Thursday, December 22, 2005

no more posts

don't ask me why.
I'm just not blogging no more.
Thank you to all the readers and friends who drop by regularly.
Well wishes to you guys.
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

Hope to maintain the friendships if anyone is still interested.

Friday, December 16, 2005

feeling detached from self
to the point of being able to see myself
like how i would
be looking at someone else

it's crazy

how I feel an irrepressible urge to thump the piano keys right now at almost 5am.

how much I wish to have a cigarette between my fingers and to inhale the offending smoke into my lungs.

how I think I will die if I go to sleep at night.

that I can go on typing, typing, and typing all sorts of random bullcrap just because I feel like it.

how little I am asking for out of life these days. No luxuries, just the BARE essentials.

how I can still keep my emotions in check even though inside I am close to bursting with queries, doubts and fear.

It's mad, mad, mad that I am not behaving like myself anymore but the lack of control over how I feel and react makes me feel like myself.

In truth, nothing in this world is going out of whack. Except for me.

I just feel like waking him up and asking him if I am still me.

I didn't think I would

I heard a song
a tune from the past
melodies soothing
night quiet
heart beating in an off-beat way

the air changed
it smelt like you
like the balcony
where we would sit and stargaze
stale cigarettes in flowerpots
cheap girly alcohol sips in bottles

there is an ease
a calmness
that sweeps over me
from head to toe

I feel safe
like before
and like
never before

why why why

how you can leave
such an impact on me
is sheer surprise

a year and half
away from each other
never did take away
the essence of you from me

the words you would say
the quirkyness of you
the awkward man-boy
I shared 6 years with

I refuse to let
this reminisce

why why why

can't I take
all of this out
from me?

like a tumour
like a zit
a baby?


I always wished
that one day
you would read
something similar to this
that I write
with you in mind
with you in heart
with you in my fondest memories

we were both naive before
innocent as can be
with love on our minds
but mine being more selfish
than yours was selfless

now we have both
moved on

I am someone else's wife
someone you think
suits me perfect
whom I love with all my heart
and show more love
than there ever was
with you

you are someone else's boyfriend
marriage probably on the cards
but I wouldn't know
because we don't talk

we don't talk no more

I can choose to hate you
or even to hate your girl
for building the barriers
between our friendship of many years
breaking the bonds
disrupting the honest communication

but I can't bring myself
to hate anyone
but myself

maybe today
just for today
I will allow myself
to miss you again

to play the songs
one after another
end on end
to remind me of you
and dig on the wound
of my sheer stupidity and selfishness

because I just feel like it

a trail of tears
for you
my dear
no more
It's time SOMEONE sponsors a trip to the pedicurist.
I'm starting to have problems reaching my toes properly to trim them down.
What's the problem, you ask?
Bigger boobs and tums blocking the way, combined with a general lack of flexibility.

the daily dilemmas

I couldn't be bothered updating this blog.

I can't even be bothered to use Blogger even though I have decided to write something.

I've been staring at the dust residing on the floors for 2 days without feeling compelled to sweep, vacuum, mop or even simply to wipe down with a damp rag. This is really out of character for me. But seriously, after coming down with a slight fever TWICE since I've moved in here is no joke. The body induces its own aches without any form of serious exertion, let alone when I fervently clean this cemented patch of a flat from front to back, top to bottom for an estimated 5 hours at a go.

The husband is delirious each time he catches me with a dazed expression, and proceeds to touch various parts of my head immediately to make sure that I am not running a temperature. I am thankful for his concern for my well-being, but as mentioned before, I'd much prefer to be fussed over every waking moment than only when I seem unwell.

Someone needs to feel special here. And that person is me.

I realise that I don't seem to be myself no more.
I talk different. I think different. My expectations of the world around me seems to have changed as well.
And I cannot say that all this is good.

Something's come over me. If only I knew what it is.

Hip-hop and pop music hurts my ears. I'm sticking to jazz, blues and "Cafe Del Mar"-ish music until I give birth. This baby obviously has his/her own preferences.

The husband says it's due to impending motherhood. I'd say I'm just crazy and digging my own emotional grave.

I fear I'm losing myself.

The crazed nicotine addict who still seems able to control her own emotions.
The foul-mouthed Goth girl who blushes the moment her love looks straight into her eyes.

I've not been myself. And I worry that once this baby is here, I will never be myself ever again.
I will become someone else.
Someone new, who ultimately is still me, but in the essence of my former carefree deranged self, not actually me.

Somehow, being pregnant has taken away my own identity. It's happened before, and it's happening again now.
But this time round, the ending WILL be different. This baby WILL arrive into this world.
And THAT may just change me for the rest of my life.

The commitment, the responsibilities, of another life being under my care and supervision...
Just the mere thought of it makes me shudder.
And we haven't even considered the amount of pain that labour might inflict in my nether regions.
I say "might" to instill some hope that it may not hurt that much after all.
But who is to know?
Every woman experiences a different labour each time even if they have more than one child, let alone to have someone else tell me how it might be like for me six months down the road when my baby is due.

I wish I had a close friend who knows what will happen and what to do.
But pity there are none.
I guess there must be a pioneer for everything, and here I am, being the first of my batch to be married and impregnated.

Maybe when the day comes when someone I know is expecting, it would be my honour to bestow upon her the wisdom and knowledge for childbirth. However, given the fact that I hardly have many female friends, let alone confidantes, I'd probably be spared the title of Pregnancy and Baby Advisor to anyone.

That might be a good thing.

Mothers can be selfish creatures. And given the fact that no one is here for me during my ordeal, why should I be there for anyone during theirs? I have nothing to offer anyway. As always.

Monday, December 12, 2005

Does no one miss me at all?

Since I moved into the new place on 3rd December, my phone has been quiet.

Is everyone busy? Or are they just trying to keep their distance from me?

What for? In fear that I might ask for help in moving house?

Sometimes I just can't help but think that this world is full of heartless people...

Well, the moving in is almost finalised.

If anyone wants to know how I am, just ask.

If not, just forget it.

*hugs self in pure self-pity*

It makes me wonder...
if there's no one out there,
then who's clocking in the numbers in my counters?

Friday, December 02, 2005

stepping out of the comfort zone

The short countdown for the BIG move into the new flat has begun.

We're 2 days away from the move-in/move-out on Sunday.

Am I freaked by all that is rushing round my head like a hive of bees disturbed from their usual nectar collection, honey making routine?

Fuck, yeah.

I've been treading in and out of my parents' ruling grounds so many times that moving half of my materialistic possessions out to some strange new living environment seemed like an annual affair. And it was not the least bit unnerving to fall out with my mum, pack my favourite things, and just catch a cab to anywhere.

But this. This whole business of buying your own humble abode with your significant other half and paying for the whole darned thing yourselves while making sure neither one of you starve to death trying to keep up the installments. This is what is serious nail-biting business.

Out come the calculators, pens and papers for jotting down sums and lists of costs, empty cigarette packs strewn all over the table, stubbed butts that have served their purpose during the discussion. The smell of smoke lingering in the air, creating an atmosphere of severity and formality no different from the aftermath of a boardroom battle of wits and figures.

Except that all these are much more personal. One tiny fuck-up and off you go into guilty why-don't-I-just-die land.

And that is what we've been trying so hard to avoid.

Our bank accounts don't add up to much. Well, not anymore. The figures seem to have taken a liking to kick some of their fellow numericals out of the total balance amount. Most of them get banished, never to be heard of again.

Ask either one of us about the figure 25,000 and we'll likely reply,
"Oh that one. Been gone for more than a year, I say. Don't think it'll be back ever again."

It's sad. But true.

And as the days go by once we move into this little space called home, we can only hope that one day a miracle will happen and bring all these long disappeared figures back into the little book of numbers again.

But as miracles go, they hardly happen.

the smell of death in the air

Has the third dimension gone into overdrive recently? The Sandman has not been working his magic equally amongst us, and the Grim Reaper has been claiming lives away.

Just yesterday, Hubs was telling me about how his workday was shortened because his client's mum had passed away. He was glad in a way, as he could then make it home early to spend time with Jr and me, but in a darker sense, there was some sort of uneasiness that he felt whenever he knew of anybody passing on.

It didn't have to be anyone he knew. Death simply darkens his mood and knits his brows.

We all know that it is a eventual phase that we all have to go through one day, like birth, sickness, aging and the other uncontrollable and unexplainable elements of life. Some view the "end" with fear and anxiety, some think nothing of it as there is nothing we can do about it anyway.

But my reaction to Hubs was simply this: "For every one that passes on, one more joins this world. Our baby shall be the one to take the empty place."

And that is how the world is. One to take over the other. Like the rising tide hitting the shore after the last one has died down.

Today came the news of a blogger's lost battle with a rare blood disorder. The blogging world shall be solemnly grieving for La Ider's departure from this world. Rest in peace.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

moving house on Sunday

Strong, able-bodied men required for the move.
Please contact Shelly to volunteer yourself for manual labour.
Drinks and dinner may be offered in exchange for services.
The home-owners will take no responsibility towards any injuries/disabilities sustained from services rendered.

Any takers?? =p


Hubs, you are SO nauseatingly sweet!

I love you!