Life, through my eyes...

There Once Was A Girl

2011-12-18T10:00:00.000+08:00

There was a small farm in the countryside.
There was a pretty green cottage on the small farm.
Inside the cottage was a sweet yellow bedroom.
Inside the sweet yellow bedroom was a white rocking chair by the window.
On the white rocking chair by the window sat a little 7 year old girl.
On the little 7 year old girl's lap was a blue book.
The blue book was closed.
The little girl's eyes were closed.

It was dark outside the windows of the pretty green cottage.
It was raining heavily.
The little 7 year old girl was outside.
The little 7 year old girl was scared and cold and wanted to go back inside.
She ran to the door and tried to pull it open.
She yelled for her mother and father to come get her when the door would not open.

It was a long wait.

She ran to the windows to see if she could get her mother or father to see her.
She ran all around the pretty green cottage.

It was empty.

Shivering, she walked back to the front door.
Trembling, she sank to her knees in front of the door.
Crying, she prayed for her mother and father to come get her.
Listening to the sound of the rain and the emptiness around her.

She felt a soothing touch on her shoulder and the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
Hush, little one, her mother smiled at her.
We're here, little one, her father reassured her.
It was only a bad dream.
The little girl smiled and drifted back to sleep, safe in their love.

It was dark outside the windows of the pretty green cottage.
It was raining heavily.
The 28 year old woman was outside.
The 28 year old woman was scared and cold and wanted to go back inside.
She ran to the door and tried to pull it open.
She yelled for someone to get her when the door would not open.

It was a long wait.

She ran to the windows to see if she could get anyone to see her.
She ran all around the pretty green cottage.

He was inside.

She screamed and begged and pleaded and cried and threatened, anything so he would let her in.

He didn't see her. He didn't hear her.

Shivering, she walked back to the front door.
Trembling, she sank to her knees in front of the door.
Crying, she prayed for the strength to walk away.
Listening to the sound of the rain and the emptiness around her.

No soothing touch on her shoulder and the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
This was not a bad dream.
The little girl she was cried along with the 28 year old woman she had become.

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall... Who Is The Most Foolish Of Them All?

2010-11-15T06:29:00.004+08:00

You watch me as I sit in front of the mirror. Both of us are silent. I look into my make-up bag and randomly pull out a tube of lipstick. It is a bright coral that I loathe for three reasons: it is garish, you bought it for me and it makes me look pale.
I throw it against the mirror, hoping to break it. You sigh but remain silent as you watch me unravel. The lipstick slams into the mirror, then slides back down in front of me. It is mocking me. I want to cry but you are watching me.
So I pick it up and put it on. Still, you say nothing. I want to speak, but the coral lips remain silent. I stare at those lips that are mine but no longer belong to me. I desperately want to say something, anything but they remain painted shut.
You watch my face as I sit there hating my lips. You tell me I look pretty and ask me if I am ready to leave. I shake my head no. You get up and walk over to me. You bend down to kiss the top of my head, and tell me you will see me later. This time I watch you as you walk away from me.
This is the final time I will watch you walk away from me. I wipe off the coral stain and pack up my things. This time I will walk away from you.
No more coral for me. I'm switching to dusty rose.

Of Masks and Magic

2010-10-29T20:29:00.004+08:00

I can hear the sounds of innocence and bliss in the air. Footsteps dashing from door to door, gleeful grins from angels and devils united on this night. All seeking the sweet innocent thrill brought on by, well, sweets.
Yes, a treat indeed. A treat for the little ghosts and ghouls and for the zombies.
On this night, they are in masks and costumes. On this night, I remove my mask and costume. No need to pretend that all is right in the world because for this one moment, those smiles are enough.
I envy them.
Even if I am an angel or a fairy tonight, the magic disappears as soon as the sun appears. They will remain little angels even when the costumes are taken off.
Meanwhile... I walk around feeling like, well, a zombie.
May I please be a fairytale princess just a little while longer?

Promise

2010-10-05T03:22:00.004+08:00

Round and round the little circle spins...
I try to follow the quick chase.
One lap, then two, then fifty.
Still nothing.
Just like a ferris wheel, forever moving. But never going anywhere.
Doomed to repeat the motions... up, down, up, down.
Forever grounded to one spot.
I never liked the ferris wheel. It promises me the sky.
But I always end up on the ground.
Circles are eternal. The bond that never breaks.
The promise of forever.
The ring that binds two souls. The cuffs that bind a prisoner.
Still I watch the circle spinning. Still waiting for it to deliver its promise.
Loading, it tells me. So I sit tight.
Finally it stops.
Site not found, it screams at me. So I sigh.
Story of my life. Seems like life is forever loading.
Destination: site not found.

Thanks For Making Me Feel Bad

2010-09-29T05:35:00.006+08:00

Dear Sunshine Of Mine,

You are amazing. I could not ask for a sweeter, kinder, more generous, loving friend than you. In comparison I look like a grumpy, miserable old hag. Bleurgh.

But you are so amazing and I love you lots and lots. Here's to many, many more years of friendship... I know you'll continue to be the sweet, kind, generous, loving person that you are through the good times and the bad times. And I will continue to be the grumpy, miserable old hag in comparison. But I don't mind because I love you to bits.

This is dedicated to all my friends who have been by my side through the good times, and especially through the bad times. Cheers!

What Dreams May Come

2010-09-24T22:00:00.006+08:00

My name is Celeste. I live in a beautiful house. I cannot tell you which room is my favourite one as each room is exquisitely decorated. It took years to complete the house. Each piece of furniture was carefully chosen, every flower arranged perfectly.
Yes, it is a very beautiful house. I am very lucky.
I like the garden. There is a stone fountain and a pond and lots and lots of interesting sculptures. I enjoy sitting by the pond and sketching the sculptures. I would have liked to have some fish to sketch too but the only thing the pond holds is clear water. It is still a pretty pond, though.
Yes, it is a very pretty garden.
When it is cold outside, I sometimes play in the attic. There are so many boxes in the attic and each box holds a treasure. Sometimes I find old volumes of poetry, sometimes I find old toys. Once I even found a really old photo album. The photographs in it were so faded I could not recognize a single face. It is still fun to look, though.
Yes, it is fun to play in the big attic.
At nights I sit by my window seat, looking for stars. I like to read here too. It is one of my favourite things to do. I love to read about faraway places and fairy tales. I daydream a lot here too. I think of all those faraway places my books have told me about and I wish that I may someday see those places with my own eyes.
Yes, I do so love to daydream.
It is night now. It is time for me to lay down and close my eyes. When morning comes, once again I will be out in the garden, staring out at the world with unblinking eyes. All the while wishing for things that can never be.
What else can I do, trapped in this dollhouse?

Stop And Go

2010-06-18T01:55:00.004+08:00

I'll start giving again, once you stop taking from me.

I'll start sleeping again, once you stop keeping me up at night.

I'll start smiling again, once you stop making me miserable.

I'll start talking again, once you stop pretending to care.

I can stop giving, stop sleeping, stop smiling, stop talking.

But what is really slowly seeping the life out of me...

is that I can't seem to stop loving you.

Farewell, Monkey

2010-06-15T23:49:00.006+08:00

I told the monkey on my back, "My, you're getting heavy."

He bared his teeth at me and threw a banana in my face.

I tried to push him away. He really was weighing me down. Plus, I don't appreciate having fruit crushed on my face.

His expression changed from angry to deeply saddened with the blink of an eye.

I attempted to console him. "I know, monkey. I've carried you for so long and you are a part of me, but we must part."

He refused to look at me.

"When we met, I was still standing upright. Now the burden of keeping you for so long has caused me to stoop and hunch over. If this goes on, I'll be forced to crawl on my knees. Please understand."

He looked at me, eyes full of accusation and contempt.

I sighed. "You forced me to do this."

Uncertainty danced across his face.

I lit a match and lit him on fire. He was going down, one way or another.

He clung on tightly as the flames consumed him, so the flames would consume me too.

I merely smiled. The heat was melting years of icy numbness sealing my heart. When his screams finally burned away, I jumped into the lake.

Farewell, monkey.

I fell freely towards the bottom, eyes shut. When I felt the tug of life, once again calling to me, I resurfaced.

Farewell, guilt.

Hello, future.

Wanted: Map Or Directions. Thank you.

2010-01-09T05:50:00.005+08:00

Ah, my heart. I spent most of last night and a good portion of today trying to figure out the this feeling. I'm not even sure how to describe it. It is sort of like being disconnected from... from what exactly? This place? The people?

Am I upset? Or sad? Or confused? Guilty? Perhaps all of that and more? Even as I write, I bite my lip and try to sort through the jumble. Trying to put everything in its place, where it belongs.

I think that may be partly it.

Place... belong...

The words are triggering something...

Tugging at some faint threads of... of what?

Loneliness? Homesickness?

Everything feels slightly off. Feels like I stepped onto the escalator and it's moving forward, but my feet aren't quite on the ground. And I'm not even trying to get them onto solid ground.

Ah, my heart. Where are you leading me this time?

Undone

2009-12-25T23:26:00.005+08:00

   You lie on the grass next to me as we look up at the stars. I laugh as I feel the grass tickling my bare arms and feet. You sigh, a smile of deep contentment on your lips as you close your eyes.
   It is quite a cold night, but we keep each other warm. We always keep each other warm.
   I ask you where your thoughts are. You look at me and tell me you are thinking of the future. I make a face. You are always thinking of the future.
   You ask me what I am thinking of. I look at the full moon and tell you I am dreaming of what will come. You frown. You tell me that I always dream too much.
I just laugh and we both close our eyes and let our thoughts drift in the cool breeze.
   I was heartbroken when you had to move away. You held my hand and reminded me that you were only a thought away.
   Years later and here we are.
   You sit on the grass next to me as we look up at the night sky. It is very cold and the stars have decided to go some place else, somewhere warm. I shiver as I feel icy fingers touching my bare arms and feet. You sigh, then bite your lips in annoyance.
   You tell me I should have dressed warmer. Or that I should at least bring a shawl. You are dressed sensibly and the cold wind does not bother you.
   I nod and ask what is on your mind. You look at me and tell me you are thinking of the future. I smile for some things even time cannot touch. You are still thinking of the future.
   You ask me what my thoughts are. I gaze up at the dim crescent moon. I tell you that I still dream. You frown and almost look angry. You tell me that I should stop dreaming.
   I can only smile. You tell me you have to leave because you have a future to work for. I shiver again, but it has nothing to do with the cold. You stand up and walk away. I close my eyes and let my memories of you be carried off by the wind.
   Yes, I was heartbroken when you moved away.

Stranger

2009-06-16T04:29:00.013+08:00

I'm sorry I didn't fight harder for you. I loved you. I still love you, more so now than ever before. I know more often than not it seems like I have forgotten about you or forsaken you for others, but trust me, you are always on my mind.
You were, and always will be, my first love. My one true love. You were always with me, right from the beginning. You stayed with me, all through the sleepless nights and all through the storms. Truth be told, sometimes I think you saved me.
And even though I turned my back on you, you stayed loyal. You stayed strong so I would stay strong. But lately I feel you slipping away from me. Maybe you finally realised that I'm not worthy of you.
After all, how long are you supposed to stand this abuse? I seek you out and then I reject you. I cry for you and then I leave you behind. I ask you for help and then I condemn you.
I'm surprised you even stayed this long.
I don't know if I should fight for you or let you go. Maybe if I let you go, you'll find someone who will treat you better. But if I let you go, will that mean letting my love go? Am I selfish? Am I a coward? No doubt about that. I am selfish and I am a coward.
I hide behind shadows and blame others. Excuse after excuse. It was never my fault. The blame always fell on the people around me.
I even blamed you sometimes. I mistreated you, misused you, twisted you this way and that way, and all the while claiming that I loved you.
You first came to me when I was hurting and offered me hope and companionship. I still need you. I'm still hurting. I'm still scared. I am so sorry for the way that I have behaved. I am so sorry for the way that I treated you. Please forgive me.
I am a coward.
All those times you wanted me to speak up for myself and I forced you away, choking on the bitter taste of swallowed words. All those times you told me to let you free so I could let myself be free, and I chained you up inside. All those times you urged me that my thoughts had value so I could recognise that you had value, and I erased you like you were worthless. I buried you along with my voice and I buried myself, and now I am constantly suffocating.
Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. Buried under a mountain of excuses, of hopelessness, of worthlessness.
Will you help dig me out? I'm alone in the dark like I was the first time you came to me. Help me find the light again?
Help me find me again.
So I can finally find you again.
My lost love. My lost words.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 9

2009-05-29T10:51:00.007+08:00

When night spreads her dark cloak upon the horizon, I sit by my window, holding my breath. I hope he comes. After last night, he might have given up on me. The ticking of the clock is maddening. As the hands spin the hours, I feel my hope fading.
I close my eyes and send out a wish, so that he might hear me. I open my eyes and there he is. That wonderful smile of his restores my spirits.
He enters after I open the window for him.
"I'm sorry."
"Wendy, you did nothing wrong."
"I've been thinking of you all day long."
He takes my hand in his.
"Come."
Still holding my hand, he leads me outside. I smile, happy to follow him.
This time he takes me to an island. It seems to be deserted as I see no signs of life. We sit on the sand. His hand has not left mine since the moment he held it.
We watch the waves roll up. I draw little circles in the sand with my bare toe. He looks down and grins ruefully.
"Perhaps I should warn you to bring your shoes next time."
"I think that would be good. At least we're not standing on rocks."
"Sorry again. I should have thought of it. But I was excited to see you."
"Me too."
We sit there, talking, until dawn. When the first splashes of pink appear on the dark blue sky, he turns to me.
"I should take you home."
I nod reluctantly.
We stand, say our goodbyes, and he sends me home.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 8

2009-05-21T04:43:00.005+08:00

My mother and I are out running errands all day long. By the time I reach my home, I am so tired I can barely walk up the stairs. I clean up and collapse onto my bed. The second my head hits my pillow, my eyes close and I fall blissfully into a deep slumber.
I dream of him again that night.
He is trying to convince me he is real, and I just smile and nod. But I know the truth. I simply play along. It is only a dream after all. There is no harm playing along and falling into the fantasy in a dream.
As soon as daybreak arrives, I awaken. Instead of feeling refreshed as I should after such a restful sleep, I feel disoriented and confused. And disturbed.
Something is niggling at me from the deep corner of my mind. I try to shake it off as I get up and start to clear my bed.
I lift up my pillow. There is nothing there.
The sun reaches my bed and decides to rest there.
It all comes rushing back at me.
Peter, holding my hand and pleading with me. Me, nodding along with every word.
Peter, telling me that he is here for me, trying to convince me that I have been calling for him.
Me, finally tiring of these illusions and shutting him out.
Peter, holding the star in his hands as he leaves my room, disappointed.
Peter, leaving a trail of silver dust from my bed to the window.
Peter, the one I have been calling for in my dreams.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 7

2009-04-27T03:15:00.006+08:00

I am awakened by the sun's fierce glare. I open my eyes drowsily and look around, expecting to see the sun nearby.
I am on my wooden bed, on my comfortable mattress.
I am back in my room.
Disappointment surges through me and I flop back on my pillow.
Had it all been a dream?
It must be. I nearly laugh out loud if not for the deep disappointment. How silly I was to think that it was all real.
I look around my pillow, thinking that the star must have been part of the dream as well.
Sure enough, there was no star.
There is a knock on my door, then my mother enters.
"Wendy, wake up. We have a lot of work to do today."
I nod and she leaves. I close my eyes for a moment and recall the memory of holding the star in my hands.
Ridiculous, really.
Well, it was time to go back to reality.
I climb out of bed and head for the bathroom for a shower.
My mother calls for me to hurry because we are running late. I have a quick shower and dress hurriedly, rushing out the door without making my bed.
Had I looked back, I would have seen a corner of a star peeping from under the pillow.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 6

2009-04-24T02:15:00.005+08:00

I take a tentative step forward. Peter is watching me and smiling encouragingly. I kneel and touch the cloud with my hand. It feels like the softest silk slipping through my fingers. It feels real enough.

My earlier denial is quickly dissipating. This is real. I stand up and begin walking, then skipping across the cloud. I go as close to the edge as I dared to and look down. A city, alive with lights, is sleeping below me.

No, not a city. A whole country. How high up were we?

Peter comes up behind me. He gently places a hand on my back and nudges me forward a little. "You can sit there on the edge. You won't fall."

"Uhm, no. I'm fine."
He laughs. To prove his point, he steps in front of me and walks to the outer edges of the cloud. He sits and carelessly dangles his legs in the empty air.
I am still unconvinced. I am perfectly happy where I am. I sigh and lay down happily, enjoying the silky caress of the cloud on my back. I stare up at the stars for some time, before feeling my eyes grow heavy.
I try to call out to Peter to take me home but my lips refuse to cooperate. My eyes are barely open and I decide to just give in to the floating sensation.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 5

2009-04-23T20:46:00.007+08:00

"Will you come play with me tonight?"

I hesitate. The star was a very thoughtful and special gift but he is still a stranger.

Yet, there is something so familiar about him. As if he is a forgotten dream from the past.

He smiles and takes my hand.

"Shall we?"

I nod. I feel sure that I can trust him. He leads me to the window ledge, holding my hand firmly in his.

"Close your eyes," he whispers to me. "And think of the one place you would love to be in right now."

I close my eyes and one image pops into my mind immediately. I frown because it is impossible. I try to think of someplace else, but before I can he is calling to me.

"Wendy, open your eyes."

I do as he says. As soon as my brain registers what I see around me, my knees go weak and I almost collapse.

Almost. I did not fall because he catches me quickly, holding me tightly.

"Peter." The name escapes from my lips. I am surprised. I repeat the name again, looking at him.

He smiles and looks pleased. "You remember."

I shake my head weakly. I still feel shaken and unsteady.

"Not real. A dream," I mumble.

"It is real."

"No. A dream. So long ago." I look around me, half in wonder and half in denial.

He laughs. "This is real."

I look down at my feet. There is no way this is real. It is just not possible.

My bare toes are touching cotton candy.

He lets go of me and sits down on the cotton candy.

This cannot be real. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for him.

He starts playing with the fluffy candy while I have this mental debate with myself.

How else can you explain how I'm standing on a cloud?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 4

2009-04-17T04:10:00.004+08:00

I awake the next morning with a smile. With the arrival of the sun, the star's brightness has faded but there is still a faint glow.

I find myself skipping about the house, which earned my mother's disapproving glance.

"A young lady does not prance about the house like a horse," she scolds me.

I bow my head in a show of regret at her reprimand, but I really bow my head to hide the huge smile on my lips.

The day seems to go on forever as I wait for nightfall.

Finally, darkness creeps into the house and it is time for bed.

I refrain from running up the stairs and force myself to take one small step after the other.

When I reach my room, I rush towards the window and look outside. The moon has come out, and the stars dancing, but there is no sign of him.

I am disappointed. I am surprised that I am disappointed. I sit on my bed and look at the star, which is shining brilliantly once again. I hold it and smile.

I am interrupted by a tapping. This time it is a welcome sound. I look up and, sure enough, there he is.

I walk over to the window to let him in.

"Who are you?"

"You know who I am. You have been calling for me."

I am thoroughly puzzled. He does not look familiar at all. And how could I call on a magical boy when I did not even know magic existed before last night?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 3

2009-04-17T03:28:00.006+08:00

Despite my mother's voice screaming warnings in my head, I walk over to the window. There is something so innocent, yet wicked, about his face that fascinates me. I lift the window and he enters my room.

"Hey!" I snap. The nerve of him! I was only going to have a look at what he held in his hand, not have him flitting about my room.

He stops right in front of me and opens his cupped hand. The angry words disappear as I look down.

I gasp as I see it. There in his hand is the sweetest, most perfect star. It was brighter than any diamond I had ever seen.

"Here," he moves closer to me. "This is for you. To show you that magic is real."

I am frozen. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I am absolutely captivated by the star.

He gently takes my hand and lifts my fingers so they fold around the star.

After an eternity, I finally find my voice. "Thank you."

He nods.

"But, why are you giving me this?"

"Because I want to see you smile."

He gazes at my face for a moment and smiles. Without another word, he leaves my room and leaves me alone.

I walk back to my bed and place the star next to me. I wonder if he will come back tomorrow night.

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 2

2009-04-13T19:05:00.007+08:00

I wake early the next morning, feeling refreshed. That immediately put me in a cheerful mood and I begin to go about my day.

However, by lunchtime the cheerful mood was slowly fading. The boy from the night before is persistently in my thoughts, just as he was persistently tapping on my window last night.

I try to push him aside. Unfortunately, this time, Miss Mclachlan was unable to help me block him out.

By bedtime, I am in a foul mood. I have a nice, stable life and am perfectly content with things as they are and this, this boy dares to invade my life? Who does he think he is anyway?

As if he knows that I am thinking about him, the familiar tapping invades my private rant. I turn towards the window. Sure enough, there he is, grinning impishly and looking a right mess.

"Ah, but what an adorable mess," a voice whispers unexpectedly.

The voice in my head.

I frown and watch him as he waves at me. I will not go to him. I am a sensible girl and I do not allow strange boys into my room.

He sees my sour expression and stops tapping and waving. He looks at me for a moment before flying away.

Flying? Hold on, did he really fly? But that's impossible.

"Magic." His reply to my question last night pops into my mind.

I shake my head and tell myself not to be silly. Magic only exists in books and in dreams. Not in real life. I walk back to my bed and climb in.

Just as I am about to turn off the light, the tapping begins again. I look up in surprise. I thought my sour disposition was enough to turn him away.

Apparently not.

He is gesturing excitedly for me to come to him. There is something cupped in the palm of his hand.

I think he wants to show me what it is.

I hesitate.

Do I ignore him again or do I walk over to him?

The Modernisation Of Wendy + Peter P. - Part 1

2009-04-13T04:28:00.009+08:00

I'm looking out at the boy standing on the window ledge. He's tapping the glass insistently and is grinning cheekily at me. I'm a sensible girl. I'm not going to let some strange boy walk into my life like that.
But he keeps tapping away, eyes imploring me to open the window. I try to ignore him and hide beneath the covers. Tap, tap, tap. Oh, go away.
But the sound is really getting on my nerves. I throw back the covers and stomp over to the window, glaring at the boy. He stops tapping and starts waving, smiling cheerfully all the while. I lift up the window a little and snap at him, "What do you want?"
"Come play with me," he replies.
I'm ready to explode. "Are you insane? It's way past midnight! And I don't even know you!"
"I can bring magic into your world," he promises.
"How did you even get on the ledge?"
"Magic."
I slam the window shut and close the curtains. He immediately begins knocking on the glass again. I grab my iPod off the desk, crawl back under the covers, slip on the earphones and fall asleep to Sarah Mclachlan.

Wisdom Of The Ages

2009-04-08T03:17:00.003+08:00

Every single time I walk past a shoe store with my mother and stop to peek in, she will say...

"You only have one pair of feet. How many pairs of shoes could you possibly need? You can't wear them all at the same time."

If we subscribe to this notion, I would then only have one top, one pair of trousers, one pair of shoes - basically, one of everything.

But I choose not to follow this particular advice.

Why?

She has more shoes than I do.

It just looks like I have more because she keeps passing her shoes on to me .

Reflection

2009-04-07T02:13:00.001+08:00

I thought I was being quite cute and playful.
I was tired, I was drained, but I tried.
Then some innocent words cracked that already thin surface.
I was not quite so cute and playful anymore.
More like crazy.
A fork clattered loudly onto the floor of an empty restaurant.
One hand covering my face and the other groping wildly for a mirror.
To check for yet another imperfection.
Ah, how can I expect you to think I'm beautiful when I'm a host of so many imperfections?
You think I'm crazy because I would not let you look at me.
I can't look at me, why would I want you to look at me?
Go away.

There's nothing here.

The Magic Is Gone

2009-04-06T14:28:00.004+08:00

I used to be afraid of the dark.

I would wake up in a panic if the room was shrouded in darkness.

Now I can only go to bed if the lights are out.

The light irritates me now.

The magic is gone.

The Things We Do For Love

2009-04-04T00:37:00.003+08:00

As I mentioned in my previous post [ a couple of posts back], my friend/ex-housemate from my university days was here for a visit.

So, we were playing tourists. I've been loving the fact that I apparently can pass as a tourist too, so it's been great fun. Anyway, she managed to coax me [or was it coerce?] to visit the Batu Caves. I'm sure you'll find plenty of info on the Batu Caves on Google or Wikipedia.

We climbed about 272 steps of stairs whilst monkeys were freely roaming around practically molesting the visitors. My legs felt like jelly by the time we reached the top [after much whining and whinging on my part about how tired I was, though we completed the climb in under 10 minutes] and I took almost as long going down as going up. My friend stopped for a photo op, and I leaned back against the banisters. Big mistake. My hand touched this soggy, squishy thing which totally grossed me out. It turned out to be a half-eaten rice cake, the remnants of a monkey's meal.

I whipped out my Dettol Wipes [being the germaphobe that I am] and scrubbed my hands. Euwww... Monkey germs!

Once we reached the bottom, I was feeling dizzy from the climb and from the heat and was appeased [or bribed] with an isotonic drink and an Indian sweet. [Gosh, I'm easy.] We went somewhere for lunch before I took her to Petaling Street [also on Google, I'm sure - I'm too lazy to link it] to buy souvenirs.
Honestly, what a difference having a tourist by your side makes. The level of respect [read: greed] in the faces of vendors was palpable. We had to take the side lane because I was afraid she was going to get pounced on. Some guy even referred to us as "pretty ladies" to which my friend replied [under her breath], "Oy, mate. I'm not a lady. My name's Bryan," which left me in hysterics. Also, I was trying to avoid the smoke from a roasted chestnuts cart and nearly got run over by a taxi. Brilliant.
Ah, monkey germs and near-misses. The things we do for love and friendship.

P/S I know this is different from my usual poetry-style posts. Thought I'd give you a break from that. And also show you I'm not such a downer. =D

The Labyrinth

2009-04-02T21:41:00.003+08:00

It's been awhile.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I like what I see.

More often than not, I don't recognize what I see.

Sometimes I feel like the Ring Master.

More often than not, I feel like a clown.

Sometimes I feel like I hold the world in my hand.

More often than not, I feel like everything is slipping away.

Sometimes I feel like I'm on display at the zoo.

More often than not, I feel invisible.

Sometimes I feel the world around me is going crazy.

More often than not, I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Sometimes I feel like I have all the love in the world.

More often than not, I feel alone.

Sometimes I feel like I'm nice.

More often than not, I feel like the complete opposite.

Sometimes I feel like throwing a glass against the wall.

More often than not, I just keep silent.

Sometimes I feel like I'm home.

More often than not, I want to run away.

Sometimes I feel brave.

More often than not, my resolve crumbles.

Ah, yes.

It's been awhile.

Heavy, Heavy

2009-03-24T08:32:00.001+08:00

Eyes too heavy to see clearly...

Throat too heavy to speak clearly...

Heart too heavy to breathe clearly...
Emotions too heavy to think clearly...

Come Join The Charade

2009-03-23T01:14:00.001+08:00

Truth Or Dare?

Three simple words... a game...

Accompanied by loud laughter and triumphant shouts...

Might as well have been a magical chant by a dark witch.

Those three simple words...
And I'm frozen with fear...
When it was my turn, I always chose Truth.
Because Truth was safe.
And Dare, the Unknown, was a risk.

Now I don't play Truth Or Dare anymore.

Now I play Dare To Face The Truth?

Ah, Glory Days

2009-03-22T23:28:00.004+08:00

Just a quick update. I've been rather quiet on the blog front because a friend from my university days is here for a visit and I have been having a grand time playing tourist with her.

Hope you're not missing me too much! [As if! =P]

Welcome To The Playground

2009-03-16T08:12:00.001+08:00

Ah, the playing field...

From fresh grass, flying swings, full benches...

To threadbare floors, flying paper, creaking chairs...

Step up to the plate.

I nod, you nod.

We know the rules.

Cheat and pay the consequences.

Prepare for the judgement in their eyes.

I nod, you smirk.

We know the rules.

Cheat and reap the rewards.

Prepare for the admiration in their eyes.

Ah, the playing field...

No more fun and sense of wonder.

I'm stepping off the plate.

You nod, I wave goodbye.

Enjoy your glory and praises.

They will be good company for those sleepless nights.

Oh, Say It Is [Not] So!; Or, The Meaning Of Life

2009-03-15T08:49:00.006+08:00

This is what it has come down to.

Me, desperately shaking a Magic 8 Ball for the answers I desperately seek.

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I marry and have my happily-ever-after?

Without A Doubt.

[Oh, we're off to a fabulous start!]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I ever become a published writer?

My Sources Say No.

[Bloody 8 Ball!]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I at least live comfortably?

Yes.

[Simple and straightforward, I like it.]

Now to get down to business.

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I ever figure out what that silver button belongs to?

Most Likely.

[Woohoo!]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, will I ever cure my addiction to shopping?

[Inconclusive - I received many glimpses to different answers.]

Dear Magic 8 Ball. are you telling me the truth?

Concentrate And Ask Again.

[Ok, I will.]

Dear Magic 8 Ball, are you telling me the truth?

Yes, Definitely.

[Ok, I trust you. I've got all the answers I need for now. Thanks! You have just enriched my life deeply. What would I do without you?]

No, seriously, will I ever be able to answer these deep questions without your insight?

Without A Doubt.

Well, then, why am I putting my trust in you?

No answer.

Not so smart now, are you?

As I See It, Yes.

Great. You have just destroyed the very foundations of my belief. Thanks a lot!

Nutrition For My Eyes

2009-03-14T17:38:00.002+08:00

For a good friend, ScoMan.

Thanks for all the wonderful support.

Welcome To The Dollhouse

2009-03-14T10:29:00.005+08:00

To sit in front of the mirror...
The lying mirror... or
The truthful mirror?

Choosing a colour...
Coral or crimson or raspberry...
Sweet or mysterious or natural?
Desert or sunrise or dusty rose?
Vulnerable princess or strong warrior... or
Lovely enchantress?

Cover those sad eyes.
Cover that pale complexion.
Cover those downturned lips.
It is time to face the outside world.

The gleam of diamonds to add shine to dull...
The inches of heels to elevate low to high...
The smoothness of silk to reduce the roughness of life...
The props to face the outside world.

No more sad eyes, but confident eyes...
No more pale complexion, but a glowing complexion...
No more downturned lips, but alluring lips...
To stare the world in the eyes...
To face the world and all it will bring...
To smile everyday...

Ready?
Welcome to the dollhouse.

Being Fabulous Takes Up 99% Of My Time

2009-03-13T15:14:00.008+08:00

Forgive me then if I sleep a lot. It's exhausting being fabulous.

I've been meaning to get to this for a while now...

But as usual, I was... blablablabla...

ScoMan has deemed me to be fabulous! I'm so flattered, I'm blushing fabulously. =P Thanks, ScoMan!

Now, as is customary, when one receives an award, one must give a speech. The speech for receiving this particular award requires the recipient to list 5 addictions, which I shall fabulously do now.

My 5 addictions, some of which make my life so fabulous, include:

Writing. My coping mechanism that helps me deal with the drama. My catharsis for my constantly tempestuous emotions. My lifeline when I'm drowning. My true loyal companion through every step of the way.
Reading. See above.
Facebook. Fabulously entertaining me through those restless hours. And keeping me in touch with friends while allowing me to stalk some. =D
Crisps. Once I pop, I just can't stop. Well, technically, I'm addicted to Walker's, so it's more like once I tear into the packet, I can't tear myself away until it's empty.
Pampering sessions. Aromatherapy, bubble baths, shopping - all those little things to make me feel good.

Now to pass this on to 5 other fabulous bloggers:

A'a... from Dorothy, Eat Your Heart Out!
Maryam... from The Swanny Times
Adib... from A Corner Of My Soul
Nicole... from Me, Myselves And I
Cheryl... from Confessions Of A Twenty Something Year Old

Welcome To The Puppet Show

2009-03-10T03:20:00.004+08:00

A string pulls me in the opposite direction. I go stiff and try to dig my feet into the ground. But I guess I didn't dig deep or hard enough. Or maybe the force behind the string is too strong to resist. I go flying across the wind, wishing the ground was quicksand that will hold me down firmly.

No such luck.

So I land at your feet. You said, "Let's go."

I nod and follow because that's where the string is leading me.

Ah, you're not a bad person. You can't help who and what you are.

I think I'm not such a bad person. But I am who and what I am.

I've been called into play. And play I shall.

Because it's not always about me. The captain needs to rest. And rest he shall.

So I give you a big smile. I take the string and begin to skip.

Welcome to the puppet show.

Stasis

2009-03-09T14:56:00.009+08:00

He's watching me, studying my face for a frown, a smile, a wrinkling of the nose - anything to let him know what I'm thinking.

My lips curve into a smile but remain silent.

He smiles back and touches my hand.

I see the uncertainty in his eyes. I hope he doesn't feel the uncertainty in my heart.

He asks me a question. I answer but don't elaborate.

I feel him begin to panic as he grips my hand tighter.

I look at him and look away.

I want to pull away and I want to pull him into me.

His panic somewhat reassures me.

So this is where we stand.

Is this where we end? Or is this where we move on?

I don't know.

I'm not sure I want to know.

I know that I need to smile now. So I will.

But I wonder...

Is the loneliness worse when you're alone or when you're right beside someone?

The eternal question floats in my mind again.

Is it worth it?

Exclusive

2009-03-09T06:07:00.004+08:00

I feel so rejuvenated and invigorated and all such words.

Scented bubble baths, aromatherapy, essential oils, scalp massage, hair treatment, facial, facial and body scrub and foot massage all equal a totally blissed out and serene me.

Spa treatments rock.

Especially if you're the only client.

Because you did it all at home.

Now I have to go clean up those bowls of milk, eggs, green tea and cucumber. Yum!

P/S My services will NOT be made available for the general public. Though your tips will be more than welcome.

Black Is The Colour Of My Mind

2009-03-09T00:56:00.005+08:00

What once was, is now fragments of fleeting memories and torn pieces of paper.

A ticket drops down and lands on the ground. Where will it take me? Does it lead to a land of promise or to a land of nothingness? I refuse to bend down to pick it up. I turn my face and look up at the black sky.

A door opens up before me. I hesitate. What is on the other side of that door? Do I face a room full of scorpions or a room full of gold? I turn my face again and look down on the dark ground. There is nothing beneath me. There is nothing above me.

A hand taps me on the shoulder. I turn to look behind me. A smiling face offers me a golden goblet. Is the goblet full of honey or is it full of poison? I shake my head and turn my face away. This time I shut my eyes.

I feel longings whispering to me. Wish after wish reaching out for me. Dreams trying to touch me. I walk into shadows to hide from the unknown.

Now I'm covered in regrets and tears for what once was.

A Picture Can Say It All... And More

2009-03-08T10:13:00.003+08:00

Because a picture is worth a thousand [and five] words...

You Can Throw That Tape Measure Out

2009-03-04T23:20:00.002+08:00

Remember when you were in school and you've just received your report card? You take it home, show it to your parents and the usual spiel follows.

You only got in the Top 10? What happened?
How come you only got 63% for Science?
What did [insert best friend's name here] get?
See? He/She did better than you. How did that happen?

To which I only have one answer: I didn't study. Yes, I suffer from chronic laziness. Anyway, science never really caught my interest in school. But that's besides the point.

The point is... why does your success have to be measured against another person's? Does it not speak for itself? Does it mean that you have to push, trample, shove, beat down others on the way to the top?

A little friendly competition is good and all to motivate yourself to do better. I've seen friends go all out to beat each other. But then again, I've always been more on the coasting side of things. I suppose the key is in the balance, as it is in all other things. Balanced diet, balanced lifestyle. Balance of Type A and Type B.

It's not just education and exam results that people compare, though. It's everything. Especially in families, particularly Asian families.

Look, your cousin is so pretty and so slim. You should watch your diet more.
See, your cousin's husband is so successful and so rich. You should find one like that as well.
Your cousin is doing so well at work, etc.

Honestly, I don't particularly give a fig. It's nice for them and I'm happy for them. But I'm content with what I have. Sure I have my own goals and dreams, but they have nothing to do with outshining or showing up anyone else.

So, for those people who think that they're better than someone else because they have nicer clothes or a more expensive car or have more money stuffed in their purse...

I say...

You know where you can stuff it.

P/S When you go to a posh boutique here but aren't dressed head-to-toe in designer gear, the people in the store [90% of the time] assume that you can't afford anything in there and either refuse to help you or follow you around with this disdainful attitude like you're tainting the store. You know who you are.

I'm Up, I'm Up!

2009-03-04T00:10:00.004+08:00

Ancient Chinese proverb says...

"Failure is not falling down, but refusing to get up."

So, I'm finally up.

Besides, the view is horrible down on the ground.

Love The Classics

2009-02-24T10:41:00.001+08:00

Dear Sir,

   I hope this letter finds you in good health. This letter may come as a surprise as we have not been formally introduced. I do beg your pardon for being so forward.
However, I sincerely felt that it was a necessity for me to pen this letter. Allow me to refresh your memory, if I may.
   Our paths crossed, rather literally too, 6 weeks ago. I was in the carriage in the lane next to yours when you decided, for your own good reason, I am sure, to suddenly swerve into my lane. A move that I found both unnecessary and extremely dangerous.
   Forgive my rather harsh language, but that was very ungentlemanly of you. Thank Heavens, I was able to avoid any mishaps, but you did incur my wrath. I know that it is not very ladylike of me, but your behaviour was far from gentlemanly .
   I pray that we do not meet again, good sir, for I fear for your safety should we cross paths again. I may not be able to stop myself from shooting you with my dear papa's hunting rifle.
Good day.

With my sincerest good wishes,

Miss X

Not-So-Fresh Grad Looking For Pretty Much Any Legal Profession, But Writing Would Be Fabulous

2009-02-22T22:49:00.004+08:00

Dear Future Employer,

   I'm certain that by now you are sick and bored to tears of reading boring old resumes and such. So I'm not going to list my accomplishments, skills and such (because let's face it, half of those will be lies anyway).
   I will simply tell you a little about myself and let you judge me (but really, judging people is not really a nice thing to do, is it?). Maybe judge is the wrong word to use. Let me rephrase that - I will simply tell you a little about myself and let you decide if I would be a positive addition to your company.
   First, I am a very positive person and love to motivate those around me. For example, whenever I go shopping with my friends and they see a top they like but are not sure if it would suit them, I motivate them to try it first and see for themselves. We are our own worst critic after all and I always offer positive, yet truthful, comments. After all, trust is a very important factor in all relationships. So I would make a great salesperson, motivational speaker, telemarketer from this characteristic alone.
   Secondly, I am never satisfied with mediocre performance and am always pushing myself to do better. For example, whenever I play games on Facebook, such as Scramble or Geo Challenge, I am never satisfied with my score. I know I can do better and push myself to improve my score every single time I play. Obviously, this would apply to my work ethics as well. However, because of this drive to better myself, sometimes multi-tasking may be a problem. I throw myself completely into one task, so if you give me many things to do at once, I may take a little longer to complete them. But only because I want to do the absolute best that I can. Not because I'm lazy.
   In addition to that, I am obviously dedicated. I am dedicated to shopping, reading, chocolates and sleeping. I do all of those extremely well, and in fact, consider myself an expert on these matters. I would make a great personal shopper, reader, chocolatier, and sleep study patient.
   I am also a very fast and willing learner. When my friends taught me to bake, I picked it up quickly and went on to experiment further and learn new recipes. My philosophy is that there are so many things out there just waiting to be discovered. Some of the things I plan on learning include archery, kayaking, knitting and the piano. That makes me very versatile so you may place me in whatever position you feel would fit me, but I can also cover for others when the need arises. I would make a good baker, and once I learn the things I listed, a baker who can shoot arrows while kayaking and playing the piano while knitting. I could even be an international spy.
   My other skills include applying make-up beautifully, knowing what jewellery would complement which outfit, knowing where the best desserts are, and many, many more.
I thank you for your time and hope you will consider me for the position. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

[Illegible scribble]

Just Around The Corner

2009-02-20T08:17:00.003+08:00

Hi. Let me start by introducing myself. I have no name, but I do exist. I have no form, yet I have power and strength. My presence may not be welcomed, and in fact, most people reject me. But I am here.

I am the darkness inside.

Right now, I am inside her and I am growing stronger by the day. She feels me and she fights me. Sometimes she wins and I retreat, but I am never gone. I am always here, and always waiting for the day when she no longer has the strength and will to reject me. More and more, she is struggling. She feels my grip on her and she is afraid. I know her every thought.

I know when she looks in the mirror sometimes she hates what she sees. She refuses to accept that she is the person in the mirror. She thinks she should change her hair, or lose weight - anything to change the image staring back at her. But she is lying to herself. I know why she hates what she sees. It has nothing to do with her hair or weight or complexion. For you see, she sees me now. She sees me in her empty eyes and unsmiling mouth.

And it frightens her.

When she feels me holding her heart, she pushes me away. She keeps me away by trying to smile and laugh. Sometimes she stops fighting for a while and I can feel her suffocate. She wants to go far away from here because she thinks she can leave me behind. But I know she feels me in her blood - a fact that brings her much despair.

She feels weak, yet she keeps hoping. I know she is struggling to fight me off, yet she puts a smile on her face when she has to face the world. She is a rather interesting person.

Perhaps I shall wait a little while longer before completely consuming her.

There's A Goblin Dancing Across My Shower Taps

2009-02-08T11:46:00.003+08:00

For further information on goblins, please click here.

The reason I am convinced that there is at least one goblin living in this house, particularly in our bathroom is...

Every single time I get the water to reach that perfect balance of hot and cold...

The water will turn very, very cold about 5 seconds later...

Which results in me twiddling with the "hot" tap a little bit...

Which results in me getting my scalp scalded about 2 seconds later...

Which then results in me jumping out of the water's way, while desperately turning the "hot" tap crazily in the other direction...

Which makes me wonder now...

It is amazing that I have not slipped on the tiles [knock wood]...

I hate that goblin.

[It's apparently not the taps as the plumber said everything was working perfectly.]

It must be a goblin.

It's probably the brother or uncle to the other goblin who dances across my keyboard...

Making me type words like "unvle" and "wordks" and "wafgle"...

Or "I do hipe yoy consuder my apploctioon for thid positon"...

I want to shoot these goblins.

But I don't have a gun.

Because Ads Can Be Fully Trusted

2009-02-07T06:26:00.003+08:00

I was just visiting my blog, with no intent on writing a post.
But I noticed that my ad [buried under the sidebar columns] said...

"I Hate My Life" - An Essay Offering, etc.

I assume this is following my recent rather depressing-sounding posts.
However, I do not hate my life.
I just have many, many issues... part of my device to keep life interesting.
This ad, like the ad promising quick weight loss, is a lie.

[The weight loss, while quick, comes back to bite you in the a$$ twice as fast.]

I do like those ads featuring doughnuts and ice-cream, though. *grin, grin*

[Oh, maybe that's why the weight came back.]

When Even Google Doesn't Have The Answers

2009-02-05T05:50:00.002+08:00

How do you catch up when you've been left so far behind?

How do you fill in the missing pieces when you have no idea where or what those missing pieces are?

How do you stay strong enough to keep going?

Catharsis

2009-02-04T03:02:00.003+08:00

Oops, I can feel my smile fading

Oops, I think my mask is slipping

Oops, I think the tears are coming

Oops, I can feel the smooth veneer cracking

Oops, I hear the poison spreading

Oops, I know the words you're saying

Oops, I see the sugar melting

Oops, I think I see the real you

Oops, it seems you don't like me very much after all

Oops, it seems I don't like you very much after all

Oops, I think I don't care

Oops, I want you out of my life

Oops, was I too harsh with you?

Oops, did I hurt your feelings?

Oops, did I somehow make you think I care?

Oops, am I making you uncomfortable?

Oops, I made a big mistake

Oops, I let you into my life

Oops, I shared my secrets with you

Oops, I trusted you

Oops, I loved you

Be nice all you want

I'm not falling for that again

Thanks for the tears

And the lesson

I don't hate you

I hate the person I am when you're in the picture

So I'm tearing up that picture

And walking away

Road Block, Shower Block, Writer's Block

2009-02-01T05:10:00.002+08:00

I have the dreaded Writer's Block.
It's horrible.
I haven't been able to write much without deleting it all.
I think I know why I have it.
It's not because of the usual lack of inspiration.
It's because something has happened recently that has made me really angry, upset and all sorts of other negative emotions.
And I am consumed by these emotions though I try hard to fight them.
I just can't figure out how to get rid of these negative vibes.
Just when I think I've finally let go, they come back and slap me.
I'm really disappointed in myself for letting such an insignificant thing bother me so much.
*sigh*

Incomprehensible

2009-01-23T02:44:00.002+08:00

"People fear what they do not understand," Professor Charles Xavier wisely said in The X-Men movies.

Well, I don't understand politics or politicians.

By this, it should mean that I fear politics and politicians.

I guess I do. While also having deep contempt for [most] of them.

I fear what they're going to do next to mess up this world even more.

What, why, how?

2009-01-21T22:18:00.004+08:00

It's knowing your coffee is going to spill a second before the cup tips over...
It's knowing the answer is wrong a second before clicking on it anyway...
It's knowing you're going to trip a second before you stumble...
It's knowing you're going to get into trouble for doing it and doing it anyway...
It's knowing he's wrong for you and loving him anyway...
It's knowing the fire will burn and touching it anyway...
It's knowing you shouldn't walk away, but walking away anyway...
It's knowing that your credit card will be declined a second before it does...
It's knowing that you need to get up, but covering your face with a pillow anyway...
It's knowing that you should care, but you just can't seem to...
It's knowing that you had a choice to stop it, but went ahead with it anyway...

Tech Savvy

2009-01-15T05:07:00.000+08:00

Recently I met up with 2 friends of mine, a married couple, M and J, who came down for the holidays. So, we had a way-too-short catch-up.
We were just talking about things and of course the subject of computers popped up [as it will when 3 out of the 4 present were Computing students, making me the proud odd one out].

J was telling us about his grandmother signing up for a computer course. And when his mother brought over a PC to his grandmother's place, she told her mother not to delete 'My Documents' because "it's very important".
The following day, when she went over to visit, her mother proudly told her...
"I deleted 'My Documents'."

Then J continued to tell us more grandparents-related computer stories [after a short laughing break].
His grandparents had bought a new printer and were trying it out. It worked but after a while, it apparently stopped working.
So they took it to the store, told the people there that it wasn't working and exchanged it for another one. They were also given free ink cartridges in the process.
They took it home and tried it out. The same thing happened: it worked fine and then it didn't.
Again, they took it to the store where they got another exchange and more free ink cartridges.
Same thing happened when they took it home.
His grandad said to him, "I don't know why this keeps happening."
His reply?
"Because you've run out of ink."

That just cracked me up. I love grandparents. They're wonderful.

I imagine we'd probably crack them up if we tried to work the sewing machine or typewriter or whatever else they used back then.

Like that classic line from one of the episodes of 'My Wife and Kids'...

Claire, on the typewriter, saying to her father:
"I've been up working on this paper all night, now all I have to do is print it out. Where's the print button?"

Molto Bella

2009-01-15T04:30:00.004+08:00

A few years ago, while I was still a young, naive student in Swansea, my friends and I decided to go on a trip during the Easter holidays. And so we booked ourselves for a trip around Italy, starting from Venice and ending at Rome, where we would fly to Paris. Sounds glamorous, no? Very jet-setter.
So not.
We were students. So, no 5-star hotels for us. We got to revel in the luxury of youth hostels. [The one in Venice was gorgeous! Much better than some of the so-called hotels that I've stayed in.]
But the trip was fantastic. Me + gelato in practically every flavour = an extremely happy me. And pasta. Yum. Oh, and the scenery, the buildings, the history and all that was also very nice, of course.
Venice was much better than I ever dreamed it would be. I loved going around in the water taxis. Florence was beautiful. Milan was a shopaholic's [with cash to spare] dream come true. And Rome... well Rome was...
On our way to the Vatican, we were mobbed by gypsies. It was a harrowing 5 minutes. While we were waiting in the long line to enter the Vatican, one of my friends discovered that his wallet was missing. He'd been pickpocketed. So, we didn't get off to a very good start in Rome.
When we got back to the room, another friend discovered that her credit card was missing. So, off we went to report it. [Incidentally, whoever got hold of her credit card had gone on a little spree, as we later found out.]
After those 2 incidents, we were kind of glad to be flying off to Paris [sad as I was to leave the gelato and pasta]. My two [girl] friends and I were wandering around the shops inside the airport [after checking in, of course], when they got stopped. I was walking behind them and was surprised to see them getting stopped by two female security officers. I went up to them to see what was going on, and when they found out I was with my friends, they asked me to come along.
Ah, we were so special. Such V.I.P. treatment. They led us to a room, where they brushed this scanner thing over our clothes to test for... bomb residue. Hmm... apparently we were potential TOOOOOT. I'm not going to say that dreaded 'T' word, so I'll replace it with just TOOOOOT.
Why wasn't I initially stopped? Besides the fact that I was walking slightly behind the other two? Because I don't wear the headscarves the other two were.
This story illustrates that I wouldn't make a very good TOOOOOT as I walked towards the security women, instead off running off in the other direction.
Anyway, it was an interesting experience, to say the least. We couldn't wait to get to Paris after that.

The Project: Phase Three [feat. the FAH-BU-LOUSSS ScoMan]

2009-01-14T00:13:00.004+08:00

This is part three of The Project series.
You can find Part One here.
And Part Two here.
For those of you who just stumbled in, The Project is a tandem story written by the witty and talented ScoMan and myself.
He's been such a sweetie to work with. And he's such a fabulous writer. In fact, he's so fabulous, I dedicated a post label just for him. You can find his blog here.
Hope you enjoy this part of the story and we'll be posting more up soon. =D

He looked back over his shoulder to get the licence plate of the other man. It was a vanity plate and not hard to remember - "THEONE". "Sorry I lost my cool" he said to her as they approached the car. It was then he heard his phone was still ringing. He hurried back inside and answered it. "Hello" he said. "Hello, are you at the airport?" he heard his brothers voice respond. "Just on my way now. It's been a rough morning" "Yeah, I just heard on the radio there was an accident on the freeway, could take them awhile to clear it" That was the hold up he thought. "Well we're just starting to crawl again now, so they must have cleared at least a few lanes. I'll call you when we've got mum and are heading to the restaurant." "Okay, should I call ahead and let them know we might be late?" "Sure, sounds like a good idea. Call me back when you've spoken to them, bye" "Bye"He put the phone down and turned to her. "That was my brother. He's calling the restaurant to let them know we might be a little late. Would you like to call your parents?" he asked, offering her the phone.

She shook her head. "Thanks, but I just spoke to them last night. I told them all about today. Besides, it'll be pretty pricey calling all the way to South Africa at this time, peak rates and all that." She smiled. Her parents were celebrating retirement by traveling around the world. So far, they had gone to Athens, Florence, Madrid, Washington and were now traveling around South Africa. They were really enjoying themselves. She herself was looking forward to her trip to Phuket in a few months' time. However, she hadn't gotten around to telling him about her little trip yet. It was a holiday to celebrate the upcoming wedding.

"Fair enough" he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He was glad she had refused. Every time she talked to her mother she was worried his surprise would be ruined. Her mother was a lovely lady, but found it difficult to keep a secret. Especially one this big. He had called her parents one night and organised with them to fly to London with them after her sisters wedding. There, her parents would return to their world tour, and he would propose to her. There was something about London and it's old style buildings. To him they held a certain romance and charm. Although he had worked out the way he wanted to propose to her, he had not yet worked out how to get her on the plane without making her suspicious.

She glanced at him. He had been acting rather out-of-character lately, practically jumping for his phone every time it rang. She wondered if something was wrong with him and had thought to ask him a few times. But he'd always been the type to talk when he was ready and she didn't want to push. The traffic was clearing up rather nicely, and it looked like they just might make it to the airport on time. "I'm going to order the chicken pesto pasta later, I think. And loads of garlic bread. I'm so hungry! And nervous. I hope your mum will like me." She started fidgeting in her seat, as she always did when she was nervous. Perhaps she should tell him about Phuket now? Or wait until they reached the airport. He can't yell at her in front of his mother. Hah. She decided to do just that. But first, she should prepare him. "So, mum and dad are having such a fantastic time traveling. I'm so jealous. I really want to go on a trip too, get a change of scenery." She glanced at him to see his reaction.

I was projecting a bit when I mentioned all that traveling. I would love to be able to travel all over the world.
And it turned into a fun little game between ScoMan and myself, a bit like ping-pong.
He's been great to work with, even though I apparently torture him with tasks as times. Lol.
You can read his side of the story here.

Dear Mom...

2009-01-13T17:50:00.005+08:00

I know you sometimes worry that my voice is too soft.
I know sometimes I have to keep repeating myself to people.
I know you're worried I won't be heard.
Don't worry.
I know how to speak up for myself.
When I was growing up, you would tell me to lower my voice whenever I was too loud.
Maybe you worry you made me too soft.
Don't worry.
I learned to voice my thoughts without having to scream and shout.

I know you sometimes worry that I have no direction.
I know I've been drifting along on this path.
I know you're worried I'm not going to get there.
Don't worry.
I know where I'm headed.
When I was growing up, you told me I could be whatever I wanted.
[Though I know you meant more along the lines of lawyer, doctor or accountant.]
Maybe you worry that made me unfocused.
Don't worry.
You taught me to dream and I'm chasing after that dream.

I know you worry that I might be irresponsible.
I know I've done little to prove you wrong.
I know I've made many mistakes, and I probably will make many more.
Don't worry.
I'll step up when the need arises.
When I was growing up, you told me I had to learn to be independent.
Maybe you worry I'm going to fall and not get back up.
Don't worry.
You taught me to be strong and I know I am.

I know you worry that I'm too stubborn.
I know I am.
I don't think that that's going to change anytime soon.
Don't worry.
It just means I don't give up easily.
When I was growing up, you told me not to let myself be bullied by others or by circumstance.
Maybe you worry I'm going to be disappointed if I fail.
Don't worry.
You taught me to stand my ground and to never cave in to pressure.

I know sometimes you don't see it.
But don't worry.
I'll be fine.
You did a great job on your part.
Now it's time for me to do mine.

Lost My...

2009-01-11T00:21:00.000+08:00

Lost my way? Many, many times. Literally and figuratively. I'm so bad with directions and put a map in my hand, you may as well have given me a papyrus with hieroglyphs on it. But I usually find my way, one way or the other.

Lost my heart? Corny, cheesy, but so what? It's true. Happened 3 1/2 years ago. Through no fault of my own, of course. I'm in no hurry to get it back. It's got a great new owner.

Lost my inspiration? My Muse [or whatever] seemed to have taken a detour somewhere and left me with Writer's Block. I have a suspicion that detour includes a visit to the shoe store.

Lost my voice? I did for a while. But I've got it back and am not going to make that same mistake again. It was horrible.

Lost my loves? Yes! My parents moved so many times and apparently my mother thought it was fine to donate my books to charity. An admirable cause but those books are my babies! She gave away my babies!

Lost my weight? No. The only thing that I desperately want to lose and it's not going anywhere. It might go off for a little bit but it always makes it way back. Curses.

The Project: Phase Two

2009-01-08T16:45:00.002+08:00

Ladies and gentleman... man... man...

I present to you... you... you...

Without further ado... do... do...

The Project... ject... ject...

Phase Two... Two... Two...

He smiled. She looked at him in that way that let him know she knew he was up to something. "It's a good thing you're sitting beside a former boy scout," he said, "because they always taught me to be prepared. He enjoyed playing with her. She was so cute when she knew she was being played with. He motioned towards the glove compartment and she opened it. He knew she wouldn't have had time for breakfast, so he'd made her a sandwich before he left. She smiled and he melted.

It was her favourite sandwich too, roast turkey on rye with mayonnaise and black olives. She hated green olives for some unknown reason. She was just about to bite into it when the car in front of them braked suddenly, causing him to brake suddenly as well. She cried out as the sandwich flew out of her hand and watched as the olives fell on her shoes. He started cursing the driver of the car. She started picking up the sandwich from her shoes and dress.

He looked at her dress. "Don't worry, it's fine," he said. He wondered why traffic has stopped ahead. Perhaps there'd been an accident. He certainly hadn't been expecting it. The squeal of brakes behind him woke him from his thoughts and he checked his mirror, just as the car behind slammed into the back of the them. The impact shook the car violently, causing her to drop what she had recovered of her sandwich. He couldn't believe their bad luck.

She gasped loudly and turned to look behind. Traffic was at a complete standstill. The driver behind started honking at them, which made her seriously angry. First, she had turkey flung all over her dress and now the jerk behind them was honking at them when it wasn't their fault. That was it. She wound down the window and started yelling at the driver. He replied by honking again. She nearly jumped out of the car to go punch the guy.

While she was yelling at the other driver, he got out of the car to check the damage. The car still looked driveable, but there was a bit of damage to the bodywork at the back end. The other driver was still honking and yelling at her. He normally was not a violent man, but today he was being pushed to his limits. He took ten deep breaths, and walked towards the other car. As calmly as he could, he walked over to the other car to try and get the other driver's insurance information.

Meanwhile, she realised how silly she was acting and popped her head back in the car to pick up the sandwich. Her stomach was rumbling loudly now, from the effort she had spent yelling at the jerk. She tossed the remainder of the poor sandwich out the window and took out some wet wipes to try to get the grease out of her dress. At the rate they were going, they might not reach the airport. His mobile started ringing and she glanced at the incoming number. It was a private number. She looked behind and saw that he was still exchanging information with the other driver, who saw her looking and glared at her. She gave him the finger and smiled sweetly. The phone was still ringing. Should she answer? But she hated answering other people's calls. It felt like an invasion of privacy to her.

He couldn't see what she was doing now, but he just knew she'd upset the other driver because the guy started yelling and screaming at the car again. He gave the guy a shove and said, "Leave her out of this. Let's just get this sorted before traffic starts moving again." the guy shoved him back. He threw his hands up in surrender. He was already likely to be turning up late, his date with food all over her dress and with damage to the back of his car. The last thing he needed was a black eye and a bleeding lip on top of all that. "You're even more of a b***h than she is," the guy said. Today that was all the provocation he needed. He threw the first punch he'd thrown since he used to fight with his brothers as a child.

The phone had stopped ringing. She heard loud voiced coming from outside and turned to look. The phone started ringing again, but she ignored it. She stared at the scene outside in disbelief before jumping out of the car and running towards the two men. By the time she reached them, the other driver had a split lip and a bruise was forming on his cheek. Luckily, her guy was unharmed. She pulled on his arm and urged him to get back in the car with her. The other driver started cursing at her, which didn't bode well with her. She kicked him in the stomach, which shut him up. It was her guy's turn to pull on her arm and coax her back into their car. Traffic was beginning to move as well by now.

There you go... go... go...

Enjoy!

Stay tuned for the next phase!

Don't forget to check out ScoMan's blog here.

Behind The Scenes: Commentaries

2009-01-08T16:29:00.003+08:00

Well, he wrote the first paragraph. I thought we were going to a wedding or graduation, since it sounded like a really big event. That's why I decided to put her in a dress. At this point, we were both going in blind. I had no idea where this story would take us, and in fact, still don't. Curve balls keep popping up. =D

Then I found out we were actually meeting his mother and picking her up at the airport. But as ScoMan said in his post, we were still feeling out each other. It's good fun though, not knowing which direction we were going. A cyber adventure. =P

ScoMan

I wrote the first paragraph thinking, "Right, he's all dressed up nice and ready to go out, I don't know where he's going, hopefully Badriyyah decides that with her bit." Well, she thought I had something in mind, but I didn't so I decided to think of something as unexpected as I could. Something where there was the potential for excitement and a few laughs along the way (you don't think meeting a mother is exciting? You haven't met my mother.)

I have really been enjoying working on this with Badriyyah . It is hard to plan ahead at all, because you don't know what is going to happen in the next paragraph. And time after time, she leaves me with a challenge to answer.

Well, he answered and left me another challenge. Haha. But it's all in good fun. I have really enjoyed working on this with him [as proven by the large word count]. I had no idea it would go on for this long, but I'm loving it! Perhaps it may even turn into a blog-novella. =D

The Unveiling; The Project Phase 1

2009-01-07T14:07:00.005+08:00

A while back, I read a really great [tandem] story, which I shared on my blog here. I was so inspired by this story that I asked ScoMan if he would like to work with me on a tandem story. [Check out his blog, it's really worth reading! He's got great stuff up there. He's really funny too. Click here for one of my favourites from him.] I could go on and on, but then I probably would not get a chance to get into the story. Enter many exclamations of praise for him here and here.
Anyway, he said yes and we've been working on it ever since. We've apparently gone over 5 000 words, and the end is nowhere in sight. We will post the story in parts [since it's way too long for a single post] and here is the first part.
I do hope you enjoy it as much as we both have!

He straightened his tie and looked in the mirror. He'd known for months this day was coming, but the reality that it had finally arrived had not yet sunk in. Even as he was preparing for the days events, he could not fully comprehend what was ahead of him. He didn't realize what it meant for any of them. October 18th would be a day none of them would ever forget.

She looked at the photograph of him on her dresser. She wondered what he was doing and thinking right now. Was he as excited as she was? He was smiling in the photo, caught in a moment of candid happiness. She loved his smile. She loved his laugh. She glanced at the dress waiting for her on the bed. She should really start getting ready.

He checked his watch. He knew she wouldn't be ready yet. She always got ready in a frantic rush at the last minute, and always managed to take his breath away. Her beauty was effortless. He checked his watch again. If he was going to be at the airport when his mothers plane landed he'd have to leave soon. She'd never taken much interest in meeting his girlfriends in the past. Maybe after 18 months, she knew how serious he was this time.

She picked up the dress, then hesitated. Was it right for this special occasion? It was important to her that everything was perfect today. She checked her watch. Ooops, she thought. She was running a bit behind. If she was late it wouldn't matter how perfect the dress was. She slipped it on and hoped it wouldn't clash with what he was wearing. If he were here, he'd probably nag at her to hurry up. And people thought women were nags.

He got in his car and started heading towards her place. He hoped she was ready. He knew if they were late to the airport, his mother would never let them hear the end of it. Today had to be perfect. It was the day the two most important people in his life would finally meet. He fiddled with the radio. He needed to find something to take his mind off today. "If I don't think about it, I won't stress about it" he thought to himself.

She heard the car approaching. She grabbed her bag and shoes and ran down the stairs. She hated to keep anyone waiting. When the car stopped, she was already at the door, slipping her shoes on. She waved and climbed into the car, noting happily that his tie and shirt didn't clash with her dress. He looked wonderful.

He was pleased she was ready for him when he arrived. She looked perfect. He loved the dress she had chosen for today. If she had let him select the outfit for her (he had volunteered to do so in a moment of panic), that is the dress he would have picked. He scolded himself for being so worried. She'd never let him down before, and she knew how important today was to him. Though it wasn't just important to him he thought, it was her day too.

"I'm so nervous," she told him. "And I'm absolutely starving! I missed breakfast because I was too nervous to eat. Oh gosh, when I meet her the first thing she'll hear is my stomach rumbling!" She began rummaging through her purse but all she found was some lozenges. "Lasagna would be so good right now, " she sighed. She knew she should have listened to her friends and just forced herself to have a few bites before she left.

Oh, guess who wrote which part? =P

In Denial

2009-01-07T02:46:00.004+08:00

I'm missing my daily dose of 'The Simpsons' as my mother has taken away the remote for the downstairs TV [hers isn't working, so she's using this one in the meantime]. The result is the downstairs TV is now stuck on the Hallmark channel, and there's a movie on that I don't care much for. *sob*
Thank goodness for the Internet and chocolates. I swear I'm not a couch potato.
Seriously.
I'm not.
I may be spending loads of time in front of that TV, but only because I'm on a self-imposed 'no-shopping' strike.
Hah.
Okay, fine.
Be proud of who you are and all that jazz.
I'm a shopaholic couch potato. Who is completely addicted to 'The Simpsons' and KitKat bars.
Why oh why do they not sell the orange and mint KitKat bars here in Malaysia?!?
And why do we not have any decent potato chips / crisps?
And why can I not get Veoh.com here?
I have been reduced to eating regular old KitKat bars and craving crisps and relying on youtube.com.
Ah, how I long for the glory days.
[Pretty sad that my glory days revolve around chocolates and crisps and watching stuff online.]
[Well, ebay.co.uk played a big part of those glory days as well. And a bunch of other stuff. Like cookies and cappuccino cake. *sigh*]
I hold hope that those orange and mint KitKats will soon find their way in our supermarkets.
[My mother should not have taken that remote away from me.]

Why Do I Need To Explain Myself To You?

2009-01-06T23:57:00.005+08:00

So, I want to stay at home and read.
I'll stay at home and read.
So what if you think that I'm anti-social?
I never cared about being cool anyway.
But that's just me.
I let you be you without trying to change you.
Please extend me the same courtesy.
You probably think I'm miserable being on my own.
Truth is, I'm miserable when I have to paste a fake smile on my face.

So, I'd rather sit back and listen to the conversation.
I'm probably getting lost in my own thoughts.
So what if you think that I'm a bore?
We can't all be talking over each other.
But that's just me.
I'm trying to listen to you.
So please try to listen to me.
You probably think I feel excluded.
Truth is, I'd rather not blow empty air. Or I simply can't be bothered.

So, I like to go out on my own.
It's more relaxing that way sometimes.
So what if that makes me look like a loser?
I enjoy being by myself sometimes.
But that's just me.
I respect the way you choose to spend your days.
Please respect the way I choose to spend mine.
You probably think I'm really lonely.
Truth is, sometimes I'm too tired to play the social game.

So, I choose to live my life this way.
I'm perfectly happy and content.
So what if it's different from what society dictates is the norm?
I'm perfectly happy and content.
But that's just me.
You choose to live your life your way.
And you're perfectly happy and content, I hope.

A Toast To...

2009-01-06T00:42:00.003+08:00

The mother who stays up all night to look after her sick baby.
The father who stays by his wife's side to help look after his family.
The man who treats his partner like the princess she is.
The woman who treats her partner like the prince he is.
The people who never give up hope, no matter how hard the struggle.
The people who take the time to help others who really need their help.
The people who have the courage to keep chasing their dreams and rainbows.
The people who make mistakes and learn from them.
The people who work hard to provide a better life for their loved ones.
The friend who is always there for a friend in need.
The people who are willing to give a second chance to the ones who just need someone to believe in them.
The people who will not let others stop them from reaching for their star.
All the people in the world who bring joy and love to the people in their lives.

Indescribable

2009-01-05T04:09:00.005+08:00

That's right.
Take a good, long look in the mirror.
See the reflection looking back at you.
Really see it.
Now can you still sit on your high horse?
Can you still say that you were wronged?
Can you still tell yourself that you didn't do anything wrong?
Can you honestly face yourself with a perfect conscience?
Am I still the villain here?
I'll be the first to admit I am no saint.
And I can be a witch.
But darling, you...
You are indescribable...
And I don't mean that in a good way.
Darling.
Take your perfect conscience and honeyed poison and get away from here.

My Bliss

2009-01-05T03:19:00.007+08:00

Time to stop for gas.
The gauge was just below the halfway point.
Oh, it will cost 60 I said.
50 he said.
I confidently raised it to 65.
He raised his guess to 55.
We both waited gleefully for the final outcome.
He went to pay.
I waited.
He got back in the car.
How much?
He said 57.
It stopped at 55 but he tried to push it up to 57.
Why?
So we both win...
57 is the halfway point between 55 and 60.
I didn't hear you say 65, I only heard 60.
Silly, but that brought tears to my eyes.
It was the best trip I've ever been on.

It's Just Another Number

2009-01-01T05:35:00.002+08:00

So it's 2009. I welcomed the new year by lazing about on the couch and watching the POTC marathon. Jack Sparrow and Will Turner? Yes, please! I couldn't ask for better dates to usher in 2009.

But seriously... I wasn't all that enthusiastic about it. As I've mentioned before in one of my birthday blogs [some of my regular readers might remember this], [Oh, I suppose I could link it but it's 5:39 and I'm exhausted yet my brain won't shut off - damn you, brain! Why do you only shut off when I need you most... like during exams or when I'm trying to come up with a brilliant lie to get out of something... so I'm too lazy to look up the link.] I consider my birthday to be my very own personal New Year's. So what if that makes some people think I'm vain and have delusions of grandeur? It makes me feel special. So, there you go. Besides, something happened on the eve of 2000 that totally put me off ever celebrating New Year's.

The gist of it was that I had just finished school and decided to go celebrate in the center of town with a friend. Come midnight, the mob was like this moving centipede or something and my friend and I got separated. The networks were screwed up and the mobile phones were all not working. Fast forward... security guard... wandering around... phones finally working after a couple of hours... waiting for friend by a corner... drunk guy propositioning me [he thought I was a pro!!!!! Wait until I tell you about the time I was apparently a potential terrorist.]... finally reaching home at 5 a.m.... solemn vow to never, ever celebrate New Year's ever again.

That's one of the few vows I actually kept [keep?]. Anyway, I'm kicking off 2009 with a little trip and a friend's wedding. Hope you have a great weekend!

Oh, after I get back I will start unveiling the project [though it's still nowhere near completion]. We're still having way too much fun with it. =D

Hello

2008-12-29T19:16:00.003+08:00

I know I've been quiet lately, and you may think it's because...

My work, social life, etc. is keeping me soooooooooooo busy that I don't have time to blog, or
I'm experiencing writer's block

Actually,

My social life has been the same [pretty much, minus some stuff] as it always is, which suits me fine
I'm not experiencing writer's block. My fingers have been itching to tell all, but paradoxically, I don't want to tell.

Have you ever experienced that feeling of wanting to pull back from everything and everyone around you because you're just so upset? And you don't feel like sharing it with anyone because the only thing you have to share right then is this really horrible feeling, which you don't wish to infect anyone else with?

Well, that was pretty much how I've felt for the past couple of weeks. Just a little dark moment before the end of the year to make me look forward to the New Year [which I'll kick off with a little trip away from here... yey!].

All is well now, and I want to get up and running again. I think I'll start with a huge plate of pasta carbonara and some brownies. Yum!

I hope anyone who reads this had a great Christmas and has a wonderful New Year's.

Things I Learned From Cartoons

2008-12-22T06:32:00.003+08:00

Mutant rat-men are good and never trust a man who wears a silver mask and a purple cape who hangs around with a mutant brain. [Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles]
The best disguise is a suit and glasses. Hey, one man in a suit looks the same as the next one, right? [Superman]
Road runners may have the brains, but coyotes are the ones with the money. How else can they afford the endless supply of anvils and dynamite? [Road Runner]
Cats, dogs and ducks can all be best friends. [Mickey Mouse, Goofy and Donald Duck]
Chipmunks can sing and can socialise with humans perfectly. [Alvin and the Chipmunks]
If you are a stubborn teenager who goes against her dad's advice and seeks help from a witch, runs off to be with a boy from a different world, gets your whole society in danger so your father has to intervene, eventually your father will let you have your way. [The Little Mermaid]
Inter-class romantic relationships can work. [Aladdin]
A one-eyed, three-legged, green-skinned alien can pass off as a female human. Beware. [Lilo and Stitch]

Brush It Off , Kick It To The Side And Walk Away

2008-12-22T05:43:00.003+08:00

A dust mote swirls lazily in the air.
A mouth opens.
Words pour out and push the dust mote around.
It lands on my shoulder.
It irritates me.
Might even anger me.
I open my mouth.
More words pour out.
Off the dust mote goes.
Swirling around and around, before landing on my shoulder again.
I'm annoyed.
But then I shrug and brush it off.
It falls to the ground.
I kick it out of my way and move on.
Moving on, moving on.
It is only dust.
It is nothing.
I will not allow it to turn into rock.

It is nothing.

My Personal Brand Of Ecstasy

2008-12-22T05:28:00.005+08:00

One taste...
And I'm addicted...
Irrevocably so.

My poison... that cures.
My high... when I'm low.
My vice... that inspires my virtues.

My lifelong addiction...
Which I never want to get rid of.

Define Me, If You Can

2008-12-19T06:57:00.004+08:00

During an interview once, I was asked... "What are your social skills like?"
A question that kind of threw me off-guard. I replied by saying, "Well, I get along fine with people. I don't have a problem socialising with others." Brilliant, right? I finished off this brilliant answer with..."My friends seem to like me just fine." Which earned me some laughs.
Anyhoo... a few more questions followed.
I read one of ScoMan's recent posts - hang on, I have a relevant point even though it may seem random. It was about the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which you can read here. So, I thought I'd take it as well. Click here to take it. Apparently, I am an INFP type - an Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving type. I am a...

moderately expressed introvert
slightly expressed intuitive personality
distinctively expressed feeling personality
slightly expressed perceiving personality

But what does it all mean?
It means I'm a healer, according to D. Keirsey.
"Healers present a calm and serene face to the world, and can seem shy, even distant around others. But inside they're anything but serene, having a capacity for personal caring rarely found in the other types. Healers care deeply about the inner life of a few special persons, or about a favorite cause in the world at large. And their great passion is to heal the conflicts that trouble individuals, or that divide groups, and thus to bring wholeness, or health, to themselves, their loved ones, and their community."

The INFP profile is...

Introverted Feeling

INFPs live primarily in a rich inner world of introverted Feeling. Being inward-turning, the natural attraction is away from world and toward essence and ideal. This introversion of dominant Feeling, receiving its data from extraverted intuition, must be the source of the quixotic nature of these usually gentle beings. Feeling is caught in the approach- avoidance bind between concern both for people and for All Creatures Great and Small, and a psycho-magnetic repulsion from the same. The "object," be it homo sapiens or a mere representation of an organism, is valued only to the degree that the object contains some measure of the inner Essence or greater Good. Doing a good deed, for example, may provide intrinsic satisfaction which is only secondary to the greater good of striking a blow against Man's Inhumanity to Mankind.

Extraverted iNtuition

Extraverted intuition faces outward, greeting the world on behalf of Feeling. What the observer usually sees is creativity with implied good will. Intuition spawns this type's philosophical bent and strengthens pattern perception. It combines as auxiliary with introverted Feeling and gives rise to unusual skill in both character development and fluency with language--a sound basis for the development of literary facility. If INTPs aspire to word mechanics, INFPs would be verbal artists.

Introverted Sensing

Sensing is introverted and often invisible. This stealth function in the third position gives INFPs a natural inclination toward absent- mindedness and other-worldliness, however, Feeling's strong people awareness provides a balancing, mitigating effect. This introverted Sensing is somewhat categorical, a subdued version of SJ sensing. In the third position, however, it is easily overridden by the stronger functions.

Extraverted Thinking

The INFP may turn to inferior extraverted Thinking for help in focusing on externals and for closure. INFPs can even masquerade in their ESTJ business suit, but not without expending considerable energy. The inferior, problematic nature of Extraverted Thinking is its lack of context and proportion. Single impersonal facts may loom large or attain higher priority than more salient principles which are all but overlooked.

It seems William Shakespeare was an INFP. Could this mean that I am destined to be the next Shakespeare? I wish.

Anyway, I wish that next time someone asks me to tell them about myself, I can just print out the results of this test and tell them to read for themselves. They'd probably kick me right out of the interview if I did that.

Broken Images

2008-12-19T06:35:00.002+08:00

I'd like to share one of my favourite poems with you.

In Broken Images
He is quick, thinking in clear images;
I am slow, thinking in broken images.
He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images,
Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.
Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact,
Questioning their relevance, I question the fact.
When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
When the fact fails me, I approve my senses.
He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broken images.
He in a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confusion.

Robert Graves

I have my own reasons for loving it so much. To me, it says that it's fine to be different. He is so sure and confident that it gives me confidence. And that it's perfectly fine to be slow, as long as you're sure of where you're going.

3,2,1... And Action!

2008-12-18T09:45:00.004+08:00

So, there we were.

He looked at me.

I looked right back at him.

He looked doubtful.

I hoped I looked calm.

He appeared intimidating.

I refused to be intimidated.

He wasn't impressed.

Neither was I.

He was obligated to perform his duty.

I was obligated to perform mine.

He was the director.

I was the actor auditioning for the part.

He looked at me.

He didn't speak, but his eyes said it all.

He thought I was weak.

I looked at him.

I didn't speak, but I smiled.

I thought he made a mistake in underestimating me.

It was over.

He wasn't impressed.

But neither was I.

He played his part perfectly.

But I refused to play along.

He left, probably annoyed that I wasted his time.

I left, feeling a mixture of emotions.

Needless to say, I didn't get the part.

I am no actor.

But why should I act?

The Most Insincere Apology Ever

2008-12-17T08:02:00.003+08:00

I'm sorry I'm not aggressive enough.
I'm sorry I eat too many waffles.
I'm sorry I'm not ambitious enough.
I'm sorry I'm not that nice.
I'm sorry I can't please you all the time.
I'm sorry that you think you own me.
I'm sorry I sleep too much.
I'm sorry I have issues.
I'm sorry I can't forgive you yet.
I'm sorry I can't give up quite yet.
I'm sorry I try too hard sometimes.
I'm sorry I lie sometimes.
I'm sorry I feel like hiding sometimes.
I'm sorry I want to push you away.
I'm sorry I have too many shoes.
I'm sorry I watch too much TV.
I'm sorry I love him so, so, so much.
I'm sorry you think I'm not good enough.
I'm sorry to disagree with you.
I'm sorry your image of me is just an illusion.
I'm sorry I refused to be an Economic major.
I'm sorry I can't change who I am just to please you.
I'm sorry I have my own dreams.
I'm sorry, but I'm staying on this path I chose.
I'm sorry you can't pin me down.
I'm sorry I'm a crap singer.
I'm sorry you think I'm boring.
I'm sorry I don't understand you.
I'm sorry you think I'm weak.
I'm sorry, but despite it all, I'm happy.

Pizza Wrap

2008-12-15T13:56:00.002+08:00

When you're a student, you're too busy to cook. Or so you tell yourself as an excuse to keep buying kebabs and existing on chocolate biscuits and crisps.
But this is an all-time favourite of mine. It's so easy and quick to make, which is handy when you have unexpected guests.

You need:

tortilla wraps (I loved the herb ones)
roast turkey breasts (or whatever deli meats your prefer)
basic pasta sauce (any tomato-ey sauce will do)
optional: onions, peppers, olives, mushrooms, cheese

The steps:

roll out the wraps
spread the sauce in the middle of the wrap
arrange the meat and other ingredients on top
fold the wrap so that all the ingredients are tucked safely inside
pop into the oven for a while

Voila! And you're done. Serve piping hot.

Fire! Fire!

2008-12-10T11:38:00.000+08:00

True story.

This happened when I was in my final year as a student in Swansea.

I was happily minding my own business [gasp, gasp, yes, I can mind my own business!], and playing Solitaire on my laptop [now, dead, may its pieces rest in peace].

I look out the window and what do I see?

Thick, almost-black smoke coming from the neighbour's house.
Now, any normal person would jump out of that chair and run outside to see what was going on.
Not me.
Oh, no. I continued to stare out that window for a few more minutes.
I think I was waiting for one of my housemates to run down the stairs screaming.
Oh, but wait. Only three bedrooms face the back garden - mine, the room directly above mine and the room at the back of the house. And those two were never in anyway.
So, I slowly got out of that chair and walked [not run] to the back garden to check if there really was a fire.
Yes, there was a huge fire. Huh.
So, I walked quickly back to my room and looked out the window again. Yup, smoke still there.
Now, this is where I get incredibly silly. I still can't believe I did what I did. I was trying to decide what to take with me in case the fire spread and burned down our house. Laptop, of course and passport and my purse.
The essentials, right?
Then, I had this thought. If indeed the house burned down, I wanted to make sure I had a nice outfit on [if it were to be the only outfit I saved]. So I changed. All the while the smoke is still billowing outside my window.
Although nobody seems to be doing anything about it. The neighbours didn't seem to be running around trying to put out the fire, which confused me.
So I ran up to my housemate's room and told her about the fire.
What did she do?
She came downstairs with me, looked at it... and laughed.
Because of course, it was only a bonfire. They were burning rubbish or wood or whatever.
I was burning too... with embarrassment.
But hey, if you can't laugh at yourself, you're missing out on a lot of laughter, right?

P/S Just a little something to keep you entertained while I'm away finishing this thing I'm working on, which is really great. I have no idea when it will be finished though as my partner and I are really loving it and stretching it out. Hopefully, you'll love it as much as we're loving it.

Last Week

2008-12-08T06:04:00.002+08:00

Well, last week was a complete bust. It was such a crappy week.
Let's hope this week will be better.
Observation for last week: 20-somethings can be more childish and petty than middle-school kids.
Hope for this coming week: Let's hope everything will fall into place.

Clash Of The Two Planets: Venus Vs. Mars

2008-12-03T20:35:00.006+08:00

Incidentally, Venus was the Roman goddess of love and Mars was the Roman god of war. Love vs. War. Hmmm... This excerpt I'm going to share with you demonstrates that perfectly. I was given this piece of paper to read by a friend. It's hysterical. I'm not quite sure of the origins of this excerpt or where she got it from. Anyway, here it is.

Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix.

The professor told his class one day. "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will email your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me.

The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely no talking outside of the emails and anything you wish to say must be written in the email The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."

The following was actually turned in by two of his students, Rebecca and Gary.

The Story
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favourite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much, her asthma started aching up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squad room now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about that the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit establishes. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle BEAM FLASHED out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for physically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel", Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out of the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she wondered wistfully.

(Gary)
Little did she know but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anudrian mother ship launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress, had left Earth a defenseless target to the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anudrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.

(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic! Whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some sort of other F****** TEA???! Oh no, WHAT AM I to do? I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"

(Rebecca)
A*****e!

(Gary)
B***h!

(Rebecca)
F*** YOU, YOU NEANDERTHAL!

(Gary)
Go drink some tea, w****!

(Teacher)
A+... I really liked this one.

That concludes the story. Hysterical, no?
Kind of makes me feel like doing a tandem story myself. Scott, will you be interested in joining me in my attempt to prove that not all girls agonize over which tea to drink and not all men are neanderthals?

Strength

2008-12-03T05:49:00.003+08:00

When your desires burn so brightly
And the fire, the hunger inside you consumes you
Your every breath and every thought
Whisper only one thing
Over and over again
The dream you chase after
Run after
A tiny, delicate seed
Set in flames by your desire
And hunger
Until all that is left
Is you
On the ground
Covered with the ashes of a broken dream
And you try to tell your broken heart
That it is strong enough to go on.

Hit The Pedal To The Metal

2008-12-02T06:51:00.000+08:00

My driving instructor was a rather difficult man. He loved to smoke while I was driving [and I just loathe the smell of cigarettes, but I was too terrified to ask him not to do it] and insisted on holding my foot down with a stick when he was teaching me how to do my balancing on the little 'hill'. [Not that I blame him. The first couple of times up that hill resulted in my car going backwards down that hill with me screaming my head off and him yelling at me not to swing my steering wheel around.]

Anyhoo... that's all in the past. I am now a licensed driver and have been since February. And despite the rough start, I'm a pretty good driver now. So, I suppose my instructor did a pretty good job.

But that's not the point of this post.

I suddenly remembered an episode of Ellen that I saw months ago, which really made me laugh. I love Ellen. She always cracks me up. Anyway, in that episode, Ellen had gone to a driving school and was taking some of the students for a drive.

She stopped by an ice-cream drive-through [I think it was Baskin Robbins?], and bought about 4 ice-creams and they put it in a cardboard tray thingy for her. So, Ellen happily drove off and ate her ice-cream. This is the following conversation that ensued [the gist of it, I can't remember her exact words, obviously].

Student: Isn't that dangerous?

Ellen: Oh, no, no.

Student: Are you sure?

Ellen: Yes. You're not supposed to drink and drive. That's dangerous. But you can eat and drive.

Student: Oh.

I was in hysterics. If I tried to eat while driving, my instructor probably would have whacked me with his stick.

I Do! I Do!

2008-11-30T05:05:00.000+08:00

I was watching this show on the TV. I happened upon it while I was channel surfing [one needs to also exercise one's fingers], and it caught my attention.
I think it was called 'The Proposal' or something like that. Anyway, it was nearing the end of the show. The man ['The Proposer'] had set up a little 'corral' with a wooden table, etc. for him and his girlfriend to enjoy a glass of champagne. He had written a country song about their relationship and a woman with a guitar sang it.
After the song was over, he told her he had prepared a little game for her to play, called 'Needle In A Haystack'. Except, of course, it was a ring under the haystack, not a needle. So, girl finds ring, guy drops to one knee, proposes, girl tearfully says yes, guy slips on ring, yada yada yada.
Me getting all awwww on the inside and fighting the tears. [I am such a hopeless romantic.]
So, that was her perfect proposal.

My perfect proposal? I used to wonder about that a lot. I played different scenarios in my mind - moonlight picnic, balloons and rose petals, that kind of thing. I just knew I wanted something creative and thoughtful.

My perfect wedding? Thanks to Cinderella and all the other fairytale princesses, I wanted the whole perfect dress-perfect venue-perfect flowers scenario.

But that was then. That was Before Him. Before Him, I thought that I needed all those things to have a perfect wedding and marriage.

Now?

Cinderella can have her prince and carriage. All I need are... the ring, him, my family and the beach.

Hey, in my experience, you can never go wrong with a BBQ by the beach.

Her Place

2008-11-29T04:41:00.000+08:00

He doesn't need her.

He has his family.

They give him everything he needs.

The things she wants to give him but cannot.

He doesn't need her.

He has his friends.

They support him and understand him.

They're always there by his side.

Just like she wishes she could always be by his side.

He doesn't need her.

She can't give him the things he needs.

She can't give him the support he needs.

She is the one who tries to get in.

She is the one who stands outside.

She is the one who doesn't understand.

She is the one...

Who is walking away.

The Decision: A Letdown

2008-11-28T05:33:00.001+08:00

What was I to do?

The ringing was calling to me.

The phone was begging to be answered.

I had walked past this public phone hundred of times on my way to the university.

And on my way home.

I had used it many times to call home.

But never once had it started ringing just as I walked by.

It was as if Life was trying to reach me.

Who was calling?
Was it a wrong number?
Was it someone who would offer me a million pounds?
Was it someone who would recruit me as a secret agent?

So many times I wished for it to happen.

Just so I could experience it.

What can I say?

I have rather unusual thoughts.

So what did I do when the opportunity finally presented itself?

When I could finally answer that question in my mind?

I walked away.

I decided the fantasy was better than the reality.
What does that say about me?

The Decision: Inner Torment

2008-11-27T03:33:00.001+08:00

I stood there, frozen in place.

My heart beat faster.

My thoughts were spinning crazily.

I was caught in the moment.

Unable to come to a firm decision.

I had often wondered about this moment.

But I had never once thought that it would actually happen.

And yet, there it was.

It was a question I had asked myself many times, over the years.

It was a question I could finally answer.

And yet, I hesitated.

The day had started off like any other day.

Class, lunch at home, work in the evening.

Now, this.

What should I do?

What was the right thing to do?

I stood there and debated on what my next step should be.

The seconds stretched into minutes.

The minutes crawled maddeningly slowly by.

I was almost tormented while trying to come up with a solution.

I was excited and doubtful.

Intrigued but hesitating.

Thus concludes part one of this drama.

And The Verdict Is... Guilty!

2008-11-26T11:20:00.000+08:00

Okay, confess. How many of you have signed up or joined something or just committed yourselves to a cause, but didn't follow through?

I know I'm guilty of doing just that on many, many counts.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to join ballet.

So, ballet classes it was.

I went to the first class, but sat by the side because I wanted to 'watch and learn' first.

I went to the second class, did about 10 minutes, before giving up and crying.

I never went to that third class.

When I was about 10, I really liked art.

So, my parents signed me up for art classes.

We went to the school, my parents paid for my lessons, and when they were about to leave, I started sobbing and wanted to go with them.

I held onto my mother's leg and refused to let go.

They had to go back in and get a refund.

I sobbed all the way home and never went to a single art class.

When I was 18, I signed up for a driving course.

I paid the first payment.

I never went.

When I was in my final year in Swansea, I decided to join Aikido.

I signed up with the Aikido Club and paid my membership fees.

I was so excited at the idea of learning an art of self-defense.

In my head, I was imagining myself as Kasumi from D.O.A. Or as Uma Thurman in Kill Bill.

I didn't go to even one lesson.

So, guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty.

That's not including all the let's-ditch-the-chocolates-cakes-and-crisps-and-be-healthy plans that I've [barely] started and quit within days.

*sigh* I'm working on this though. No, really, I am.

Catching The Butterfly

2008-11-25T05:27:00.001+08:00

I'm getting kind of tired of chasing after the butterfly.

I think I'll just sit and wait for it to come to me, if it so chooses.

There's only so much one can take before one grows tired.

I'm not going to wait around forever for that butterfly.

It's already bitten me once.

Anyway, while waiting for that butterfly, I think I'll make some Milo toast.

Some kind of grain bread, butter, and Milo are all I need. Yum.

Maybe it will tempt the butterfly to come to me.

At the very least, I'll have a yummy snack.

Transmutation Device

2008-11-24T14:19:00.003+08:00

I just discovered that I had a magic transmutation thingy on my bedside table. Amazing, right?

Now, like any other scientific discovery, I'll have to present proof or evidence to support my 'discovery'.

The Proof:

My long green-handled scissors are now short pink-handled ones. [I have asked everyone who lives in this house if they have seen the green one, but nobody knows anything about it.]
I discovered tweezers under my pillow and my tissues are slowly disappearing. [When I asked, nobody admitted to touching my tissues and the tweezers are still unclaimed. Maybe I have a tooth fairy that deals in tweezers instead of change? But I didn't lose a tooth.]

Mystifying, isn't it?

I also seem to have a telekinetic device downstairs as the tissue box keeps moving around or disappearing altogether.

Remember: the truth is out there.

Caught Again! 8 Things

2008-11-23T04:19:00.003+08:00

I've been tagged by ScoMan.

Here are the rules for this tagyou'reit game:

Each player starts with eight random fact/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog post, you need to tag eight people and list their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they've been tagged and to read your blog.
If you have already been tagged and do not wish to go through the exercise then let the taggee know.

Here we go. These are my eight random facts/habits about myself:

I just had a dream that I went shoe shopping with my mom and she told me I could only buy two pairs of shoes, then presented me with her 5 favourite pairs. I was torn between these snakeskin heels and leopard print flats, as well as brown heels with embroidered flowers. Then suddenly I was in a car with my friend and the car behind us was tailing us, so we called the police. But then the car behind us cut in front of us and drove off and when the policeman asked for my details, I refused to answer him and kind of hung up on him. This led to them showing up at my house. Freaky, right?
I like 'Project Runway' and 'Keeping Up With The Kardashians' and other 'reality' TV shows.
This is the third time I've been tagged this week. Haha. I'm still working on the other two.
I am obsessed with 'Pet Society' on Facebook. And 'Fashion Wars'.
I've just started reading James Patterson's 'Double Cross' and am already hooked, as usual. That man is a genius.
Right now, I wish I had woken up earlier so I could have joined my friend on her shopping expedition at Pavilion. I love the shop that sells those really cute and cheap hair bands/Alice bands.
I'm struggling to come up with these eight facts.
I want to find out ScoMan's real name. Haha. Sorry, but I'm so intrigued by this.

Now I tag:

Jaja, Eim, Aya, Ellie, Audrea, Maryam, A'a, Him

Oh, Choices To Make

2008-11-23T01:43:00.000+08:00

Well, I find myself conflicted at the moment. My parents asked me if I would like to go with them on a trip to Penang for a few days. I would love to. However, doing so would mean missing out on my dance class and having fun with my friends after and I risk losing the momentum. *sigh*

Plus, there's also the risk of me going mad from hanging out with my sisters too much. And if I stay, I could catch up on my reading and some other things on my must-do-now list.

But then the images of pretty hair bands in Penang are calling out to me.

What do I do?!?

It's a 6-day trip [which in itself is making me feel conflicted] versus 6 days of ultimate freedom and privacy. But Penang has such yummy food. Which will totally mess up my imaginary diet. Gaaahhh.

Ohmygosh, so the drama over something so mundane.

Blah.

The Good Intention

2008-11-22T10:25:00.000+08:00

Before I went grocery shopping, I always made a list. This is so...

I would remember to buy the things I really needed. [toothpaste, etc.]
To avoid buying the things I didn't need. [biscuits, crisps, etc.]

So, a typical shopping list would generally look like this...

Onions, garlic, shallots
Basmati rice
Frozen peas
Red peppers
Chillies
Oil
Mushrooms
Pasta
Pasta sauce
Canned tuna
Chicken
Salmon
Chips
Milk
Cereal
Butter
Bread
Pears

This is what I usually came home with...

All the things in the 'original' list
Frozen pizza
Walker's Sensations Thai Sweet Chili
Cappucino cake
Chocolate chip cookies
Glamour magazine
Walker's Cheese and Onion
Sushi
Ben and Jerry's Phish Food
Fish cakes

Low willpower much?

I always said Tesco [in Swansea] was my second home. Where else opens late at night, anyway?

This Week In A Nutshell

2008-11-22T03:43:00.000+08:00

Weeeeee! This week I...

went for my second kickboxing session + am starting to get really hooked!
went for my second dance class + managed to keep up this time [and managed to stay coordinated!]
printed out loads of recipes to try out... yum!
written more stuff for my potential 'book' [any publishers interested?]
am celebrating my dad's birthday... happy birthday, dad!
am very proud of him for everything he has accomplished... you're fab!
have been tagged twice... will get to is soon-ish, girls.

Let's see what next week brings me.

Two Versions, Same Story

2008-11-21T03:21:00.000+08:00

According to astrology.com, I am...

Your Sample Reading

Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others

Ferociously proud and somewhat vain, you like to be impressive and to be seen as Somebody Special. You are not timid, meek, or self-effacing, and are rarely content being in the background or in the subordinate position. You are a natural leader, and do not take orders from others very well. You must have something of your own, something creative - be it a business, a project, a home or whatever - that you can develop and manage according to your own will and vision. Whatever you do, you do it in a unique, dramatic, individual way. You like to put your own personal stamp on it.

Section 2: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation

Quiet, deep, emotionally complex and intensely private, you are not a person who is easy to get to know and understand. You are extremely sensitive but disinclined to show it, and you allow only a special few into your inner world. Like a wary animal, you are cautious and mistrustful of those you do not know until you "sniff them out". You are very, very instinctive and intuitive. You usually have a strong, immediate gut reaction to people, even though you may be unable to clearly articulate why you feel as you do. Your feelings and perceptions go deeper than words.

According to myself, I am...

Section 1: How You Approach Life and How You Appear To Others

Ferociously proud and very vain, I like to be seen as Somebody Special [as if you would not?]. I am sometimes timid, meek, or self-effacing, and am perfectly content being in the background or in the subordinate position [sometimes]. I do not know if I am a natural leader, but I do not have any problems taking orders from others [sometimes, depends on who's asking and how they're asking]. I like to have something of my own, something creative - be it a business, a project, a home, a blog, or whatever - that I can develop and manage according to my own will and vision [read: laziness]. Whatever I do, I do it in my individual way [unless otherwise instructed]. I like to go with my own flow, and I hate outside pressure.

Section 2: The Inner You: Your Real Motivation

I am sometimes quiet, occasionally deep, always emotionally complex and mostly intensely private, but I am not a person that hard to get to know but sometimes difficult to understand. I am extremely sensitive but [sometimes] disinclined to show it, and I allow only a special few into my inner world. I am mostly cautious but hardly ever mistrustful of those I do not know. I do not know if I am very, very instinctive and intuitive. I do usually have a strong, immediate gut reaction to people, sometimes wrongly, sometimes justifiably, even though I may be unable to clearly articulate why I feel as I do. My feelings and perceptions go deeper than words because I am sometimes at a loss for words.

There it is. I'm putting my personal stamp on my astrology report. Oh, crap. Does this mean that that's the more accurate version?

Losing My Voice

2008-11-20T04:21:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, I want to hide under a table.

Sometimes, I want to hit a wall.

Sometimes, I want to get in my car and drive and drive.

Sometimes, I want to cry until all the pain disappears.

Sometimes, I want to just stare out the window.

Sometimes, I want to think of all the things I've lost.

Sometimes, I want to collapse on the floor.

Sometimes, I want to dwell on the past.

Sometimes, I want to tell you everything.

Sometimes, I really do.

But...

"Don't cry, it upsets me so to see you upset."

"Hey, it happens to everyone."

"Well, it's an experience. At least you can say you've experienced it at least once."

"Oh, don't be upset. It will all be fine."

"How ungrateful are you? You've been so blessed! There are people out there being abused or not having enough to eat!"

"Grow up and deal with it."

Which all amounts to basically the same thing...

"Quiet. Shut up, shut up, shut up."

Well, I'll tell you this.

"I know. I know all of that. But what I want to know is when I've hit a low point, will you be there to help me up?"

But I won't.

So, I'll just listen to what you tell me.

And be quiet.

Sometimes I shut up and I swallow it all in.

Like I'm supposed to.

Like the adult I am.

So, I take it all in.

And I smile on the outside.

Like I'm supposed to.

For you.

So, you can tell yourself that everything is fine.

I'll close my mouth so you can close your eyes.

And, I still want to hide in a dark corner.

Because if I disappear, perhaps all the other bad things will as well.

P/S I'm not really writing about myself, in case any of my friends get worried. But I'm sure that at some point in time, all of us have felt like this. So, really, this was supposed to be some sort of poem, but I'm too lazy to figure out the meter, etc.

There Are Many Ways To Cut A Cucumber

2008-11-19T00:18:00.000+08:00

When I first moved to Swansea, I didn't know how to cook - at all. Serves me right for running out of the house every time my mother wanted to teach me. The result? I spent my first week in a new country eating prawn sandwiches and cereal.

The second week I upgraded to ready-made meals from Tesco. I'm talking mushroom burgers and tuna pasta.] By the end of a month, I was seriously in need of 'real' food. I mean, a proper, full-out, Asian dinner. I wanted rice and chicken curry and spicy vegetables. I was sick of sandwiches and pasta. Just sick, sick, sick.

I made friends with the other Malaysian girls and got the Asian dinner I was in desperate need of. I also got some cooking lessons. Slowly, I learned how to chop onions and garlic, how to stir-fry beef, how to make sure the chicken was thoroughly cooked. They taught me how to clean fish and squid properly [which I'm still not quite sure I can do on my own], how to fix a dish if it's too spicy/sour/salty so that it was yummy again.

My first attempt at cooking a 'proper' meal ended with me slicing my finger while trying to chop a cabbage. Pathetic, I know. My brother had to finish up chopping the cabbage. Despite that little incident, the meal turned out quite nicely. Feeling inspired, I looked up a few more recipes and tried them out.

It took four years of 'training' from many different girls [one girl would teach me how to make incredible bolognaise while another would teach me to make fluffy lemon cakes], but I finally managed to feel confident enough to prepare meals for the others.

Gone is the girl who squished the tomato every time she tried to slice it and in her place is a woman who can chop tomato after tomato without squashing them. A woman who makes a pretty darned delicious lasagna [if I say so myself] and can chop at least 3 onions before being reduced to tears. A woman who handmade her pizzas and lemon shortbread.

But still a lazy woman. [I only baked a lot in my final year because it's amazing what beating eggs and butter together can do for your stress levels. And chopping things up is quite an incredible outlet for your anger. I've been known to bake and cook at way past midnight in those days.]

Now, when I'm stressed, I pop down to one of the many eating spots and eat waffles. Which I'm not supposed to do anymore. I'm supposed to skip rope when I'm stressed now. But I don't know how. I only manage to do one, before getting tangled up in the rope. Although, to be honest, I've only tried about 4 times. *lol*

I'll give it another go later.

Oh, I'm not quite sure why I titled my post under that title. I don't even like cucumbers.

Speak Softly Or Not At All

2008-11-18T03:32:00.000+08:00

"What can be said at all can be said clearly; and whereof one cannot speak thereof one must be silent." - Ludwig Wittgenstein -

You asked me why I was silent.

Why I chose to look out the window instead of speak to you.

You thought that perhaps I was angry or upset with you.

Or that I was unhappy.

When, in reality, nothing could be further than the truth.

I'll tell you why I was silent.

I'll tell you why I looked out that window instead of speaking to you.

I didn't choose to stay silent because I was angry or upset.

Or because I was unhappy.

I stayed silent because I didn't have the adequate words.

I stayed silent because the English language doesn't have the adequate words.

To tell you everything I was feeling at the moment.

So, I stayed silent.

I stayed silent not because I was angry or upset.

Or even because I was unhappy.

I stayed silent...

Simply because I had no words.

Oriental Wonder

2008-11-17T05:12:00.001+08:00

A few years back, when I was still a student in Swansea, I joined this thing that was a social network website. It was on the recommendation of 'A' [since we were doing the long-distance thing, he thought it would be fun to chat there instead of on regular MSN or Yahoo, for some reason that seemed to make sense at the time]. Anyhoo... it turned out to be a dating website. So I got loads of... "What are you doing here then if you're already in a relationship?" Erm... because my boyfriend told me to?

Anyway, I had my picture up on the site. So, one day I was just surfing through people's profiles and a man sent me a private message.

Man: Hi. Are you Oriental?

Me: [What the poof? Am I Oriental... like noodles?]

Me: [Curiosity piqued, which was the only reason I deigned to reply.] Erm... sort of.

Man: That's wonderful!

Me: [Rather taken aback at this display of excitement over my ethnic origin.] Oh... thanks.

Man: I'm so glad to meet you. You know what they say about Orientals? Of course you do.

Me: [Actually I didn't.] Erm... that we have good food?

Man: No. Oh, come on. You must know?

Me: Actually, no. Do you mean that Orientals are quiet and submissive? [Getting a bit peeved by now.]

Man/[TOOOOOOOOT]: No! That you Orientals are great in BLEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP! I'm sure you must be too.

Me: [You twisted, prejudiced joirk!] [What I replied to this has to be edited out.]

That was the first time I've ever been referred to as Oriental. Usually, if pressed, I just answer that I'm Asian. Methinks that TOOOOOOOOOOOT has watched a little too many mature films.

Ah, well. There's always a first...

But prejudice does tend to land one in uncomfortable situations, yes?

Tagged: Scent Of A Woman

2008-11-16T06:06:00.003+08:00

This post is a bit overdue. A few weeks ago, Eim tagged me in her post about perfumes. So, now I have to reply and write a post about the different perfumes in my 'collection'. [Pssst... Eim, dah gik main tag2 aieee. Lelah kmk bah. Dah kmk lelah oleh hopping hipping tek.]

So, this is the list of perfumes I have tried and the journey I had with each bottle of perfume.

'L'Eua D'Issey EDP' by Issey Miyake. My mother gave it to me when I was 13, which also happened to be the first bottle of perfume I ever owned. Until now it remains a firm favourite of mine. I love the scent. It's so soft and subtle.
'Pleasures' by Estee Lauder. I bought this for my prom when I was 15, but discovered afterwards that I wasn't really into it as I initially was. I found it a bit too strong.
'Sentiment' by Escada. I discovered this while I was out buying a birthday gift for a friend. I fell in love with it. I find it so romantic and sweet.
'Magnetism' by Escada. I picked this up on my travels, in Milan to be precise. It's a soft, fruity, fragrance. I loved Milan and every time I spritz this on, it would take me right back to Italy.
'Cool Water' by Davidoff. I received this as a birthday present on my 21st birthday. It's very nice and refreshing.
Recently, I bought 'B-Spot' by Benefit. Again, because I find the scent soft and sweet.

So, those are among the few scents that I've tried and bought over the years.

P/S I wanted to do another 'joke' post with this tag, but I don't dare because I've pulled one on her in a previous tag, so I'm afraid she might chase me with a kitchen knife.

Kung-Fu Panda

2008-11-15T08:32:00.000+08:00

So, I had my first kick-boxing lesson on Monday night.

We stepped in and saw men and women putting on their hand wraps and boxing gloves, and I got a bit intimidated.

There they were, looking all professional and there I was, praying I wouldn't topple over after the first 10 minutes [I didn't. So, yey!]

We registered, blabla, then the instructor came over. He led us over to The Ring. Woohooo... we got to step into an actual ring. I was all pumped up and channeling Hillary Swank in Million Dollar Baby.

He took us through the warm-up and stretching... then came, The Kicking.

I couldn't really kick much because my knee was still hurting [from dance class - I know, so unfit!], and he didn't push me. But I felt very empowered all the same, even though the kicking bag barely made any sound when my foot came into contact with it. Oh, and I might have kicked when he hadn't told us to yet as the "Wait for me to tell you" line popped up a couple of times.

And I might have nearly gotten kicked by him a couple of times when I moved the bag before I was supposed to. [I was just spaced out by then. Hah, bet he regretted picking me as his partner.]

Then it was time for, The Punching.

Yeeeaaaaahhh... cue me walking around with boxing gloves feeling like a kid playing dress-up. Of course, the moment the gloves came on is the precise moment my shoulder started to itch. Gah.

Apart from the little incident where I accidentally punched my instructor while trying to execute the roundhouse punch [oh, and him telling me my elbows were nowhere near high enough], I thought it went pretty well. Even though he had to show me quite a few times how to punch properly. [I didn't know how to position my hands in those bulky gloves!]

I loved it!

I cannot wait for next week's class. [The instructor might run off in the opposite direction when he sees me. Not that I would blame him.]

Another thing I can check off my 'Things I Absolutely Must Try In Life' list.

I wonder if my friends would like to join me at the shooting range? I would love to learn how to fire a gun. [Don't ask. It's a Lara Croft/Charlie's Angels thing.]

I Hear Mourful Hymns As I Find My Way Through The Forest Of Darkness

2008-11-14T05:59:00.000+08:00

I hear mournful hymns as I find my way through the forest of darkness.

Aha! Caught you!
Now that I have your attention, you may as well stay and finish reading.
Sorry, but I do not hear mournful hymns. The closest thing to a mournful hymn I hear is my purse begging for the abuse to end. And my days of finding my way through 'The Forest Of Darkness' are hopefully over. [As I have thrown away my 'trekking' trainers.] Now, I only trek through 'The Labyrinth Of Desires', also known as shopping malls.
Anyway, it's all very 'Lord Of The Rings'-ish, isn't it?
Oh, I would enter the forest just for a glimpse of Legolas. [Yes, I know he's not real. Unfortunately.]
I'm rather bored at the moment, and sleepy as I am, I can't seem to sleep.
Oh, if only the stars could sing me a lullaby.
[Sorry, I'm in a rather melodramatic mood right now. I was absolutely scandalised earlier when I thought I wouldn't be able to find my ankle guards.]
Actually, forget the stars. If I were still sleeping in my old room in Swansea, with Jamie Foxx crooning in my ear, I'd sleep just fine.
I actually started out writing this post with something specific in mind. But apparently I've forgotten what it was.
Ah, well. Let's just go with the flow. [I don't follow the flow enough. If anything, I'm always trying to swim against it, or at least resist. Could it be my incredibly stubborn streak?]
[Err... no, I'm not stubborn. I'm a woman who has strong opinions and beliefs.]
Right.
I was thinking of making lemon squares earlier or some incredible-looking chocolate chip cookies I saw on Nigella Express. But I don't know where all the baking equipment is. Plus, my neighbours and my family probably won't appreciate hearing the banging that usually accompanies my efforts in the kitchen at 3.00 a.m.
Back to my futile effort to reach La-La Land.

The Perfect Blend

2008-11-13T03:59:00.001+08:00

Some of my favourites...

chocolate + banana + whipped cream = perfect smoothie
pineapple + cheese = perfectly yummy snack cubes
books + me = perfectly contented me
pesto, mozarella + sundried tomatoes = perfectly delish toasted panini
pink + white = perfectly sweet colour combo
mangoes + mascarpone = perfectly great sponge filling
diamonds + me = perfectly dazzled me
Lilo + Stitch = perfect entertaining duo
rain, slow love songs, scented candles = perfect snuggling under the covers
Italy + me = perfect place for me
cream cheese, smoked salmon + caviar = perfect toppings for a bagel
hot bath + scented bubbles = perfectly relaxed me
toast, spaghetti hoops + fried egg = perfect breakfast
pasta + me = perfectly stuffed me
sunsets + beach = perfect scenery
daydreaming + me = perfect partners
rain + sleep = perfect sleeping environment
hazelnut coffee + cold weather = perfect way to warm up
shopping + me = perfectly de-stressed me
ice cream, whipped cream, butterscotch sauce = perfect sundae
him + me = perfectly happy

What are some of your 'perfect' blends?

I'm going to tag these people and find out their 'perfect' blends.

Eim, ScoMan, Aya, Nicole, Jaja, Mhea, Erin