Saturday

Sleepless.

Sarcastic, Too.
Short person who is full of himself, don't like.
Sucker, I am.
Squalor, Living in.
Scrumptious, food!
Sexy, Sometimes.
Sardine, Brain of a.
Selfish bitch.
Saccharinely sweet, Not.
Sea.
Sacred cows, Kill!
Sock in your mouth, Put a!
Sadist, Secret.
Secrets.
Safe sex, No sex is.
Soup, My favourite food is!
Security, In-.
Seasons - Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter.
Soft, My voice is the opposite of.
Sweet, I wish I was.
Sushi, sashimi and salmon are yummy!
Salads, Cows eat.
Salary, I need a raise in my.
Silly, hilly, billy.
Stoopid.
Steak, Medium rare.
Sucking up, Bad at.
Self.
Sanatorium for mad people, that's probably where I will spend my old age.
Sapiens are wierd, Homo.
Sane, Am I sure I'm quite that?
Satire, My favourite kind of story.
Sound of Music, My favourite musical.
Sausages and mash potatoes a Bangers and Nosh make.
Safe and saved.
Snake, My Chinese Zodiac sign.
Soft, or otherwise known as flabby.
Scrabulous, Addicted to.
Scallywags, The wrong type of man to fall for.
Scale, The one in the bathroom keeps going up.
Scandals, Avoiding them.
Scared all the time.
Sharp-nosed and -tongued.
Scarred for life.
Scatter-brain.
Schmuck!
Scintillating, Me!
Sentimental, semi-mental.
Simplicity and sincerity, out of fashion.
Snobbishness, Most hated quality in any human being.
Sequitur, Non-.
Split personality.
Seventies, Born in the.
Shameless.
Shape-shifter wannabe.
Spiders, do they have ears?
Small talk, smart aleck, smart ass.
Screwball, Screwed-up.
Soya-bean, favourite bean.
Sponge Bob Square Pants
Shrew.
Sense and sensibility, too much of one and too little of the other.
Soul-searching.
Sing songs.
Soundless Sobs.
Sweet Sleep.

Saturday.

The Kiss

Gustav Klimt, The Kiss

Something...

..stupid.

I wish I will stop doing stupid things.

Just when I think I've become older and wiser and smarter, and then I do something stupid to spoil all that.

What sophistication? What maturity? What wisdom are we talking about?

At the end of the day, I find out that I am just...

A silly girl

Who ought to know better.

When?

Will I grow up

And stop doing

Something stupid?

Dark Meanderings

Times like this,

late at night when the noise around ceases into a deafening silence,

and one can hear the beating of one's heart in one's ear-drums.

It's so quiet it's disconcerting;

it's so peaceful I'm not used to it at all.

It takes me a little while to get accustomed to it.

The heart calms down to a steady rhythm.

My breathing slows down as well, my tensed muscles relaxes.

My tightly wounded-up mind starts to relax.

And the emotions that have been squashed up tight into a little ball is released,

and starts to expand,

until it becomes bigger than me, and submerges me.

And I just let it carry me wherever it wants to take me.

Mostly, it's a dark lonely place, where there is nothing, no one and nowhere to go.

This is quite crap. But I don't care. No it's not suppose to be a poem. And no I don't know what this is suppose to be. It has No Name.

Merry Christmas!

Last few minutes before Christmas Day of 2007 slips away, never to return.

Despite myself and my aversity to the holiday, Christmas this year exceeded my expectations.

I think, deep in my heart of hearts, I love Christmas and all it stands for. It's just that I cannot stand the commercialised aspects of what could have been a good thing.

The meaningless giving of meaningless presents as a social activity.
The poor excuse for all the incessant and continuous debauchery.
The ridiculously out-of-proportion pressure being manufactured.

Therefore I hate Christmas, and I hate what it has evolved to become, a twisted machination of man's greedy makings.

I hate the fact that the work of men always turns what is good and lovely into something ugly and fake and mercenary.

It somewhat reminds me of the story, Midas' touch. In it, whatever Midas touched turned into gold. Most think him lucky, but personally, I think him pitiful. Because whatever he touched turned into paltry sordid gold. Anything and everything became squalid, vile, and lewd.

At which point did we turn into something like that? Why don't we have the ability or the capacity to retain what is good and lovely and noble, that which is worthy and principled and admirable? Or must everything that we touch turn cold and hard and stamped with $$ signs?

Maybe I'm being too harsh here. One way to test the meaning of Christmas in our lives is...

When we think of Christmas, do we think of friendship, of hope and faith and love?

Or do we think of having to buy what present for whom, what dress to wear to which party, retail therapy, and indulgent feeding and drinking and partying?

What really is the true meaning of Christmas to you?

Christmas Bug

Humbug that is!

I'm a humbug when it comes to Christmas season.

Because I cannot for the life of me stand this season of supposedly sharing and giving!

(And I believe I gripe and complain and make a fuss on my blog about this year after year after year!)

I hate the jostling amongst the crowds in our hot humid weather.

I hate receiving cursory gifts given as a matter of non-choice.

I hate the Christmas carols that they play ad nauseum.

I hate the pressure of having to buy gifts because people inform me in advance that they have gotten me "something".

I hate having to attend parties because I have to "show my face".

It's such a season of pretending, of stressing out, of panicking, of suddenly wishing I had no friends it's sacrilegious!

I think this Christmas, I'll just do what I normally do...

To hide at home and read my books.

Or to find some unpopular Christmas place, like the gym or the swimming pool and spend a luxurious afternoon there. And I'll be exercising too, how beneficial!

If not, I'll be sulking (on the inside!) and outwardly doing my fake-smile at some "show-face" party somewhere.

Merry Christmas everyone!

A world without strangers

I've been "keeping in touch".

With people I haven't been keeping in touch for a long time.

I'm not sure why this sudden urge to catch up.

Maybe it's the Xmas season.

Maybe it's just me being tired of all the crap and games and pseudo-friendships that have recently developed, and I'm missing the old friends.

Maybe it's because I'm growing old and sentimental and nostalgic.

So I've been keeping in touch, via sms-es, over the phone, even face to face.

But smses are just so inadequate a communications tool.
And so is talking over the phone.
Even face-to-face meetings aren't that satisfactory, especially if no one is willing to let his/her guard and to remove the mask of affability and civility

And so I wrote an email, to one who was more stranger than friend. Which is a strange thing really.

But I guess it's precisely because he's more stranger than friend, and therefore, precisely because I have no hidden agenda and no vested interest in his life and his friendship, that he let down his guard and wasn't wary about what he said to me.

Because he knew I'm just trying to do what I can to well, relate to another human being at a level at which they need some catharsis.

Because he knew, that althought we were not friends per say, but there's still a smidgeon of concern on my part about him and his welfare.

And what he told me about himself made me just so incredibly sad. At the same time, I'm touched that he was willing to trust me with something close, something rare, something dear to himself.

This world has sprung another surprise on me, that strangers can be even better friends than the real deal.

That even in this world of politics and selfish ambition, there's still a little bit of that which is good and pure and honest and lovely and true.

Even between strangers.

Hello, how are you?

Excerpt from a real-life email to a friend of mine

Hello, how are you?!

I'm sorry I haven't contacted you for so long. And then all of a sudden I look you up.

Maybe it's the Xmas season.
Maybe it's just me being tired of all the crap and games and pseudo-friendships.
Maybe it's my realising the true essence of friendships.

People tend to make mistakes, especially when it comes to friendships and relationships.
Those whom were thought to be friends were not. And those whom are least expected turn out to be priceless.

For some strange reason or other, C and myself lost touch. And I haven't been able to regain contact with her, despite trying.
For another strange reason, you barely knew me and you didn't mind wasting a bit of time giving me good advice. (Thanks for that.)

The ironies of life

Precisely because I'm more stranger than friend, and precisely because I have no hidden agenda and no vested interest in your life and your friendship, so you need not be so cautious about the things you can say and cannot say.

It's precisely for the above reasons that I will tell you certain things I may not tell somebody else.

There's no embarrassment.
There's no judgement.
There's no awkwardness

So, how are you? Are you doing well? Are you happy?

And I've always wanted to but have never dared asked, "How are you? And are you really ok?".

Maybe I'm just being sensitive. But there's something melancholy about you despite what you portray to the world, and I especially felt it when I spoke to you recently.

I'm not trying to be your friend. (Haha!)

I'm just trying to do what I can to well, relate to another human being at a level at which they need some catharsis.

I'm just trying to tell you, we may not be friends per say, but there's still a smidgeon of concern on my part about you and your welfare.

I don't know about you, but I find that a comforting thought, that in this world of politics and selfish ambition, there's still a little bit of that which is good and pure and lovely and honest and true.

And one finds it in the strangest of places.

That's all.

You may choose to or not to respond to this email of course.

In fact, at various points of writing out this email, I'm still contemplating whether to send this out.

It is a laughable offence to be sending an email like this out; I know for sure you're laugh at me. But I think I'll risk it, risk my pride and my face and risk looking stupid, and hopefully, this will make your xmas season slightly different (I dare not say "better"!) this year.

Merry Christmas.
And Happy New Year.

Let's keep in touch....

Well, after having laughed, I felt bad about laughing.

Reading back, the previous article about "friendship" seemed awfully cynical and kind of extreme.

Which is telling about my character actually; I'm an all-or-nothing person.

So, you're either my friend or you're not. I either like you or I don't.

Which can be a bad thing sometimes.

Because the world we live in exists in not a single shade but various shades of black and white and grey (and whatever other colours you may prefer).

Which means friends come in various shades as well. And it's naive of me to think that I can blatantly ignore someone I don't like, because I've realised I have to learn this thing called political correctness.

Damn politics and its accompanying correctness!

I guess it IS a little petty of me to be so snobbish and uptight about who to incept into my little wee world of little people. So I've decided to expand my perimeters of friendship a little, to include all and sundry.

Anybody. Everybody. Anything. Everything. Come into my open arms. Be my friend.

I'll be your friend if you want and need me to. Never mind if you irritate the hell out of me. A new year is coming after all. I should let go of past dislikes, unfair remarks and forgive and forget other people's stupidity.

So I guess I have to learn to unbend a little in terms of expectations. I can't expect people to behave with the severest of strictures. Friends may not always be about desiring what is best of you, and treating you with esteem, respect and affection.

Friends may neglect you, and dump you after they're done with your usefulness. Friends may tell you sweet little lies which they don't mean at all. Friends take you for a fool and for a ride.

I guess Wikipedia was wrong in its definition after all. Friends are actually a dime a dozen.

The important people in my life are actually known as "Sarkers"!

Hey Sarkers, I love you guys!

Friendship

I laughed.

Wikipedia actually has an article on "friendship".

Apparently, it is defined as the co-operative and supportive behavior between two or more humans, and which involves mutual knowledge, esteem and affection, and engaging in mutually helping behaviour such as exchange of advice and sharing of hardship. Other values which are often found in such relationships are - desiring what is best for one another, sympathy and empathy, honesty, loyalty and trust.

Well, I'm glad Wikipedia is so definitive and specific. In that way, I can certainly weed out quite a number of my, erh, friends from the original list.

Non co-operative or supportive behaviour? Out.
No esteem, no affection, no trust? Out.
No engaging in mutually helpful behaviour? Out.
Not desiring what is best for me? Unloyal? Untrustworthy? Dishonest? Out out out out!

For the rest of you who're left, please feel free to leave the room if you want to.

If you don't like my face or my voice. Or if you are angling for some short-term benefit of my friendship, of which I can assure you I have neither money or fame or connections, or anything else that can better your miserable lot in life. Or if you're only wanting me to up your friends numbers in your Facebook account. Or if you think I'm a hippocrite or that I'm not pretty/sexy/rich/clever enough to add to your entourage of ardent fans.

Please, please feel free to leave.

I do not want to waste my time and energy on those who are not worth it.

For the few who are left, you have my word that I will do my utmost to be your friend, to be all of the above, and even more.

Thank you for being my friend.

The little things....

How many of us really give a damn for the person next to us, the person in the next seat on the bus, the poor dying starving people in the next country?

There's so much talk about humanity and human rights and freedom of speech and liberty and all that crap. But seriously, most of us will not lift a finger to help the old lady with the groceries or lift our butts for the pregnant lady in the MRT trains.

Shame on us!

And I'm talking to myself as well.

For those of us who have a little spare cash (as little as US$25), and who want to do their bit to make this earth a slightly more humane place, go to kiva. org.

What Kiva does is to make use of the internet to connect with and loan money to small businesses all over the world, helping the poor work towards economic independence.

Business Nation was just showing how a paltry US$100 loan has managed to helped a Kenyan family out from the poverty trap, and into doing their own small business. They've upgraded from a mud hut held together with sticks, to a concrete house which has a gate. Still horrid by our standards, but to them it's a mansion.

So much for so little.

Now I call that an incredible bargain.

Well, I'm not saying that you all have to give away all your money after reading this.

But what I'm saying is this, just get out of your chair, and do something, anything for goodness sakes!

Donate blood. Give up your seat to the old lady. Give way to a frantically signalling car on the road. Smile at bus driver. Send somebody a smiley pleasant sms. Apologise to the person you should have apologised to 10 years ago. Kiss and make up with whomever you quarrelled with. Beg forgiveness if you've done something wrong. Ask your old friend out for a meal. Return the CD which you borrowed from your neighbour 5 years ago. Bake your friend a cake.

Today.

"The best portion of a good man's life: his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love." William Wordsworth

Ennui

History repeats itself.

Time and time again.

Without fail.

They say those who don't learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat it.

Is my mistake then in travelling?

Maybe they's why they call it "wanderlust".

There is a lust, an insatiable appetite for more whenever I return from a trip. I rise to grandiose visions of having the world as my oyster. There is no place I can't go, nothing I cannot see if I choose to. I shall go, I shall see and I shall conquer.

And then I come back home and I rush back to reality with a huge bump, and that is always disconcerting.

The ennui then sets in.

So much to see, so much to do, and so much to explore.

That I don't want to go home.

Home. Home is where the heart is they say.

Where's my heart gone then?

Missing Hong Kong 2

I miss Hong Kong.

Being alone.

Unfettered, timeless, effortless, clueless.

Aimless meandering. Like the fragrant waters of the harbour, waiting for neither time or men.

The parks, the harbours, the views. The journeys, the walks, the rides.

I see, I touch, I feel, I smell, I taste.

A bewilderment of the senses. The panaromic chaos. The concoction of flavours. The sensual and the sensuous. The bouquet of hte fresh and the stale.

All belieing a hard softness that is...

Hong Kong.

Missing Hong Kong

I miss Hong Kong.

The city where nobody sleeps and the streets are abuzz with life and energy and opportunities.
Where anything and everything can happen. If you want to make it happen.
Where you're awashed in the millions of crowds of a solitary one.
How everything seems familiar and warm and yet you're aware of yourself being the most unfamiliar thing of all.

Hong Kong.
The ebb. The flow.
Of fragrant waters.
Of things gained and things lost.

So near and yet so far.
So warm and yet so aloof.
So familiar and so strange.
So uncultivated and so fertile.
So raw. So surreal.

Hong Kong.
The land of contradictions.