aeroplane versus airplane versus YAY HOLIDAY!

Call me self absorbed, but I happen to think that it's been a looooong, loooong time coming.

I also, honestly, feel that it is awfully well-deserved.

I am EGGCITED!

It's been in the plans for months, and YAY.

Finally, we're getting to it.

We're going to Perth(((:

whoopwhoop!

You are more than any award.

I swear to you. I swear.

You are so much more than any award.

In front of the CYC

There is always some kind of down-side to even the best of what you do.

With working in this line, there are always the pieces to pick up once production has wrapped.

Most times, you need to deal with your own post-production blues.

Some being worse than others.

There is life to catch up on, breaths to take,

and a stream of afternoons where you will find yourself at a standstill and going,

"why aren't I in the middle of a rehearsal?"

I'm not there yet.

I'm quite intent on finding time to just catch my breath, and stop running off at the drop of a hat, or the moment my blackberry vibrates.

Happy as I am to just, be able to stop,

there's always post-production blues.

It's already hit a couple of us, I'm wondering how bad it'll be for me.

Maybe it'll be easier this time round.

Can't quite tell yet.

I'll just focus on catching my breath first shall I?

there are people to thank-

not just the cast and crew of all the schools, but family, friends and significant others who've found themselves having to take a step back as the hurricane that is SYF unleashed itself on all of us.

It hasn't just been the Directors or the Actors or the Crew that's been in this, it's everyone around us as well. It's taken a toll on everyone and everything.

I think yoghurt and playground time has been put on hold long enough.

come on and take a bow

Anything, to keep us.

I like that we're okay.
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Your ex-girlfriend

Is lovely, talented, smart.

Is patient, you know all of this already, thoughtful, has given.

Is giving.

Is waiting.

the hardest part about work

I work because I want to.

Because I love it.

Because, omg, this is me and this is my life and no one will believe me now but,

tired as I am,

I'm desperately holding on to this last minute dash.

Some people are looking forward to SYF being over, I'm wondering what will be left of me when it is.

My kids, this production. Me doing everything I know how to do. Me trying. Me watching them try.

I love my job. It's not even just a job, it's been my life for the longest time.

How do I just put it all down?

"I don't just love the drama teacher part of you, you know," she told me once, "I love you, just you."

Except sometimes it's difficult to see myself for anything beyond all of this. And for the most part of my life, I haven't minded that. I've loved that actually. How I have lived and breathed the performing arts.

But now, just sometimes, it scares me.

What happens after, when the house lights come on and the curtains draw closed?

Come What May

at every major traffic junction, or when my cab is speeding down empty roads and making sharp turns, or when there is a car coming at full speed round the corner, or when I jaywalk, I find myself whispering quietly

"Crash into me. Crash into me. Crash into me."

Because things and words and situations get fuzzy.

All the things that you've been working for, at every point and turn in your life,

they start feeling like it's not enough.

Like you're not doing enough.

Like you are not enough.

And let's face it-

at some point, the one thing you'd like to hold on to, will start to slip through your fingers.

And the person who you'd like most to stay,

will walk away.

It's easier to place a pain that you can see. That you can deliberately stab into, in order for it to hurt more- If only to remind yourself that you're still alive.

Come,

crash into me.

Like pens to a sharpener

You can love someone with everything that you are,
And still be wrong for them.

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I'll breathe again

I'm spinning, trying to catch my breath.
If I thought today would help me breathe, I was wrong. Because I've ended up losing my footing.
Tripping.

But as Erika pointed out to me, I'm jumping the gun. Quite a bit at that. And I am ever so grateful that I have someone to keep me grounded and steady.

I have to fight, every single day, to keep from losing my grip. And then I have to fight some more.
But okay. I am here.
I will let the chips fall where they may and take it piece by piece instead of letting the thoughts running amok in my head get the better of me.

I need to stop and take a second before I can even think about this leap. And then when it happens, it will. If not, I'll make a round and try again. I always have, haven't I?

It's going to be okay.
All I need to focus on right now,
Is breathing.

And today is the perfect day to do that.


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

I couldn't do this without you.



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Stay

I will,

for as long as you need me

(:

je crois

7 days

then 10

c'mon guys, last lap,

c'mon

Only until time runs out on us

This is what came of our lego date!

So it was home-cooked food after a long, long day at work on both sides. It was chats in the parks with best friends. It was American Idol over macaroni soup. It was showing parents our work of art! (or the in-betweens of it)

It was goodnight kisses and getting tucked in.

Even if romance ran out of rhyme

Worth the wait

Lego date, lego date! ^^

I rhyme!(:
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Feels like

I've been cut
And I'm watching myself bleed.
Watching myself do nothing to help, do nothing to stem this ache that leaks from the very centre of my being.
Feels like I'm not here. Correction. I am here, but I'm not me-
I'm.
I'm a floater. Standing above me.
Waiting for the glass to break. Waiting for him to stop.
Waiting for him to catch himself.

But he won't. He won't.
"Please," I say softly, "please."
But he won't. He won't because, can't I see that he loves me. Why won't I love him back? Can't I love him enough to not have hurt him, to not have made it such that we ended up here-
As he tries, tries and tries, so desperately to claim what I made him lose.

It's my fault.
I made this happen. I made him like this.
It's my fault.
I didn't love him enough, I couldn't have.
It's my fault. That I'm not here anymore.

That I'm just standing over us-
Waiting, hoping, that something will break so I can hurt.
So I can say to him,
"You did this."

I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.


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A broken string

I want to kill you.

No, killing you wouldn't be justice.
I want you to hurt, and cry and beg.
I want you to be desperate for your last breath, and I want to hold that from you and watch.
Just watch.

Leave. Leave. Just leave. Fucking leave!
You won't do this, you won't.
You're not going to win. I won't let you.
I won't let you do this.

You will leave, and let the blood on your hands burn like acid,
Straight into your fucking soul, and then deeper.

You will leave, taking no more than your sad, sorry, loathsome self with you.

Just let me keep her

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I try

I think of you,

and I think of all the ways you make me happy

all the ways you manage to make me smile

all those moments I do a double-take and figure, "hey, she really cares about me."

But I don't know why I feel the way I do sometimes. And if maybe, there're a lot of things on the outside that get me. Or add to this.

Hell, I don't know what's happening, okay?

______________________________________

but it's so hard to believe

Home

I spent all day looking forward to this evening-

Us finishing work and coming home for dinner.

And work was great. It was brilliant and productive (sure the last morning class could've gone better but you can't win them all hey?)

It was me.

It was me doing all I know, with all that I could. And I loved it.

But for the first time ever, there was something beyond that.

The rest of me, waiting right on the edge. Waiting to go home to you.

and so I did.

______________________________________________

I don't know how to feel about what I feel right now.

It's not wrong.

It's just new. And when things are new, you sort of want to look to someone who'll give you even just the slightest downward tilt of a chin- that might just pass for a nod.

Because more often than not,

it's infinitely easier to lean towards all the things you know with your person.

Especially when they know how to say your name just right. Especially when they need you like you've always needed them.

And even whilst you're looking over your shoulder at that 20-foot distance between you and the only Something New you've ever wanted with all of your being.

the other girl

as they sit and talk about the troubles of love,

of options used and unused,

or musings, and wonderings and "maybe, this is what she's thinking..."

some roles, you never grow out of.

the way you're able to love me

the thought of you makes me smile

(:

I'm smiling.

At the thought of chubby munchkins too. Ones that you may or may not be allergic to.

the thought of you makes me smile

SYF

Starts in 9 days

Lighting for Serangoon is in two days, Lighting for Kuo Chuan in four days.

Fajar performs in 16 days, Serangoon in 18,

Kuo Chuan in 22.

Kuo Chuan also showcases at the end of this week.

Wow.

Goodnight World.

we're going to be okay

on empty roads, at playgrounds,

and outside churches

we're okay(:

Something's going wrong

wrong, all wrong

Where my writing's become a crutch, where I have ceased talking when it matters (or when it should)

Isn't this exactly what happened last time?

Despite always having been able to talk to this person, you find, that when you start seeing them, when you're with them, when you're *cue scary music* in a relationship,

there are things you just can't talk about anymore.

Actually, that's a lie. You don't talk about it anymore, but you tell yourself you can't.

I don't know why that is, you know.

Are we afraid of what it might mean to the other person, of how it might be taken? Afraid of the truth that will come out when we talk about things-

of our insecurities and all our selfish sides coming out?

Like, despite knowing full well that Issue 01 isn't about me, I feel like I can't help you and I don't know what to do and so I am upset for two reasons. A) Because you have Issue 01 and B) I don't know how to make it better.

To admit that, will always sound stupid and self-absorbed. Especially as we say it out loud. And maybe that's it. That's what we don't want.

Or maybe it's just- I don't know. Admitting that despite everything, there is something wrong at all.

That there are things that make one upset, even though you don't want to be upset and even though you feel like you shouldn't be upset and even though you feel like the two of you are above and beyond whatever it is you're upset about.

Bottom line is: I'm upset/ You're upset.

But for some reason, it's easier to grab my phone and talk about it with my best friends and agree with them and say, "Yes, I know I need to go have a conversation about this." before I actually go and talk.

Or better yet, sometimes I write.

And then, once I've written all of it out, I feel better and I think,

"I'm okay!"

Problem solved, crisis averted. TA DAH. We're good as new.

And I don't stop to think that you can be together with someone and still miss out on their lives. That maybe, I am causing that to happen.

That maybe, it's not fair that I do that.

There's the running joke of how the phrase "We need to talk" is always the scariest or will probably spell out terrible news.

But it's not supposed to be like that.

It's not.

baby girl

we're all skinned knees and bruises,

paper cuts and blisters.

I love you

We're all the wrong sentences made up with the right words,

always wanting, always trying-

and whenever we need to, always fixing

I love you, I love you

We're plasters and warm tea,

scones and ice-cream, peanut-butter and jelly

We're rainy days without an umbrella, sunny days sprawled out on grass,

pictures without a camera, tree-houses in the middle of civilization, picnics beside an empty bench.

Lego pieces out of different boxes

I love you

And I don't say it nearly enough; tell you a world of other things when sometimes,

it's all I mean to say-

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou

For everything that you were, are and will be

For everything that we are, we want and want to be

All the wrong lines scratched out in pencil, 3am songs, two and a half hour phonecalls

and time that disappears into rivers and sunsets and Sunday mornings.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

by window sills

Oh baby,

today there's nothing that this drink and smokes won't fix.

I am a happy girl(:

Let me tell you one time

Your world, is my world
My fight is your fight
My breath, is your breath

You'll be my Number One girl
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View of the carpark

Letting her bags drop to the floor, she reaches towards her drawer.

Her In Case Of Emergency drawer.

Opens the tiny ziplock bag its in and grabs her tiny lighter off the counter, heading straight for the window.

And she breathes.

Oh she breathes, and tries to find relief.

_____________________________

I would call it an episode of sorts. Can't say I know what's up with me, really.

But I found myself tired, sick, annoyed, frustrated and biting back tears on an escalator.

It all hit me at once. And in a text to a rather concerned Erika, it sounded something like-

I HATE MY BIRTHDAY. HATE IT. HATE IT. HATE IT.

Okay, major exaggeration. But I was hit by that. It was sudden, solid, and real.

And I was overwhelmed by such immense annoyance and frustration.

I wasn't the most pleasant person to be around at that point.

And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry to Veek and Qing, for being such a baby and a brat, Vicky and Eme and even Mommy for not being the best company towards the end, and Erika for clearly not being the happiest of bunnies on the phone.

I'm sorry, and thank you for putting up with me(:

Whatever this is,

it'll pass.

Tomorrow I will disappear into my life.

_______________________________

This evening:

Thank you

To Mommy, for thinking tonight up

To Erika, who made it after a long day at work and an equally long one tomorrow, for writing me a letter that made me smile

To Eme, Veek & Enqing who came at such short notice and straight from work/school

To Vicky, who made it especially after tutoring at 9 at night and for making me smile by telling me I looked pretty when all I really wanted to do was sit down and cry

For turning up, for being you, for taking time to hang out, when all we've been is busy.

And Thank You,

To Bird, for calling when it was my Birthday on your side of the world, and making my night.

We all say hello too.

You made me smile and want to tear up all at once.

I love you(:

On birthdays, aging, and feeling like a Princess while it happens

I've always loved Birthdays.

Always.

Not just my own but everyone else's as well. It's that one day a year that you get to be spoilt rotten. That one day when everything, absolutely everything, ought to go your way.

One day where you have double the reason to throw a bitch fit if someone spills something on you, or you're made to take the train.

I love birthdays.

Except this year, I'm growing increasingly frustrated, no that's not it, increasingly irked by the idea of my birthday.

Actually, it just sort of happened in a flash.

I don't really feel like doing much with my birthday. And oh I know it's supposed to be special, and if it were me, I'd jump at all these "special" sort of numbers- 12 (last year before you're a teen), 13 (first year you ARE a teen), 18 (legal), 19 (last year of being a teen), 20 (OMG! The big Two-Oh), 21 (More legal?), 25 (quarter of a century) the list, it goes on.

Except,

I feel like sitting at home.

I'm working, this birthday, and you know what, I honestly don't mind it. I've scheduled a session with Kuo Chuan and I have a full day with them.

Mommy wants to hang out this evening though, except I don't know if I'm capable of pulling off a Sit-at-the-bar-til-we-hit-midnight sorta thing. I'm tired and old, old and tired.

And I have work in the morning.

Last year, at least the evening before, it sorta of irked me a bit. Because I'm always so anal about the whole omg-it's-an-hour-before-the-birthday!-thing.

It wasn't anything special.

ALTHOUGH, Keith was very sweet and we met up. Yes, somehow I sailed into my new age with Keith and the chocolate muffin she bought me as a cake.

This year, for some reason, I don't feel like being awake when it happens.

I don't feel like being aware of that single moment when the numbers change on me.

And I've never been like this, ever.

Every other aspect of my life's going completely fine. It's wonderful.

Erika says it's my birthday week and that means I can have anything I want.

So then,

what if I'd just like to sit at home with Sushi, wine and My Best Friend's Wedding?

Or Greys' Anatomy. I could do that too.

How about if I wanted to spend it practicing the monologue I've just memorized for my audition- because I'm just so in love with Ellen's words?

And how about, I don't think about all this crazily different things that I'm about to be going through this year. And how, it actually feels like my life is (almost) restarting?

Sunday mornings

Where we wake up and lie in bed talking.

I love that about you. I love that I can do that with you, that I do that with you.

And for hours and hours, at that.

Until we find ourselves famished, and dozey and fighting a losing battle against inertia.

"Do you ever worry that you'll run out of things to talk about with her?" The Little Creature asked me, over Bee Hoon.

I've asked you that before. In fact, I think you've asked me that before too.

"Nope," is my reply.

Because just as we've spent hours lazying about talking endlessly about things, we've also spent hours just sitting around and not saying a thing.

You're perfect.

And I love you.

Why, why

are you so hot.

Thanks E,

THANKS.

Doesn't look like I can do work right now

Because I am so, so, so, impossibly distracted by the thought of you right now.

(:

Absolutely perfect

In the press of every kiss-

The morning will come.

And here,

I'll go to sleep and wake

to you.

You're the perfectest morning

This is how I know-
Everytime you say it,
Even when I don't say it back, even when I'm angry at the world, even as much as I give people odd looks, even as much as I second guess people,
Even after all this time,
Everytime you tell me you love me
My skin, it gets all tingly.

And oh, I can't help smiling.

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(:

No rival throne survives
And I
Serve only You

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I don't

Know what to do.

We're all caught up with the shit on our own plate and.
And so I just, don't.

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Here it is

fuck you world.

there, I said it.

I don't know what's going on or why I'm so pissy.

I'm not like overwhelmed with rage or anything. I'm just pissy. And not in the best of moods.

I don't know what to do for myself anymore.

I simply, don't know how.

Top ten things on my mind

1) I need to take out my trash

2) I ought to fold my knickers and clean laundry

3) and then put them all away

4) I don't feel like doing anything much

5) I'm not going to smoke anymore tonight

6) Is she okay? Hmm

7)I want to lie about on my bed

8) I like how Serangoon's piece looks in my head. Will they pull it off thought?

9) My clean laundry isn't going to fold itself

10) I should text Jo and Sugi about schedules

11) FUCK. why didn't I tell Sugi in person just now

12) This sucks

13) I want to lie in bed

14) My laundry won't fold itself and my room is starting to look like a kip

15) I hope my Kuo Chuan kids get something out of the 12th

16) laundry. it's waiting.

17) I should take off my contacts because they're dry

18) This is NOT ten things

19) I want to block out the world for a while

20) What I do about all the things in my head in the meantime

So I'm pissy and annoyed and it's not anybody's fault but I don't fucking feel like doing anything.

So I say,

Fuck you world. fuck you.

Disappearing

These days,

I don't know where I am.

I wake up and figure I've got X number of minutes to shower and dress to get to the bus stop by Y o'clock sharp to be at School 123 by Z am. It's a day to day to day, I'm hanging on by mere threads. Yet I am fully aware that so many have it worse. Or that it could be worse.

I'm excited about work. With SYF coming up. I'm excited about what I'm doing and what I can keep doing and what's missing. Admittedly stressed, but excited all the same. And the children's program is going alright.

But I guess there's a lot of things happening at the same time. And although I know that the mountain on my plate is but a tiny fraction of the rest of it, it's all sort of worked me into this blur of students and faces and coffee and smokes.

I'm in a daze, most times.

Honest to God, I'm so out of it. I'm not feeling anything, don't feel like talking much.

Just want to lie by the pool and block the rest of the world out. Which I attempted to do on Thursday except it poured within the hour.

I won't have any more days like that for a long, long while.

I'm not around anymore. Or like, I am, but not really.

You know how some people sit with their significant others and... well it doesn't even have to be a significant other, sometimes it's parents or friends. Well some people sit with another person and all they're thinking is, "This person is here but he's not really here. He's somewhere else. And I'm not there with him."

That's me. Except I'm the person missing. Not because I'm bored, not because I don't want to be there. But just because.

Then I catch myself, and bring myself back. Catch myself, bring myself back again. And I'm paying attention, I am. I'm not bored. But.

I don't know. Okay? I don't know.

The only time I've felt fully present is when Bird and I have been BBM-ing. That and Enqing's piano recital on Thursday evening which Erika and I went for.

It's me. I know it is.

And it feels like if someone touches me, they'll find out that I'm just a hologram. I'll find out I'm just a hologram.

And. I feel bad.

Yes, of course I think about you. Yes, I do care about you and wonder what you're thinking. Yes, I do want to know how you're doing and what's bugging you.

But I don't feel like there's enough of me here. There isn't.

And I'm mortally afraid that if I even try to hold you, we'll both realize I'm made out of some chiffon-like material.

That you can't hold on tight enough to me because.

Because I can't.

It's 4:40 on a Thursday afternoon

And I spent my half day off signing myself up for the rest of my life.

uh.

uhmm.

hmm.

I don't know what to say now. Think I'm going about it all wrong. I'm not printing anything out when I ought to be. Maybe I'll lose it all. That would suck.

On another note,

SYF's round the corner, sneaking under the covers with us at night and whispering into our ears before we fall asleep.

I'm excited and panicky all at the same time. More excited actually.

It's going to be a crazy month and a half.

What's crazier though, is how it happens and then you fall,

you fall, crashing, arms flailing, kicking, screaming, back into real life. I don't know how I'll do that.

It's going to be a crazy month and a half.

She says she misses me already. I like how she does.

Somehow manages to do it in this impossibly endearing way. Non-intrusive, and honest, despite it being something unfamiliar.

And it makes me smile thinking about it. How she tries, how she wants.

Anything you'd like, ma chéri.

Must be the tea

mm(:

Come on baby we're gonna live forever

Let me show you all the things that we could do
-----------------

all the world(:

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February's end

It's been a long, long week.

Everything from Tuesday on became a drawn out string of Soap Opera episodes. Soap Opera in that, there were a lot of things where I found myself just going through the motions. Getting from point A to point B to point C.
And not in anyway that helped to take my mind off things actually.
But plans had been made from a while back. And for some things, it's easier to use the spin of the world to take you away instead of stopping to sit down and let it wash over you.

That being said, I must point out that there were things this week that I enjoyed immensely.
Erika-Charis Day, on a Wednesday afternoon for one. Not just because we got to spend time but because I like how we often spend time together lazing about and not doing or even saying anything. It's important to me, being able to do things like that with someone.
And we do.
Further strengthening our belief that we both can't have jobs.
Dinner with her Boys and their girls with Zouk that followed was a lot of fun. They're a fun bunch to hang out with, in all honesty.
Okay, I could've done without walking all over the place for the sake of super cheap booze that I barely touched. Or sitting around near a bridge with like, an immense amount of people looking grotesque and drunk and peasant-like.
But all in all it was fun(:

Another thing I enjoyed immensely was my Thursday with Vicky. We went for The Final Showing at La Salle, which was three hours of scenes and excerpts, sections of bad singing, moments of stupifyingly horrific warbling but mostly, this huge awareness that
I really miss acting. I miss acting and performing and thinking about absolutely nothing else besides throwing myself completely into a world that I, that we have created.

So yes, that was my Thursday, ending off with dinner. And I always do love our dinners together.
We were talking about it and we realized,
"Bloody hell, we'll have known each other for almost half our lives soon!"
I like how it is with us.

(:

Uhm.
The weekend came, but it sorta didn't, really. And I didn't get an early night or a late morning.
Honestly, I'm struck by how tired I am. How this <em>is</em> taking a bit of a toll on me. As much as I hate to admit it.

It's startling, how quick your weekend passes when you've only got one day of it. And trust me, it's a thought most distressing on both Fridays and Mondays.

My Sunday morning was nice-
Horse-time, green field-time. Church-time, family-time (both hers and mine). And that was nice.

Everything from tomorrow onwards promises to be hectic, tiring, draining, stressful, scary, fun, exciting, new, overwhelming.
I don't know if I'll know how to do it. But I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope things work out.

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The sound of an ache

No, I don't think it seemed it very often-

that I loved you.

I dissed you, pushed you away. I called you stupid, in all affection, but a lot of times, not.

I got annoyed by you, loved you, irritated by you, infuriated sometimes, found one who wanted to cuddle when Buttons didn't.

No, no, it didn't seem it very often, that I loved you.

And I'm sorry.

I am so, so sorry.

I picked you up, I took you home.

But then I picked the moments I'd stay for your affection, the moments I'd give in to your need.

And I'm sorry.

I lost you.

I lost you less than a week ago.

And then you came back.

I talked to you, hung out, spent time and thought, "at least now I can fix it."

And as I found myself pushing you out of my room yet again I caught myself saying, "In just a bit okay?" Except, I never would get back to you.

I'll see you, I always do anyways.

Two days, you were home. Two days.

I've lost you.

And now you won't come back.

And I talked to you, held you, and thought, "now I can't fix it."

I'm sorry, Fishbone, I am.

The biggest part of this ache is filled with the knowing of all that I should've, could've done.

Now the only thing I've got left to hold on to is the tiny comfort of a thought that, at least I held you before you left.

That at least you went, while we held you.

I'm sorry, I really am.

You deserved so much more than I ever gave you and I'm sorry for that.

I'll see you, I always do anyways.

Right?

When I hadn't yet gotten used to your return

I held him first.

So tiny and full of fight.

Picked him up and lost him as he tried to be.

Picked him up again and said, "You're safe now." And I wanted him to be safe, I wanted him to be safe with me.

I say now that I shouldn't have. That maybe I was all wrong in doing so.

But then, he needed me. He needed me then, and I needed him to need me.

I held him first.

Bigger, and losing his fight.

Warm.

Picked him up.

Picked him up and lost him, as he tried to be.

Picked him up and said,

"Mommy's here now."

The way I should've more often. The way I hate myself now for not doing when I could.

The way I wonder why I didn't.

I held him first.

Picked him up.

Picked him up and lost him as he tried to be.

Picked him up and wished for him to believe, "You're safe now."

And I wanted him to be safe, I wanted him to be safe with me.

Don't you make me spin

I don't say this enough but-

I like how we talk. How we get each other. How I can lie beside you on a random grass patch.

I like how, when our words come out, they find each other. Sorta like little people running into each other and going, "Hey dude! We're wearing matching outfits!"

I like how different we are, but how we have similar takes and opinions. How we take in each other's perspectives, how we're able to see.

How we try. I like that, I like how we try. And how we want to.

It often takes me aback but, I like how I want to.

I like how we don't talk. How we sit. How we find swings or sand or water.

Trace words on each other's back and whisper things we don't always catch.

I like the way you are with me. The way I find I believe you, the way I trust, the way I'm allowed to be.

I like the way we are, and how we've found ourselves.

And uh,

I kinda like you

(:

It's constant

This battle.

And most of the time, it's against yourself

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The only thing in the world

I want to hold you. Hold you, promise you, keep you.
Exactly the way you manage to keep me.

And there are so many words I have heard, fit for this place we're in. Except those words were used like knives, like bullets, like bits of myself breaking apart and thrown back at me.

Sometimes when I find a word, a word I'd like to wrap up and give you,
Shadows catch me by the wrist, twisting my arm behind me. And I am falling-
Pushed to the ground by the sheer weight of all the double-meanings lined in all these words.

How do I say words that I wouldn't believe if someone told them to me?
Then I run myself into a brick wall until I can't distinguish one type of pain from the other.
Still. I'm left with words and what I want them to mean. And what I want them to mean to you.

And what I don't want them to stop meaning to me.

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I hate being scared

"What's wrong?" He asked. Was that genuine concern I saw in his eyes? "Why're you scared? Am I scaring you?"

Except I was too scared to be honest.

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Joke of The Day

Here's something funny-

I want to destroy myself. Go up in smoke.
But I don't think it'd be nice for little children to come to a teacher who's not there.

Isn't that funny?
I think it is.

I actually think it's hilarious.

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Dear whoever you are

Why does it feel like this? Like everything's going wrong.
Like I can't hold on to anything

Like I'm falling apart?

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Rabbit Hole

Becca's lines make sense
I need to find Becca's lines
Need to

A bit at a time, Charis.
But I don't always know how to come back to things.

When I open boxes, I take a while to sort out its contents.

I scare myself
Play games against me that I can't win. And I know this. That there's no winning. That losing on both ends doesn't make sense.
But I've always taken sides against myself.

So I write and talk about everything except.
Not because I can't deal with it (or so I tell myself), but because I know that when I open boxes, there's a kip waiting for me to go back to.
And all I do

Is
Run

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Open and shut

boxes. these boxes.

my boxes.

I don't know how to deal.

And I don't know if I will learn to.

I don't know what it takes and what it will take out of me.

So I shut the lid before I get in too deep, shove that fucking box back into its quiet, dusty corner,

pull the covers up,

and turn myself away from the burn marks like branding, like scars, like dirt,

right underneath every single fucking bit of my skin.

Find me

Stop, start. Start again

Like pens kicking, like cars screeching to a halt.
Trains picking up, like they'd never stopped on those tracks.

I'm here, and then I'm not. And I come back.
Sometimes I'm bothered, sometimes I try to scratch things out from under my skin,
And sometimes, words wash over me leaving me unfazed.

I like what we've got.
And if only it was easier for those on the fringes to understand.

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It's Sunday

I'm always a little bit daunted when I think about the Monday that will come, and the days that will follow Monday.

Not because I don't like what I do, everyone knows how in love I am with my job. It's just that Mondays always feel tiring, even before they've rolled around.

My weeks though, they whirr past me in a blur, and more often than not, before I know it, I'm looking at Christmas lights and going shopping.

Alexis has signed up for BootCamp II's June intake.

I don't know what to do with myself.

Yes, for right now I'm focused and I know exactly what's happening.

There is SYF, there are my kids and I love them to bits. When I just finished Actors' Boot Camp 1, I sorta thought, well it's so film-based that I could do without it.

And I can.

In the long run, I don't suppose I need it.

But I think what I get out of it is being chucked right into something. Watching myself find my footing, watching other people find theirs. Sussing things out, growing, finding yourself and watching others find themselves too.

I'm not in LA.

and no, I don't think I'd want to break into the LA market. But there are things that I miss and that I have been missing.

I haven't been acting for such a while, it gets to me. I watch my kids, day in and day out. I watch them, I make them watch me and I'm thinking-

I could do this.

Give me something small, let me play with it. Let me sit down with my character, dissect expound and expand. Let me give her depth. Let me do it.

Let me bring her to life.

It's not for a lack of opportunities. It's just that. I sorta really don't have the time.

Not for me.

Feels like I've been on the freeway this last four years. And damn right, it's the right one. But different exits keep coming up and I'm refusing to let myself be distracted or side-tracked. And at the beginning, that was a good thing.

Now I'm old and I'm still going eighty and I'm thinking-

"I thought my life was supposed to be made up of all these things I'd find when I take random exits."

Except I just didn't after a while because it's easier to keep to the road you're on and give yourself excuses to not go off for a bit.

Two months ago was my last Sunday in LA. Three months ago was a Sunday I spent recovering and baking and walking about. At least I think that was it.

I came back here, to Singapore, after a while away. Just sorta chucked my suitcase in a corner, rolled up my sleeves and jumped right back in.

I haven't given myself time to miss what I left behind, have actively refused to sit down and think about what'll come up after May.

Sometimes, all I realize-

I don't know. I don't know anymore.

That makes me a tad insecure. But more than that, it kinda makes me a bit sad.

We be your new clubbers

So we went to Zouk.
I don't mind Trance, to be honest, but reaaaally, not so early on. And definitely not like the entire night.

It ended up being one of those nights where I'm sober as a stone and Vicky's jumping around going, "You're not drunk enoooooough."
No, I'm not a dancer but I do, sometimes, depending on the music. And I just can't if ALL that's playing is Trance.

For the first time ever though, I did not spend most of the 23dollar night outside smoking because I happened to be in the company of an equally undrunk and non-dancey Erika. And that was actually quite nice because I am, more often than not, the bane of Vicky's crazy-dance-nights, with my fedup looks and constant smoke breaks. Hahahaha.

Soooo. After deciding not to rub up with slimy people in Phuture, Erika picked my last drink (for a non-drinker, I'm amazed at the concoction I was introduced to^^ ). And then, we went home(:


with the taste of redbull-contreau left on her lips

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My everything

My sanity, my smile, my happy pill.

The one thing that calms me, holds me (even when you're not right here).

One who has me believing, trusting, re-thinking. Who has me talking about things I'm pretty sure no one wants to hear.

Who's enough, who knows exactly what to do. My word, knowing just what it takes to make things better.

Oh, you have to know,

you're absolutely everything

"You don't quit. You just stop for a while."

Today, different alarms started going off after 5:15am, at random intervals.

I was up by 5:43am, and have not stopped since.

The two hour in-between classes, I spent working. The hour and a half I had between my last class and CCA, I travelled and then spent leftover time working some more.

My last class started at 3pm.

I gave them a five minute breather in between, during which I continued on the other script I've been working on.

My last class ran over by over half an hour.

But my day, it was good. It went fantastic, especially compared to yesterday.

My classes were smooth, sure my voice will go, but things were where I needed them to be.

By the end of the day though, my brain sort of wasn't.

Dazed, I crawled into a cab. Fighting the urge to open up Maxine.

We had dinner, the family and I. We got home early.

And the little creature and I, we laughed and spazzed and things were sort of okay.

I'm tired too.

Of holding myself back from things, of holding up walls, of pushing things forward.

I'm tired too, you know.

I'm tired too.

and after that single hour, that single hour in ages that I sat down and properly watched telly with The Little Creature, that single hour I allowed myself to breathe,

I'm back here doing work.

Don't. Okay?

Don't.

Don't walk in and throw accusations at me when you do not, and I say this with absolute certainty, do not, have the slightest inkling of the deadlines that I'm up against. Of the things I need to do in order to meet those deadlines.

I'm sorry that you're tired, and I'm sorry that I don't help out very much.

But I'm struggling to keep my own walls up and to keep my own floor from caving.

I'm sorry that there is, and has, and will always be just that little bit more that I could've done. That I could do or that I can do and that I don't.

I'm sorry that there is absolutely nothing I can do that might possibly be enough for you.

I'm sorry, okay?

Now, I would sit here and be a little bit more upset except here's the thing-

I've got a deadline to meet and I simply do not have the time. Not for this, not to feel like this, and not to sort out these feelings.

I don't have time because, just like in between classes and in between schools and in the five minutes break within a class,

I.have.work.to.do.

The last day

Always comes a bit sooner than we're prepared for
Is painful
Is real
Feels like you're leaving a part of yourself behind.
And you are.

Full rounds and goodbyes-

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This

isn't working.

Shit, I miss you.

Crème brûlée & Jello

New additions that come in the form of eight minute stories.

The first person who I said it aloud to was curled against me as we picked out the font by means of elimination.

I smiled when she got it, when she understood.

I guess sometimes I get to a point where I'm afraid I just sound like I'm justifying the ink I want to get. Or like, my reasons don't seem enough (to other people) to warrant making it permanent.

It's prettier than I imagined it.

And there's so much behind this piece.

Is love!

Happy 2011 y'all(:

Chinks for Chinks 101

"So when are you going to spend time with her family?" Mommy says to me over lunch.

Mommy amuses me and makes me smile(:

We're chilling out before we do the crazy run-about and packing up.

I love my family. Everyday I love how much I love them.

And it's just us. And that's nice.

Even though my mommy can get irate and frazzled during seasons like the one we're in now. I suppose it's sorta like a peek into the future. Figure I'll end up being quite like that too.

I had a very interesting chat with the cabbie on my way to work today.

But I'm supposed to be chilling out now.

And chilling out doesn't involve being on Maxine for an hour.

Miaow.

Things falling into place

The way I sketch out set designs on your bed while you shower,
how you hang up the laundry while I adapt scripts,
Writing while you draw out cross-poles and design lesson plans,
Folding laundry while you play with your lego.

Long bus rides to random spots on the map. Plugged in, blocked out from the world but still tuned to the other.
Notes scrawled and left, collections of polaroids and ticket stubs to places we've been.

I don't know how we got here, but it's nice.

Where you're there to hold my hand through the screaming self-doubt, and where I give you enough reason to want.
Where we both look back at what we've had with others before and try to figure how it is that all this can be new.

Quiet, over dinner. the taking out of boxes, while lying on random grass patches.
Pizzas that find themselves whole instead of missing a piece.
And oh,
the sound of your smile on a rainy afternoon as you stare out at the road.

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Meanwhile, On The Other Side Of Town

She's looking out at the downpour and smiling.

Foil stuck in her hair as she picks out locks to highlight, and a hair clip holding random strands and locks together.

The blanket is warm, the room cold, and she is snuggled tight against another.

Their fingers laced, their legs tangled, their breathing even.

They wake, to sleepy hellos and half woken words tripping out of their mouths.

Breaths caught between lips, invisible words written on skin and the secrets of rainy days whispered into each other's ears.

They're all there is;

an entire world, a collection of stories, boxes of pictures, fistfuls of scars.

Rainy days and Mondays(:

Meanwhile, on the other side of town.

On concepts and conceptualizing

Bird points out that we're all from girls' schools and that we're fully aware of the nonsense we can and do pull.

The funny bit is when one isn't fully aware that another is fully aware.

_______________________________________

I had an idea-

Birdcages, two large ones. My main character(s) and a birdcage. Being able to set other people free but not themselves.

It's in my head, and I was always better at words.

Unfortunately, we're thinking my birdcages won't fit on stage because it needs to come through the side doors first. Plus it's hard to make because of the curve.

I need something to play with.

Someone give me something to play with.

But then I know-

that I can come home, curl up with you

and find that the world will right itself in the morning

Drained

And crumbling

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parce que

you know how to make a girl smile in the mornings,

and in the middle of work,

and while commuting.

At midday, and after,

during afternoon tea and for longer,

and way, way beyond months she thought would serve as velvet rope.

because,

there isn't anyone besides you.

snippets of tonight-

Red

dance

sand

moonlight

Repetition.

*side note:

I've missed it. And I'm glad I got to do it. And I'm glad I got to do it with people that actually get it.

Bubbles

Joy

Sanity

Playground

groundedness

Alka Seltzer.

Trust your mommy when she swears by alka seltzer

"The girlfriend wants Bak Chor Mee and Prawn Mee at the wedding."

"Now that's an idea. How interesting."

"I know right."

oooh, all the sappy love stuff!

you

will need to let her go eventually.

will need to say to step back.

will need to know-

that loving someone, doesn't necessarily mean being with them.

you know that, right love?

Surely

I can find a way to make this work.

To be, and still save me from myself.

Surely, I can, right?

I'm jittery at the thought of this. But then, I'm always jittery at the thought of new things.

Moving, moving out, getting a car (not that high on the list right now),

and now...

It's just that, I've been a teacher for such a while that,

it's almost difficult to be a student.

At the beginning it was easy to slip into that role, and especially with people I trust.

To be directed, to watch Ajan during Muay Thai, to listen to Erika talk about a horse's footfalls.

But then when it comes to something that you feel.

Gawd, I don't even know how to begin talking about it.

It's effort.

It takes effort to sit there.

Yes, I do. I want to. I want to sit there and absorb and absorb and absorb. And I also want to do. To throw myself in wholly and without thought.

"You need to do this for yourself," Jenny told me, "not for your students. This has to be for you."

And last year, it was. Last year, right after I'd finished filming Big Girl and I'd talked with Ross,

I knew I had to go back to it. And I knew it was for me.

But then, that's slipped away a little bit.

And it's almost like, I don't know how to do this for me anymore.

So,

you have to know,

I'm thinking about you as I tuck myself in tonight.

Being home

Take turns to do the dishes

and find our way of folding laundry

We'll still sit in playgrounds and by reservoirs some evenings,

complete with ice-cream or juice or jafacakes

Pick days to cook, picnic or eat on our own

We'll start with us,

before finding space for extra lego and tiny shoes.

Fight, to fix it.

Go away,

just to come back again

Oh surely you've got something to stop this giddy, dizzying, smiling mess you've made of me.

all of me-

yours

The morning will come

In the press of every kiss,
With my head upon your chest

We'll always have sunsets, even if there isn't.
And picnics
And park benches

always worth it

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Today,

it started off lovely. Brilliantly, fantastically.

So.

Why am I sad now?

The Rabbit Hole

Becca: And then what? (beat.)

Howie: I don't know. Something though. We'll figure it out.

Becca: Will we?

Howie: I think so. I think we will.

Silence. They just sit for several beats, not even looking at each other. They're scared. Then Becca takes Howie's hand. They hold on tight. And the lights slowly fade.

-- Rabbit Hole, by David Lindsay-Abaire. An excerpt.

I'm okay with the one I've found myself in.

There is a problem

with me and dance shows,

with me and concerts,

with me and court scenes,

with me and relationships.

When I watch dance shows,

Ballet and Jazz Ballet especially, I always feel like going back to it.

Like, filled with this searing desire to go back to it.

Having watched Black Swan, I went and looked up ballet classes for adults. That's how bad I had the bug. And then I feel a tad sad that I didn't stick it out when I was a kid.

When I watch concerts, or concert-type things that involve singing,

I miss it myself. I fight the urge to climb up onto the stage and sing and run around and be a complete fool. Or, I sink into my seat, pained by the injustice that I see before my eyes as someone with clothes falling off her petite frame murders and rips the guts out of a beautiful song.

When I watch court scenes, or read about them (Hello, all you Jodi Picoult fans!)

I think to myself, "God, I should be a lawyer."

To delivery speeches so compelling it moves your audience jury, to a decision. To dissect and analyze and choose your words such that you allow people into the grey area, if not force them to see into the black and white.

Then I realize, over and over and over again,

that I'm just a performer. Maybe that's it then, that's my problem. I'm a performer and it doesn't matter what I'm doing, I just want to perform.

And I sit, mull it over, chew on the thought like a Mint-flavoured gum.

But I find that answer doesn't quite cut it.

I think it's the intensity in the above three. From movement to movement, or moment to moment. The sureness of it. The knowing exactly and precisely what will come next.

Knowing it so well, that your body does, even before you do.

Because Lord knows, you're screwed if you don't.

When I watch relationships,

up close or from afar, I get scared. Scared, irked, disturbed.

Sometimes, sometimes, there's the "aww" factor.

"Aww, that's kinda cute." "Aww, really?" "Aww, a new toothbrush?"

I think the weirdest things get me. Flowers are nice, but a toothbrush you picked out, or chocolate or a CD or tape that made you think of me, that makes me smile.

Aww-factor aside.

For the most part, I am scared. Clearly I can't put across to you the immensity of how I feel.

But scared like, half paralyzed fear sometimes.

If not irked, if not disturbed, if not barfing.

Not because it's not all nice and sweet, it is. But there's just, well, a lot of stuff that comes attached.

So, no.

I don't ever look at relationships and ever, ever, EVER think, I'd like to be in one.

I might think, "that bit would be nice", but never, "I'd like to be in a relationship."

And here's the thing-

the intensity of it is what scares me the most.

So.

I sit on empty stages, stare out into a sea of empty chairs and think,

"Isn't that odd?"

But I take in what I am, the space I'm in and what I am in this space. I am home here, on this empty stage.

I don't need an audience to perform.

I don't always know what I mean, or what my words are trying to say, but I learn to trust myself.

And I find myself with my eyes closed, standing on one foot,

learning to find the joy in losing my balance

and not being prepared for what might come next.

and this,

made me think of Sumer.

You're lovely. And I hope one day,

you'll dance again.

Love,

C

Dear Victor,

this made me think of you.

It feels like something you'd say.

and then it made me go,

Awww.

Love,

C

Distraction

You're a collection of one-liners, phrases, random words,

all of them running wild inside me, tangling themselves up and kicking, laughing, screaming as they try to untangle themselves.

I'm taken up by To Do lists, Must Meet Up Soon lists, I Miss Hanging Out lists. And when I'm busy, I am.

For the most part I am there, anywhere, in full. There is all of me present.

Still these words, they swim furiously about.

Brushing the insides of my skin the way cats wander past you.

Happy, bubbly and filling me. These words, these random thoughts, these pictures and these pictures of pictures.

They curl themselves out like smoke, whisper themselves into my ear, sneak across my skin. Sending jolts through me, I am momentarily distracted.

And for all of two seconds, three, sometimes ten seconds, twenty- I am yours.

Oh,

you've got me.

Don't you see?

See how you've got me.

while she's learning your heart

oh, the way you capture me

Conversations

I think it's hilarious how sometimes people point out how you don't talk very much to them. How it's like, after so long, they hardly know you sometimes.

"When did that happen?"

"I wish you'd told me." or "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't tell me things anymore."

It's hilarious because,

most times, it honestly isn't for the lack of trying.

And after a while,

after trying over and over and getting cut off and digressing or having the other person always always always embark on a, "Omg I know how that feels because once when I..."

It just doesn't make sense to talk anymore, quite simply.

It doesn't even always have to be people one is close to.

In crowds, and large groups of friends of friends or acquaintances or parties or not-really-quite-strangers,

it's amazing how you literally find yourself trailing off mid-sentence. And not feel the least bit inclined to continue with what you were saying because you know for a fact that they didn't give two hoots.

I'm not even beginning to talk about looking bored or not maintaining eye-contact.

I'm talking about how it's become so much a part of so many people that they don't even bother to pretend to have been listening. They cut you off mid-sentence to speak across you, to tell you something new and random, to walk away, even.

And it leaves you thinking, Hey maybe I don't actually exist.

Or better yet,

Hey maybe the person I thought I was talking to, doesn't actually exist.

I mean, this can't possibly be real life, can it?

The last month and three weeks, some parts of today included,

I have just watched (my horror on the inside) streams and streams of people do that.

No I don't need everyone to be even remotely interested in Drama or Theatre. Sometimes I'm not even talking about that.

Sometimes, I'm not even the one talking and I'm watching it happen with other people!

Don't.

Just don't.

Don't start talking about something you're not actually interested in hearing or having a conversation about. Don't pretend and don't talk for the sake of talking, for crying out loud.

Jenny said in our first class, that we're going to go back out into the real world and hate it for its dishonesty.

I never figured it'd be this bad. I mean I've thought about this and written about it in brief before I'm pretty sure. But it's come back to me and I am just, stunned really.

People think that Actors are the best liars.

But they don't understand that they've gotten everything in reverse.

And that the Fourth wall is actually a mirror.

Isn't it funny though?

How there are things that are supposed to and meant to be special,

except for the most part, they just haven't been?

And there's nothing wrong with that I guess.

Because that's the way it's always been. And it's always been okay.

And there is a painful honesty in the bare truth of it.

To the point that it feels like actually is such a completely new take and feeling altogether.

But isn't it funny though?

How there're things that are supposed to be nice and good and wonderful and beautiful and ladeeda...

Except for most of the time you've spent being who you are,

those things just.

Haven't been.

Got a ticket to ride

It's time to move.

For me at least.

Because I'm tired and restless, nonchalant and worried, uninvolved and included

all at the same time.

I honestly wish I didn't feel like this.

Honestly wish there could be some way around it.

But there isn't.

with you

I'm home(:

on my way

I like that we're good(:

Okay soooo, this trip was A LOT more trying than I expected it to be.

I think I'm just getting old. I am old and tired. Sad dot com.

SO

it's been tumultuous; An uncertain, insecure, refreshing, lovely, cold, loud, claustrophobic, interesting, and rather emotional trip.

I have learnt so, so much. And not just from The Acting Corps.

This trip's been filled with new experiences that I didn't even realize was happening.

Funny hey?

My free time's been spent baking, running, writing, running, skyping, shopping, running. And for the time spent here, as a whole, has been quality. I've been glad and grateful for days I spent indoors in the rain and days I spent out. I've gotten to know so many lovely people and gotten pretty close to a couple of them.

I said my goodbyes this morning and it was pretty much an aww-fest.

There'll be dinner tonight, and we'll finish the wine and the cake I made.

And then

and then and then and then,

I'll be on a morning flight out tomorrow.

and I'll see you in just a bit

January 3rd 2011, Monday

3:45pm

Hurting Distance

There have been countless posts I've made in reference to this phrase.

It's a phrase that laces my thoughts, my decisions, my take when it comes to relationships and the nonsense it brings.

I prefer to keep myself safe.

I do a double-take when I find that something affects me more than usual. And then I try to figure out why. And then,

I leave.

Because,

because I'm lazy. I'm lazy to put cream on eyes that are swollen from crying, lazy to pick up the mess that is myself and carry on with my life. I'm lazy to feel so much, because it always means getting hurt.

But more than that, more than being lazy, I think I'm just tired.

It's a lot easier to lean back and not give a flying fuck about whatever's happening around you. And I do that.

My insecurity starts when I realize that I've changed gears without even realizing it- when a lot of things matter.

And then when that happens,

I leave.

"If it's bad news, tell me now so I can deal with it" She says

But it's sort of different, isn't it? We were grappling, or at least I was, with two different issues at the same time. Both had a "What's on your mind?" blank to fill in.

And I had no idea where to start.

I'd read her email on the morning of the day I was flying out of Frisco. The only problem was, I've kept getting called away from it just as I'm in the middle of replying.

And in the lapse of time before I get back to that darn reply, things come up in between. Clearly, if I sat down to reply that now, it'd be quite confusing and likely unrelated to the email before.

But that's what it's been in the last day or so. Streams of half finished sentences and thoughts, loud and fast trains on tracks that are broken somewhere in between.

I can't quite catch up.

Right now, honestly,

I'm a couple of steps behind, trying to get over whatever it was that I was hung up about like ten hours ago. Because uhm, as rubbish as it seems, I'm still getting over it. And no, I don't think there was any spite in it or anything mean, it's just,

I'm still getting over it.

A step at a time right?

I'm going for a run.

January 1st 2011, Saturday

9:17am

Happy New Year

I have a thing about New Years.

About crossing over to the other side, about the transition being an idea of the rest of the coming year. Most times, it doesn't result in anything much different from that. Most times, I take that transition, that in between from one year to the next, and work it into some kind of meaning.

But at the end of all of it, I think it's only a frame of mind.

So.

I found myself sitting on the curb, in the cold, finishing off the last of my pack of Fortunas. Normally, I absolutely detest crossing over with smokes and take pains not to. But I wasn't counting this time.

The loud, happy Spanish festive music playing from the house across the street gave way to the sound of horns and cheers and squeals and party poppers. That followed with fireworks from random houses in the neighborhood- some patterns that stayed in the sky for ages, others that faded and were instantly replaced with more. That was how I realized it was the New Year.

The first person I spoke to, and said Happy New Year to was a random chap on a bicycle.

So that was me, the glow from the house behind me spilling out and casting my shadow on the empty road.

And then,

eight minutes past midnight, I walked into the house and poured myself a mug of warm water.

I'm not up for doing reflections right now, or looking back or any of that.

My head is ringing like a bitch, and I'm upset but too tired to cry.

But, like Vv's just said,

"there's not time for rubbish emotions" and I am in full agreement. After all, that's how I've been for the longest time. So basically, I don't understand why it should be any different these days.

Happy New Year.

____________________________

Because honestly? it doesn't feel like I can do this anymore.

January 1st 2011, Saturday

1:17am

I'm not that girl

Ev'ry so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
I wasn't born for the rose and the pearl
There's a girl I know

I'm not that girl

Christmas Morn

My morning started off (again) just lovely!

After 48minutes of being very smiley and giggly (wait, really? Giggly? aye), I said my goodnights and crawled back into bed for about ten minutes.

Then I hauled my ass out of bed because I've been wanting to make pancakes for the family again and if not this morning, then it's likely never. Especially with how the schedules are looking.

So it was Blueberry-banana pancakes. Well, more banana and just a smattering of blueberries.

The colour looks nice though. I trial-ed and error-ed, as the making of pancakes always start and then it looked nice and started stacking up while the rest of the house started getting out of bed.

Turns out there were plans today.

Except seeing as I'd made breakfast, my family stayed home while the extended went to pick up my Granduncle for brunch. They grabbed some of the pancakes though and said it tasted great.

Guess I can't ask for more, and I'm happy.

So it's eleven on Christmas morning. I wanted to go to church today, except well, most churches start at ten and I couldn't bloody pull up anything online.

Google was supposed to be my friend):

It hasn't felt very much like Christmas. And that doesn't make me feel the happiest.

I don't know how I managed to drop over a hundred dollars when I popped into target yesterday. I am STILL most flummoxed indeed.

Minor digression:

Leans over to The Little Creature, seating across the table

Me: I STILL don't know how I managed to spend a hundred bucks yesterday. A hundred and five!

TLC: Chuckles

Me: No, no. Really. I really don't know!

TLC: Did you check the receipt?

Me: Yeahhh.

beat.

Me: Noooo.

So anyway! I am very disturbed, like, what in the world could I possibly have been buying at Target? Nonsense.

In other news, TLC's passing on information from her friend about the club scene in Frisco.

"haha," she says, "You don't get hit on. They just grab you."

Most disturbing indeed.

_____________________________

There're a couple of blogs I read (No, it is not stalking dammit.)

And there's this one person's in particular. I've only met her a couple of times, and she's really nice although I can't say I know her very well.

But that's the thing about blogs, they're a whole lot more personal than we realize. (For some reason, I feel old saying the word 'blog', but I digress!)

So anyway, I'll admit there are sometimes that I find myself a tad taken aback by what she writes. Sometimes I find myself with an eyebrow raised, sometimes I laugh, sometimes I am left puzzled, and sometimes, honestly, it becomes a sort of seedling that grows into a plant with overgrown roots and I find myself trippin'.

(Then I get quiet, and asked what's wrong and I say "Nothing" when actually I mean,

"Nothing that I know how to say". But eventually I talk about it, we talk about it, and then it becomes okay.)

And that's because those are words (this blogger's written words that is) at their most raw and most honest. And no one should ever be blamed for that.

Amongst the couple of reactions I have whenever I find myself reading this person's writings, I have quite often found myself hoping that things will get better for her.

I don't know what she's thinking, what makes her tick and what doesn't. Or what it is that upsets her. I do know that there is someone we both know who makes her smile, and quite easily at that. And that's always nice. And it's nice to read about her being happy.

Aside from that though, all I know is what I've read and what I have/can perceive from the outside.

So, on the now-and-thens that something seems to be up, I hope it gets better for her.

That if something hurts or is hurting, it'll start to ease up. Because there's only so much that a person can take after all.

And I hope and wish, because that's about the only thing I can do as I read her writings, can't quite do any more than that.

I don't even know why I've written all of this out. Don't think I quite meant to, especially because it might seem a bit odd/strange. Don't think I ever meant for anybody to even know this. But uhm, I felt very much like saying this and also, I'm counting heavily on the fact that the only people who ever read this page are Victor and Vicky (who laugh at me for being emo and/or psychotic) and uhm, Fishbone. No, not even Buttons. Buttons just likes to sit on the computer.

So,

to you, who I barely know, I hope things aren't too unbearable and that they'll look up for you soon. More than that, I hope you find it in yourself to cope with whatever it is you happen to be going through.

____________________________

So this Christmas is different.

I'm going to go for a run now and come home and bake the Christmas Cake.

The Christmas Cake which I do not feel like eating. Meh.

Dec 25th 2010, Saturday

11:55am

Christmas

So,

Happy Christmas.

There're so many of you who mean so much to me back in the sunny spore that

i just might call home for a while more.

Miss you tonnes, and can't wait to see you guys. Really(:

In the meantime, the family's liking the new look of our apartment-

Thanks a whoooole lot(:

I hope you guys have a tonne of fun. I can't believe I'm missing out on this again. This is SO two years ago.

Keep at the holiday spirit darlings!

Just please, don't have sex on my couch.

And for the other people left out of the weird cuddle-pile that's been happening in my living room,

I hope you make sure to enjoy your log cake and turkey/roast chicken and sock-wearing puppy in the most wholesome of ways!

< 3

December 25th 2010, Friday

3am

The fight for you is all I've ever known

Well that passed really quickly! ^^

I need to stop being so angsty and sounding so psychotic.

TEEHEE

My run was nice, and I sent my Christmas wishes across the world...

aaaaand, I will go for Midnight mass(:

I am a happy girl this evening.

And yes, Christmas and Christmas eve especially has brought a melancholic tinge these last couple of years.

But it'll be okay.

I'm happy now, and thats alright(:

Merry Christmas Eve from this side of the world.

Oh my God.

Seriously.

Fuck this shit. I am fucking tired. And this is the first time I've been so angry and honestly bordering on hating Christmas.

I think it's because I'm not cutting myself.

And just for the record, the only reason I'm not cutting myself, is because I'm too fucking tired to think of clothes I can wear in an effort to hide myself.

I need to run. I'm going to run now.

On another note-

I'm baking a cake for the family for Christmas.

And I bought Vicky's present today. But it doesn't feel very special. So I might...

oh wait, I just remembered what I actually wanted to get you for Christmas so the top that I just picked up doesn't count.

I'm going to run now.

believe me

I'd do anything.

and sometimes, just sometimes, the truth of that scares me

4:05am

she's fighting her first instinct,

choosing instead to write.

And so she will. She will.

She will write and write until the dull throb she feels subsides, until she's emptied out, until she's not fighting against herself anymore.

I wish I found it easier to talk with you about this one thing. It never did seem to exist, but it's come to be and made itself especially distinct in my time away.

It being this particular subject.

The brilliant thing about us has always been how we can talk. And we can.

About anything and everything.

V's pointed out how great a thing that is.

And I love that about you, I've loved that about you.

I loved that about you.

I don't know what changed.

I'd like to talk about things like this with you though, I would.

And I'll work on it. Promise I will.

So I should start by not lying and saying I can do this by myself. Because I don't think I could.

And I'm not sure where to even begin but-

I'll take a deep breath and flip open pages for you

December 24th 2010, Friday

3:35am

only almost

It's the first hour into Christmas eve and I just got back from what was supposed to be dinner with Meesh in Pasadena.

Instead, we ended up meeting friends, hanging out and going to this Korean Bbq place in Culver City. It wasn't half bad.

So no, we didn't catch that movie, but we chatted the whole drive back and then some.

I gave the brownies I baked to Jenny's kids- who are incredibly adorable by the way- aaaaand, well that's pretty much it. The time flew by rather quick actually.

It's not feeling a whole lot like Christmas. I hate that it's not.

I hate that it's not because Christmas is my favourite time of the year, and I just loooove the Christmas bustle. Except. Well, except there's none of that.

rawr.

I hope tomorrow (or later today) gets better.

December 24th 2010, Friday

1:10am