Out of soap powder

That's it. I'm packed and outta here.

For those of you who are interested in keeping up with my mundane and (in) frequent ramblings, it won't be too hard to find me.

chronic

backache.

fatigue.

I can't jog, brisk walk, squat, stretch, do anything without feeling like I am going to collapse and not get up. motherbeaver. fuck. shitty excuse for a body.

my back aches so much, I want to stay in the office 'til late so I can claim cab fare. But that is a secondary reason. I cannot bring myself to walk out of the office, to the bus stop. I cannot. Nobody free to pick me up. Hippo's in camp as duty officer; dad's at a meeting, sister is at restaurant. in moments like these I want to cry and scream hot salty brine and cry and cry until I lose consciousness. angst-ridden. pain-ridden. i hate feeling sorry for myself.

God, help me please.

ahem

yes, i suck. yes, it has been some time since I've bothered to blog. I'm nursing an irritable throat, stuffy nose and everybody say hi to the newest addition to my world of pain - lower back ache. Must have slept awkwardly again last night.

Changes will be made, soon. Like, moving house. For those of you who haven't given up on hearing from me, then, you'll come back to find out more, lor. ;-)

command-option-escape

That's what the Post-it on the top left of my iMac workstation tells me to do, when all fails.

If only it were that simple.

Goodbye,

Anna Nicole Smith.

I remember you as a blue-hued siren, with luscious locks that graced Guess? paperbags. I remember coveting such a paperbag, because it was all the rage to bring to school paperbags belonging to big fashion brands. It was a subtle boast and reflection of one's fashion sense and trendiness.

I never shopped at Guess? because I never had enough money to do so, being a mere fourteen years of age. But somehow, I managed to get my hands on one such paperbag. I used it, and re-used it until its edges had little white wrinkles of tear and its handle needed re-stringing.

But you were a symbol of the fashion industries of the 90s, you were. Guess? and its rustic, country cowboy/girl style was given its edginess because of you, you in nothing but a pair of ripped jeans with that familar triangular logo on the back pocket.

I don't know you. And it is sad that you didn't either.

Rest in peace.

Oh, f*** it, I'm gonna have a party..

Nada Surf's The Blankest Year, Lightning Seeds and other songs to bop along to never fail to inspire me on a dreary work morning. And to top it all off as icing on my cake, I am on 1) half-day (unpaid, bleh) leave to 2) prepare for my inpromptu long weekend trip to KL!!

Now tell me that isn't something to greatly cheer up one grumpy old hag such as meself. (that sounds grammatically wrong but who cares, I'm gonna have a party).

I really shouldn't be blogging for too long considering I only have a half-day and need to rush my manuscript, but considering the fact that I have wallowed in various cesspools of negativity for quite a while, I thought I'd share some experiences that have uplifted my soul, a little.

Gathering at Yi Seng's house

What was initially planned to be a all-boys' gathering somehow morphed into a bring-your-partner-along session (thanks to Kelvin Lim and my dear). I've always associated any activities that Yi Seng organises with food, because he and Yunn are very generous, gracious hosts who close one eye at grubby, rain-dampened souls soiling their clean marble floor and devouring heaps of food. I won't go into too much detail on what transpired because Weiliang did an good, detailed coverage of that evening in his blog, so go read about it there. Weiliang, improve your English and photography skills a bit more and you'd make an excellent journalist because you have that measure of irony and wit, just need to learn to shape your expression, hor?

Spirituality begets a creative soul

He'll probably be surprised that I'm blogging about this, but I am immensely inspired at the rapid rate this young, spunky lad has grown upon leaving Crystal for 'greener pastures'. Dude, it is my wish and prayer that you will keep trusting the Lord to keep your feet steady along the long and narrow. Richard and I are immensely proud of you and we miss your presence and your jangly tunes in church quite a fair bit.

I hate to sound convoluted and go all metaphorical, but I think part of the beauty of being in a church and being a Christian is that it is a self-discovery process. Maybe God placed me in such a place at a time such as now precisely because I am like an old shoe that's missing its other half, with broken shoelaces and that doesn't fit in the shoe closet, or like a key that doesn't fit into any of the keyholes and whose purpose is unknown, or like the box of Christmas baubles that have been collecting dust in the box for years and that everyone tries to utilise during Christmas but never does because it doesn't suit the current theme. There have definitely been times when I gave up trying to align myself with the general culture, preferences and mindsets of the people in church because it was just too tiring to suppress the crazy, rebellious, anarchist, leftist, terrorist, foul-minded and manic depressive side of me. Those of you who have been serving as youth leaders or the equivalent will probably know what I'm talking about; you want to go all out on Friday night after cell group for loud music and beer, or you want to grimace and spew out some controversial statement about the sermon or pastor because it was by far the most boring sermon you have ever heard by your least 'favourite' pastor and the list goes on but.. you can't, you can't because you have to set yourself as an 'example' and 'role model' for the little sheep to follow. Don't misunderstand me because that is all very fine and well, and I firmly believe in living out one's calling in the most excellent way possible. But when you lack the motivation, the support, and what I deem as most imperative, the kindred connection amongst your fellow peers, it is hard, so hard to press on.

And it doesn't matter that I am not serving in any ministry, because one day if all these structures vanish for some reason then Christians will be challenged to examine whether it is them or God they have truly been serving. I've known for some time that it is my desire to work with youth because I'm always gonna be one inside, too (yes yes, despite my physical aches and pains that come with the ripe old age of 26). And hey, my klutzy, socially-inept ways can be pretty winning with giggly schoolgirls and boys you know because at least I get their attention to the fact that Jesus loves mishaps too.

I suppose... that if God were really God, all this pain and suffering that I go through to keep my faith alive is not entirely needless. But when I think of all those other Christians who are flogged, whipped, martyred and what not for their faith in the cesspools of this planet, I humbly accept the self-admonishment that tells me that I suck and I should be more appreciate of what I have and enjoy. So dear Jesus, go on and flog the dead horse (or mare to be precise) because she still wants to live for You and get all those calluses chiselled off her soul.

And really, I thank God for those of you who love me for what I am and have, and what I lack. You know who you are. :-)

I had the blankest year
I saw life turn into a T.V. show
It was totally weird
The person I knew I didn't really know

And isn't it wonderful to have the gift of appreciating great music that expresses things for you? Sigh...

Time don't move
We're the only ones who do
Bendin' reason
'Cause its all we hold on to

So, go all out, don't literally f*** it but do have a party and screw those petty sorrows because there will always be more where they came from!

Happy and blessed exit to 2006 and entrez 2007 folks.

Work on the day after Christmas,

sucks.big.time.

Because all your bosses and most of your fellow colleagues are on leave, taking time out from Christmas time out.

Because there is so much work to be done and you just aren't in the damn mood to get arsed to do it.

Because the office doesn't quite want to get back to work itself. There is a sense of reluctance and broodiness that resonates from the very walls of the building. Plus, the pelting rain makes it very, very hard to stay awake and productive. My cubicle and Mac workstation protest my presence back at work and my fingers are fat, sluggish weiners that keep hitting the wrong keys.

I quote a rant to stef via email earlier in the day:

"i dunno what is worse. working on boxing day and not having the rest of the week off, or having a holiday all the way till the new year only to face the prospect of work and impending deadlines. as karma always likes to mess with me, i have neither; i am working all the way til new years, and i have impending deadlines. whadda great life. sigh, sigh, sigh. "

Well. I don't believe in karma ; I guess I was just going through one of those many "I wish, I wish" moments. I spent the first half of the morning at my desk, staring at the manuscript and envisioning myself at home, tucked in bed with all my many pillows, slurping instant hot ramen that contrasts oh-so-wonderfully with the monsoon rain and watching Paradise Kiss, my latest anime candy which I haven't gotten round to watching yet. Or reading Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman, which has its side-splitting funny moments, but has not quite captured my full attention in the same way Neverwhere did.

Given the fact that I have gone through more than half of 2006 with a general air of despondency, I think I am going to dread New Year's eve, because although I will probably be going through the externals of some form of festivities (no, not some crap NYE countdown shindig, thank you very much) and even enjoy myself to a certain extent, I will still be...sad. Guess only God and I know why.

I should be able to slip in and out of the fantasy world dimension that reading opens a portal to.

Hey, I feel good blogging again! How's that for you; blogging, not chocolate, releasing pheramones.