rounding corners as familiar as the soles of your feet

This is why I don't like school breaks-
It destroys your momentum, catches you off-guard, leaves you grappling with an entirely new world- and for how long?
This time, just one week.

I'm not coming to a grinding halt, but there's bits of me that's asking myself if I know where I'm going.
Don't want to wander around and find you've spent your entire life just,
Going in circles, now do you?

I missed Muay Thai so much, well, been missing it so much, that I spent me some time shadowing.
The term "fits like a glove" does no, in any way, make sense.
In my last five minutes or so, I pulled them on. My gorgeous pair of gloves that I used to swear would never see a layer of dust on it (clearly that failed).
Yeah they fit, yes they were comfy.
But fit like a glove?
I could've crammed my hand into a cookie jar and they might've felt the same.
Familiar yes, but not like second skin.
Not the way it used to feel.

And I'd kick, and find I wasn't balanced properly.
At some point, dripping sweat, my eyes finding focal points to train themselves on,
I found myself on the line between frustration and fury.

Do you know how it feels?
Do you have any, any idea at all how it might feel?

It's like getting on stage and not knowing stage right from stage left,
Not knowing if I am down stage left or up stage right.
It's like being thrown into an improv scene and then, finding that I have nothing to offer, nothing to give,
Nothing to build on. Despite all the years I've done this,
Despite feeling like it's second nature.

It would be like getting on a bike and not remembering how to cycle it.
It would be like struggling to mount a horse, after more than a decade of doing it unthinkingly. And then getting on top and finding that you don't know which lead you're supposed to be on or that you barely remember how to even start moving.
I felt that way this evening.
All these things that used to come so easily, almost like second nature
Take a step back from it and then you find yourself struggling to even keep your balance.

It broke my heart, to see how far away I'd got from well, this.
But there'll be more of this.
There will

Live like we're dying, Mister Brightside

Personally, I don't fully agree with living like we're dying.
(Sorry Jay was making me listen to it and I've begun this rant.
On a random, minor digression-
Someone asked me about how I name my tech stuff. Well my stuff, because I don't just name the tech ones. I think it's been mentioned that naming your tech stuff is the new thing. Which is funny if you're one who's always named your stuff.
That of course includes Penny the Pillow and Barry the Bolster. Okay, not really. Ahmahgad! I am SUCH an ENFP! Digression over.)

So uh,
YES that's right-
I don't entirely believe in living like you're dying.
I think it's quite sad if life is so transient for a person, and not something you can hold on to for just long enough to smile at.
I should know, about half-lives or lives that are so transient-
I've lived like that for let's see, just about the sixteen years I've spent in Singapore.

I mean yeah, go try new shit and stuff, go jump off buildings if it gives you such a rush.
But don't keep feeling like you need to seek out things to live, or to make you feel like you're living. Because then you're always going to be trying to fill a space that just can't.

I think one should be happy.
It's simple.
I don't think one should waste time on things that tire you or annoy you.
Why meet up with that classmate who used to spit in your hair just because it's been a decade? If you don't feel like it, don't do it- that's what I say.

Take things as they come, and when it does, appreciate it.

Okay. Rant over!

In other news, my teacher's day was most lovely!
It was quite unplanned I'll admit. But then that's the fun in taking things as they come no? (Refer to above rant)
So everything after lunch was most unexpected but very nice.
Including the gorgeous amount of time I had to read.

I'm fantastically happy I've hooked up with Jodi Picoult again.
I haven't been reading in months.
And for someone's who's a bookworm and fuhreaking proud of it,
It's most uncharacteristic I must say.

But yay! Decent reading!

So I'm at Clementi Town right now.
My teacher's day present right after teacher's day?
Mock assessment.

all of me

You don't have to stay forever, I will understand.
Believe me, believe me

Sometimes,
I dissect things, chide myself for seeing too much into something, and discount some people's feelings.
Or what they say they feel.
(I just did it again didn't I? Haha)

Oh but really, I don't do it in a sad sort of way.
It's just sort of the way it is.


I've had a couple of conversations this year about not taking things personally.
I suppose I fancy myself the sort who doesn't.
Like, I figure, if you lie or give economical truths, then it's just something you felt you had to do. It's not like I can fault you for that,
It's not like anyone can.

I have a belief, that there will come someone with whom you can be completely comfortable with. Someone with whom you won't feel restless, with whom you won't second guess yourself or the other person.
Call me an idealist or whatever you like, but that's kinda why I don't think marriage is for everyone.
Sure, it takes work. Sure, it takes effort.
But the entire relationship ought to be built on something a bit steadier than time,
Or common interests, or a kid.

I mean, that's why living together sometimes makes heaps more sense than anything else, honestly speaking.
Because even when you've been living together for absolute ages, some part of you (albeit a tiny tiny bit) half wonders if there might come something that'll make you leave.
And it'll be okay to.

And marriage is supposed to be an entirely different ball game-
A flight where you get on, and chuck out the evacuation plan before the plane even takes off.

Minor digression, where was I again? -
That's right.
I think there'll come this one person with whom things just fit.
With whom you don't feel like you might still be in need/want,
With whom things just make sense.
And if you're not the exclusive sort, there will be just this one person with whom you'll want to be exclusive with.
If you're not the sort who likes doing laundry, you'll find you don't mind doing it for two.
Not because the other person changes you in any way at all,
But because it just sort of happens.
If you've never quite been the sort who believes, who takes people's word for it,
There'll be someone you can do that with.
Someone with whom you can fall asleep with, if you're not the sort who usually can.
Someone with whom you can sing with, despite being the sort who hates singing with people.

Or it might be one of those odd things about you-
Like dividing your Big Mac into half by splitting the two patties apart.
And someone out there's going to love you for that.

In the meantime though,
We fumble along.

So sometimes it might seem like I'm quite callous or unbothered,
But I think a lot of it is knowing your stand and how you feel about it.
And the rest of it, is really just taking it as it comes.

In my opinion anyway.


So.
I don't ever know if it'll be enough, most often I don't think it is.
But,
here's all of me.

waiting-

To be ready, to feel ready
(Even though I did, at the time)
To feel like I can,
To not be so afraid of myself

Waiting,
To trust myself again.
For someone to trust me enough
So that I can too

Waiting,
For that chance
To love the way I did, for just that week.
For strength,
The strength to hold on-
Not just to my feelings, but the chance to feel like I did.

To know,
That it wasn't, isn't, and won't be wrong.
And know,
That I was meant to. That I was meant to love the way I did,
And that I am meant to, again, one day.

So
I will wait.

come home

Exactly two years ago today,
I fell in love.


But then, I got scared.
I got scared,
Of myself, of my ability to love or the lack thereof.

And so,
I said my goodbyes and waited.
And waited,
And waited.

So sometimes, I don't know if it's just me being stupid,
Or me being stupid.
I tend to do this some mornings, think I'm right on time when I'm not. Or want to cab it halfway so I can have a pretty second busride (like today) and then get caught in a jam and end up having to cab it the entire way,
While churning out an extra six dollars, no thanks to the most unnecessary detour.

Or sometimes, I'd bus it half way, just to realize that I've taken myself further away from the route my cabbie needed to take.

Which is most daft.
I think I've done this quite a few times this week and I am just,
Completely and utterly flummoxed by the jaw-dropping stupidity of it all.
And of all times to make stupid mistakes, could I not have done it at some time that's a tad friendlier than peak-frikkin'-hour?

Jeebus.


And now. I'm a half hour early, out a twenty and did not have myself a lovely bus ride on bus 3.
Well sod it all.

So the best that'll come of this is me trying to figure out why I'm going about doing such Godawfully stupid things.

Maybe, especially in today's case, I really wanted some me-time while on a scenic bus ride down to work.
And I think in the case of the other things, I'm stuck somewhere in between having time and having none at all. But I suppose I must accept that an unexpected extra ten minutes or even twenty, is hardly anything at all.

So there we have it-
And I have just got in and out of my own head.
What do I do about it now?

Well if I need time for me, I should take it.
It can't possibly be something on my agenda/ to do list like-
1)Submit grades for xxx secondary school
2)Take 27minute bus ride and enjoy the sights of boat quay
3) Pick up cat food along the way

It's madness.
I should have time to take my time and not freaking schedule alone time.
Like, really charis, what?!

Okay,
So now that's sorted, I will stop feeling sore about the obscene amount of money that I've spent on cabs AND
Decide early on whether or not I'll cab/bus/train it.
No more half baked bullshit for me.
Especially not when there's no such thing as being too early and in any case,
The extra time can be spent zoning out and talking to snails.

And now,
Work.

anger like the doorbell to a home

Front door slams.
Shouts, hollers, slamming of bedroom doors and the thump of angry footsteps.
why didn't yous and I don't want tos spit themselves out angrily at each other.
"Why do I even come home," becomes a line casually thrown about like it doesn't hurt.

The angry slamming of remote controls against coffee tables, the sharp flipping of tv channels and the sound of faucets being turned on, running water and the pretense of washing the day off oneself.

Sometimes,
Just sometimes,
There are bigger problems than yourselves.


oh all the things that I'll keep away from

and all its joy

Monday,
Monday sounds like a plan indeed.

one last morning

You sleep like a log, the last I remember. And it was hell on earth, trying to get you up once you'd fallen asleep.
You'd be awake, the last person I said goodnight to before switching the computer off,
And then I'd text you in the morning about lunch, and you'd be awake, having pulled an all-nighter.
I'd call you crazy, stark barking mad. And you'd decide, just as school started for me, that it might be an idea to grab sleep before we met up for lunch.
And then vicky would go,
"Omgggg! We'll never meet him for lunch after school."
And we wouldn't, but we'd rearrange,
Except it never worked-
Until you slept at some kind of decently human hour.
It always seemed more possible to meet you before school even started,
I'm pretty sure we might have tried that actually.

It's seven right now, and it looks pretty much like those mornings I'd be on my way to school.
And, you're on your way.
It always takes me aback, how unchanged the rest of the world seems to be.

Sometimes, it feels like I'm clawing at the pavement, my nails scratching against concrete,
And I'm screaming, "No. Nonono, this is my life. THIS is my life."
If we could hold on longer to everything that we know, I'm pretty sure we would.
I'm frustrated at how unchanged the world is, while you sit,
knitting all that you have left together.

People groan at the sound of their alarm going off, they stand at the bus stops taking long drags off their rapidly yellowing cigarette,
Students think about the algebra quiz they've got lined up after recess and the lit paper they haven't finished, hating their life for what it is.

And I sit in an empty prata shop, waiting for you,
And wishing desperately that this wasn't what it is.

A huge part of me wants time to draw itself out painfully slowly.
For once, I don't mind sitting here waiting- if it means that time is extending itself and you're getting more of it.

I must make this all sound terrifyingly melodramatic, the sod that I am.
It didn't strike me how much it meant, to see you just this one more time before, until I almost couldn't. And it hurt, that single moment.
Everything spilling out like I wouldn't, couldn't contain it. I didn't know what I would do, and I felt like I was close to crumpling up in the middle of a mall.

But,
Things work out, as they do sometimes.
And I am here waiting.

It's twenty to eight, in this empty prata shop.
There's the smell of morning, the buzz of motorbikes, the gasp and sigh of buses loading up on passengers,
And I am here.
Waiting.

Some part of me wishing that you'll text to say,
"I'm damn sleepy," in that way you do, and,
"Can we meet after you're done with school instead?"

Baby, you have no idea.

But I figure, y'know,
It's certainly going to be a lot less painful if one stops clawing at the pavement as we get hauled away by our ankles.
And I suppose, you already knew this too.

my sunday

Left me with a fuckload to deal with.

Hello brain,
Have fun wrapping yourself around all of this.


and my kids, there'll be shit for them to deal with. But this won't be one of em.
Thanks a lot.

baby.

Suddenly everything pales in comparison,
Suddenly you find yourself wondering when the ground beneath you will give out-
And if you sort of expected it to anyway.

You're going away.
And fuck, I hate being such a sodding baby about this but,
You're going away.

I hate how it ends up coming to this;
People clawing at the minutes and seconds that you have left and bracing yourself for that moment when you know,
You know you'll have to let go.

But you can't fight it, you never can.
And yet it's not as simple as taking it as it comes,
Letting yourself get used to it.
How can you brace yourself for something you can hardly even begin to imagine?


It's not so much what's happened, or what will, or what can or cannot be undone.
That's all something that one will eventually figure out in time.
What gets me, is that it's you.
And there's so much more to you than this. And I wish, with all that I am, that you wouldn't have to go through what you will.
Maybe it's because I know you. Maybe it's because I know some part of you wished you hadn't.
I'm not saying that the world should be allowed to get away with whatever they fancy,
That isn't quite it.
I'm just wishing it could be just that bit easier on you.


And I think about you,
The person that you were, are and will be. And I think,
Who are we, who is anybody to pass judgement. To say what is fair or just.
And then, and then, I don't know what to think anymore.


You will be okay.
I know you will. But God I will miss you. Just like I've missed you this entire time I haven't seen you.
But the promise of tomorrow might just be worth waking up for.
And surprises,
They work best when you close your eyes.

alone with your thoughts isn't always the safest place to be

I was not prepared in the least for the onslaught of emotion that found itself resurfacing this afternoon.
And I think that became a factor in the resulting immense irritation I felt at myself.

Yes, that's the word for the feeling that trumped the lot-
Immense irritation.

The morning was nice, what with breakfast and saying Hello to Wallaby (I've refused to deal with the recent news of his eventual departure)
Lunch wasn't really in the plan, but it was one of those very pleasant surprises.
So yes, everything's been fine and dandy and then,
This.

And I'm over it now, that teary bit of my afternoon.
And in its place is this resentment and incredible annoyance at having so suddenly been caught feeling the way I did, not having the words for it,
And sort of having it spill over a bit.
Eurgh.

Maybe for the first time, work spilt over.
It linked, blurred lines and even though I tried to work, to fix it-
Tried to deliberately push past the ache, and wrench all that was real for myself and use it, use it to make it all better (both the work and the mess of feeling),
it didn't work.
It just didn't bloody work.

And maybe my annoyance and self-loathing stemmed from this,
This being taken aback and feeling all butterfinger-like.
And not being able to take the fact that, for once,
My thoughts and feelings turned.
And I couldn't do one.sodding.thing.

Maybe

Maybe I'll forget
How much you meant to me
And how you were almost my baby
Maybe


It's one of those days I think I might've run out of words.

Three minutes past Friday

My eyes are unbelievably sore and
I.am.so.tired.

I said my goodnights nearly an hour ago, and yet, I'm still sitting in front of Kirsten.
Actually, honestly,
I had work to do. Kid you not.

Well, I have work to do.
Except,
I settled down for a good read, albeit online. Haven't done that in a while.


But yes, still fully aware of work that is due. And how I should, most definitely, get that sorted.
Soon.
I need it done by tomorrow morn.


God.
I am tired.


So talk about my most recent trip (which oddly enough feels both recent and far away at the same time) got me thinking about the whole getting away thing.
The swelling on my face hasn't even gone down yet. wow whee!

But yes,
getting away for a bit.

A couple of my best friends have booked their tickets to Bangkok, and I was supposed to go with. Except, what with work and all.
Then I'm looking at going later/coming back earlier. something. I don't know.
But then, that's just it.
I don't know.

I miss Bird. And I'm incredibly tempted to hop on to a weekend flight just to see her.
I feel more likely to do that than Bangkok.
Odd isn't it?


My Fridays, they always leave me reeling.
And mostly, I'm not even aware that it's the weekend. The weekends sort of just feel like an extention of my week, and I'm often left a bit dazed.
By the time it's properly sunk in that it's the weekend, it's a Sunday afternoon and my Monday's dressed and waiting for me.

I love what I do.
I do, with every bit of me.


But then, half way through my second school, my fourth class of the day,
right in the middle of class, I tasted my frikkin' throat in my mouth. It's this Godawful taste of (quite literally) my throat wearing itself out.
Then you might say,
"Well that makes you a terrible drama trainer doesn't it, if you're SO all about voice projection and such!"
But there's voice projection, and there's, being at a constant and consistently loud volume, all.the.time. And it scared me, for a bit, that funky taste in my mouth.
It's not a first.

And ugh, my throat hurts.
And I, am just a little bit,
y'know,
tired.
Just a little bit.

Physically, that is.
And we can always fix physical. And I wish I weren't so tired, especially when it doesn't feel like I've been doing very much.
But oh well. I'd best suck it up, get over it, so I can sort the rest of my shit out.

Because I will do that.

Today is odd.
And not in an easy-to-swallow sort of way.

I guess I am flexible to a certain extent, but I really don't like schedules/plans changing at the drop of a hat.
rawr.

whywhywhyyyyyyyyy.
This is infuriating!

you

Are amazingly brilliant
an unbelievably beautiful person, inside and out
Are stronger than you believe
Are soft, sweet, sentimental
The loveliest thing

Aren't even aware of it sometimes

coming home

to the shrieks of laughter and tiny feet thumping against wooden floors.
To put on bossanova while I shower, and Andre Bocelli as I move about the kitchen.
to pick a couple of fruits out of my basket and try a new smoothie that'll match with dinner, hum to myself as I wipe my hands on my apron and pop cherry toms into my mouth unthinkingly.

Pause for the briefest moment, to run my fingers over the picture smiling at me from where it's taped, before pulling open the refrigerator door.
Wrinkle my nose at the week old half bottle of red, and decide against using it in the cooking because it's only a Monday night.

Step on a piece of lego that's found its way to the floor of the kitchen,
And curse silently while I hobble over to the sink.
Lean against cabinets and counters, and smile at the memory of picking them out.

To feel myself skip, just a bit, at the sound of a second car pulling into the driveway.
Getting to the door, throwing it open.

To you,
coming home to me.

because-

Oh,
You may just have enough of me to break

i am afraid-

That if I don't find a better balance, then on days away from work, I'd be left feeling listless, restless and like maybe I should just go back to doing work.

Let's face it, the world's not going to stop moving just because one's not in it.
And it might be a good idea to sometimes, just sometimes, get off my safe, steady, consistent forever,
To come back to what has and will always be there.

Even as I've stood in the middle of my world, the very ground underfoot has shifted, the scenery changed,
And I haven't even been aware.

I am afraid.

Because when people said slow down, you're moving too fast,
It never made any sense.
I wasn't moving too fast, bloody hell.

With work, and what I do-
I love it, and I know where I'm going with it. I know what I'm doing,
How to fix things, how to find my way around.
I know where I am severely lacking, where I need to work harder,
What's missing, what is already there.
I know it. I know it with everything that makes up my very being.
But then,
There is real life.
And it is everything that catches you off guard. Life is the shaky ground you're left to stand on when the concrete of your dreams,wants and ambitions collapse beneath everything you thought you were, everything you think you are.

I'm not moving too fast, chasing dreams, climbing ladders or building careers.
I am staying home, working with all that my body knows.

And when I take my final bow before the curtains fall,
I know that I am stepping out of a world we created. I am stepping away from lies, lines, character motivations, conflict and a tangle of mixed feelings.
I am stepping out of, and away from and I can breathe.
Life, however, doesn't always promise me that.

I am afraid because real life never seems to make half as much sense and although I've never fancied myself the sort who runs away,
I don't want to find out too late, that I have spent so much time out of real life,
That it's just packed up and left altogether.

I don't want to find myself so far away,
That there's nothing left for me here. Because it'd only be my fault.

And the only thing I'll be left with,
Is an empty stage, a theatre filled with an audience that isn't there and the clinking of keys that'll tell me
It's time to switch off the house lights.

tired

Zonked.drained.emptied.
Tired.

I have absolutely no idea how I did today. I've been on the go ever since half six in the morning; if not mentally, then physically, and if I'm not physically moving, then I am being moved (in a cab. I did not take any other mode of transport this entire day. Cab count: 5, 3 of them were booked.)
It was my ride around singapore day, I kid you not!

Hougang-tampines-boon lay-potong pasir-hougang-lor lew lian- east coast road- hougang.

Surely, surely, loyal cab-riders such as myself deserve some kind of reward!

And I am just, so, so tired right now- that I feel like sitting and sorting out my script. (It's madness I know)
But only because it sort of settles me, steadies me, gives me an odd sense of calm. Helps me know that I don't need to move around anymore. I am done.
I.Am.done.


Oooor, I think I might just curl up instead. The two cups of 3in1 coffee are working their magic and I'm feeling all comfy and dozy(:

Chasing Epiphanies was a lovely event with a fun crowd. Not a very shopping-y crowd, save for Enqing.
But a fun crowd all the same.


Some alone time will do me good I think.
I did have a bit, Thursday, right after Kuo Chuan, but then I couldn't sit in it for long enough.
The pockets of time every so often are nice and refreshing. But I'd like to sit still, just for a bit.
The world moves too fast and I hate feeling like I always have to be moving with it.

Goodnight, all you furry people(:

in all the places people forget to look

On days like today,
I wish you'd come back to me.
Even though I know it's the most selfish thing I could ever ask for.

"Could I stay a while?" "Stay forever."

a venture as romantic as an open wound, seamless as a patchwork quilt, fragrant as an alley after hours.
-- Rebecca Wolf

Try to stick two smooth sides together and you’ll find you can’t. They won’t hold because they’ve got nothing to hold onto. You also can’t put a smooth side against a top or a bottom because the pegs won’t catch. But you put the top and the bottom together – the parts of a Lego block you don’t get to see, the parts that you’re supposed to hide – you get a fit. Holds pretty well too.
-- Glenn


I don't believe I've felt like this before.
No, not like this,
I haven't.
It's a nice feeling, I must say. And I could stay put for a while longer.

life is exactly what we don't plan for

I was supposed to have left by now.


I think things are only as complicated as we make it out to be.




No.
You know what? No.
I will finish my script over tonight and tomorrow night.

conversation

"So, go." She says, looking me square in the eye, back straightened, legs crossed.
She's drumming her fingers on the wooden surface of the table.
I really like wood;
The smell, the feel of it. The way it makes me feel.
You know that, don't you? I've wandered into places with you, drawn in purely by the smell. I'd run my fingers over furniture, and I always say the same thing,
"You know, I absolutely love wood."

She clears her throat and I look up, startled, to see her staring at me, waiting.
"I, uhm" Faltering, I take the tiniest step backwards.

"You can't, can you now?" Her tone has softened, and she leans back to light herself a Menthol Light. "I'd say I told you so, but," she sighs, tapping her cigarette against the hand-painted clay dish she uses as an ashtray, "if I got a dollar for every time I said that, I'd be able to get me a year's supply of these-" raises an eyebrow at the neat little roll of paper between her fingers.

My eyes follow the odd little patterns in the carpeted floor, refusing to rummage through my tangle of thoughts and give her the answers she's probing for.
The room's gone cold, and I realize with a start, that she's got all the time in the world. She would have absolutely no qualms with waiting me out, just for my bloody answers.
"I," I begin, stop and breathe, try again.
"I, don't know what to feel."
"But how does it feel, right now?"
I shoot her a puzzled look, taste the words on my tongue before repeating myself, slowly.
"Good God!" She snaps, "I'm not a half-baked moron you twit, I understood what you said the first time. I'm asking how.this.feels." She reaches for another smoke, fidgets with it instead of lighting up, and waits for my answer.

"I, uh." She nods and I focus my eyes on the plant behind her, pretend that I can count the veins on each leaf.
"Well this, whatever this is- bits of it are a tiny bit painful, and sometimes, a tad hard to swallow." She pushes her box of Menthol Lights across the mahogany table, toward me, sets her box of matches in the middle of the box.
I give the smallest shake of my head, my right thumb tracing circles on the back of my left hand.

"It's a bit painful, but I'm not in a position to feel. At least," I pause, shifting my weight from one foot to the other,
"I don't think I was supposed to."

"And how might you feel about that?" She asks me, tapping her unlit cigarette against the edge of her table.

"Like...Like it's really my fault," I pause as she raises her eyebrows at me.
"For, y'know," I breathe, "feeling too much."

She reaches for her box of matches, strikes one and raises it up to the cigarette resting between her lips. Waving the match to extinguish the flame, she tosses it into the ashtray, and leans back in her chair to inhale.
"Well," she lifts her chin by an infinitesimal amount, expels her smoke upwards, "you know where the door is darling."

I nod and turn myself away, as she watches me.
Watches me run away from myself.

Dialogue In The Dark

I woke from the most bizarre dream this morning. It was nightmarish, but not in the scary sort of way-
More like, I don't think I'd like to have that conversation/situation to happen in real life.


Dialogue In The Dark was, eye-opening to say the least (pun completely unintended).
There was such an immense amount that one got out of it;
The acceptance of the sudden dependency, the need to trust-
Not just the guide who you don't know, or the group around you that you do know, but yourself.
Trusting yourself, your sixth sense, whichever. Just, trusting yourself.
And that was a big thing for me.

I guess the point for me was to lose myself entirely in this completely unfamiliar world,
And finding joy in little bits, such as figuring out certain letters and numbers,
Or figuring out what a particular object was.

That was the take this morning,
And my word it was interesting.

Noooow, post meeting,
I'm finding myself on slightly shaky ground. And wondering if maybe, there's something I might be able to do better for my kids.
Mmmm.

and I find myself wanting

You, and the oddest things we've talked about
jafacakes on a Tuesday evening, lemonade on a summer afternoon, large frosted-glass sinks, that picnic table that doubles as a bench, bedtime stories, Saturday morning, home-cooked dinners, family time,
and you.


It's nice to daydream, it always is isn't it? But then you smile and put it away in that box labelled, "Maybes & Whatifs", and you go about real life.
Except,
it's sort of a little bit different.
Because, for once, it feels like I almost could.
And I can't see that far ahead of me, I don't know how or if or when or where or even why,
but it's nice to think that maybe, just maybe,
there might be a sliver of truth to it.


So there's been a shifting of floors beneath our feet. Sometimes, you only realize it as you read through your writing that's spanned the last three months.
But yes well, there is/has been/will be a bit of change and,
I'm not entirely sure of how I feel.

I think in regards to some things, I just don't know.
That's not to say that if I did, I would understand either.
I guess, I'm just not familiar with such a situation or the dynamics of it, or uhm, whatever else it is. I believe I would like to, but I don't ever feel like I'm in a position to ask or wonder or, well anything.

I think it makes me insecure (for lack of a more fitting term) -
this whole, not knowing exactly how I feel. And I've tried to place it, believe me I have.
But nothing seems to work.
Usually, by this point, I'd have walked away from it-
the whole trying-to-place-how-i-feel thing, the whole this-might-hurt-abit,
and more than anything, the whole I'm-feeling-too-much.
So I can't say this is something I am entirely familiar with, this tangled mess of thoughts. And sometimes, I don't quite know what to do with myself.


I will fall asleep to pretty dreams though,
and the thought of Sunday evening's company.

break your little heart

Not that I understand, or need to

I can't quite place this feeling, and I wish I could word it-
Believe me I do.

Maybe my problem is that always try to justify how I feel,
Try to dissect and analyze it.

Whatever the case,
Until I feel like tearing it apart and sifting through it and su

ch,


I
just won't.

----

I'm just a bit away from the office. It's obscene, but I'm thinking about what I could do.

I love what I do-
Making people believe.
And whichever side you're on, on stage or in the audience,
You know what you're in for-
Getting drawn into something you know isn't real,
Or doing all you can to have someone believe that what you're saying/doing isn't a lie.

And then if you think about it carefully,
You'd figure that whichever side you're on, the only person you've been lying to,
Is yourself.

c'mon baby we ain't gonna live forever

come with me tonight,
we can make the night last forever

SO.
It's the first I've planned and organized a company retreat-
I've gotten everything down to the last half hour, with a fifteen minute buffer time for every.single.thing. I quite like how my anal-ness/ocd/whathaveyou come in quite handy sometimes(:
Of course, at the same time, I'm pretty sure things won't ever go just so.
But then there's the other side of me,
The lets-just-zone-out-for-a-week-side of me, so I won't be jumping around making us do like, eeeeverything.

We're headed to Batam this morning, hopefully without running into crowds and such.
It's a shame that sometimes not everyone's as hopped up as you are,
But to a certain extent, I kinda get it.
We've all been on the flip side of the coin at some point, haven't we?

So we're all checked in, and our manager seems infinitely more frazzled.
I feel, sorta, well I don't know.
I'm the only one sitting down and typing, for starters.
Hahaha.
It's so funny, all of it.

Lalala.

I had time for breakfast with The Little Creature this morning before we went on our way. I like(:

I don't know what to expect today, despite having planned it all.
But I suppose a lot of this unexpectedness makes up most of our life.

And sometimes,
All you can do, is take things as they come.

And hope it doesn't hurt

It's half past eight.
She's just finished work, pleased with herself and what she's done.
Crowds of pre-university students find themselves on the same bus and she fleetingly wonders what it'd feel like to be one of them.
Fleetingly though, because she likes where she is and where she stands,
And what she does.

It's half past eight.
There is an appointment to rush to.
One that has been put from mind and delayed, simply because she hasn't found a reason to go.
Not one some things can fix themselves, not when there are far more important things to worry about,
Not when there it is time that can honestly be better put to use.

It's half past eight.
She's taken meds without dinner, and there is an old man in front of her,
Sucking contentedly and thoughtfully on his denchures.

It's half past eight.
A kid from Junior College sits beside her, dozing.
His book is open to a chapter titled "The contradictory in Mathematics".
As if maths weren't confusing enough, why in the world would anyone want to read about things that make it more confusing?

It's half past eight.
Except, it's not really, not anymore.
It's almost quarter to nine now.
And she should've been rushing home to you. She should've been rushing home to you hours ago.
But you're not here for her to rush home to.
You're not here.

So.
It's a quarter to nine, and that place she always goes to when days like these get too hard,
It passes her on her way to wherever it is she's going.
For whaatever her reason is.

And she's not even sure of it, her reasons for going.
For once, she wanted someone to tell her what to do because,
Maybe if she hadn't had to make the decision herself, and factor in oh-so many things,
She wouldn't feel the way she's feeling now.

It's nine.
And she finds herself at a lonely little bus stop near a park she's been to a few times now.
She should go.
Because, because someone told her to go. Because deciding something for herself hasn't always been the best idea.
Because this time, she wants to listen to someone.

Except,
She's gotten off the bus, and let empty cabs pass her by.
And even though it's been decided for her,
She still doesn't quite know what to do.

But this moving world, it keeps on moving.
It keeps on moving and it's left her behind until she can think about what she wants to do with herself.
And my God, working out figures and timings and schedules and itineraries was infinitely easier than doing this one, simple task.

It's nine.
She should've been rushing home to you. She should've been rushing home to you hours ago.
Except you're not here and she isn't, she isn't rushing home to you even though she wishes desperately that she were.
You're not here, and it's one of those days that she realizes that,
She doesn't quite know what to do with herself.

And even though, this evening, she was supposed to do as she was told,
She finds that she can't.
Not quite. And not in a way that she can explain.

It's quarter past nine.
And oh she wishes she were going home to you. That she were worrying herself sick, hoping to God that you're okay.
That she knew exactly where she was going and exactly what to do because,
Because you were the only reason worth living for.

But,
It's twenty past nine and you're not here and she has no idea where she's going.
but she is moving, weaving through throngs of faceless people,
Feeling like she is inches away from disappearing.

Unfortunately though, she doesn't.

Then, it's almost half past nine,
And she wonders just how much it'll take,
To find herself rushing back to you.

August

Sometimes this ache, I don't know if I can take it.

please floor, don't give out from under me

I've had quite a lovely saturday morning so far.
Breakfast-ed with mommy before surprising her by popping by the polo club.
Mommy, she's the most adorable thing really(:

So I sat around, did a bit of mindmapping for the script that I'm working on,
And then had lunch with Erika before finding myself at the random bus stop at potong pasir, waiting to bring The Little Creature to the SAJC open house.

It's nice, having family time last night and then mommy-time and littlecreature-time,
And each in its own space.
I'm heading back to the office later on to finish work that absolutely must be finished.
I don't mind it really. It's the sort of rather unthinking type of task that leaves me feeling quite calm and productive.
1.30pm
-- --

SO. I popped by the flea market with the little creature, just to hang out for a bit with dd and v (and later tania and vic)
I hate how D's stays always feel so incredibly short all the time.
I always feel like I need just a couple more days with her around and I'll be alright except.
I'm quite ashamed to say, I hardly spend as much time with her as I'd like.

Anyhoosies,
Sister-time with the little creature this afternoon was lovely.
I likey.

And I liked dinner and the simplicity of it. Haven't had that for a while and,
Truth be told, I've missed it a whole lot.


Change, sometimes it creeps up on you and your barely notice it. But I don't think we're meant to fight it and hold on to things- try desperately to keep it the way it is.
Because if we do that, we might end up missing out on how much better it could've been.
And I really like the place I'm in now.

Office Time

You do things, say things sometimes,
that make me want to just
stop. Put everything down,
stop.
Listen, while I find myself smiling like a fool.
Listen, and laugh,
put down the pen that I'm fidgeting with,
to pay you full attention.
Stop.
and fight an overwhelming urge to kiss you.


This is a balance.
Or it almost is. And I'm getting there. And I don't mind it.
Not one bit.

Grow up, C

No, but really,
I'm just being a baby.
I am.

I need to shut up and deal. I really do.

She never did know one might be capable of feeling like this.
No, she begins, it's not like, I-feel-a lot-for-you sort of a thing.
She pauses, pencil hovering over the yellowed pages of her leather bound book,
turning her thoughts over in her head.
It's more like, she tears her eyes away from the collection of words she's pieced together, choosing instead to focus on a random spot on the wall.
Breathes.
It's more like-
Like I feel for you in such an immense, collected way. It's not a whole mass of feeling hitting me like a tidal wave,
splashing itself over anyone standing too close. It's not like that at all.
She pauses again, briefly this time. Picking words with deliberation; Being sure that what she has to say is more than just streams of consciousness, more than a tangle of feelings left to sort itself out.

What I feel for you, it's all that's collected in the beaker at the end of the distillation process. Concentrated, and in its purest form.
I'm not overwhelmed by these feelings; I'm overwhelmed by the much-ness of it,
The immensity of it. Just the immensity of it.
Like if I were a flannel cloth, I'd be soaked with it.
Saturated, if I might use that word.
Or a glass bottle, corked, ordinary looking and sitting on a shelf.
Containing, within itself, such a concentrated, undiluted liquid,
That surely, oh surely it might burn
To even
Touch.

Because it makes sense to.

"Do you trust me?" A simple enough question,asked openly, honestly.
And I'd answered immediately, without even having to consider my answer and what she may or may not do with it.
I was somewhat taken aback by myself I suppose. But then, you always come to realize things about yourself every now and then.

"And why's that?" She asked softly.
Without quite knowing why, my voice caught and my chest knotted.
My answer came to me then, and I could not find a reason for this random choking up.
And so I told her, best as I could, best as I knew how- as open as I could possibly be.
And I felt everything fall into place, knowing with every bit of me that I meant what I was saying.



Is a funny thing sometimes,
this trust.
Especially when we search for reasons that aren't there.
Or when, perhaps, we find that one believes because there wasn't a reason not to.
Because at some point or other, your reason will come.
Your reason to not believe, it will come,
Whether or not you want it to, whether or not you're looking for it.

And if your reasons for believing aren't based on something that doesn't threaten to collapse under the sheer weight of truth,
Then I think it'd be quite the expectation to find yourself in a mess of sorts.


But then, sometimes, just sometimes,
Someone comes along, leaving you flummoxed at your sudden inability to phrase yourself.
And you find that you believe, not because there isn't a reason not to, but rather,
Because something or other just sorta fits.
Like it makes sense.
Like it wouldn't make sense otherwise.

And this,
This not having a reason, it can be a tad perturbing, just sometimes.
But I think maybe,
It's just about time that I learnt to trust myself too.

homesick

Today reminds me of home.
The weather, the feel, the sounds.
Especially since five this afternoon.

And I realize over and over again just how much I miss home.
Some days are more bearable than others, like today.
Other days see me sitting on a bench and crying myself stupid.

Today is okay.
Today is bearable.
Today feels like I can actually do something, albeit in time.

Today's also made me realize
not a single day has passed since I first arrived in this country
that I haven't wished desperately to be back home.

i like today quite a bit

I loved church and how it went.
Everything; from the time I got there, to worship,
to the sermon- small group style.
I bus-ed it home and chatted with the little creature over Ben&Jerry's Turtle Soup.
And I got to nap too(:

I love days like these,
Calm and beautiful and mine(:

So we're heading to the dbs arts centre for Hannah's play which I'm quite excited about. I've never been one for local plays, much less ones done by the upcoming generation.
I only ever go for Vicky's and Asher's and only because I think they act well.
Even so, the rest of the cast doesn't always promise to be un-cringeworthy.

And it's a terrible occupational hazard of mine, because I find myself less capable of sitting down to enjoy the play for what it's worth.
To the point of actually fighting the urge to get up and leave sometimes.

Of course, a large part of it is my intolerance for bad pronunciation and bizarre word-emphasis that is a typical trait of local actors/actresses.
At the same time, I'll admit that I am incredibly quick to make blanket statements and generalizations.

So this point on, with working on SYF next year and such, I very much want to see what I ought to brace myself for, what I should and shouldn't do,
What I will.not.stand.for on stage and just open myself up to ideas because I think that's important too.

Truth be told, I'm kind of scared of going this evening.
I'm scared I'll be so horrified that it'll take me massive effort to stay put.
Not because Hannah's bad at all, but I wouldn't know about the rest of the cast now will I?
And I don't even know what the play is/is about.
I hope it's not a local-comedy thing because I find locals have a very strange sense of humour.

Anyways, we'll just see how that goes.
Everything's a learning point I guess. *chants it silently like a mantra*


two seconds to your smile

so i love you because i know no other way

than this


Perhaps it's the way I might see myself cooking us dinner,
despite never having been the sort who'd cook.
Or perhaps the way I like being up before the sun,
and breakfasting with you.

Possibly the way I feel like I actually want to put down work,
Theatre-related work at that (which is unheard of) to spend time.
Or maybe the way I can sit with you, and not have to do anything,
Anything at all.

Surely, it must be the way I slip into sleep against you;
My body against the length of yours, our fingers knitted.
And if it wasn't then it must be how you press your nose to mine sometimes,
Or how you hold out your hand to me,
Or how you say hello when you answer your cell.

It could be how you text to say you'll be home soon-
Complete with a pretty picture to smile at.
Or the way it feels, knowing that you are,
That you're just a bit away from home.

And still, if it weren't,
if it weren't any of it in the least,
Then,
it must be how you come home, covered in work,
And manage the most beautifully tired smile I've ever seen
in all my life.

A child's eyes

Maybe it's because I fancy myself open, and frank, and honest.
Maybe it's because, as best as I want to, I'd like to be an open book.

And I won't say things I don't mean, things I haven't thought through.
Because I wouldn't like that to be done to me, quite honestly.

Stupidly though, for a while, I thought other people might be like that too. Except they weren't.
So I just nodded, and smiled and took everything with a pinch of salt.

And then after a while, it was nice to find someone I felt I could ease up with.
Someone I didn't have to keep second guessing at every turn and corner.

But sometimes,
just sometimes, even truths have strains of
uhm, I can't quite find the word for it right now but-
uh something or other.
And then, words are all that one's left with.



uhm.


So.
yes.



I think a part of me is afraid, more of myself than anything.

I mean, when someone starts a sentence with, "This is the first time I've.." it would be nice to take it at face value.
Just. sometimes, you know?

And then at some point, someone comes along, and you find that you don't find it very difficult to believe.
But,
stupidly,
some part of me, it's scared that I do.




That somehow,
at some point,
she had me unravelled

and caught me with my guard down.

So how now, brown cow?

This random Wednesday, I find time to tell you random things

Like how, for one, I've been a bit busy.
And how I type and email so much more on Kym that in the first hour of using a computer, I'm a bit lost, to be honest.


The week, and today in particular, has been a tad uhm, tiring.
My first two classes were great. Hardly any trouble, went on without a hitch. And I got to working on The Script in between classes (and loo breaks, and in between bbming Bird).
Lunch was nice.
Simple and, nice. Good Lord I feel like Joel and then Clem from Eternal Sunshine On The Spotless Mind.
I need to stop using the word "Nice".

The afternoon class was noisy but not entirely impossible.

But i'm tired today.
Brain dead.
And it's not just physical, this tiredness.
Oh I don't know.

Too much thinky-thinky.
I will go to bed before my brain explodes on me.


This is Tommy!
Who's being an absolute darling and letting me use his place as a stopover for shoesies!:D

OHOH!
Random fact about me (I re-realized it today) to finish off your Wednesday:
I think I've mentioned how I don't watch a lot of telly because I find it pretty noisy.
Weeeell, I realized I watch with the telly on mute quite a lot.
unless I'm sitting down specifically to watch something.

yes.
uhm.

okay I will go disappear now.
Toodles

Disappearances and the joy it brings-

So I got back from Phuket with me blueberry face and cut up leg.
It was a gorgeous gorgeous getaway; Quaint, quiet, homely.
I suppose I could've done without crashing our scooter into a truck, and spending the next 14 hours secretly wondering if I'd wake up if I fall asleep and then hobbling about the rest of the trip looking sorry for myself while Erika got odd looks from non-locals. (It's the bruised eye man)
I'll talk about Phuket in an entirely seperate post. promise.

It's my first week back at work, and everytime I get back to work and such, I realize over and over again just how insanely in love I am with it.
Swear to God, I can't stop!
I've gotten my script and I've picked out the kids for SYF. I'm just brimming with excitement about embarking on the entire SYF journey with this bunch. There's just so much, SO MUCH that they can do, that I feel I might be able to do with them.
It's brilliant, and God, I am SO SO happy.
My Thursdays and Fridays look obscenely busy, and I suppose I could do with less running around but hey,
we can't always have it our way!

I've never understood people's grouse about being in the office though.
Honest to God, if I had the morning/afternoon off from a school, I wouldn't half mind going back to the office. I'm actually honestly a tiny bit peeved that I will have to wait til Wednesday to get in. Because Kirsten's running on her own brain juice and I could do with a charger.
Plus, considering what I've been doing on the go, it'd be nice to be able to sit down and my desk to do it. And not have to constantly look up to see which train station I'm at and whether or not I'm making good time and then promptly losing my place on the script.
diddums.

The last few days were quite lovely, I found.
In the most impossibly simple way.
I've never felt such contentment and comfortablity and cosiness. Never.
And at times when I felt a fraction of it, I've always felt like such a sodding sap because of it. I guess it was nice, knowing someone else kinda liked the simplicity of little things like that too.
I wouldn't have swapped out any of the littlest things, not for the world.
It was everything, really-
Having our own space, and doing our own things,, together and really not being joined at the hip
and the entire time,
just having a sort of ease to it all.

I could get used to it.
Although sometimes I think, thinking that makes me do a double take (I wouldn't actually say it scares me. just makes me sit up and look at myself oddly).
Because I don't do that- Get used to things like this.

Next week looks infinitely busier than the one that's just passed.
I'm itching to pick up my script and do my work.
But in the meantime, all that's left of the girls are waiting to go for ice-cream at Kovan.
(Yes V, this is what I'm doing while you're bbming me.)


This Saturday afternoon was brimming with contentment and lazy cat-stretches.
I like.



it's the littlest things;
Laundry, while I do work on the couch. Or making bubble & squeak while you wash the morning's work off you.

because.

And even if I wasn't allowed to,
The only difference would've been the amount of physical space.

And no, I didn't see this coming
But
I have never felt like this before

Just in case you were wondering...

I'm seeing myself off to Phuket tomorrow evening(:
I foresee a lot of lazing about, time in the sun and where our biggest battle will be against inersia.
Can't say I'm complaining, to be honest.

And because I thought it nice for you to check out where we'll be for the next five days,
here're pictures!^^

Warning: You will likely get jealous, I'm afraid. It is quite, quite lovely.

BRACE YOURSELF!


So this is our rooftop pool.
Complete with a view(:
And random lounge-about spot. Y'know, for days, we don't feel like the pool/beach.
A nice spot for a game of chess, me thinks.


And what would a holiday be without a bar hey?




But the best bit, swear to God,
just has to be the room.

We're staying in a Studio Apartment,
so that means pretty much most living needs all in a cute little space!

YEP!
And I think I spy a little window couch to the top left corner of the picture!
Oh is love!
Perfect for cosying up with a book(:

Oh and yes, complete with an outside balcony AND kitchenette.
So that the room won't smell of cooking, when we're done, and also so we can have dinners and such, outside in the evenings,
with the breeze and the view(:

I would be lying, just absolutely lying through my teeth if I said I wasn't looking forward to this.
And yes I know pictures can lie and all, and I'm trying desperately not to have too high an expectation. But at the same time, the worst I can imagine are these pretty pictures, just awfully aged and dirty.
And it still doesn't seem Godawfully bad, y'know?
(:

I hope the trip turns out brilliantly.
I quite imagine it will actually.

Lazy days spent cosying up, the smell of coffee in the morning, sun, four-wheel drives, grocery shopping, wondering what to cook for dinner, and dinners on the balcony.
I am looking forward to it, all of it, immensely(:


----------------------

SO YES,
I haven't really been updating.
I happened to be awfully ill the last time I blogged, and have since spent that day, battling it.
In fact, even right now, I've got the remnants of the sniffles.
Ugh.
It's bloody awful.

I sat on my ass for quite a bit before finally hauling my feverish self to the doctors. Got a bout of meds, and stocked up on others, and I am more or less fine and dandy now!

Soccer's been bril so far, and I have managed to stay up for two matches!
Spain and Chile was the most worth it, out of all the matches I've watched. At least I think.
They've started running together, all the matches, and aside from Spain and Chile, I can't quite remember how the others played. I quite liked the Netherlands, I think.
Anyway, Torres isn't the best of recent, I'm hoping he'll pick up and work that Liverpool magic that he always has(:
Alexis Sanchez, who plays for Chile is one dishy guy. And all of 22, yum! But Chile's out, shame that.
I'm looking forward to soccer night over pizzas and coke when I'm back from Phuket. And making pancakes in the morning too, of course. Although lets hope we keep the kitchen-destroying to a minimum. Mommy's fine with me destroying our kitchen but I think it best to leave other people's kitchen intact.

I've also had thee major meeting for and about work. And I absolutely love where and how it's going. It's upsetting that I'm missing two first classes this week, but then I think,
dinners on the balcony,
and I find myself a bit less upset. ^^

Had a performance yesterday at the Vineyard Loft, and I think it went pretty well and I'm fantabulously pleased(:
Erika brought Nick with her this time, and he didn't seem to mind it all. Neither did Kevin, who came to watch for the first time. And I'm quite pleased at the turnout(:
The family (which includes Vicky) were there, and I realize how lucky I am to have always had them around at most of my performances. Victor had to come by earlier to sort out sound, bless his heart. I'll never know what I'd do without them, any of them(:
It's the first time in five years that I've performed with the entire band. And I absolutely loved it. We're promising to do more, and truly, I hope we do before I leave<3

It's been a smashing end to an altogether lovely week.
Can't say I've minded any of it.

I crashed out today though. Just completely died and only rolled out of bed at half three in the afternoon. Personally, I thought it horrendously disgusting. But I suppose my body needed to do that. Especially after sleeping at half past four, if not five, for three out of the last four/five nights.
And I'm not really doing anything to help it actually. Rawr.
It's already 3.45am on a Monday.
I need to get bloody started with my packing, dammit.

I'd best be off then!
Breakfast with Vicky in six hours. I'm contemplating blading there.
hmmmm, now that's a thought^^


TRIP! PACKING, NOW! YAYYY
Phuket, here I cooooomeeee.

Just so long, and long enough

As Freedom Is A Breakfastfood

as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
-long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
-long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
-long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breasts and thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
-time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough

E.E. Cummings


and I don't suppose I'd ever understood this in all its layers and entirety,
not until I met you

Teas that bitter

"Edinburgh is nice," he tells me. He'd just been, recently. And I was happy for him, truly I was.
"Don't I know it!" I laugh, pressing down on the sharp ache in my chest.
"You should totally go man!" He continues.
"Sweetheart!" I exclaim, "I lived there for most of the time that I was at home!"
My heart, it feels like it might come up my throat and choke me.
"Yeah I knowwwww," he chortles,
"But it's not like you're here right now right!"

My heart freezes, right then.
My breathing, it quickens and all I'm focused on in that span of five to ten seconds, is how much harder I'll need to press down to keep the pain inside from taking me over.


There was snow.
I remember snow.
And my fluoroscent green wool-lined wellies.
Cold noses, flushed cheeks,
a vast expanse of white that went on forever and ever and ever.


It was like a dream, my life then.
I always thought it was.
Like I wasn't really living it, like it was a dream.
"Mi, not too far!"
But I'm not listening, because it's a dream and I can go far, far away and still be safe.
Until I turn and there is a fleeting moment of panic because there's nothing else around me. And oh no, I'll get into trouble for this, surely I will,
when mommy told me not to go too far. But I didn't mean to, and I can't really be lost, can I?

And then,
"Chaaaa-res! What did I say?"
And Mommy is there, and Daddy. Mommy always said my name like that back home.
It wasn't just Charis, or Res.
She'd drag the "air" and pronounced the last bit of my name as "Res", not Ris.
Suddenly, I'm not lost anymore. And I'm not getting told off for disappearing either.
She chides me gently, so gently and with this smile like,
"Oh what will I do with you, silly girl!"
And the world,
the world is made right again.


For the most part,
I am afraid to go home.
Because all I've ever wanted is to go home.
And I'm afraid, so so afraid of going back now.
I can't.
I can't, knowing that I will have to leave. That I will merely be visiting.
That it's less coming home as it is seeing what I've missed out on,
what I will have to walk away from all over again and this time, with the knowledge that I won't be coming home again, not to live at least.



And I am afraid,
of what it will take out of me.
Because I just know that I won't be able to take it. I won't be able to leave, and I will have to.
And honestly,
I swear to God, honestly,
dying, being cut open and left to bleed would just be infinitely easier to deal with.


You don't know the half of it.
Trust me, you don't.
You don't know what it's like to sit here and know and remember and not be able to do anything about it.
You have absolutely no clue.
You don't know what it's like to wish and miss and be promised the world and never have any of it materialize.

You don't know what it's like, to spend most of your life, living like an outsider in a country that's never welcomed you. Having people say,
"Fine la. Go home to your UK la. No one understands what you're saying anyway!"
and you retorting, all of eight years old,
"I will! I'm supposed to anyways, and you'll be sorry you were mean to me!"
And then finding that the next week comes, and passes you by. And the week after that, and the week after that and the week after that.
Until it's been years, and no, you haven't left yet.

Of course,
I like the time I've spent here.
My best friends in all the world are here and I'm in love with my job and my cat.
And there's just been such a lot of things that I do appreciate and that I know I've gotten/experienced only because I was here.

But it doesn't stop me from missing home.
And it doesn't make me feel more at home here either.

And it's funny, you know.
For someone who's a huge believer in doing exactly what you want to do, in whatever will make you happy,
this is one of the two things so far that I can't do.

But you know,
at least in that second situation,
I got to say goodbye.

as freedom is a breakfast food

Or truth can live with right and wrong

Yesterday saw me ambling out of bed in the early morning, making breakfast for mommy on top of the wraps and sarnies I was putting together for breakfast on a pretty rooftop.
I paused momentarily, mid-wrap, to stare at the torrent of rain right outside my window. I was trying to decide if the rain was foiling my plans,and I decided, although it'd be a touch easier to not walk around a rooftop garden with a brolly, there'd be a quaint sort of prettiness to it and so, nope,
The rain wasn't foiling my plans. So I skipped out of the house, the warm food kept warm and the cold food kept cold, preeeetty much on time.
And then,
Everything from then til about noon just absolutely fell to pieces.
Generally, unless I'm late for work, I don't get impossibly het up. But when I am grotesquely late like this, when I would otherwise have arrived at a nice time, I border on hysteria and frustration and am quite likely to give in to tears.

Anyhoos, the pixar exhibition was fantabulous! It was soooo impossibly lovely that I'm hoping to go back again to fully absorb it all(:
afterwhich, I had dinner at Erika's.
I must say, Aunty Vivien is one fantastically brilliant cook! The food was amazingly delish, I kid you not!
One of those where you can lean back in your chair after dinner and rub your belly and sigh contentedly.
Which of course, I did not do, lest I get mistaken for a random hobo Erika picked off the street to bring back for dins. Hahaha

It was a lovely wednesday indeed, and by the time ten past noon rolled around, I'd almost forgotten the morning.
And everything else just fell into place(:

sappy stuff and the like

That you and me,
Found something pretty neat.
And it's a good excuse,
That I'd like to use
Baby I know what to do,
Baby I-
I'll love you, love you
I will love you

The weekend was a terribly interesting one indeed-
It started with my baby beau hitting her last year as a teenager. She's all grown up now, but no less of herself than she was when we first met.
I love that about her.
And I figure it's not the last birthday I'll spend with her.
And I love knowing that^^
So when we're 91, we'll muck about like we always have except instead of cutting lovely chocolate cakes, we'll have a grammy-version of birthday cakes.
Perhaps some mashed banana sorta mush shaped in a cake for us and our toothlessness(:
I love you vicky<3

D and michelle have flown off home,
And I'm glas that when I said goodbye this weekend, I said it with the knowledge that I'll likely see them again soon.

Chris Lee's much awaited wedding rolled around and it was a lovely affair.
The timing of it, sort of how I'd imagine I'd like mine to be-
The solemnization being during the whole hooha of dinner and such.
It was a nice dinner, and the company counted for a lot-
My dinner date as well as the other folks at the table.
Allyson looked absolutely stunning in both dresses, and Chris was a far cry from those grooms who just appear to be the brides' evening accessory in place of a sparkly handbag(:
I'm happy for them, very much indeed^^

T spent the night, and despite having plans for our Monday, we ended up spending it being complete slobs instead.
I seem to have a terrible habit of making even the most productive of people terribly hobo-like. Might just have to add that to my list of mutant powers now!

Post face-stuffing with copious amounts of chocolate at Max Brenners (maman and little creature, I will pick a day to bring you both there^^) saw me grabbing burgers with ohana- first proper proper meal of the day.
They went off on their mommy-little amoeba date while I caught Japan vs Cameroon.
It was an interesting match largely because of the conversation during the match.
We spent a lot of it deciding what the citizens of cameroon should be called.
I've gotten it down to Cameroonians or People Of Cameroon (who I will affectionately refer to as POCs)
^^

There's been talk about flying to krabi or bali. I'd quite like that^^
Seems like my June will be less of looking for a summer temp job as it will be just laying about and enjoying it for all its worth!
I don't mind that idea in the least(:

Smokes have lost that take on me of recent, well, since saturday.
And for that I am grateful because I've missed my blading and muay thai and the way my body just desperately wanted fruits and veggies aaaaaall the time.
It's refreshing(:

So I've got a meeting later that I'm very much looking forward to.
I'd like to see what Nora has planned, and how I can be a part of it. I'm in love with work and the people and just what I do and get to do in general.
Sooooo ^^

In the meantime, the shower is screaming my name and so is Buttons and her need for a shower.
Filthy little maomao!


So until then,
Ta(:

And so the week, it started in the quietest of ways.
And then it got terribly teary, what with the self-indulgent moments with pen, paper and a couple of doses of- don't hold your breath now-
Coffee.

But then it got better.
And in every possible way

And then it's the eighth, and it's a Tuesday

and I am falling apart

Like the walls might close in,
Like it's impossible to breathe,
Like if I spin around, I'd hit myself smack in the face with a reflection that's got crack lines all over it.


I don't quite fancy these spells of time that I get where I'm trying so desperately to run away,
only to find that you can't get away from yourself without tripping over your shadow.

I had a lovely time yesterday, I did. And it took me far enough away from the world.
But now, left shoulder blade stiff and a tummy full of koko krunch and bananas, all I'm thinking about is running away again.

Except, I've never thought of myself as the running-away sort. I'm not.
And what am I running away from anyways?
I suppose, what I mean to say, is that I need to get away.
Not necessarily run away but,
everything feels so very stifling at the moment.
I'm half afraid that if I don't catch myself in time, that I might just random smack a random child on the back of his head just because he said "tewshun" instead of "too-wi-shun" (tuition).

And I am fidgety.
I miss Muay Thai so much.
And it rained today so I can't blade without feeling like I might die.

I will be okay though, I must.
Because there's quiet time and all these things to do.
And I'm not distracting myself, and I love that I don't distract myself from the mess.
Instead, I go sit right in the middle of it all until it sorts itself out.

Time to take out the brushes and paints.
I've always loved doing that.


Sometimes I wish that the people close made it a tiny bit easier.
And I hate that I've just typed that or that I'm even thinking that.

But every second thing feels like it might break me.
I feel like I'm coming apart at the seams and oh,
just please don't look at me right now.
Because I'd turn out to be a frightful, frightful mess.

T

then I hear your voice,
And I find myself smiling

just kind of enough, at least for the people who matter

It's funny.
I wasn't actually very busy today-
A lunch appointment and the Night Safari later on.
So I had my afternoon pretty much free for the taking and I wanted to spend it with the family. Because well, I like doing that.
And it wasn't really anyone's fault that we were massively indecisive and unclear of the would-be plans.

It's just that being clear and honest ended up with finding out that sometimes, for some people, it's a case of all or nothing. And that there are just some who don't like feeling like all they've got are snippets of time.
It's not anyone's fault to be honest, some people can deal with that and some people can't. I suppose it's just unfortunate that that basically means that sometimes all you've got to give someone, isn't enough and won't ever be.
But it's not like you can force it down people's throats and have it be enough for them.
Have yourself be enough for them. You can't.

So you just write about it instead,
And wish you were

tout à vous

I realized I've barely blogged since coming back from Hong Kong.
It's frightfully odd that, considering how much I write.
All these techhy things these days! Kym, he doesn't give me a reason to turn Kirsten on anymore!
(Don't I just make the loveliest excuses! hehe)

This was sunset at Tampines on Tuesday, with Vicky, as we raced off after watching Sex in the City 2.
It was, I'll have you know, my very first time watching Sex in the City, but I quite liked it and it wasn't as frivolous or as chick-flick-ish as I thought it'd be. Best of all, it was not cheesy.
It wasn't like, lovers splitting up and ending up together and what not.
It was just pure, laugh out loud, stupid, touching, bits and pieces, OMG-BABE-THAT-IS-SO-US-moments. Oddly enough, I found myself talking a bit during the movie.
AND I HATE TALKING IN THE THEATRE. AND I HATE PEOPLE WHO TALK.
But it was thaaat funny.
And i applauded like crazy when whatsherface (I don't even remember any names!) found herself in a crowd of religious men with her broken handbag and it's scattered contents of lots and lots and LOTS of condoms.
madness.


My days, they've been going quite nicely. It's been about a week and a half since I've been back and it's quite marvellous really.
I've tidied up the room, and finally, after fuck-long, I've moved the bed back to where it used to be. Where it was supposed to be.
Where it's always meant to be(:

I've got a new addition to my room too!
And because sometimes it's not nice to just go on and on and on and ooooon about well,
all the lovely things that happen in life, I will keep quiet for a bit(:

mmmm(:
These nineteen bottles do not include the six mommy bought the week before(:
Each wine cooler holds 12 bottles.
I've got a stash in my room and mommy will have her wine cooler outside once the kitchen decided to magically give birth to elves that will help us clean up the place(:


I've had lovely catch-up time with Vee (although I wouldn't mind some more, honestly), a movie, a tiny bit of water time, beanbag & parquet floor + chess -time, family dinners (and two nights in a row too! :) ), pool time with Vee and Tanny, hobo-breakfast time which I find I have missed immensely and a bit of cuddle-time.
So all's been quite well, and I haven't minded it one bit really.
Despite having some of my 12-year-old ah lian language being read and all. Oh the horror!
Suffice to say, Charis Vera Ng has been quite, quite happy indeed!
(:







and so,
there's been a few things we've been talking about of recent.
I've liked it, enjoyed it,
appreciated it- I think that's the best word I can come up with.
It's stirred up a couple of things I'd forgotten about or hadn't realized. Made me put to words, things I'd just mentally nodded my head at a few years back. And it's been nice.
The randomness of what we talk about, and then the unexpected depth (not because we're shallow but because sometimes you don't see it becoming so thinky-thinky) that's come with it all.

I realize that there's just so many things we seem able to talk about that it's incredibly refreshing.
Not only because we get to talk about the oddest, simplest, strangest things, but also because I find that I really like listening to all of it, and I also feel like the person on the receiving end of my natter isn't just about dying. It's nice because I can say something completely random and considerably weird/strange and not just have someone go,
"oookayyyyy."

I like it, I really do.

It's a shame, an impossibly huge shame at that, about the months that will swing round the corner and then eventully see me off.
But I'm not entirely a huge fan of being super thinky-thinky at three in the morning,
so I will take my leave-






and smile at the traces of you that you've left behind