Its no longer love

Something struck me today. I lament a tad too often about my current job situation, so much so in fact I have overlooked my God's purpose given life - to find a rich husband. For the past few months, I have tried to console myself by counting my blessings, thanking my lucky stars and cursing the stark reality that monies do not grow on trees. Much to my dismay, all that Opera Talk doesn't seem to make me feel better about my state of job dilemma.

My everyday routine at work is such a hamster wheel of life. I am stuck in a catch-22 situation. I know the things I do even with both eyes close but there is a downside, I am not learning enough to boost a learning curve on my growth chart. In fact, there is no curve here. A small bend, but definitely not a curve. Compare my chart to that of a slow dying patient's heart rate, same beat, different people. So yes, I am dying a slow death. No correction, my learning growth is taking a plunge.

I was talking to the 5.30 man today, spilling out my fears on how soon I will be joining the 5000 unemployed Malaysian citizens. I am not really looking forward to join the bumming club. It would be a comfort if the bumming club has a fund for its members to survive on, A Bumming Foundation of some sort that pumps a weekly allowance into our bank account based on the hours we bump around. reality hits you with an ice bucket of water. No such Bumming Foundation, Honey!

I used to find joy in my job. During my first week at work, I was all geared up to be named employee of the year. Then this enthusiasm somehow dwindle over the months. My brain shuts down after lunch time, I skip off to the loo as often as a person with a diarrhoea and I start to count each second of the clock, praying that time will pass faster. The amount of work sucked all joy left in me. It leech on my social life, crash into my sleeping hours and slowly implanted a virus into my head, with symptoms like Monday Blues, Social cramps, Pounding workload and sniffling worries. A holiday used to kill the virus but like all flu viruses, it mutates and gets stronger. Now, 2 dosage of chill pills and plenty of rest on saturdays and sundays doesn't seem to kill this virus anymore. I come back from the weekend feeling more lethargic than ever. Weaker than ever. The first throes of excitement in this job has dissipated. There comes a time when not knowing was scary, wondering if your colleagues will like you and vice versa, or if the pantry serves yummylicious cookies and slurpy drinks. A sense of excitement, just like your first day at school is scary, but it is essential to attraction. commitment to a job.

The conventional wisdom tells us that you should do something you love. There should be passion and a burning flame of wanting to learn, to explore, to know and to venture. But if there is no heart - what is there to love? Familiarity breeds contempt. I am beginning to feel that in this age of fast pace achievement where success seems to be achieved overnight, I am forfeiting the gruelling hardship that everyone should go through. I just want something quick. fast. easy. nothing too complicated. the sense of mystery is now subsumed by the mundane.

I realised, I love my job but I am no longer in love with it. I am losing this feeling and right now, I am so torn. so burnt out. so lost. It's time to stop lamenting and do something about all this bottled up frustrations. I am contemplating setting up a complaint department in my office. Something like this: -

Negotiating through this crazy thing called love

It took another late night phone call to break my rhythmic pattern of sleep, to reset my nocturnal clock, to wake up to a crotchety morning and obvious tell tale signs of a person who had a rough night. It is getting trickier to maneuver through this thought of love is patience and everything sugar and spice. It is harder to perceive that distance is not such a HUGE issue. By the day, my disillusion is clearing up. The sun rises and sets at the same time. Or is it just a chimera that two working adults who live on the same Asia continent run on similar time zone? Is this love of his being unrequited?

Love is a choice. A decision one makes to see pass the flaws, to embrace the good, the bad and the ugly and above all else to be with someone for who he/she is despite the odds. I expected it to be this simple. I chose to give my heart to this person. To shower him with the grandest amour my feelings could contain. I can overlook the flaws. nobody is perfect, I am not perfect, I should not expect anyone to be impeccable. I can forgive his minor transgressions, bask in his goodness and accept the ignoble of which is sporadic from him.

Ideal situations are exiguous in our relationships. We met on soils foreign to us both only to part ways to return to our motherland to chase our own rainbow dreams. Two individuals with different destinations, disparaging dreams and different places we call home. We did not run parallel in this rat race. We may have bumped into one another along the way but when a divergence emerged in our path, we chose our own. Above all these odds, we found a kindred spirit in each other. An invisible bond that tie us. A bond which can be felicitously describe as a crazy little thing called love. This love that we have, to hold and to cherish, to trust and to accept without questions is more than just a feeling. It is more than a recognition of a status. It is more than having someone to call our own. It is knowing that this person will be there by my side, through thick and thin, through sickness and through health, through distance and through late night calls.

You see, knowing the antecedents of what love actually is doesn't boast much. It is the act itself that speaks volume. The actual self sacrificing act of putting your heart out there and opening it up to another is a whole different ski slope. It's not for the faint hearted. It is far more complicated than anticipated. You need dutch courage to launch out and go Whoo-Hoo with your arms outstretched with no parachute or safety net.

Well so yes, I fell in love with this man who loves stargazings and dominates my list of what I seek in a man. He is the best mistake I make. The perfection I seek. The one who makes me a better person as a whole. The one I enjoy a raillery with. The one whom I will stay up for in the middle of the night to console. That late night phone call however seemed to magnify the chagrin I had been feeling for awhile. There may be too much we have been sweeping underneath the carpet. A reminder perhaps, that somethings can never be denied its existence.

There is no right way to do this. Easier way to let it go. Less painful way to walk away. No dictation on how to do it, no compass guide, no words to string, and no saving grace from another broken heart.

Love doesn't necessarily make you a happier person. It is suppose to make you a better person though. Am I a better person? They say when you have found love, you are homeward bound and there will be endless summers. There will be someone to keep you safe from harm and arms for you to rest on. Someone to be around to catch your tears, watch you smile, and hear you laugh. I do not want to lose this feeling. I just want to try to be all that you have been for me. I do not expect perfection, just a negotiation and a little less complications.

Weather the rain

Life is full of bumps and surprises as we all know. It will not always be a smooth journey. If it has been courteous so far, then you haven't gone really far in life. You have failed to drive along life's long road of valley so deep and mountain so high. You have yet face a weather of hurricanes and live a life with no boundaries. You have not taken the road less travelled. We all have been taught to fear. to be afraid of the things unknown. to take refuge in all things secure. We have been nurtured to be wary of the world out there. to venture alone in this big, scary, dark and dangerous world is a risk that not all are willing to take.

My ex-Vietnamese servant who has so kindly wait at my feet for eons took up that risks, flew to a land where they fly their Union Jacks so proudly and landed a job that does experimental work on environmental friendly washing liquids. It was bravado of him to make that leap, to leave his loved ones behind and to start a life abroad with his passion for washing liquids. To live his dreams even if it demands him to leave the cul de sac. even if it means nights of loneliness in bed starring up into his ceiling blankly pondering if he has made the right decision. How many of us are gallant enough to ride off to the sunset on our white horse heading towards a faraway land where in that kingdom lives a queen whose skin is as fair as snow and whose favourite past time is sipping tea and eating scones? Life is but far a fairytale. If we all live in a world of Aesop fables, I wouldn't need to work for I would have a paedophile dwarf like maniac who likes to dance around fire teach me how to spin hay into gold.

Sometimes the journey is so strenous we feel like giving up. It's even worse when we are made to endure it all alone. No matter where we go, how far we travel, make new friends, find a niche, how high we climb the corporate ladder, how much we top our bank accounts, we are still deficit inside when we are not near to the ones we love the most. We overdraw on our emotional account and we start to feel we owe it to our happiness to hop on the next plane home to where unconditional love flows abundantly. Our hearts battle with our minds. On occasions, it feels like a parliamentary debate going inside yourself. A war errupting. An emotional tug of war. To quit or not to quit. that's the question.

I do not have all the intelligible answers to all life's questions. Even I choke up and get stuck at crossroads. I am still a long way from reaching enlightenment and even if I believe I am God's answer to all troubled and lonely souls, my abilities are limited. However I vindicate that life is about knowing how to dance in the rain without getting struck by lightning and not slip on the pavement and break your hip (as pointed out by the journalist). When the rain comes, let it pour and soak you wet. The sun still comes out and when it does, you get a rainbow. The rainbow is the symbol of God's promise. A promise of better tomorrows. An assurance that life will not always be shades of grey but rather, if you hang on long enough and allow the rain to drench you silly, there is a whole spectrum of colours waiting for you.

Plan Bee, this is for you - there is a difference between sacrificing for something and sacrificing for nothing. Only you can tell the difference.

TGIF

Here I am sitting in my little office, sipping my favourite national hot chocolate, a.k.a milo (national because it is Malaysian made) and silently thanking God at every minute that it is Friday. Someone once had a fallacious notion about weekends and singletons. It was quandary when I was told that the weekends can be very lonely for those who are not attached. the crickets seem to crick louder during those days and the birds are hardly in sight to chirp a tune or two at your window. the sun rays do not quite seem to reach into your house and it all gets gloomy and trepidation of dying at your death bed alone will creep into your thoughts. I felt despondent hearing that. A poignancy for those who hold that thought. It must be languishing to think that being single would ruin your weekends or that a weekend at home is a calamitous situation.

I must confess, I am not exactly all sunshine and cheer. I do have mine melancholic days where I would like to curl up in bed and read. Drown myself in literary love affairs, take imaginary walks in Central Park and feel the London wind blowing down my neck. Days I like to shut the world out and watch on ends everything satellite TV has to offer. Time I just want to spend on my own and moments that nothing else could have or would have catch my interest. Besides, after a week long of chasing deadlines, accomplishing the impossible tasks and simply being busy in life, nothing is more rewarding than to have a weekend free of inactivity. An inertia in our life. A grace period of indolence and slugging at home.

I thank God it's friday simply because on the weekends I can be:

a.) catching up with my friends

b.) chilling at home

c.) combing my shinny black hair a 100 times

d.) indulging in the sin of gluttony

e.) stalking homo sapiens on facebook

f.) praying for a rich husband

g.) having time to myself

h.) Sleeping like the sun will never rise again

i.) Sleeping somemore

j.) Curling up in bed with a good book and meditate

Not everyone may be thankful for the weekend. Some have weekends of screaming kids and children who lie on the floor refusing to take their broccoli/carrots/whatever greenies. It may be dreadful to face Sabbath day and there are those who loathe the idea of having to go to church to confess their sins. Everyone feels differently about Fridays and the weekends. Its a variable depending on our current circumstances and seasons. When I was younger, I dread the weekends because it would mean there will be no school and no school would mean I will not be seeing my friends. Now that I have grown older, its the other way around. Weekends are precious. I only have two days in a whole week of 7 days to catch up with friends at modern day coffee house lazing, giggling and acting like cool adults. The rests of the week is a mundane wheel of life. If God or the government or even my employer denies me my 2 days of rest, I would have been a.) a social retard; b.) a miserable git; c.) on suicide watch.

I love Fridays. I love it because I know I would be retiring my brain. What a relief - to switch off brains that have been taught to negotiate the marshland of workload, stress, reports, deadlines and hecticness. Can I watch tv? Can I chat with people? Can I take a nap? Can I stop thinking? How good is it not having to thinking about what to complete, what to submit and what to do. But it never lasts.

Oh well, look on the bright side, at least its TGIF today and not SHIT (Sorry Honey, It's Thursday!)

A prestige motherhood

I have been hit with a draught for words lately. My literary brain cells have come to a slow halt and as time goes by, I find myself lost for things to blog about. scampering for something to talk about and searching for the right words to aptly string my sentences. I am beginning to understand better what a writer's block mean.

The weeks seem to fly by at 60mins/hour. Everytime I look up the clock, it will be breakfast hour. Lunch hour. tea hour. and then pack-your-bags-shut-down-your-laptop-hour. They say you have found your passion at work when time whizz by at the speed of light. I wouldn't argue with them but I also would not agree that I have found my passion at work yet. 9 months have come and go and yet I still have an average of 5 moanings a day about this. I still go through my "morning sickness" at the thought of work. I don't glow like the rest. I am just bloated. I am almost due to deliver the consequence from one night of bad decision but doubts still swirl in my hormones. What one night? That one night. There was this one night, fresh from college and intoxicated with brilliant stars on my graduating certificate, I went to bed with this man, named Rational. Rational slowly lay me bare in his arms, inserted his Conscience into me and planted his seed of "law school" in me. So here I am carrying the "child" of this one night stand. The product of Rational and the seed of "law school". I am going to join this league when the "child" is due - a league of legal professionals. A role where only the elite few are privy to. A role that will require loads of nurturing and sacrifices.

I have come to realise that its all a little too late for an "abortion" now. I have carried this "child" too far now to kill it off and pretended that one night with Rational did not happen. I am partially delighted in looking forward to deliver it and to join that prestige league of legal professions but I am also partially afraid. I may not be ready for this. I am not prepare for all that will come. It may just be too overwhelming. I am still so young to "mother" another. *shudder shudder*

Then again, this might just be a post traumatic stress disorder from my 9 months of carrying this burden.

Or I will have to speak to Rational again after the "baby" is born.

Or I will have to just think of an alternative to get rid of the "baby".

Or is this what they called a writer's block?

A glimpse of Lisbon