Cheap-and-Good Syndrome

I kidded the new girl that though I was casually dressed for mid-week, I had specially wore my best pair of jeans, just bought, for the Meet-The-New-Girl luncheon. The other butted chipped in (as usual) and said something about them being designer stuff and costing more than a hundred. (Well, yes, actually they do; but they were not designer which would have cost way more - I cannot help it if I have good taste and look good at the same time.) Then, ever the opportunist in the presence of an audience, she added snidely that I only go for expensive designer stuff.

I guess I should return the favour the next time. It must surely be just as complimentary to observe that on the other hand, it takes a lot more skills to be Miss Cheap-and-Good.

Really asking to be bitch-slapped.


Last Night

"Ahhh, your friend who came last night, is he GAY?" One of the office animals asked.

I grinned. Was it the hair or the way he pranced walked?

"The WHOLE package." She laughed.

Well, who could possibly fault The King of Fairies for being a perfectionist when it comes to putting together an entire look? And notwithstanding his uncombed (because "someone is not around to look nice for mah") and wind-tousled streaked hair - which actually looked rather sexy, I thought. (Dammit, all those dance rehearsals are making me look at men in a very inappropriate way ...)





Into The Blue

I dreamt that I was diving.

It felt so real: the weight of all that water pressing on me, and the little extra effort just to breathe. But I knew it was just a dream - the same way that I know some dreams are not real - even as I was dreaming it.

The same way that I knew I was not really falling from the top of a pole hundreds of metres above ground level - what was I doing on one in the first place anyway?

The same way that I knew the heaving mass of entangled limbs belonging to three of my male ex-colleagues was not real - because I thought each of them would rather be dreaming about a romp in bed with three other hot women, and not each other.

The same way that I knew that nobody could dive at 40m for - what seemed like - a few hours each time. And in my dream, I would always realise, with a little jolt, after - what seemed like - a few hours had passed, to check my gauges, reaching down for the reassuring touch of the rubber hose, sliding down to the end where the unwieldy instrument was attached, lifting it to my face, just a little nervous that I would find that my air was down to 10 bars. But the readings - though I could never actually see them - would be fine.

And in my dream, as I walked easily on the sea bed at 40m (yet another impossibility), one of the other divers I was with (I had the impression that they were naval divers) said something about the light from above making the ascent difficult.

And as I finned for the surface with the others, I remembered how blinding the light was; how the light seemed to be all around us. And though I could not see where I was going, nor where the others were, I continued reaching for the surface ... and believing ...


"Just eat lah!"

It was the strange squishy but almost crunchy intestinal-looking things that he had said was some kind of "shellfish" and to "just eat". It was also the rather delicious hawker fare fried with chilli that I ate a lot of, but which the hobbling one (3 hobbling men in 2 days ... sigh) had just a little of before declaring it too "squishy" and that he was nursing a gout attack that was causing him "exquisite pain" and making him want to cut off his toe - every 5 minutes.

"FALLOPIAN TUBES!"

He announced triumphantly, was the mystery dish that we had last week in a coffeeshop in KL.

( . . . )

That better not have anything to do with my haemorrhage.


Because

What makes you think I would have dropped everything?

You forget: I am not a guy. And I am most certainly not you.


By Definition

I suppose it was rather funny, the way my doctor pursued the possibility of a miscarriage. "Are you very sure you were not pregnant?" She was taken aback when I told her that I was on Roaccutane instead of the birth control pills that she had prescribed me beginning of this year for my skin. (You did prescribe them for MY SKIN, yes?)

"Well, I haven't been with anyone for a long time."

"What do you MEAN by haven't been with anyone? Exactly how long ago was that?" Skepticism. ("I did not have sexual relations with that woman.")

"Wellll, 3 years ... " I pause to roll my eyes heavenwards as I counted the months " ... and a few months???"

"Oh! Ha-ha! Ok then." End of pregnancy discussion.

But it was not so funny the night before, standing in the bathroom, looking down and watching wordlessly as I poured for a few seconds. I did not sleep until several hours later, because I was so afraid I would wake up in a pool of blood - or not at all.





Runaway Tail

How do you deal with a subordinate who refuses to accept (it was never about respect, frankly) your authority?





Two 8's of Solo

2 Body-Waves ending with a Head-Flick. And a full circle of 3 Body-Rolls.

It came to me as I was showering off the Monday Blues and "napkin rash". (Sigh. Now I know why babies fret so much.)

Jessica Alba in Sin City :-)


Monosyllabic Me

"No."

"No."

"No."

What can I say? Sometimes, it works when no amount of patient explaining and sensible reasoning will. This tail ain't wagging the dog, much less imagine that it is the one with the bite. Growl.






Speaking of the Devil

Or should I say, fairy kings? (Or was that queens?)

As we passed through a quiet stretch of the Golden Shoe Carpark, I made a quick mental note of a pair walking towards us: tight sleeveless shirt ... huge muscular arms ... swagger ... tight jeans ... funky highlighted hair ... gay face ... definitely gay ... male companion ... long-sleeved shirt and work pants ... upper body looks buffed too ... The Fish ... looks gay too ... wait a minute ... HALLOOO!!! THE FISH!!!

I tried to catch his eye with a hint of a smile, but his eyes did not seem to register familiarity. The Happy Tree thought he was just too engrossed in his companion. (No hope - attractive female in very interesting lace top, and everyone looked but you.)

Later, I thought how strange it was that his face looked different when he was among the men, and my gaydar never went off (not while he was trying to catch my attention in any case.) And yet, as we passed each other that night, there was something so unmistakenly "soft" about his face. BEEEEEP!

So the next time, some ditz who meets me for the first time gushes about how working where I do, I must meet a lot of "nice ones" (read: "How come you haven't hooked up with one yet? Can you introduce a nice one to me?"), I will tell them: "Honey, they are all either married or gay - and these days, OR bisexual." (And those who are not gay are more interested in having a go in the Guinness Book of Records for digging their nose non-stop while driving for four hours.)


"What fools these mortals be!"

I declined to join Oberon (snicker) and his Titania, and I would imagine, other assorted fairies and enchanted creatures, for "dinner and pool". I was not feeling up to another late night. (See BLOODY MARY.)

Instead, I met The Happy Tree for pork slices with garlic, kung pao chicken, chilli clams, sweet and sour potato, and kailan with garlic, at Smith Street, and then pistachio gelato and waffles with strawberries at Vilage, China Square.

And in spite of my wretched body, I enjoyed the night tremendously.

I enjoyed listening to and relating the latest at work. I enjoyed the story about THT's designers and their "printing porn". I enjoyed talking about how two older and definitely heterosexual men and I speculated if The Fish (among other people) was straight, gay, or probably bisexual. I enjoyed hearing about the "Sex in the City" email that THT's boss sent to everyone, sharing his thoughts on the TV series and the moral decay of society. I enjoyed reaffirming that sexual compatibility is really not about sex per se but emotional bonding and completing the circle. I enjoyed hearing about THT's friends and how they were driving her crazy. I enjoyed describing how Elmo was so fat that hugging him to sleep almost felt like being with another warm human body. I enjoyed laughing about the bat that flew right into the glass door of the SPH building and slid down onto the floor, stunned. I enjoyed recalling the hushed silence as three of us entered a huge room and what it was like to meet a former Prime Minister - who almost seemed a little shy (???) at first. I enjoyed learning that behind every confident man, is a security blanket. I enjoyed how we could talk about so many things within three hours. I enjoyed how we could laugh so easily without even trying. I enjoyed the comfort of a very old friend. I enjoyed being myself. I enjoyed feeling happy around THT. I enjoyed remembering what it is like to be around THT :-D

And I remembered what it is like: To forget, and to be free.


"How much is that doggy in the window?"

Roaming incoming calls
29 Aug 23:59:31 (87 minutes 45 seconds) $42.03

Roaming re-routed calls (IDD)
29 Aug 23:59:31 (87 minutes 45 seconds) $61.46

You are a very expensive friend to have.


Note to Self

Must stop flirting with faceless strangers over email.

I guess that is why you did not want me to be there.


Bloody Mary

At the rate I am bleeding - or rather, dumping my well-scrambled eggs by the truckload - I might as well just park myself on the toilet bowl and wait for my insides to empty. It almost feels as if my body is making up for being late for an unprecedented seven weeks - and nooooo, I have been a very good girl - and it has been discharging its monthly dues with an unholy vengeance for six days (and counting). Christ. I was feeling really woozy the whole day and my vision would blur at times; I just wanted to keel over at my desk. Tan notwithstanding, SF thinks I am actually beginning to look a little green.

Anyway, I got an appointment to see my gynae tomorrow morning in spite of the estimated 2-hour wait. I do not think I can wait until Monday - I might have drowned in my own pool of blood by then.

See? Every month, something else goes wrong with a different part of my body. This is getting ridiculous.





Today

I spent the whole afternoon staring at boring brown boxes, and wondering why the hell I was staring at boring brown boxes. How many different ways can you stack boring brown boxes anyway?

So I'm back home a little earlier tonight than planned - with another 5 minutes of speech to transcribe and cleaning everything up - though I was ready to stay past midnight.

Because I thought I saw something in the back of the room - again. This time, it looked like a female. And then there were sounds. Not the usual scampering of rats or squirrels from above. But sounds - as if someone was still around the office. I freaked, packed up and left quickly. And then I spent the journey home trying not to throw up in the cab.

It's probably all the blood I'm losing - maybe my ovaries have liquified. I think I need a blood transfusion. (Ah yes, and I forgot to have dinner again.)

Maybe I'll just bite someone tomorrow - whoever looks like they should have their head chewed off, especially if it involves staring at more boring brown boxes.

2352 hours:
I'm still waiting for my head to stop spinning.


17 January 2005

"We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet...I mean, what does any one life really mean? But in a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things...all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."

~ Beverly Clark (Susan Sarandon), Shall We Dance

I want to witness the many lives around me. I want to ask so many, many questions. But I barely have enough time to witness my own life as I live it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Because if I don't, no one else will.





750km

Mission. Accomplished.


Oberon

The passenger's door swung open, and a familiar face leaned forward, a tired smile breaking through the deep bronze.

"Hey! Sorry! I didn't know your cab would arrive early." I reached out for the digital camera.

"It's okaaay." He raised a hand - and flicked his wrist. Beautifully.

Oh daaahling, you don't say!


Aloud

Why do I get the feeling that you do not want me around?





Sibeh Suay II

The self-appointed driver just came down with myalgia, and his back-up has a gout attack. Not to forget yours sincerely, with her flu and swollen lymph nodes. What a sight we'll make on Wednesday.

This road trip is going to be sooo much fun.


Sibeh Suay I

"It wasn't a stinky old man, but it was a really really cute young one. Eye-candy okie!! hahah. The most good-looking person I've ever seen, actually. Was very amazed that such a good-looking person existed in such a profession! heheheh. Mustn't be human. Mom went with me since I was too sick to be on my own, and even she commented that wow, doctor so good-looking ah. waaah."

Wahlau. Now, why couldn't that piece of candy have been my locum instead of some scruffy old man??? Sigh! No luck means no luck.





RIP - The Simple Life



"Why interesting?" I asked.

Apparently, he was the second son of a rich man in Sibu. You could not tell - looking and listening to him. Those who did know thought it was strange that he had chosen instead to become a full-time dive instructor who also ran one of the rustic dive resorts in Malaysia.

I suppose he had what those hard-selling MLM pyramind-building fanatics people work so hard for and declare as their goal in life: to achieve "financial freedom" so that they do not ever have to worry about money, and can live life the way they want to. Except that he did not even have to work to attain that elusive "financial freedom".

It reminded me of a story about a businessman and a fisherman, about the things that drive us, and more importantly, the story is about perspective and not losing sight of what we really want out of life.


One day a fisherman was lying on a beach, with his fishing pole propped up in the sand and his solitary line cast out into the blue surf. He was enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun and the prospect of catching a fish. About that time, a businessman came walking down the beach, trying to relieve some of the stress of his day. He noticed the fisherman sitting on the beach and decided to find out why this fisherman was fishing instead of working harder to make a living for himself and his family.

"You aren't going to catch many fish that way," said the businessman. "You should be working rather than lying on the beach!"

The fisherman looked up at the businessman, smiled and replied: "And what will my reward be?"

"Well, you can get bigger nets and catch more fish!" said the businessman.

"And then what will my reward be?" asked the fisherman, still smiling.

The businessman replied: "You will make money and you'll be able to buy a boat, which will then result in larger catches of fish!"

"And then what will my reward be?" asked the fisherman again.

The businessman was beginning to get a little irritated. "You can buy a bigger boat, and hire some people to work for you!"

"And then what will my reward be?" repeated the fisherman.

The businessman was red with rage and shouted: "Don't you understand that you can become so rich that you will never have to work for your living again! You can spend all the rest of your days sitting on this beach, looking at the sunset. You won't have a care in the world!"

The fisherman, still smiling, looked up and said: "And what do you think I'm doing right now?"


Money can buy a lot of happiness.

But money cannot buy back the late nights and weekends at the office, or the missed birthdays and gatherings of family and friends.

Money cannot buy back the time spent pursuing happiness.


(PS: I still think his short time on earth could have been made a little more complete - but I suppose Goddesses do not crave The Simple Life. Heh. Heh. Dodge! Dodge!)





Sibeh Sian III

After my encounter at the night clinic, I went home to discover that I had won a pair of tickets to the Nokia Starlight Cinema Festival.

UNFORTUNATELY, the letter dated 12 september only arrived in my mail today. This means that I missed the show that I really wanted to watch: Mr and Mrs Smith on 16 september. Sibeh sian.

There was also The Island on 20 september, which I had not seen. UNFORTUNATELY - again - I will be leaving for KL on Tuesday afternoon and returning Wednesday night. As for the remaining shows, I had either seen them or not interested to. So much for winning something. Really, really damn sian by now.

Anyway, if anyone is interested (click above link for movie schedule), you know how to get hold of me.

Sigh. You say today I sian anot?


Sibeh Sian II

My flu still unresolved after seeing my usual GP on Monday, I decided to try my luck at the other clinic around the corner (which I wanted to consult on Monday but the wait was 2 hours!). As my luck (or lack thereof) would have it, the clinic was closed "due to unforseen circumstances". So I walked back to my GP.

When I was called into the consultation room, I was a little surprised to find a locum instead of my usual doctor. He seemed a little absent-minded and a little slow, but he was old afterall. And so I thought nothing more of the distant look in his eyes.

Until.

He started to mutter as he was writing down something and then he dropped his pen onto the table - irritably. I had this sudden urge then to stand up and walk out of the room - and I almost did. (Sliced.) Then he tried to take my temperature but had problems with the electronic ear thermometer. He started to fumble with the plastic cap and muttered irritably when it would not start. (Damn sian.) That was sorted out after a few tries and I was glad as the consultation came to an end.

Until. (Sigh! Why me??? Damn sian already, you know.)

"What a hardworking GIRL!" He looked up and smiled, when I declined the offer of a MC and said I needed to go back to work. I shrugged, stood up and was already at the door when he repeated himself, a little more indulgently this time.

"No lah. It's just work." I smiled, perhaps too brightly, because I did not know what else to say.

Then the absent-minded old man's face became a little more animated and his eyes moved a little faster - from my head to my toe - as he observed that I was "very fit". I smiled awkwardly, even as I was almost plastered against the door, and would probably have rammed my body outline through the door, but my mother has always taught me to be polite to my elders.

He wanted to know what sports I did.

I blabbered something and then fled the room - after opening the door.

But I remembered to ask the nurse for the full name of the doctor before I left the clinic with my antibiotics.

I KNEW the name. Too well. Though not the face - until NOW.

Of. All. The. Locums. In. Singapore.

Let's just say that I am not the only person who has found him unsatisfactory.

Anyway, Sofilex Cephalexin 500mg x 4 times a day, for 5 days. Whatever that means. But it had better work.


Sibeh Sian I

Sibeh sian. Still have the flu and lymph nodes are swollen again.


When Less is More

"With a logic problem, asking people to explain themselves doesn't impair their ability to come up with the answers. In some cases, in fact, it may help. But problems that require a flash of insight operate by different rules. "It's the same kind of paralysis through analysis you find in sports contexts," Schooler says. "When you start becoming reflective about the process, it undermines your ability. You lose the flow. There are certain kinds of fluid, intuitive, nonverbal kinds of experience that are vulnerable to this process." As human beings, we are capable of extraordinary leaps of insight and instinct. ... But what Schooler is saying is that all these abilities are incredibly fragile. Insight is not a lightbulb that goes off inside our heads. It is a flickering candle that can easily be snuffed out. ..."

"... truly successful decision making relies on a balance between deliberate and instinctive thinking. ... in good decision making, frugality matters. John Gottman took a complex problem and reduced it to its simplest elements; even the most complicated of relationships and problems, he showed, have an identifiable underlying pattern. Lee Goldman's research proves that in picking up these sorts of patterns, less is more. Overloading the decision makers with information, he proves, makes picking up that signature harder, not easier. To be a successful decision maker, we have to edit. When we thin-slice, we do this process of editing unconsciously. ... And if you are given too many choices, if you are forced to consider much more than your unconscious is comfortable with, you get paralyzed."

- Blink by Malcolm Gladwell


Slices

** In the later days, she fussed over him as if he were a - overgrown - sulking child. (The way I used to fuss over another.) And so, in spite of everything, that's how I knew, and why I said what I did.

** They would turn their heads and kiss. But it was without passion. I guess only time will tell.

** As he caught the eye of the other and emoted a look of mock disapproval, I was reminded of a couple of gay friends. And I wondered.





Delirium

When reality haunts your dreams (and what strange dreams), and dreams intrude your waking moments.

Goddamn flu. My eyes hurt.


Going, Going, Gone.

I finally remembered what that "something else" I was supposed to do today. I had promised to go to the housewarming of my sister's gay boyfriend.


Ear to Ear

I feel like getting pierced again. Where can I go? (The 3 on my right and 2 on my left are no more.)





SOS

"u later free? i going downstairs at 11pm pass someone something. can be my bodyguard?" (I, Chicken.)

"ok no prob. i bring elmo down oso can? hehe."

(Phew!)

"tat person izzit diver instructor? hee."

(?!!)

Waaah, my sister actually REMEMBERS stuff from my blog. (Note to self: Must not blog about stuff that sister might use against me in future.)

Anyway.

A week after I sent The Running Man an email about getting my regulators serviced in time for the dive trip, he responded. Incidentally, he finally got himself a handphone last week. Before that, the only way to contact him was through the dive centre or email; he does not even have a pager. But I have avoided calling his number - there is something in his voice that makes me extremely nervous.

So, he called me instead.

I apologised for not calling him earlier because I have been busy with work (I AM). He offered to pick me up after work since he was "driving". I said I could not go home yet because I was waiting to make an overseas call and then I had to do something else (I DID); but I could either meet him really late tonight, or tomorrow - in between work, the doctor and something else (YES, REALLY). He offered to pick up the regulators from my place tonight; it would be more convenient for both of us since we live in neighbouring estates. I suggested sometime around 11pm; I would call to confirm. He agreed to wait. I spent the next few hours feeling extremely nervous.

Later in the night, slumped in the backseat of a cab on my way home, resigned to the CTE crawl, and my eyes smarting from work and the effort of just staying alive the past week, I sent my sister that SOS. Then, home and after a hurried dinner, I called The Running Man and asked if he could meet me as agreed. He said he could. And then - without skipping a beat - he suggested that I might want to do this AFTER my trip instead, because ACTUALLY, he might not be able to get my regulators serviced in time, because he needs to order the parts first and they might not arrive in time. Okaaay. (Asshole.) So, he did not ACTUALLY have the parts because he had not placed an order for them, which he confirmed was the case when I asked him if it were indeed so. Alriiight. (Asshole.) I said that was fine, and I would get back to him after my trip. Yaaah. Riiight. (Asshole.)

Anyway.

It was not because he could not do it in time - my bad. I, Procrastinator (but Very Busy Woman too!).

It was that I had committed myself to letting him service my regulators because he gave me the impression that he had already ordered the replacement parts; and I was too decent a human being to take my business elsewhere and leave him stranded just because of a "personal" issue. AND, just hearing his voice made me nervous for 5 WHOLE HOURS about the meeting tonight - and for NOTHING. Screw human decency. I am going to look for someone else to service my regulators.

And for some reason - call it a woman's intuition - it sounded like he just wanted to "test" if I was keen to meet him or if it was only to pass him the regulators. (Asshole.)

. . . . . . . . .

ASSHOLE.





Inventory Check

* Kiss by Tom Jones
* bob wigs
* feather boas towels
* torn white t-shirt (heh)
* squishy wet sponge (heh heh)
* pail of water (heh heh heh)
* torn denim shorts
* heels
* alter ego


Road Rage Trip #2

Sigh. Yes, it is going to be another Road Rage Trip. Only this time, we are driving there on Tuesday afternoon AND to hell driving back (I hope) on Wednesday night.

If nothing else, there will be another interesting story to tell next week.

Please don't let The Old Man fall sick - again! (Cross fingers and toes and eyes.)


Sick and Tired

" ... blahblahblah ... You sound like you have a bad cold."

"I do."

" ... blahblahblah ... " And he continued talking about work.

Later on, another telephone conversation. Same day. Same person. Same topic.

" ... blahblahblah ... You sound really bad. You should go home."

"Yah."

" ... blahblahblah ... " And he continued talking about work ANYWAY.

AND, I still had to deal with someone's whims and someone else who cannot stop micro-managing and bothering me with inconsequential details.

AND, excuse me, I was not "sitting on" your stupid MoU, and why is it that EVERYTHING you pass to me "will take ONLY 5 MINUTES to vet"? Well, sorry, but I do not believe in doing sloppy 5-minute jobs just because you do. Snort.

Really driving me nuts today - everyone asking me for things that I am not at all happy to give.


Sleepily Ever After

My head feels like a fluffy white cloud. Wooooozzzzzzyyyy...

I just want to lie down somewhere soft and warm, curled up against that tall, tanned and beautiful "carpenter" next door a nice man, close my eyes and never have to open them again.


Little Dust Midgets


xena | 09.14.05 - 12:15 am | #
"Come join us leh. I buy you a BIG BAG of carrots to chomp to your heart's content."

lys | 09.14.05 - 10:33 pm | #
"Heh heh heh. Well, next time if you have an outing on, I'll see. ;P"

You say one, cannot siam already. Everyone reading this blog is now my witness.


That Something

It appears that people prefer this new look over the one at polarbear.tzo.com.

Well, what is it exactly?





Thy Kingdom Come

Number One said that one of the Executives down up their ass the road - on his own "initiative" - had called and asked if we could arrange for a HIGH-BACKED chair for his boss at tonight's meeting.

I: "Caaaan. We have TI-A-RAS too. Shall we ask him if his boss would like one?"

Number One laughed. Good thing I was not the one liaising with the people down up the road.

I know you all work in a very grand and palatial building, and we are only a non-profit organisation housed in a run-down haunted building lah, but we can afford proper office chairs. ("Daddy! Daddy! I want one of those too! Look, it swivels! And you can adjust the height too!"). It's not like we sit on plastic coffeeshop stools here, you know - though the refreshments we are providing for the meeting are from a nearby coffeeshop.

Say, do you think the precioussss people down up the road would like silver cutlery and white, ironed, linen napkins to go with their coffeeshop paos tonight?


Quotable Quirks


Or stick your middle finger out of a moving vehicle.


MOTD

The site feed works now - but I have to use the "post" function to manually create a summary each time. Blogger does not do this for me automatically because I update the template directly. Sigh! Anyway, it is http://theintimatestranger.blogspot.com/atom.xml

And I still have that strange gripping headache around my forehead.

And my eyes still hurt.

And I still feel like I am burning up. (In spite of the doctor's thermometer saying otherwise.)

And my nose is now blocked.

And The Grunting (heh heh heh) Dragon is breathing down my neck again.

S. I. G. H.

I just want my ice-cream and coffee.





Do You Know?

There was this book of short stories that I read a long time ago. (4? 5? 6? 7? 8? years or so.) It was interesting because all the stories were written with the same number of words - I cannot remember what the number was, but I think it was a 2-digit number which was quite impressive - and they were a delightful mix of genres from thrills, mysteries, twists, humour and other oddities.

Does anyone know?


The Locked Door

"Speed-dating has become enormously popular around the world over the last few years, and it's not hard to understand why. It's the distillation of dating to a simple snap judgement. Everyone who sat down at one of those tables was trying to answer a very simple question: Do I want to see this person again? And to answer that, we don't need an entire evening."

"...and what they find when they compare what speed-daters say they want with what they are actually attracted to in the moment is that those two things don't match."

"...Mary has an idea about what she wants in a man, and that idea isn't wrong. It's just incomplete. The description that she starts with is her conscious ideal: what she believes she wants when she sits down and thinks about it. But what she cannot be as certain about are the criteria she uses to form her preferences in that first instant of meeting someone face-to-face. That information is behind the locked door."

"...We have, as human beings, a storytelling problem. We're a bit quick to come up with explanations for things we don't really have an explanation for."

"...When we ask people to explain their thinking - particularly thinking that comes from the unconscious - we need to be careful in how we interpret their answers. When it comes to romance, of course, we understand that. We know we cannot rationally describe the kind of person we will fall in love with: that's why we go on dates - to test our theories about who attracts us."

- Blink by Malcolm Gladwell


Fluffy...

...is how my head feels now. Especially after I just sneezed non-stop for a whole 5 minutes. Whine.





Flowers for the Fallen :-)



I'm Back (Again)

Yep.

After half an hour of trying to make sense of the Blogspot templates so I could customise them as close as possible to my old blog, I gave up and spent half a day working on my old codes and made some changes to the old layout - instead of sleeping off the fever/flu/headache/malaise with my MC today. (I, Obessive-Compulsive. Sigh!)

So, I have finally set up a page on Blogspot - though this is temporary. I intend to move to a proper - and more permanent - web host, hopefully by the start of October.

Anyway, the story is this. The polarbear.tzo.com domain was actually residing on a personal server which was run by the then-Boyfriend-now-Ex, and would sometimes go down whenever he was away - increasingly so in the past year, and for longer stretches. But, because of sentimentality (home for almost 6 years), and space was free and almost unlimited (in a sense), I stayed on - in spite of the naggings from you-know-who-you-are to find a more reliable (ahem) home and to "shoot the guy hosting the server" (and they say *I* am violent).

When the server went down again on 2 september 2005 (I think), I waited patiently as I always did, until I figured out that the server was offline not because the administrator was away - he was still online on ICQ. That was when he told me that the server had to be shut down because of SCV's notice to him.

Anyway, The Goddess did not think I would have been able to stay much longer even if the server had not been forced to shut down. The Ex's Wife-to-be would not have allowed the Husband-to-be to continue hosting an Ex-Girlfriend's stuff. (What stuff? It was not as if the blog was some kind of shrine to a lost love.)

But, since I am no longer the beneficiary of the Ex's hospitality (though through no fault of his), I do not need to continue with my good behaviour and any OB markers that I had imposed on myself. Therefore, I can now write more freely about The Real Stuff, like dragon girls (oops, there goes one OB marker) four-legged lizard women (and another) two-headed snakes (and another). Heh. Heh. Heh.

Funny how things turned out. 6 years with the Ex. 6 years with the server.

Ah well.

Just as well.

Of course, some readers will be lost. Not that I have made much effort to do anything about it - that is, losing some readers. Those I can remember, I have dropped a note. Those I can remember but would rather not, I have conveniently forgotten. Heh. (Though it does not mean that everyone who I have forgotten fall into this category - you must remember that I am currently under the influence of the fever/flu/headache/malaise and anti-inflammatory medication. Then, there are those I can remember, but will not assume that they are still reading - or care to. So, I will leave it to... chance, I suppose. There are ways of finding people...

Speaking of which, I just remembered an old contact and did a google search. And what do you know, she got married just a few months ago. Well, congratulations - if you have been reading AND managed to find your way here :-)


21 : september : 2005, Putrajaya

Round 2. Ding! Ding!





Oh. Sorry.

I: "hi, you've been working on the server a lot huh? website has been down."

He: "oh sorry abt that, scv has called me to tell me to close it down immediately. cos they found out i was running a server and served me some notice."

I: "ouch, sorry to hear about it. they didn't fine you or anything right?"

He: "nope."

Yeah. I'm sorry too.





Retail Therapy

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I have no idea what all that means. I just know IT WORKS :-) And much - MUCH - cheaper than Yamano.


One

"This is a time for a fresh start. Begin with a new thought or a new action. If a chance comes your way, welcome it as an opportunity. If a change is due - personal or commercial - now is the time to make it. Start looking for a new job, a new apartment. Get to that thing that you have been putting off. This is a time for you personally. Use your engergies to further your own ambitions. Do something original and creative. Act on your intuition. Take direction yourself and do not consult others about your plans. Be courageous and self-sufficient. It is not a time to be timid or vacillating - it is a time of decision."


See No Evil. Hear No Evil.

And he eats like him. And he even laughs like him - the same laugh that I used to find a little odd.





Caught

Something was said to me - for which I had no carefully considered words in return. I was already so tired from work and stuff. So tired. I just wanted to leave the office and go home and drop dead on my bed. So I said nothing... not then...

Instead, I sat down and started to write a lot of words for the next few hours - in spite of my weariness...


Dear Reader

I really do not like being put in a spot, and being made to choose between two friends. And I am not talking about just ONE particular pair. There is more than one.

SIGH.

What is this? I make a very good tree for you all to Bollywood-dance around izit? You know, I can be trusted to treat my friends as separate units, quite apart from what one is saying about the other. I will admit that whatever is said does have some impact - and is a burden to bear - and I do retreat to ponder about the truth (or otherwise) of what has been said. But I make my own decision and choices eventually.

SIGH.

I have liked people for some things that they are, and I have continued liking these people in spite of what others - and sometimes, even my closest friends who I trust - say about them. In fact, my closest friends do not always get along with each other.

SIGH.

I have also disliked people for some things that they are, but tolerated their presence because my friends like them for some other things that they are. More importantly, they REMAINED my friends.

SIGH.

I have not written about this before because ALL OF YOU read my blog. And I know some of you have come looking for "intel" at one time or another. This is fine by me. Just as I choose to write (and not write) about my life and certain encounters, you choose to read (and not read).

SIGH.

I do not always have someone to talk to. And increasingly, I keep my thoughts to myself, and busy myself with work or go out and try to flood my senses with adrenaline. Sometimes, I do not even write about them here (or anywhere else). Because words must never be allowed to mean too much to me - again; and yet mean so little (and sometimes, wrongly) to some people.

SIGH.

I guess this is one of those times that I want to write; and I need to write.

Yours sincerely,

Xena the Weary Princess


Animal Farm

Picture this:

3 animals are in a car driving at 140km/h down the North-South Highway. A bristling baboon is at the wheels, one thick hairy arm out of the driver's window, waving his middle finger zealously and grunting with deep satisfaction. The front seat passenger is a ponderous silver dragon who watches the scene unfold with his quiet and contemplative eyes, wispy smoke slowly trickling out of his nostrils. And a little brown mouse is frozen behind, beady black eyes bulging and whiskers trembling.

Yes, that about describes it.


Soul Kitchen

CirCe and I were the last ones to arrive for dinner - everyone was already seated. As we strode to the end of the table for 11 (all divers except 2), he reached out and touched my shoulder, his hand lingering for a moment, "Hey! I haven't seen you for a long time!" I grinned and stopped to babble a greeting before moving on to my seat.

He leant over and asked how I was - I had not returned his calls and SMS, he said. (Huh? I only remembered that one missed call a month ago, after I messaged M to say I was not joining the gang at Kangeroo Man's house because of my bad fall - by now, they all think I am a human magnet for accidents.) I started to explain - because I did feel bad about not returning his call - but got distracted. I suppose it was just too difficult to talk with Kangeroo Man between us. So the two uncles spent most of the time talking to each other about wine, while the couple across and I listened with rapt attention to CirCe holding court at our end of the table.

Sometimes, I would turn the other way just to see how the rest of the table was doing, or if the uncles had moved on to talk about something more interesting. He would try to catch my attention then, and we would try to start a conversation. But somehow, I - shame on me - always got distracted because something else would be happening on my end of the table; or Kangeroo Man would say something; or another bottle of wine was being opened again; or CirCe's sparkling laughter - shame on her - would drown out everything else and draw me back to her side.

Many nights ago, someone asked me if there really was no one who was "interested" (not the same as "interesting"). I supposed, at that moment, he might be one, though I also said he gave very mixed signals - warm over SMS and emails but reserved at gatherings. I did not know what to make of it and simply (and conveniently) assumed that he was just a typical nice and steady guy (in a fatherly uncle way) who was consistently nice to everyone.

And so, when I turned to look into that seasoned canvas of mundane living and routines that he had settled into comfortably over the years, I was surprised to see something else - something that yearned to live, and to hope. And as that well-worn world weariness slipped off his face, I saw... someone who was lost and vulnerable.

Perhaps absence has made the heart grow fonder.

And the hand bolder.

(PS: Food was blah - too much carbo - and almost uninspired. Wine - our own - was generally OK; the muscato was the best.)


Shrinking Violet

Which reminds me of a less pleasant encounter several Saturdays ago, when I bumped into Running Man while shopping for groceries. I had my face in my phone, thumbing a message, and didn't see him coming towards me until it was too late. "Always SO BUSY with your phone..." I obliged with small talk and smiles, but kept my fingers on the phone holding on for dear life. He thought I should write about my DCS experience, so that I could read about it years later and have a good laugh. (I have a good laugh everytime I blog about my encounters with you; as do my readers.) He said I should really get it done - perhaps he could even talk about it during one of his lectures on DCS. (Yeah, I'll give you something from my blog to talk about. Bet you none of your students will be falling asleep.)

And then it was over (hophophop). As we were saying our too-long goodbyes (getitongetiton), I thought it odd the way he was staring at my right shoulder - the way a certain Bull Terrier was staring at a Jack Russell Terrier a quarter of his size. And then the eagle a huge deeply tanned hand landed on my bare shoulder. And stayed.

Skin on skin (donttouchmedonttouchmenoooooooooo).

Gggggggggggggggaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!