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.

Unfailing love

A flute of wine, 3 cups of vodka and a couple sips of beer is a combination that spells massive hang over. it also substracts inhibitions and rational and brings out an equation of a devilish you and uncock your opaque bottle of emotions. I am never for one who swears by that concoction for a weekend night out but I will make an exception when my girlfriend of 17 years celebrates her birthday bash. Now, I wish I had stuck by the general rule. We all make mistakes we wish we could wipe out, erase or even correct but by doing so, we are just losing a great teacher. There is always a lesson, always a reason and always an explanation.

While some drunks find themselves doing the walk of shame, I find myself facing the silly English wannabe in me. I was childish enough to let my feelings show. Rained on my own pride and cried the tears I held on to for so long. I never knew I had in me such depth of love for the Astronomist. I always live on the edge in this relationship. Careful not to fall into the ravine. Never expecting and always preparing for the worse. One cheating bastard was enough to leave a scar so deep that I knew, I can not handle another disappointment, another betrayal and another broken promise. I learnt how to be precarious and to give less. When the Astronomist and I said our final goodbyes last December, I held back all tears. Indignant. Resilient and resolute not to let a tear roll. I forgot how to be human. I denied the emotions which were part and parcel of being flesh and blood.

If it wasn't for the combination of lethal fluids, I wouldn't then know that I do feel alone inside. That there is an emptiness exploding in me. Deep down, I have secretly yearn that the Astronomist would have chose to give up his glamarous ER career for me, the June he loves everything about. Except he didn't. He left....and I miss him so much that my heart cracked into thin lines I did not notice. All that phone calls, e-mails, letters, postcards and greeting cards can never make up for the lost of his physical presence. He was perfect in every sense as a penpal but he couldn't quite make up for his absence as the man in my life. I caught myself offguard when I threw my first anger at him. I have never done that. Ever with him. And I did. My defense of intoxication doesn't hold well with the jury. My veins were flooded with alcohol and my mind was swirling but hell, I shouldn't have dial that number.

The phone call that came the morning after was a relief. I expected the opposite of love from him after all that shelling and tears. I heard the nervous whisper of hello in his voice and my heart melted. I was overriden with guilt and painted with shame. Apologies flowed in every language I know. Contriteness tumbled out of my mouth and my 'morning after' rational begged for his understanding. My head never stopped throbbing. It was like someone took up residence in my brain and its now pounding on the walls to get out. The Astronomist lived up to the position of man I put on a pedestal. Tell me that I am still special even though I had been snow queen to him the night before. Renew his vows of through thick and thin, for better and worse. Reassured that he still loves me the same. He saw the depths of my heart but he still love me the same. He is truly amazing...I do not know what I've done to deserve you Andy but of all the things I have done wrong, I must have done something right. Thank you for being you.

The explanation: I am only Human with emotions

The Reason: Losing my inhibitions

The Lesson: Stick to one flute of wine. Period.

Into His loving Arms

I was palavering with John (not the baptist) 2 nights ago about his life abroad. He told me how his first few months was the toughest for him and that eventually he started to adjust to fit himself in the circumstances that God has brought him to. Just like me, John is no stranger to living abroad having studied in England before but he still had his struggles, his moments and his trials.

When I first arrived in England , I struggled to understand the native English speakers, brace the harsh winters, wait for the public transport, and the whole enchilada of living on my own. I was out of my comfort zone and it was ferreting out the incognito Britain, all by myself. Sure, we had our group of friends but we were still on constant search for home in our English house. We frantically grapple to adjust to the howling winds and sub-zero temperatures, the funny English accent and above all else, the loneliness of living abroad. We go back to a house, not a home. An empty place, an empty house, a hole inside my heart. A place where we temporary reside for our year (s) there. Even with our close-knit of friends and arrangement of weekly get together, in our hearts, in the depths of our emotions, we miss the familiarity of smiling faces, jokes, conversations, a heart-to-heart talk, family, friends and the aroma of our favourite dish. No matter how great the recipe is, the taste is never just right. No matter how heated the place is, the warmth is missing.

We are so caught up in the expectations and the whirlwind of life around us that we forget to really look at the conditions of our heart. If you want to see something in your life that you have not seen before, you have to do something that you have never done before. For me, that was living all by myself. Getting things all done by myself and waking up alone in my house, cooking in an empty place and eating in front of the tv..all alone. My heart cried out silently every moment I felt alone. I never felt so empty and for once I saw how blessed I was back home. It is alone when we are away, when we lose something that we learn how to appreciate it. It is also at that moment that we try, to find in every nook and cranny and in every way possible, to get it back, be it a person, a thing, a feeling or even God.

Its like my Prawn Mee affair. I always had Prawn Mee at my beck and call everytime I felt like eating it. I took it for granted because I know it was always there. Just a 15 mins drive away or even a phone call away. So I neglected my Prawn Mee for more glorious food. Marinated duck in tangerine sauce, Creme Brulee, Puddings, Shepherd's Pie...not just food, but heavenly food. Until I went to England of course. I was craving for Prawn Mee 2 weeks upon arrival on English land. Like a insatiable craving where I would imagine having Prawn Mee in the midst of my meals and I would lie in bed praying for God to send someone to set up a Prawn Mee stall. China Town has never heard of Prawn Mee and I searched...far and wide...No prawn mee to my despair. Mark and Spencers did an excellent job of emptying my bank account monthly with their M & S food but it could...it can NEVER replace my love for Prawn Mee.

It make sense. What we have, we take for granted. Just like God's grace and God's goodness, we neglect it and sometimes, we abuse it. He gives us the freedom to make choices because the love He has for us, was not forced on us but given to us abundantly. An Agape Love. He ask for us nothing in return but yet, look at the depths of our hearts. the mustard seed of faith that we cannot even plant in Him and we dare pray for rewards double the size of that seed.

When thrown in the wild, when in tribulations and trials..we need to seek for Him and not moan of why He puts us in that position. Seek His kingdom first and all shall be given. In the dark, search for that light. In loneliness, seek for His companionship. In despair, seek for His comfort. In confusion, seek for His wisdom.

John taught me something that night in our chatroom. Sometimes God throw us a little further from our comfort zone so we can learn to come back to Him. To know that all the fast and ferocity of the world can never replace His love for you.

Come back to His loving Arms.

A Persiflage with the Astronomist

Another Melee hovers like dark clouds over us. Threatening to rain on us and wash away any lingering scent of reminiscences. Any sweet Echo by Davidoff that may have remained embedded in the cotton strands of our clothing would disperse through this fight. Any saccharine Smile by Sensodyne that may flash back in our memories will be wipe out by this conflict. Our disparate thoughts and incongruent hearts that cannot go in sync. We need to find a source to blame. If it was not from within us, then it must be something beyond our control. We have mastered the art of condemning everything else but ourselves. Anything but our selfish desires and our egocentric goals in life was to carry the weight of our transgression.

There are moments when everything seems perfect. The shared laughter. The shared silence. This time, I wonder what it feels like. To find the one in this life, the one we all dream of. I have been waiting for the real thing, I should know it when I get the feeling because it will play out like a scene straight out from the silver screen. So I will be holding my breath right up till the end until I find the one that I will spend forever with. Because naturally nobody wants to be the last one there, we all want to have somebody who cares, somebody to love with my life in their hands, there’s gotta be somebody for me out there.

I dislike complicated and sticky situations. I rather be credulous and enjoy our preposterous kismet. Apathy helps. As acrid as it may be, this is my tiny scintilla of hope on my dandelion wish. When you whisper your wish into the cotton fluffs and let the wind, take it to where rainbow ends, where dreams do come true.

The spaces between your fingers are to be filled by the delicate fingers of the one you love - clutched together and becoming one stronghold of a bond that is everlasting. A sign that you have finally found the one to hold you through thick and thin. Maybe, it’s all too soon to tell for now whether the space between mine fingers are to be fitted with yours because once, it seemed to fit a lot of other fingers too. We have all been through the shattered heart - with the broken pieces and shrapnel of an explosive love affair still embedded in our scars, reminding us that love hurts. Afterall, a heart that hurts is a heart that beats.

We tread more vigilantly, wary of what is ahead, especially when it is seems too virtuous. We now have a little perspicacity to what we seek for to fill those spaces. But are we really allowing ourselves to love? Does being the sentinel man afford us a to find a veritable relationship or just one that is built and guarded with so much restrictions and don’ts; with no freedom for our hearts to slide down the slippery slope of euphoria with no control, screaming woohoo! at the top of your lungs. We refuse to acknowledge the stirring of our hearts. Just the faltering staccato beats of our feelings. Irresolute. Vaccilating. Undecided. Slowly disconnecting from one and another.

My chimera of a love story differs awfully from reality. In my fantasy fairytale love story, I just want Romeo to melt to the ground, pull out a ring and say, “marry me Juliet and you will never have to be alone – I love you and that’s all the reason why, talk to your dad, go pick out a white dress, it’s a love story baby just say yes!!” In reality, Romeo put out his hand and say, “I will think about it Juliet – I am not sure if I love you and that’s all the reason why, I am talking to you, are you listening?!!”

What about the laughter and the happy ever after, the voices of sweet angels, telling us that we could be in love? Just like imaginary friends, they are make believes whenever we feel desolated. The subtleties of my love affair often lead me to slip into a faux pas of thinking that like all things in life, this love affair can be cannily work out. That time can solve it. Its a trepidation to venture into an unknown, let alone to let go and slide down the slope. Truth to be told, I lack the temerity to love. Truth be told, this is one maze that I am not au fait with. I am dubious I will find my way out from it. Having said that, I should get back to my disconsolate life and wait for mine somebody out there. Once again, I have to confess, even my sanguine nature cannot help me feel that the Astronomist got it right again. I am daft when it comes to love and often too myopic to see that a relationship is just a passage through life’s journey.

Another emo heart

It was Benjamin Franklin who famously said, “In this world, nothing is certain but death and taxes.” I’m not an American history virtuoso, so I don’t know the context in which Mr. Franklin said this. I don’t know if he made macabre statements such as this often or if he was generally just an emo kind of guy. In regards to my life this assertion is extremely accurate: I am 100% certain that one day I will die, and, unless my accountant is swindling me, I am 100% certain that I do pay taxes. However, this statement is not entirely precise because another thing that is certain is that I will be at Starbucks this Sunday from 12pm to 3pm, as I sometimes do when I want to sit in a coffee shop and sip green tea latte.

Something that is at least 80% certain is I will see a particular person there who I’ve seen at least 80% of most Sunday I’ve been there. I have never talked to nor have I had any significant contact with her. I do, however, look forward to seeing her there every Sunday, and it has absolutely nothing to do with her large breasts. Being that I am astutely aware to the goings-on around me (read: eavesdropper), I’ve learned that 1) her name is Allison, 2) she hates her life, and 3) she wants to kill herself. For reasons that I have never been able to ascertain, Allison wants to die, and this is exactly why she is the one regular patron at Starbucks that I care to see. Without knowing the circumstances of her situation, I can’t say that I understand her. But, as a despondent individual, I can empathize with the sentiment of not wanting to be alive .

Almost a year ago I experienced a terrible heartbreak and subsequently suffered a psychological meltdown of epic proportions. This involved several months of crying, physical trauma, screaming, and other acts of emotive uncontrollability that was generally perceived as “not normal.” I built walls around my life and isolated myself. Every day was a struggle to stay alive and I lived with a persistent sense of impending doom. I was sad, depressed, morose, and emo. I was not pleasant to be around. Have you ever heard music from an emo band? I suspect that you have, and I also suspect that you didn’t think it was any good. There’s a reason why nobody likes emo bands: It has less to do with their eyeliner and more to do with the fact that they’re just fucking annoying.

As time went on, I climbed the walls I built around myself like a determined illegal immigrant. I’m not exactly sure how, but I’ve overcome that part of my life. I can’t say that I’ve overcome the depression entirely, and maybe it’s because I subconsciously don’t want to. The thing about depression is that you can never completely get over it because the past can never be erased. I still think about what happened, and occasionally it will make me cry. The biggest difference between then and now is that back then I would often spontaneously burst into tears at any time of the day and cry uncontrollably. Nowadays, I can usually wait until the time between going to bed and falling asleep to cry, and sometimes it’s just because I’m drunk.

I know it’s none of my business, but I genuinely don’t want Allison to slash her forearms. I want to tell her that she’s not alone, even though it’s better that she is. I want to tell her that I know exactly what she’s feeling. I want to tell her that, like her, I understand that wanting to die is the only way she can feel alive. I want to tell her that she has redeeming qualities, even though I know she wouldn’t believe me. I want to tell her that to be emo is to be certain about adversity, and life is more about overcoming adversity than it is about the pursuit of happiness.

And, I want to tell her that it’s certain that I will be here next Sunday, and I would like to be certain that she will be, too.

double chocolate cookie rock

ONE TOUGH COOKIE CRACKING..........

At the corner location of starbucks we sat burgeoning our minds on summer, sipping on our latte(s) and chocolate(s) and trying to lift each other's spirit on the moment. I can still remember - feel it - rather I would say moments like those where everyone's is disheartened by something but just too afraid, too ego-istic , too bashful, too hold back - to spill it out. Clearly we try to write - "im tough" - on our faces. Once in awhile someone will click away at their mobile, crack a dumb blonde, poke fun at the fat lady at the counter or simply pull out a random topic from the air trying really - in fact too hard - to distract everyone from the storms, only to realise, it is all just momentarily - without denial, the heaviness and dampness in the heart stays.

Everyone has problems of the heart - we either own the pain or try to bury it. I feel my pain. It stays there like the tenant who will never move out. It seeks solace in your hurt and moves out when its time. You can try all ways to vacate it but it will stay until it is one satisfied occupier in your heart. the ones you love are always in your heart but you are never in their heart. they occupy so much of the space there and one thing for sure, you know its going to take awhile to get your heart back together again. but i believe when it go, it will be subtle.

Despite being surrounded by a noisy crowd in that little corner that day, I felt alone. Despite the warm sunlight out there lighting up the earth, it was darkness in my heart. Not just mine. But ours. There is this little spot in our eternal bright sunshine. A little spot that we cannot wipe out or block out no matter what we do.

Pain is a feeling that hurts so badly till everynight itself is a battle in your dreams. letting go is an art that not everyone can master. We think we can do it but scars are often left behind to remind us that pain has once been lived there. We spend so much time making sure we laugh so the world could laugh with us because when you cry, you cry alone and indeed the loneliness can be overwhelming. Yet when you laugh, there is no guarantee that the world is indeed laughing with you or actually laughing AT you.

i grew up with people planting mottos in my head, and principles that should supposedly bring me through life. over the years my heart adjusted to pain moving in and out everytime. i have a vague impression of what TRUE happiness feels like - everytime i think i am close to it or in it - someone or something has to come burst my bubble or drag me away from it. rationality flies out the window and numbness just surrounds my placid thumping muscle trapped in my body.

im tough is just momentarily pretention put on to fool the world. we eventually will go weary. I like softness, I like my bed to be filled with rose petals, I like my fall to be on clouds, I like soft bumps in my life - bumps that will not bruise me nor bring pain and leave scars. However, reality is a tough hurricane, it comes on hard and fast. So when it hits, you have to be tough - otherwise....*shudder*

I bit hard into my double chocolate cookie only to watch it cracked just a little. Frustrated, I slammed my cookie hard onto the table and miracalously it shattered into a million brown pieces - argghhh. Laughters at my silliness came aloud and for a moment there - we felt a ray of sunlight in our hearts