"I know the sun will appear again in your life... and shining so bright.. probably sooner than you think."

Into the blue (I)

These photos from one of the guys will have to do for now... until the other one figures out how to crack the code on Scubazoo's underwater video of the dive where we saw the hammerheads ;-)

The Familiar

He told us over dinner on the last night that one of the things he had not seen yet and hoped to was a Bull Shark.

"Heh. That might be the first and LAST TIME you see one." Smiling. Looking. Waiting.

He looked up sharply from the logbook he was signing, his eyes - eyes that I remember mostly in the way they squint in delight as his whole face breaks into that disarmingly boyish smile - considering mine for a moment. "Well, you never know..." Smiling slowly, squinting just a little - knowing.

I smiled and looked away.

To know. And then, to have known.

Cat on-the-rocks

One of a handful of rather scrawny cats on the island. We were told that the resort had tried - unsuccessfully - to relocate the cats to the mainland. Actually, I thought they were nice to have around, during those idyllic hours in-between dives when there was nothing much to do. And I did not think the cats posed much of a threat to the birds - the winged ones were certainly capable of protecting themselves and their nests. A couple were quite aggressive and swooped at our heads, screaming like harpies (eh, though that may have been me squawking as I ran for cover!) when we went down to the other end of the island for bird-watching. So much for the "Don't disturb birds" sign!


26: "...est queadam fiere voluptas."

24: "Badminton game on Monday went unexpectedly well."

23: "It was a trip that I decided upon in haste and spent 3 days repenting of."

22: "...I just keep hoping that something would happen, that we would be magical again."

0157 hours

HAMMERHEADS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DEVIL RAYS !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And a BIG BIG BIG MANTA RAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Layang Layang, 23-28 May

I am really excited about my trip. I have been told that the chances of seeing hammerheads are really high. And I believe my chances have just improved. You see, the flow has decided to be late this month, that is, it is almost certain that it will start on the first day of dive - as it keeps doing for all my major dives.

Like, I am shark bait just waiting to happen.

(Sibeh sian.)

Moving pictures

Remember all the things they promised you in Star Wars III? I hope you care for none of that but the special effects - because that is all you get.

Most of the movie just felt so disjointed and it seemed plot elements were just haphazardly put together.


Funny faces.

From Skates at LMD.

Conversations with Small Eyes

"Why is it that the most wonderful encounters always, always seem so unreal?"

"Because they are out of the ordinary?"

"Then it makes you wonder if they are real - if they do not seem to have a place in everyday life."

"Heh. Maybe."

At some point, I stopped trying to "rationalise" some of the things I did or felt - my life. The thinking (reasoning) process was tiring me out; and I often found myself harbouring even more doubts and fears. Sometimes, there is simply no "reason". And the harder we push the limits of logic - conventional logic - the more frustrated we get running around in circles; and missing the bigger picture.

We try so hard, perhaps too hard sometimes, to make sense; to understand; to want what we think we want; to fit everything into our own little corner of the world - when there is a much bigger world out there where our petty desires, grievances and fears are but a drop in the torrent of life; a bigger world of not-so-random events and encounters where we are the pieces of the whole.

And though we are not insignificant on our own, we can be so much more when we are part of the whole. Do you not ever wonder why, in spite of how hard you think and try and do, something is still missing?

Have you ever tried doing something "random"; something different; something that you would not have usually done or has no "reason" to be part of your daily routine and habits; for no particular "reason" at all; and not even knowing where it might lead you? Like, picking a random car on the road and following it to see where it goes? Or meeting a stranger? Or asking questions and discovering more than you expected?

Have you ever closed your eyes and stepped into the darkness - holding on to nothing but a thin thread of chance and following it to see where it goes?

Unravelling the threads that bind us - that have always bound us - even before we met; before we knew each other's names and faces; before we knew each other existed - could exist.

That, one as you, could be.

That, you have always been there.

And now, are here.

This is only the beginning, my friend.


Can you hear me
Am I getting through to you

Is it late there
Is there laughter on the line
Are you sure youíre there alone
Cuz iím
Trying to explain
Somethingís wrong
You just donít sound the same

Why donít you
Why donít you
Go outside
Go outside

Kiss the rain
Whenever you need me
Kiss the rain
Whenever Iím gone too long
If your lips feel lonely and thirsty
Kiss the rain
And wait for the dawn
Keep in mind
Weíre under the same sky
And the nightís
As empty for me as for you
If you feel
You canít wait till morning
Kiss the rain
Kiss the rain
Kiss the rain

- Kiss the Rain, Billie Myers

No thanks to Tetanus, I cannot stop replaying the song over and over again. And it is raining now...

I wonder what CirCe is doing. Two more days. Not that I want to go out into the rain now... and you know... I mean, that would be so gay, right? Heh.

Tug dog

He likes wearing the rubber toy around his neck :-) He does this little flipping motion that gets the ring around his neck. Hehehehe.

BTW, does anyone know how to avoid the green-eye effect?

It's not what you did - it's YOU.

It was not really about what The Running Man did. It was not that he was doing it all "wrong" - trying to get to me by using work as an excuse or the skin-on-skin in the cab. If all these had come from someone else whose attentions were welcome, it would all have been fine; and there would have been no "good" or "bad" approach in any case - though I do award bonus points for "creativity". Heh.

"So, you are just biased."

Yes, of course. Certainly not what I would call male-bashing in the general sense of the term, ya?


"We have a theory... you haven't gotten over your ex."

Something about baggage and male-bashing.

Where got? Baggage from the relationship? Baggage was picked up elsewhere, actually. Male-bashing? Only that ONE time when he got pushed against the wall and throttled what. (Wuss.)

Anyway, the sound of emergency brakes has never sounded more welcome - the Running Man decided to drop off my stuff at my workplace (read: neutral ground) today. He was all business, avoiding my eye, and left quickly.

So, how do you tell whether someone has moved on?

Speak no evil

Within a week, two friends parted from their significant others, for their own reasons and under different circumstances. And apparently, also because of something I had said to them.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

How often have you asked questions that you already have the answers to? Does it make it more real if the answer comes from the mouth of another?

How often have you asked questions that you already know the answers to - but hoped that a second (third, fourth or fifth) opinion could possibly change the way things are?

Perhaps I should have just listened - like I always do. And nodded - like I always do.

Perhaps you should not have asked me.



Tuesday morning

Kaya toast. "I don't understand how anyone can still be friends with an ex."

Runny eggs. "Strong on the outside but mush on the inside."

Coffee with condensed milk. "I change people."

I took the morning off. Because I felt like lying on my back for several more minutes; it has been my favoured position of late. Then I got up and trudged down to Yakun Toast to meet CirCe for breakfast and pass her my backpack; she would be leaving for her dive trip tonight and we would only see each other again next Monday morning (over breakfast too, I suppose) before I leave for my trip a few hours later.

After breakfast, I went home and laid in bed somemore with the sluggish dogs. I curled myself around Elmo's sleeping form, comforted by the occasional movements of his muzzle pressing against my tummy and heavy sighs as he drifted into doggy dreams.

(Yes, I know I have ugly veined hands.)


He called in the afternoon to say that he would be working on my regulator today and it would be ready for collection tonight. Wow. Fast work(er). However, it was just an interim job - so I could still go for my trip - because the original parts had to be ordered and they would not arrive in time; he would do a full service after my return. He wanted to know what time I would be home tonight; he would come by since "we live so near each other" - which he keeps reminding me.

"Mmmm... tonight... ehhh... I don't know... I'm GOING OUT."



"Ah. GOING OUT. Ah."

Sometime past 8, when I was supposed to be engaged in the activity of "GOING OUT", he called again - just to tell me that the servicing has been done, and to arrange a time to meet.

"Can't talk now. Busy. Call you later?"

"Watching a MOVIE?"



"I'll call you again when I'm done, ok?"

"Ah. Ah."

This time, it was his voice that turned cold. After I hung up, I settled back onto the bed for my facial and tried not to think about the phonecalls. Anyhow, I did not pick up my stuff tonight because the beautician took longer than usual. I did not call him back either. I was too tired to entertain more of his "questions" - questions which almost felt as if I "owed" him answers. I guess it was something in his voice, and not so much the words.

I do not like doing things this way. But I have to do what I have to do, no?


"Friday night's dinner consisted, mostly, of someone's detested and discarded bean sprouts. How many? Lost count."

Something black...

This is a bungee cord. Divers use it to secure equipment to their BCs (vest).

"Ah, here is the 'thong'."

This time, I did not laugh - I never found anything funny about it anyhow. I asked where he had found it and he said he did not "find it".

The gears in my head screeched to a stop.

"So, eh, how much did you pay for it?"

I wanted to pay him - even though I had not intended to get a replacement nor asked him to help - but he waved it off without a word. And I realised that when he called me on Thursday night to pick up the bungee cord, he did not know beforehand that I was planning to drop by the dive centre in a day or two.

I could feel all the alarms and sprinklers in my head going off. Siow liao...

He said I should send in my other regulator for servicing too. I said I was "BUSY" next week and would not be able to drop by the diving centre after work. (Hallo! Hint! Bugger off!) So he insisted on meeting me at my home after work, since we live so near to each other, to pick up the regulator. (DOH!!! That was not what I meant!!!)

Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away.

I am feeling very grossed out. Can you tell?


What an obese JRT looks like

When you look at the sizable bulk of the dog in relation to the CPU, it is not that difficult to imagine how he could have been capable of shaking up the computer system.


Chocolate fondue with frozen ice cream cubes and fruits at Hšagen-Dazs was a fun dessert to try. Too bad about the cheap chocolate dip though. I wonder if Max Brenners is still at the Esplanade.


"When you lose something you cherish and then regain it later, that object becomes all the more precious because you thought it was gone for good."


As I was stepping out of the house ("going out with friend"), mum asked if it were a guy. You know, as opposed to a girl, duh. It happened to be a guy (as opposed to a girl), and I told her so. She smiled and left me alone for a few weeks.

Shrug. Just as long as she does not ask me if I am gay again - because next time, I will tell her I am.

Then again, wait until she finds out about the kind of "men" my sister is going out with.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Last night, while out with friends to check out a jazz place at Cuppage, I got a missed call and voice mail from The Running Man. Again, "I do not know why" (perhaps I was just picking up more vibes from people yesterday) but I did not like the tone in the voice and so decided not to return the call.

Today, he called again while I was at work.

"Why didn't you return my call... wah, you very good ah... didn't I ask you to call me back in my voice mail...?"

Yada yada yada.

He had something for me and threw one about strings and thongs and lingerie sales. I laughed - because he was trying too hard to make me laugh. And he laughed. And I laughed - because he thought that just because I laugh at his jokes and like listening to his stories, I would be interested in everything else he has to say and never stop laughing. And he laughed. And I told him that it was not a very appropriate thing to say to me. He laughed. And I laughed - since we were all trying so hard to make each other laugh.

It was a bungee cord he had found. Some divers are like scavengers of the sea and spend a lot of time picking up lost items from the seabed. He probably has a treasure trove of spoils from the sea.

He had noticed that mine was spoilt. Then he said that he was probably going to get jibed again by the other diving instructors for being "so nice" to a female.

By the way, if you are the sort who likes checking out the opposite sex upfront and personal - without getting too many dirty looks - pick up diving. We spend a lot of time checking out each other's equipment - of the biodegradable and non-biodegradable varieties. If nothing else, you do not even have to spend money for gifts to charm the wetsuit and bikini off the girl. (But for females like CirCe, gifts are not necessary in view of regular wardrobe malfunctions.) You can become a Salvage Diver and impress the girls with your Search and Recover skills. Think about it: bungee cords, weight belts, tank bangers, masks and snorkels, and even those expensive dive computers!

"Britney, before you go, there's something I want you to have."
"Oh, it's beautiful, but wait a minute, isn't this...?"
"Yeah, yes it is."
"But I thought the old lady dropped it into the ocean in the end."
"Well baby, I went down and got it for you."
"Oh, you shouldn't have."

But a bungee cord is hardly the Heart of the Ocean, no?

"So, when can you drop by?"

I can drop by anytime - I just DO NOT WANT to.

Unfortunately, I HAVE to drop by the diving centre because I need to get my regulator serviced. Otherwise, I might not return from my diving trip. And even more unfortunately, he would be doing the servicing because the other guy is away. He told me that I would have to pay an additional Express Charge because it is a last minute job.

"That's ok. I know I should have done this earlier."

I, Procrastinator. Sigh.

Then, he tried to get me to bargain for a good price.

"Just quote me lahhh - I am bad at bargaining."

Do I look like one of the aunties who goes to the wet market? I do not have a problem paying for quality products and good services and only ask that I get what I paid for. And I am just as happy with good deals and freebies - but must be nice ones hor; not the types you wrap up in nice wrapping paper to give away at Christmas party exchanges.

"But don't quote me so much horrr!

Because I remembered that I am going to spend on a new computer system. It cannot be delayed any longer because each day that I procrastinate, Elmo is consuming more dog food and kaya bread for breakfast, and getting fatter and bigger. And the next time his fat ass slams into my CPU, it might be my entire computer table that topples over.

"Ok lor. Then see whether I am happy lorrr."

"Don't like that lehhh."

"See my mood lorrr."


What is it with the manoeuvring and power play? Oh, how he basked in the role of the Storyteller on Sunday night as we all laughed at his stories over Joo Chiat wanton mee (Lavender foodcourt's noodles are still the best) and Gelare at Siglap after the pool training; and kept mentioning the girlfriend of the cute Divemaster-in-training who came to talk to me at the pool. And what was the deal when he pulled out an entire wad of $50 notes when I just wanted to get to an ATM and would have rather borrowed a $50 from one of the girls in any case. Is there something so important to prove? It hardly feels flattering - I do not mean that as in he does not flatter me (if nothing else, any male attention is always an ego booster) - when certain assumptions are being made about my person. It does not take a lot to impress me, but it can take just as little to turn me off.

I have always been wary of accepting "gifts" and "favours", more so now since it seems to be happening a little more often than before, and especially from someone I do not trust. And who obviously does not trust what I say either, since he had to touch my bare arm for himself, unconvinced that I had declined his jacket because I was really NOT feeling cold, in spite of the rather strong airconditioning in the cab and my crossed arms (maybe he has not heard of Allan Pease).

That being said, I have declined help most times because I simply do not want to be a bother to my friends. Trust me, I can be VERY troublesome. And I do not want the lovely people who are my friends to disown me after they realise just how VERY troublesome I can be.

Just tonight, I was staring in horror at the generous topping of bean sprouts on my Spicy Ramen at Scotts Ajisen. I whined to CirCe who had already started picking at my seaweed.

"I forgot to tell them I don't want bean sprouts. Help me pick them out leh."

"Aiya. You are so TROUBLESOME!"

See what I mean? Whimper.

Maybe I should get The Running Man to clean my windows. I expect he would be jumping with joy at the opportunity to step into the House of Horrors.

I expect my 8kg Jack Russell Terrier would be jumping for joy too. Have I mentioned the time in the early days when we still allowed him to run without a leash in the park, and he had returned with white fuzz around his muzzle - white fur that obviously did not belong to him since his entire head is brown? I suppose somewhere in Bishan Park, someone is walking a white - and very nervous - toy dog with a bald patch.

I expect I would be jumping with joy too, when he falls over the window ledge - 12 floors down.

Now, that is a "favour" I would not mind accepting. Snk. Snk. Snk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My mum hovered in the doorway while I was at the computer.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"


"What kind of friends are you going out with nowadays?" (Read: girl or guy?)

"Friends lor."

"Which friends?" (Read: girl or guy?)

"Different groups of friends lor."

Some things that my mum would like me to spend more time thinking about are just too confounding and tedious to think about. And I tire so easily nowadays.

Girl or guy - does it matter? As long as I continue to find them (the guys LAH) amusing.

I am feeling harrassed. Can you tell?

Birthday greetings

Happy (belated) Birthday to Lysithea :-)

In the light

I do not know why, but when I met him for the second time today, I just felt different. And I decided I did not like him as a person as much. There was something about his face - in the daylight. Later, as I talked to him a little more and listened to him talk to the others, I realised why.

Three down. Two to go.


Blading this Saturday at East Coast Beach. Munmun? Anyone else?

In less than two weeks

After Wine Network, I was hesitant about joining the group for another blah evening out, and thought of running off with SF for dinner and the farewell party for my favourite yoga instructors who have just left for a teaching job in Hong Kong (sniff, byebye Shannon and Andrew). Besides, in less than two weeks, I would be spending enough time with the group out in the South China Sea - with nowhere else to run. But I felt bad about cancelling since I had promised to join them, and especially since the group has been really wonderful with making ALL the arrangements for the trip.

It turned out to be a lovely Friday night, and I finally met the last diver in the group, who was also hosting us at his place. I wondered if it were the dynamics since two from the first meeting could not join us.

Sometime during the night, the host was joking about having to put up with his dive buddy's snoring since they would be sharing a room as they always do. That was when I remembered to ask about the room arrangements before I found out only at the hotel reception AGAIN.

Well, three rooms had been booked for the six of us - four men and two women.

E was rooming with CY.

Two down. Four to go.

I looked at M: "There are only two of us, so we should be rooming with each other, but since O is coming along, I guess you would be sharing a room with him...???" M smiled quietly.

Okaaay... Four down. Two to go.

I turned to D (AKA The Electronic Smiley Face Who Looked Before He Leaped): "Which means I will be sharing a room with YOU."

And while I was working out the arrangements aloud, the others simply waited patiently and quietly - especially M and D - for me to reach the natural conclusion.



So I did what came naturally. I turned to D again: "I am warning you now. I talk in my sleep."

And we laughed it off. And then I told them about my "One Night Stand" in Sebana. And we all laughed it off some more.

Except I will have to sleep through not one, but FIVE nights, not quite alone, in less than two weeks' time.

Whimper. (But to be fair, Uncle does seem to be the decent sort.)

The importance of enunciation

You know how the serving staff will announce your order when it arrives?

I had a Jedi Mudster (mudpie) at NYDC tonight. As the waitress served it, she nodded slightly in my dining companion's direction: "Jedi Master." (It really did sound like "MAS-ter" rather than "MUD-ster". And it was said rather solemnly.)

My brain froze for a few seconds. "Why did she address him as Jedi M... Oh. Ohhh." Heh.


"I read somewhere that Call Centre staff keep mirrors at their desks to remind themselves to stay pleasant. *pause* I'm getting a mirror for my table."

Yah, me too.


"Hurt it does but walk on I must."

Walk like a Tetanus

I fell behind him a few times on Monday night, and finally figured out how he does it.

It is in the waist.

A lot of people walk with only their legs; the rest of the body remains mostly inert, letting the legs carry them from point A to B; disinterested in their destination; arms, legs, body and mind disconnected from each other.

But he MOVES through the mechanical and mindless motions of the undifferentiated masses with a certain flair (not unlike the way he speaks and writes): sashaying shoulders and swinging arms; the upper torso swinging from side to side with each slight turn of the waist; strutting down the streets and into restaurants; and always with just that slight but unmistakable spring in his strides. It is almost as if he moves to music in his head.

Actually, his walk reminds me of Will Smith's gait. Yep, definitely.

I guess someone is going to suddenly find himself with a lot of "followers". Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And then, through dinner and coffee (while sacrificing my bare arms and left ear lobe to keep the mosquitoes away from my dining companion since he paid for dinner), followed by drinks and more second-hand cigarette smoke (what with the blood offerings and lung-poisoning, I wonder if there is something he is not telling me)...

I watched him as he followed the same footprints and voices that I once did.

And I wondered if truly, nothing ever happens randomly, and the paths we walk are not of our own choosing.

It lives, for now...

Somehow, the overgrown pork sausage with four legs had managed to dislodge the primary hard disk cable when his 8kg fat ass slammed into the CPU. And someone was more concerned if the dog was OK. DOG?!! Oh yeah, dog is OK for now. But dog will so not be OK if PC is really dead.

Thanks to all for the technical (and emotional) support :-D

"Who says I'm picky?"

"Some time ago, a well-meaning friend introduced me to a friend of his, Wanker. Wanker comes from a well-to-do family, wears expensive watches and drives expensive fast cars. Wanker bored the tears out of me at our first meeting, and I told my friend, Wah lao, cannot make it. But my friend said must give chance mah, so I agreed to give Wanker my number..."

"The next day, Wanker emailed me, and apologised for not turning up the previous night, because he had felt weird. I very politely told him I was highly unimpressed with him, that I thought it very rude he had not answered or returned my phonecalls, and that I did not think I would ever be inclined to want to meet him again, because I did not want to waste my time. I think I might have thrown in an insult or two, I can't remember, I must have, judging from his very angry reply..."

"And my friends say I'm picky?!?!?"

Whenever I got the "picky" line, I would feel a little embarrassed or quickly made a self-deprecating remark about "nobody wanting me" (which was and is mostly the case). Then, I got tired of having to look "suitably embarrassed" or laugh off these comments. And I did not appreciate the accompanying snide looks which have occasionally led to mild chatisements.

In recent times, as I began to understand myself more and became less afraid of my voice, I decided to try and explain that it is not so much about having "high standards" - which is really what is often being implied - and not about finding The Best but The One. Unfortunately, some people seem to have trouble understanding or accepting the concept.

And you know what, just because a person had chosen (whether it is out of a belief that any relationship can work as long as you make it work, or a lack of self-confidence) to settle for second best does not mean that other people should do the same just so the former would not then have to bang his/her head against the wall for settling for second best.

So, fuck it. From now on, when people ask me why I am "fussy", I will tell them:

"Fussy?!! Because I'M WORTH IT! Nabeh!"

(Ok lah, maybe not the Hokkien interjection - which might cost me a few points. Heh. Heh.)

After all, since people cannot accept the truth, I will just give them exactly what they want to hear.


Sunday, 8 May - Mother's Day.

I, So Pissed

"Juz nw when i was using yr pc elmo came in to disturb xena and she wanna bite him till elmo hit e cpu. I tried restart e pc nothing comes out."
- SMS on 08/05/2005 20:24

I have several blog entries waiting to be completed or uploaded. And I was hoping to work on something big before I go away in two weeks' time.

So, someone please tell me what the "CHECK SIGNAL CABLE" message on my otherwise blank LCD monitor means. (The CPU is unresponsive.)

Before I kill my sister (who was using the computer and did not stop the dogs from fighting). And after that, I am going to slowly starve my obese 8kg Jack Russell Terrier (whose fat ass it was that had rammed into the CPU) to DEATH.

Somewhere out there

"A bunch of veteran Singaporean bloggers have come together to start a 'bulletin of Singapore Bloggers'. It seems to be a content aggregating site which gathers 'interesting' posts from Singaporean blogs. The term 'interesting' is, of course, subjective......"

"The beauty of the blogging world is its inconsistency. The wide spectrum of views, visions and ideas, from the logical to outright bizarre, is what colours the medium. Every blogger has his own version of truth. Every blogger is responsible for his own words. I hope in the years down the road, the editors remember why they started blogging as an individual. I hope they remember why they started Tomorrow."

"I write... therefore I am."

- Aberwyn

Well said.

But that being said, methinks it has always been about the community. It has always been about belonging. That a blogging community has evolved out of these random (and just as many deliberate) online liaisons was inevitable, and really, a natural progression of things.

We want to know that our words are heard; what others think; if others think our words are good enough. We need to be assured of our worthiness; to be worshipped; to be loved. We want to know our words are real; that we exist; that we are real; that we are. And as much as the least likely media whores among us would like to believe, and as much as we declare that we write for ourselves and are accountable to none of our readers (especially their boyfriends), we write with the silent wish that our words would reach out and touch someone - anyone - out there; the same way our words touch us; and that their words will touch us too.

"Somewhere out there,
Beneath the pale blue night,
Someone's thinking of me,
And loving me tonight.
Somewhere out there,
Someone's saying a prayer,
Then we'll find one another,
In that big somewhere out there."
- Somewhere Out There

Some people need the words of others - many, many, many others - to make theirs stronger; to be heard. Some of these people will learn from the others, and eventually venture beyond the comfort of the group, on the new strength of their own words, to find themselves. Some of these people will leave the group because they are wanderers seeking temporary refuge - to share some laughter and fond memories over a meal or two - but they will eventually grow weary of too many empty words as their own words yearn to be heard away from the noise, and in quiet contemplation. Some of these people will not leave the group. Perhaps they are simply content to take comfort in the camaraderie; perhaps they have not found their own voice yet; perhaps they do not want to find their own voice, and are happy enough - for the moment - to pander to the words that the masses want to read, and let their adorations drown out everything else, until they will not even remember who they are.

There are also the few people who have enough power in their own words - enough to find another to make their own even stronger; and another; and another. Because, one day, these words will gain enough momentum on their own. And, they will burst into flames and light the dark heavens ablaze.

And, you will see my words.

And, you will come to me with these words.

And, you will call me by my secret name.


You will guide me out of this darkness that surrounds me and grows darker and heavier by the day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When was the last time that you wished upon a star?

"I wished for you too."
- April 2004

And got hit in the head by a freaking meteor rock.


(Or in Aberwyn's less eloquent way of putting things: "Nabeh! Pui!!!" Heh. Heh. Heh.)

LOOK before you leap

Any resemblance to living persons (or persons who wish they were dead after reading this) is totally the paranoia, delusion and neurosis of said living persons (or persons who wish they were dead after reading this). What follows is simply the writer's delusional and neurotic interpretation of events.

Having allowed a respectable lapse of time (since I really do not know what manner of creatures have stumbled into this ulu hamlet of words and continue to lurk - faceless, nameless, wordless - especially now with my favourite Bounce Boy happily bouncing referrals this way), and hoping that whoever it was who might have been watching (who I obviously do not want watching) would have given up since all I do is write about me-me-me instead of him-him-him, I suppose it is now a little 'safer' to write about something. (Actually, more like I have just been feeling a little reckless lately. Having to live with constant discomfort and pain puts a lot of things in perspective, which is not a bad thing - the perspective, I mean.)

A couple of months ago, an Electronic Smiley Face "can give me your contact number" kept calling me on the pretext of work and when he could not get me would leave me more smiley-faced "tried calling you... :)" emails. I figured he was just very friendly and enthusiastic about everything: the piece of work I was helping him with; his accomplishments; what other people were doing on a particular Friday night and who they were having dinner with (actually his informant had already informed him; you can always tell when the call comes in right after you have casually mentioned your whereabouts to the informant); trying to drive down so he could pass me some work; trying to get me to drop by some place where he would be so we could talk about work, and then re-confirming, and re-confirming, to make sure I would drop by (yes, I know, I'm getting on in years and things tend to slip my mind more frequently nowadays). I continued believing what I wanted to believe until Electronic Smiley Face "I'm going to gym now. I'm slightly thinner than I am in my photos now :)" decided to over-share personal information.

Anyway, that took care of itself quickly when we finally met. His calls and emails stopped. Abruptly. I swear I can still hear the screech of emergency brakes and smell burnt rubber.

After the Electronic Smiley Face with Skid Marks, another Electronic Smiley Face "perhaps I can have her mobile to contact her direct" came along - except the latter was actually pleased to see me when we met with a few others for dinner. But, to be fair, he had already seen me on a few occasions, so there was no opportunity for a Rude Shock or Unpleasant Surprise. And, if nothing else, I was not grubby with sweat and climbing chalk, and was nicely dressed for the night out.

Now, spare me the hogwash about looks being superficial, because well, that is not the way it works with men (and a lot of women too). Keeping this in mind, I really think men ought not to start 'harrassing' a female until they have met her in person, and decided that they like what they see. Honestly, there really is no need to embarrass the woman of your dreams, or rather, nightmares, AND yourself, trying to manage an awkward situation which could have been avoided. Seriously, how do you know this would not turn around into this? Or (and this is obviously just an example of a possible scenario that is not based on actual events) do you really want to find yourself having to lean away a little just so you can meet the eyes of a taller woman without suffering a stiff neck; while she is probably wondering if she is so repulsive that you are physically recoiling from her?

Please remember: LOOK before you leap. Nobody likes the sound of emergency brakes or the smell of burnt rubber. (Even if the object of interest was not interested in you to begin with.)

Disclaiming the disclaimer:
I was kidding about people wishing they were dead, by the way. Afterall, I did not make said living persons resembling persons above look all that bad, did I? (Now, if you want to read the stuff that would really make said living persons wish they were dead, come back after an even more respectable lapse of time...)

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And, what is it with the tag teams anyhow? Am I so intimidating that some people feel the need to team up with their well-meaning female friends? It is becoming a little strange when SMSes and emails arrive at the same time, and with similar content.

You win liao lor

"O Juliet, Juliet! wherefore art thou Juliet?"

Laugh. My gawd! You are just too bloody heow for words.


Vision in black. Patchwork lace top with a lot of black and dark colours. Black faux leather skirt. Black and copper laced heels. (Sans the face works since runny black eyes, guaranteed in this weather, hardly look glam.) And turning browner by the day, just by stepping out of the house.

And another thing, I was feeling rather harrassed today.

Intimate Stranger

"Rain is pelting against the windows of the coach bus I am in now, as I am reading a letter over and over. It must be more than just a coincidence."

In our own words. In our own time. Guided by destiny's strange hands. We will awaken one another from our dreamless slumber. So that we will dare to dream again. So that we will believe again.

Even if it might not be what you think it is.

Perhaps the only consolation is that you are not the only one.

Me like. Me want.

Callisto in a beautiful dress from Xena: Rebirth, and the Warrior Princess herself in an absolutely wicked, eh, adaptation of Samurai gear. Yum.


While whizzing down the beach this morning; and trying not to run over any blind and deaf children or mentally handicapped cyclists stopping in the middle of the lane or coming down the wrong side; and getting fried in the 34 degree Celcius heat; and trying to 'kill' S (according to S) with the punishing pace; and distracting old men on bicycles (according to S again) who stop watching where they are going; she asked how my last weekend went.

It took me a while to remember, since there was nothing much to remember from the last week, and whatever there was to remember was pretty unpleasant. I was mostly in too much discomfort and some pain. The GP gave me muscle relaxants which relieved most of the discomfort and pain on the first day, though it also 'relaxed' the other parts of my body, including my mind, just a little. It put me in a nice drowsy state, but alert enough so I could continue working. The next day, I was grateful for the training from the standing and balancing yoga poses as I found myself having to move around on jelly legs. I was also feeling breathless but I figured it was just the stress of having to deal with my health problems and work. When I kept saying the wrong words and confusing my vocabulary, I thought I was just drowsy from the medication. Then I started to stutter once too often and when my speech slurred, I stopped the Orsigesic and tolerated the discomfort - both from my stiff neck and shoulders, AND, the feeling of weakness all over. The next day, I saw an orthopod just to be sure it was not my spine. He cleared me and gave me a referral for physiotherapy; it was just pinched nerves that was causing my hands to shake and I should do something about strengthening my neck and back muscles. He also gave me Arcoxia to bring down the inflammation, which I started taking only the next day - and stopped after two mornings when my neck swelled and I got breathless again. S.I.G.H.

The physiotherapy seems to be working though (and certainly a much more pleasant experience than the increasingly excruciating 'tuina' sessions). Slowly. Something about the joints... something is 'locked' inside.

And yes, Tokuhon medical plasters give effective relief sans pain, jelly legs and swollen necks!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The problem with having a high threshold for pain is that you do not realise how serious a discomfort is until it becomes really, really bad a month later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The orthopod said something else when he saw my x-rays. He thought one of the screws in my jaw was a little too long, and I might want to talk to the dental surgeon about it.

I just remembered that the guy died from cancer less than a year ago.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

What is it with cyclists who come in groups - of four or five or more - and take up almost two lanes? Do they really think they are the only ones around, or have the right of way by virtue of their numbers?

Tolkein in Hokkien


Mummy says

I have 'wind' in my neck. No more cold drinks and late night showers for me. Sniff.


I finally looked. Because I was curious. I looked up. Across the table into his eyes. For a few seconds. Waiting for the slightly glassy look to awaken to its immediate surroundings. He smiles. One of those quick tight-lipped ones. I return another and look away.

Why do they always think that you do not know they are looking?

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There is something so attractive about someone who looks at you and holds your face in his eyes when you (or he) speak. Especially when he is slightly taller (even when you are in heels) and you have to tilt your face slightly to look up into his rather nice eyes talk to him.

It seems that they send the younger one to scope out the place first.

Make that younger and friendlier and more pleasant (his partner had quite the guai lan look).

Younger, friendlier, more pleasant, and, cuter.

PS: A certain Minister has rather good-looking Security Officers.

Today - last year

En route to Pulau Dayang...

"Snuggled in my sleeping bag on the upper deck of the ferry, I sank into sleep under a few stars in the sky. Sometime during the night, drifting in and out of sleep to the somnolent sounds of the sea, I found that the night sky had transformed into a celestial veil of stars. So many, many stars. Like... stardust? (And that smudge of white - the Milky Way?) I fought my heavy eyes for just a while more - had I died and gone to heaven?"


Watching my sister eat, as she yammered on about work or something like that; and yeah, about the gay... oh wait... he might be bisexual after all... eh... whatever... future brother-in-law. Apparently, he has this fantasy about getting the three sisters to go clubbing with him, and the four of us dancing on a bartop. Oooo...

After lunch, I found another nice sun dress. Yay! Which kinda makes up for the unfortunate bleach spots on the one with the really lovely embroidery. Ah well, at least I got to take it out a few times to meet some really nice people who appreciated it. Still. Sniffff.


He thought that Maxim (Singapore) should have chosen a more 'mature' columnist than a certain young woman who has been getting a lot of writing jobs since her blog gained widespread popularity (some say wider spread notoriety). But after reading her take on faking orgasms - and this has got nothing to do with the topic of choice since Maxim is, well, Maxim after all - I think they would not, and could not, have chosen anyone else. She belongs.

Wet... eh... dreams?

I looked down from a rather funny description of an alien Vogon ship to find that she had slipped an open magazine onto my lap. The striking underwater photos of a squid changing colours delighted me - not just because they were so beautiful (and a welcome change of visual stimuli for the rapidly tiring eyes). She remembered our monthly conversations about my trips, and had thought of me when she was flipping through the magazine that another customer had left behind at the hairdressing salon. It was nice to know that my head was not just another mop of hair waiting to be tamed.

Later, she passed me another issue of National Geographic, pages turned to an underwater kaleidoscope of colours and textures at the Fiji Islands. She liked looking at the photos, even though she could not read the articles. She also told me about her trips to the aquariums, and recognising a few of the coral fishes when she went snorkelling recently - probably standing in shallow waters since she cannot swim.

There was something about her wistfulness that intrigued me; that she still had in her to wish and to hope and to dream, even though she did not think she would ever pick up swimming, much lest brave the depths of the open sea; that she would allow herself to dream a dream that would remain a dream.

I wonder if early diving started because of a dream. And I wonder what were in those dreams.