speak in my advocacy classes, the ideas to surprise whats-his-face, the little crooks and canny of myself that i needed answers to, and most of all - the duet to my hearts song. 

was i too weak for my own good as mummy had told me one night? will i always be in search of someone to share my thoughts with, to fill that lonely heart, to just squabble and chatter away with? have i been asking too much that sometimes my academic achievements and archives of snobbishness has over taken the little timid person i am inside? i truly don't want just anyone to fill the shoes of special someone. i want someone special to call my own. everyone can be a good boyfriend, but it takes someone special to be your soul mate. someone who lights up my eyes like christmas lights, someone who will be the gentlest critic of my often lack of judgment, someone to guide me, someone that i can see my soul dancing with. 

will this Christmas just be a lonely one where that someone special cannot possibly make it due to the heavy snow or christmas traffic? 

This Christmas, as I pray for the magical dust to fall on everyone out there I also pray that it will be a Christmas different from the less. More special, more excitement, more thrill and thrall, and most of all - more of others rather than yourselves. So while you:

1.)binge on all the turkey and cranberry that can last you till next spring;

2.) tear open your christmas presents like a manically three year old while squealing in delight;

3.) ride the sleighs on a frosty winter night with ruldolph;

4.) drink and gurgle all the sparkling wine, champagne and 101 other different alcohol;

5.) party like there is no tomorrow dress up in red and green;

6.) sing all the christmas chorus till your voice is hoarse;

you will also meet that someone special under the mistletoe! 

Its no harm wanting to believe in a little magic, I guess - TAKE TWO - Have yourself a Magical wondrous Christmas time!!

A touch of London

The winter wind stung at my face. chilly. cold. freezing. As I buttoned up my coat to venture further, I cannot help but feel my emotions change. All my fuzzy warm feelings of sitting by the fireplace with my hot cocoa is now replaced with cold wind and eerie creepy silence. Its all so surreal. having come back to face the gloomiest season of the year. to ride in london's tube and reminscence of the times I had someone by my side to chatter and banter with. to remember the lonely walks back to my warm hut, leaves crunching underneath my boots and creepy shadow following me in the dark. waiting to pounce on me. a jack the ripper thrill. ignorant of the dangers that lurk around for i was too busy concentrating on the intensity of winter air that is bitting into my skin.

The lights of london dances with excitement in front of my eyes. mesmerising me. holding my breath hostage at the magical sight of christmas lightings. I knew at that instance that there are somethings my heart cannot reason with. its a thrilling chase and a wondrous time to be back here. to have come close and yet not able to have it in the palms of my hand. i know how complete my heart is when im back in london. its a feeling that no words can describe. as though as the darkness and emptiness has been shone at and filled with the hustle bustle of city life. the craziness and the hype of being in one of the most happening capital of the world.

My journey ends a week from now. to give up the yearnings of my heart and to move back home is something i never prepared myself for. i am sailing out into an unknown sea again whereby not knowing when i am going to see this land again. the vibrant metropolis. the city that shook my love for it. keeping me coming back for more.

When William Wordsworth wrote "Upon London Bridge" he could never have imagined that it could become even more beautiful.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)Composed on Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!


Having felt it, touch it, lie beside it and live in it awhile, London is like a big dream come true. a dream that I never want to wake up from.

(NB: photographs are taken by London Photographer, Jason Hawkes, from a helicopter at night. From Jason: "Shooting aerial photography during the daytime had its own difficulties, you are strapped tightly into a harness leaning out of the helicopter, shouting directions through the headsets to the pilot. If shooting in the day can be difficult, night and the lack of light causes its own set of problems, but overcoming them is half the fun and the results can be stunning. I shoot at night using the very latest digital cameras, mounted on either one or two gyro stablazied mounts, depending on the format of the camera and length of lens I'm having to use.")

strangers on a train

"The joy that radiates through your smile brings happiness to my heart" - I remember clearly back then when Christopher (not from Winnie the Pooh) told me that, I placed my fingers on both sides of his mouth, pushed them up to a big forceful IT the clown smile and said, "now that smile is scary."

Today, reading Chris's comment on my blog released me from my long desire to reach out across the world and smack him around the face for leaving us for the States. Rewind us back 6 years ago..is that how long it has been?..anyway rewinding back - Chris was that amazing tennis partner, amazing tournamnet buddy and amazing boyfriend with that ever charming smile. I was his Justine Henin on court and he was my Nadal.

While we went on a streak of match points on court, little did we realise we were also making a match point together off court. However it was a summer romance that left an identation in my life. A summer love that saw us picking balls in tennis courts, me falling asleep in his arms on bus rides, he helping me tie my shoelaces, he slamming tennis balls into my head, and me having someone to sit under the sun in tennis court benches talking about nothing.

I buried us in a time capsule when he left for the Arizonia desert and started an oasis of his own planting cacti and rearing camels. chase his dreams to become an economist in Wall street today. Our long silence was broken with my letter from the notebook and his reply or rather, I broke my no communicado draught.

At some point in any relationships, we will reach the "land of the unknown", where one person feels his or her heart getting involved and is unclear where the other person is. It is a scary place to be for you feel yourself become vulnerable and you really do not want to explore there alone.
With Chris, our relationship did not end when he left...it just halted there. He felt there was more left in our journey while I just was not ready to get of the train ride. However, it became clear along the timeline that it was time for me to get on down the road. We made things complicated for ourselves sometimes. What could be a really simple, "yes I am in a relationship" or "no I am not in a relationship" became a "Its' complicated". What could be so complicated?

We were on different railway tracks back then and so are we now. While he wanted to get busy getting heart attacks from watching the market shares, I wanted to wear wigs and robes to giggle like a mad woman in court. Now he wants to expand his bank account while I want to expand my horizons in life.

Chris asked, "Is this how every relationship ends up when it doesnt end up in marriage? We all become strangers in each other's life and we just move along with life pretending that the other does not exist."

One thing for sure - we do a pretty good job pretending all our lives. We were strangers to start of with and we became strangers to end it too. However along that transition, we all pretended to be someone else. A friend, a joker, a helper, a listener, a communicator, and everything we can be. As the play ends, we walk away pretending we never met before on this stage.

Matthew 6:1-6 (The Message) - Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don't make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won't be applauding.

So yes that smile is indeed scary for really, it was all just put on for a great show.