You knew this was inevitable. I will now admit that I am, after all, a creature of habit and therefore, predictable. This should not come as a surprise. As I have already stated in the past, I am nothing. I do not matter. The Earth still turns, the Spheres still dance to a music of their own, and the Cosmos will always be indifferent to the vanity and genius of Men.

I’ll repeat a paragraph that caught my eye somewhere in the middle of the year.  

They say that “God knows all. All things that are, all things that have been and all things that ever there will be. Even so, the Divine Election cannot be approached, and each man graves the Chart of Life with his own free hand.  

The scholars call this paradox “the Hidden Mystery” and to such questions as these, Augustine answers, Inscrutabilia sunt judicia Dei.  

The Judgments of God are inscrutable.        

This is where my own chart ends. Yet even in writing his end, a man may become one thing and not another. Perhaps in writing his own end most of all.”  



Happy new year, friends. Goodbye.

We are flying high.

We did not expect such maturity and growth. You took us by surprise. We would very much like to beg for your forgiveness for stereotyping and underestimating you. We are very much in awe of you.

You made us smile. Thank you, Mr You.

Busy week.

Nevertheless, I promised you an entry so here it is.

I can't wait for this year to end, actually. Nothing truly memorable happened this year. Sure, I changed jobs thrice (thrice ka?) and did a lot of different things but nothing truly major occurred. Unless you count epiphanies. I had a truckload of those. Still, those are always subject to change.

An event to remember was my birthday party. That must have been the highlight of the year for me. On my birthday, I met and connected with a new friend I no longer keep in touch with (mainly coz I think he's not too happy with how things turned out). He's still in my thoughts, though. He made that day different, somehow. Perhaps it's just me. Two days before that I severed the umbilical cord with XCHG and when I met him for lunch on the 14^th I was already internally different. Oh we had fun talking about books, movies, business, dysfunctional love lives for 10 hours straight. Three bottles of wine (I still have no head for wine) and I missed the last train home. Sha had to come rescue me at Sentral. Highly embarrassing.

The birthday party was convivial. I was so happy that night, too. Never mind that the one who mattered most bailed. It was such a cozy party. My friends made me feel so special. Like I mattered, you know?

The highlight of the Penang trip was traveling alone. That was fun. It gave me a chance to feel anonymous, like I could just stop at any of stations along the way and drop off the face of the earth. I had been entertaining thoughts of just chucking everything and relocating somewhere. Blank canvas. I'll do that once I get enough dosh to buy a vineyard kut. Dah la at that point my ex was doing the same in JB and even offered to help me out. I could still do that, but like everyone else, I still have ties that are damn near impossible to cut. Family matters, you know?

Ah, family. This year has been quite unusual in the family sense. Revelations in shady childhood memories did my head in. I was never close to Jaja before this year. Thanks to her, I've found out why I'm such a sorry excuse for a human being. Skeletons were unearthed and the biggest blow was, of course, my father's cancer. Yes, family ties are tighter than ever.

What else happened this year?

I broke a few hearts and got my own heart mauled, mutilated and shattered to pieces. I can't figure out if it's dead because it still hurts. It should be. Would that explain the bitchier-than-thou 'tude and the permanent blank expression? I would very much like it to die. I have never wished for anything more. At least it would stop aching and affecting every single conscious thought. You know what hurts the most? Not being allowed to proclaim your love.  That sucks rotten eggs.

So I've concluded that Mr Right died a few years ago. Right when I started having the dark episodes. He died in a grisly accident somewhere nearby. Another thing I found out: it's not the men, it's my idea of love. It's just too outlandish. I can't do it the conventional way, society's way. I wish I could fix this part of me. Just cast the expectations away and accept mediocrity. Conform, somehow. 

In learning that, I have been preparing myself for eternal singledom. Unless I meet aliens lah. I know there's no man alive who could give me what I crave. I'm sorry, this may hurt some, but it is what it is. Like I said, I wish I could fix this. Perhaps I will someday.

Don't hold your breath, though.

I do miss the stars. I do miss the sunlight. But I can't see beyond this. I can't see how I'm ever gonna get them back. Do you know how pointless and purposeless I feel? Do you know how I yearn for death every night before I go to bed? I'm too small. I don't matter. Why do I have to suffer mankind without meaning, without hope? I see that I would have to eventually die, a thing which would come as much without my act or choice as birth. How I loathe my mortality. How I loathe being trapped in this encasement of flesh and bones.

Okay, mustn't dwell too much on this. Some people might take this seriously.

New year resolutions? I would like to gain more weight and get the boobies back. I'm also sick and tired of hearing how sick and tired I look. I would try my best to get rid of Becky, my car. I will try to read and write less. I would like to cry more. I will eat more green shit. I'll try not to fall for the illusion of love every five minutes. I will find that vein that connects the vagina to the heart and sever it and watch myself bleed like a stuck pig and laugh. I will try not to drug drunk gropey guys in clubs (must be mindful of the fact that I could be charged with involuntary manslaughter), I will try to act smart by pretending to read books (could you act smart by pretending to read only fiction and chick lit?), I will try not to listen to the sound of my own laugh and therefore manage to ruin the moment, the reflex to joy. I will try going raven and then bald. I will try to be a Rhonda Byrne zombie and issue orders to the universe. I would try to stop depending on Rodrigo Santoro for company during those late nights at the office. I will try to appear more complex so people could figure me out. I will be bitchier, meaner and less pleasant to people.

There you go. Don't say I never gave you anything.

Outtie.

I'll have something for you soon. I'm changing it. It has to be rearranged. If I were to spew it out now, raw and still green, it would come across too done or not enough, even.

Year review. Must we do this? It'll all go to shit next year anyway.

I'll have something by the end of the week. Meanwhile, enjoy the xmas song.


Outtie.

I had a very weird episode Sunday afternoon. My sleep pattern is like so: If I try to sleep the natural sleep, I'd only fall asleep after dawn and I would wake up once every hour. Sometimes after the first hour I would wake up and lie for another hour before falling asleep again. I never get the 4-5hour uninterrupted core sleep. The price you pay for not being human.

Anyway, so on Sunday afternoon I had these two really vivid dreams. I've been having really fun, adventurous dreams for the past week but I keep forgetting them so before falling asleep I decided that I would write what I remember, so I kept my journal close.

The first dream:

I was in a room. Powder blue walls. I was naked. I had pecs instead of boobs and quite a flat tummy (none of that 'bebet'). Someone was sucking me off. I didn't have a very big, you know, but I had one. Okay, if that wasn't weird 'nuff, I reached down and took hold of another one, attached to that person who was doing insane things to my senses. I was really excited, though. I could feel every stroke of his tongue. In my mind I couldn't imagine anything better than this.

Just when I was about to, you know, someone knocked on the door. It was my girlfriend's father. The boy got off me and the father came in with my supposed girlfriend and we all went out for tea. All of us. My girlfriend's father, the gf, the boy and me, the man.

Damn. What was that? I was me, a girl in a man's body enjoying another man. That means I'm straight, right?

Whatever.

Second dream (approximately a few minutes after the first):

On the way to a hotel in the middle of nowhere. I was in the car coming down a ramp and it was covered with bright yellow liquid. Broken bottles. Shattered glass. On the right, neatly lined up were severed bodies. No blood, though. All decapitated. 40 bodies in total. I couldn't look away. Apparently there'd been a major accident and they hadn't had enough time to clean everything up.

There's more to this second one, but nothing that would make sense.

So that's it. This is why I try not to sleep the natural sleep anymore. I would never get these disturbing images on benadryl or even 'soot' pun. Haha lama tak dengar soot. Not since high school :)

Brrr.

There's another downside to this. You know the term 'blue balls'? I might have an idea of how it feels like now. Sigh.

Sakit, ok.


Outtie.

Oops I did it again.

Overdose of Britney on [V].

But oops, it looks like I might have done it again. Glutton for punishment, aren't we?


Outtie.

Crap week. Crap, crap, crap.

I watched and held my nephews' hands while the local doc butchered and snipped at their private parts. There was so much blood. Respect.

Apparently I have impossibly high standards when it comes to men. I disagree. I don't think I'm discerning enough.

I put my guts out there and it got stepped on. The guy claimed I can't commit even if my life depended on it. So he doesn't want to even try.

I seem to have gotten over my 'sticky' crush. Yes, the hot-daddy-with-5-month-old-baby crush. I knew it lah. Short attention span.

And what the fuck are the gods playing at? Am I some cosmic joke? Do they hate me that much? First they show me the perfect man. Then they tell me I can't have him. If that ain't nuff, they appoint an agent to tell me that I am just a rerun. And now they've gone one step further and introduced another one and cock-tease me with the traits and the other shit.

Dah la. I hate the gods. I hate the world. Screw everything.

I do love buying fresh, fresh flowers at Petaling St on Saturday mornings, though. Especially when they're for other people's weddings.

Outtie.

The Enchanted was really, really nice. But I had a bad night. I kept thinking about fairy tales and how there's never any mention of God in them. Alah, the usual nonsensical ponderings at 3am lah.

My first media thingy went on all day today. Ye gads, I so need a holiday. Let's hope nothing spoils the roadtrip to LIMA at the end of this week.

And this hadda happen just now.


Argh.

Outtie.

Okay, we're in trouble.

If one message made me blush - me? blush? preposterous! - and another had the power to make my heart race and fill my head with evil, absolutely lewd thoughts, then I am in trouble. Big trouble.

Mati lah.

I keep giving people the low down, reality checks and such. But now I'm playing with fire and I'm getting carried away and could I be more obvious? Pooh, tak smooth langsung!

I am disgusted at myself for entertaining these thoughts.

Still.

"Sticky weekend" wishes.

Mati lah.


Outtie.

My days are filled with sunshine
My nights are laced with drugs

It's all good.

Outtie.