Stop Raining

I was not even asking for a firework. All I want was a place to sit and putter, breathe in something pleasant.

I have sincerely wished every other people well. And what have I not tried? Have I not been good? Have I not worked to brace a smile and attempt a waltz? That's what they say to do when it rains, isn't it?

But the pitter-patter and the splitter-splatter beat in an off syncopation that only served to send me in giddy spins. The challenge to keep up and ride out is way beyond me. The ground is flooded. I am tired and shriveled. I don't understand why I've got to be more drenched, but I've gotta continue to hold my breath. Now, I can't even think straight...

Can it please stop raining on my parade ground?
Please, please, please!

A Tinge of Envy, Maybe?

An email was sent by a co-worker in Taiwan, announcing the birth of his baby girl. Notes of congratulations poured in. Among which, this short message. Something choked within me as I read the words.  I am guessing it must be nice to be so loved and treasured. 

New Project for the year

I am not abandoning this blog, but I guess I need to move myself to a different sphere to try a different thought in the new year. And so, I started another jotter book to record life's better times.

It was a casual idea that I flirted with when I saw a friend put up photos everyday on FB of the things she is thankful of. It was not fancy. Just one photo or a collage a day. I threw that idea to a colleague and he expressed interest to join force with me in this mission to make conscious effort to be sensitive to the good things life throws at us.

It is not easier than being the odd little duckling. In fact, I realised it takes more efforts than to simply rant. I cannot say I am thankful everyday yet, but I'm making progress (I hope!). It has been slightly more than a month since we started, and I am glad to say we've had a number of entries thus far.

If you are bored of all the rantings here as I am, and yearning a easier and brighter read, do pop over.

http://threesixfive-project-thankful.blogspot.com/

Too difficult a person

The last Tuesday saga: Attempts to find a last minute date failed miserably. It did not quite help that no one actually bothered to even try being nice. Feeling utterly sorry for myself, I snapped at anyone who might cross my path that day. I know I should not, but I was seriously too depressed to second process my actions and/or reactions. I was so upset, I actually felt like plonking myself in the middle of some vast plains and cry. Out loud. The chemicals were raging awry in the head. How hormonal can I get?

The chemical reactions only tamed when Ping told me she'd skip CG (although the thought of that made me guilty instead) for the show. She had to rush home after work, and meet me in Bugis thereafter, and even paid for her share of the tickets, although I offered it free. And no, I resorted no retorts or emotional threats. For all those trouble, I was just too grateful she'd even offer to come. The mood scaled higher when I received a call from E* later in the evening to ask if I'd need his company for the show. Nevermind the phonecall came only an hour before the show. By the end of the show, the crankiness in me pretty much got oiled and eased off. At least, I found no impending need to find a good field to cry in.

That's the magic theatres do to me. All I needed was a show and a company, and I am happy. It's simple, but oh-so-hard nowadays.

T* came by my cube at the end of the following day wearing his usual grin, offering to accompany me to the bus stop as an offer of apology for not being to take up my offer for the show. In between the usual wicked banters, I think he had something to tell me, which he did not. Until the next day.

He swung by my cube on Thursday and after some casual jesting, carefully asked, "Can you help me understand why you vented your anger at me and W* on Tuesday? We were not obliged to watch the show with you, right?"

I wonder how long it took him to craft that statement so as not to appear offensive, but it was still a smack on my face. He was dead right. No one was obligated to take my offer. 

I attempted nonchalance and brushed him off with talks of simply being hormonal.

That made me feel bad nonetheless. How willful have I been?


After church on Sunday, I was startled out of my daze by a car honk while passing by Adam Road hawker centre alone. It was T* and his friend after their lunch. I moped along after saying hi and bye. It was not a good idea to hold up traffic. Minutes later however, T* dropped me a message and asked if I'd want him to join me in town for tea. Behind my caustic replies, there was a tinge of appreciation at that offer. Been a long time since anyone would do a weekend afternoon tea with me. I waited for him to go home to change out of his tennis gears while I shopped around on my own.

We met again two hours later and decided to head to a tea cafe in Mandarin Gallery that I have been wanting to check out, but never had the opportunity to find good company to do so with. We found it at a quaint corner, and stood by the entrance for a good few minutes. The service staffs saw us, but made no attempts to engage us. In fact, it appeared to me that there were too many service staffs crowding at the counter giggling amongst themselves, they were blatantly ignoring us. I tucked T* on his sleeves, and told him we should leave.

In his usual grin, he asked me what was wrong. "Just wait lah!", he said with an even bigger grin, and went about prancing and waving for attention into their faces like a kid. "It's okay", he said with a glee that irritated me because I did not know how to respond in good balance between his chill manners and my foaming guts. Like being ignored was nothing. I seriously have no idea what he was made of. I shot darts at him. 

By the time we finally got some attention, the service staff directed us to a convenient table within the cafe along the corridor. T* spotted a window seat at the far corner that had just been cleared, and asked them if they could let us have it. I am dead sure I saw the eyes of the waitress roll as she asked her co-worker to go and clear the table. I was totally not impressed. I wanted to get away from them. Or them away from me, whichever works. But looking at T* beaming away in oblivion, it baffled me how he can remain blithe in the face of mean people. 

Despite the unpleasant episodes at the cafe entrance, it was decadent luxury for me whiling the afternoon away after we settled in, sipping tea and talking about nothing in particular that I can now remember over dessert. I only remembered the delights of T* and his friend (who joined us later) squealing over photos of half-naked A&F male models putting themselves on display in the streets that day. I sank with contentment into my seat. It was a good corner we were in.

By the end of the day, the dark clouds looming over my head was largely dispelled. I actually found myself in better spirits. It then dawned on me that I probably would not have enjoyed the Sunday  should I have insisted on throwing a tantrum and stomping away. For a while, I actually envied T*'s devil-may-care take on the people around. However, the lesser devil in me is also acutely aware that this means he is thoroughly insensitive, so I cannot be too sure which is good... Okay, I guess I am mulling too much again. Maybe I should really control the effects the un-controllables have on me.

As I am writing this, a MSN message from D* came in. He says I have been too hard on myself. We were just talking about my unwillingness to watch movies alone. Have I really been too difficult as a person?

Sad

Anticipating shows at the theatres makes me happy. But why am I not so looking forward to this evening? As usual, I’ve got two tickets. And I have to think of ways to occupy two seats. I am feeling sad.

Very sad, in fact.

Where to be at the Last Moments

My boss dropped by my cube looking for a little kit-kat time, and he chose to start the conversation with the morbid topic of his BIL seeing a psychiatrist because he had been stressed out by the consecutive death news of his friends. In what must have been an ultimate manner of a frozen cucumber (hah!), I spurt out the cliché "just go when it's time to go." There really is no need to be too obstinate or affected by what cannot be controlled.

Having that come from the seeming control-freak, he raised an eye-brow and probed: "what will you do if you know tomorrow is going to be your last?"

Without missing a beat, the stoic cucumber assured him that I will still be back at work even if tomorrow is going to be my last. I did not think my answer was meant to be a bootlicking statement until he paused for a second too long, batted his eyes and slipped onto my visitor’s chair, saying he will be happy to hear that as a boss, but found it worth a concern as a colleague. I read his message, and from the frozen silence in the air, I can almost hear brain waves from the surrounding cubicles signaling brows to rise .

I felt compelled to look up from my half-written email, and asked him what he would do instead.

He tried to sound news-worthy: “Most people would want to spend their last days with their loved ones”.  As if proud to be one conforming to the majority, he said that he too, would gather all his loved ones and have a very good (read: expensive) meal. 

Loved ones? My head went into google-mode for those two words and found them in the class of dream luxury that I can only salivate with envy and probably won’t get to bask in. Call me callous, but I looked at him, blinked, and found no more honest answer than to re-iterated, “I will still be here.”

I did not elaborate then, but at the last moments, I suppose there is just too little time to indulge in superficial exchanges with people to whom I am but a contemptuous excess. It might make more sense to just complete well whatever had been in original plan… 

Okay, I know that's probably a little hard to swallow, though yes, everyone should have the fortune of spending their last moments with families - and maybe friends (if they might spare the time) - who can truly be called beloved.

Not everyone can have a share in the same pleasures.

Things that make me happy

Looking forward to the evenings of stories and music.... J

How do I do the Resolution?

01-Jan came and went with the fireworks. So did the 15 days of Chinese New Year. It's a little late to talk about resolutions now, right? Ah well, whatever..

Eversince going through the eye procedure, I feel like I am living in some para-zone. Most times, I can see happenings whizzing by pretty well, but when some sort of concentration is needed to grab a thought and /or to intellectualize anything, my near vision blurs. It is not only the eyes. My impaired and possibly impairing cognitive mechanisms are also becoming more apparent. And I am tempted to put all the blame on my surgeon but yea, I suppose that's unfair. But what's fair?

So, a grouch I have been as I manoeuvred through life's past months in bitter annoyance. A colleague got the brunt of it for a good many weeks because he conveniently forgot an appointment we've made without any care or notice. I derived no amusement for being treated so flippantly. I was not hoping that anyone should push out other appointments for me, but the least is to give me a courtesy heads-up when I get pushed out.

Last Sunday, a smart-alecky young boy shook my hands and said my name is Florence before I had even introduce myself. I told him, no, I am not Florence, but Fxxxxxxx. He dismissed me and said it's the same. It's NOT (double bold, and double-underline-in-red "NOT") the same, Brawny-Boy! I pulled out my thickest block of ice jacket and retreated back to my seat. Not too sure if I have been feeling too self-important, (and ok, this is a small matter,) but somehow, I thought I'd at least deserve a little more politeness.

For some reasons, I am still unable to come to terms with myself being a triviality even having lived through three decades. I know life's not fair, but who is another mere human to have me trodden under their feet? Who are these people whom I did not even get to choose to mess my life up?

"Unfair!", I cry, but so what? I have found that I am not the only factor to whip up such a fare. The other factors are somewhat impossible (at least for me) to control. Okay, I might have been thought to have over-reacted.... but... but.... *sigh*

I have gone through this too many times, and I'd think I've sulked so much that I'd suppose my innards had all turned disagreeably acrid. There are times when I seriously thought I was getting used to the bitter taste. But no, the flavour still does make me sick. I am in desperate need for some candy coats.

Hence, the resolution: I've gotta try to keep happy. Not the self-deluded kind of happy, but to be really happy.

Yeah, it's what most people take for granted, but I guess it's what I'd need a double dose of resolution to keep. Wallowing in self-pity is like adding depression to depression. Or depression to what already is depressing. I really should not waste the next half of my life in reeking dumps. I have never quite done any resolutions. But really, how does one get his little gasp of cheer while being ruthlessly tramped on?

Read somewhere that psychologists found social ties to be reliable indicator of happiness, and I am fully aware that I sux big-time at keeping ties. My already small social circle is shrinking with time, and I am of little confidence I can truly push the boundary bigger. I'd try to at least keep that already small circle from constricting further, but my mind is failing, I have never been very entertaining, and there are even fewer interested parties to get knotted in... hmm...  so, how do i do the resolution?

Growing up is awfuller than all the awful things that ever were

Everyone around seems to be doing grown-up things, they've got lands, status and people under their portfolio. Everyday's conversation cannot be divorced from the buzz of stocks, shares, properties, renovations and/or babies. You've gotta be on the tracks to the league of the 125,000 millionaire households (and counting) in SG or of making smart-ass babies. If not both.

At this age, everyone around are grown-up. They are... ermm... THERE, there doing the adult-y things. Everyone's building their great empires, and they are doing it as if most naturally. It is instinctive for the adults, I guess. Soon, they will be sipping wine and waltzing on their high thrones, looking at the next horizon.


So here I stand, on my bald little turf, pretending to be, but feeling oddly ill-adjusted to that instinct. I have my secret cravings for Ribena to replace the tannic wine in the wine glass I've been shoved. I have no gazing tower so I tip-toe to see what might lie beyond. I guess I must have not explored, discovered or played enough. I have acquired none of the grown-ups' instinct. I must have skipped some steps in life unwittingly.

Beneath my feets are fine sand whilst my peers stand atop their skyscrapers. In my head, there's just wondering if I will ever even see a lawn blossom. I am (still!) standing on my little brown patch hoping for some pretty daffodils to sprout under my feet one day.


Part of me actually find some occassional sense of zen in my laurel, bare though it may be. The dreadful thing: I am also of full consciousness that time's running out on me.

But geez, what do I do? Growing up is awful.

Out of sort

I have been feeling out of sort recently. Actually, I think it has been too long, I can't say it was that recent....


If we need our soul to be aligned to the head to function, I guess my soul must have been half dangling from my physical body, hanging dearly for its breath as I plod along... and for too long. I think the soul is getting asphyxiated.


The condition became evident when I caught eye of someone familiar from afar while shopping the other day. I walked towards her, as she did towards me. My mind a blank, I was frantically trying to make out who she was, while I brave on with a smile. (Yes, for some funnny reasons, I am able to cast exasperations and soldier on life in the most natural looking freshness while stale within. hah!)

She smiled back. It was the same anxiety as in the examination room when I stared at the questions with the brain's HDD and processor jammed at just the right time, in uncanny sync.


Then I got too close.


I banged myself into the mirror just as I opened my mouth to say hi.


Yea.. I guess I must have looked like a narcissist who cannot stop smiling at her own image. But the difference is the narcissist knows herself, bending over to admire herself clearer. But me? I just cannot recognise myself until I recognised the mirror. No kidding.... geez... Am I a mental case?

So blame me not if I have missed out anything recently. If I can miss out on myself, I guess I can be forgiven for missing out on any other thing... Need to tack the soul back to the body before (horrors of horrors!) I smile at the monkey and next try to say hi...