Grey I

This is a day when saying that I am tired will be an understatement.

I have gone almost more than ten days without updating my other site (which died on me). Not that I missed it incredibly during this involuntary exile, but after reading tons of updates from other sites during the past week or so, ideas on how to spruce the old place up were thrown in regularly, within my head. The good thing was the travels I had recently meant that I managed to amassed decent photos (taken by yours truly) to start me on the path to working on a new layout. The bad news was whether I had anything else to say after the spruced-up site had been unveiled and the wrapping paper thrown into the rubbish chute.

If the cgi problem which prevented me to update was resolved (as promised by my host, at the earliest) this morning, I would be more than happy to pen down my thoughts on a scene I witnessed last evening during dinner, which drew me towards the conclusion that some people, who had been dealt with by the wrong end of the stick, could still live their lives with optimism. Yet, many hours later spent in front of the laptop (though it is not on my lap, to save “the little ones”), being on “autopilot” mode at work (due to turning in at 2 am in the morning – the same time when the ex-sarong kebaya girl came home) and after a tele-conversation which involved someone who seemed to have absolutely no interest in her vocation, my mood dipped enough to suck away whatever remnants of inspiration I had within me.

In other news, I finished two boxes of Clorets (Sugarfree) in two days. Possibly that meant that I had ingested almost 30 of those capsules and this could be the cause of a late-night stomachache episode. Meanwhile, the preserved mint-flavoured prunes which I bought a fortnight ago, sits forlornly in my one-year-old ugly-looking Espirit bag. Beside the bag, was a packet of crispy, dried cuttlefish which I bought in Bintan over the weekend (when I was there). This is just an indication of the lavish spending I had been indulging in for the past week.

Or maybe I really should get some rest tonight.

***

For the first time in a long, long while, someone I had a conversation with last evening remarked that I should really stop the self-deprecating humour which I had grown accustomed to so much through the years. According to her, it had a detrimental effect on how I see myself and subsequent analysis of this issue seemed to point towards a connection between this and the size of my self-esteem. She advised that I should stop it, because for someone like her, who did not know me until very recently, it was a dilemma when it comes to whether she should acknowledge a joke (of the self-deprecating form) cracked by yours truly. To laugh it off, she might run the risk of offending me (which I took great pains to explain to her that if I was easily offended, I would not crack such a joke in the first place). Not laughing to it, she might run the risk of (a) looking entirely dumb (people might think that she did not catch the lame joke, thus making her more lame) and (b) not being sporting enough by acknowledging the joke.

I do not doubt that if this little issue were to be brought up to my psychologist, she would tear all her hair out and instantly throw me out of the therapy room. However, this comment got me thinking a little about whether it is time I ditch this brand of humour. The flip side is that I would become more boring than I already am in social settings because I would not be able to poke fun at myself to make people around me (especially strangers) loosen up a little.

Tough decision, really.

***

Meanwhile, my supply of the pill is dwindling since I failed to turn up for an appointment with the shrink earlier this week. The tempting thought would be to try out (without professional advice) plodding through the good part of a week without taking the pill. I kept telling myself that it should be relatively safe enough for me to embark on such an attempt.

***

I was at a McCafe shop situated in a shopping mall during lunch today with two of my colleagues when I spotted someone who was a friend of a friend and whose blog I perused regularly in the past until the accounts of the many blessings he received in his life recently put me off reading it a little.

I have nothing against the blessings in his life. In fact, if my relationship was less of an acquaintance and more of a friend to him, I would not hesitate to congratulate him on how well things were going for him. He had almost everything I wanted in my life.

So there I was looking enviously towards his direction and his pretty fiancée, and wondering how I paled in comparison to what he had at that moment.

Jealousy and envy are sins, but I was never jealous, only envious. A big part of me wished I was him. A big part of me still did not fully grasp the point about not being my place or my time to compare.

I wished someone could help me bridge the gap between the reality of my situation and the spiritual truths which I knew but not understood.

I cannot say I am contented with my life at the moment. If I were to put my hand on my heart, I would say without any hesitation or reservation that I have been feeling like a rotting and stinking piece of wood floating in the vast expanse of sea, estranged from almost everything else except for the blue of my environment, for way too long already.

I am sick. I am tired, and my psychologist is just this close to giving up on me.

***

It’s hard to believe

That there’s nobody out there

It’s hard to believe

That I’m all alone

At least I have her love

The city she loves me

Lonely as I am

Together we cry

“Under The Bridge” – Red Hot Chili Peppers

Rest In Peace

Emotional, I am currently. A million and one things (if not more) happened to a billion (if not more) of us on this blue marble on 6 December. It was the day when frustration got the better of me and it became the day of birth for this blog. Yet, in another place, far, far away from this little island which I had grown to dislike increasingly, a life was taken away from one who had aspirations far greater than me, with my life.

I have no idea why and how this wonderful person whom I have never met can effect such a surge of emotions from within me, just a day after I felt frightfully low for the first time in many months. Now, I am inspired once again to hold the miracle of life in my hands and cradle it, like a precious gift from Up Above. It brings everything I believe about life into perspective and an almost drastic paradigm shift. Suddenly it feels wrong to laugh or smile or to crack a nonsensical joke, when someone who craves for life so desperately just so that spending a mere second more with the people she loves most and cares about will be like a second spent in paradise for her. I have something that she does not have and sadly, it was wrenched away from her grasp, while I, with all its abundance, have despised it and even hated it like an enemy.

Death is never celebrated or embraced, in the grand scheme of things. Humans celebrate birthdays, weddings and anniversaries. Until today, I have not fully grasped the reason why these seemingly frivolous activities are celebrated with such joy and fun. Now, I have finally come to terms with why they are such vital events in anyone’s life. They represent mere moments and intervals of life when humans can get to hold on to something which will never be repeated again, be it in the form of spoken words or captured images. Hearing the words or being able to see the face of one, whom you never got to meet again, can never be replaced by anything else in this world.

That is why humans take photographs during birthday celebrations. That is why humans take videos during weddings.

I have another perspective of life now. Maybe it will fade away, like all other perspectives I have held in the past. Maybe it will be quickly forgotten while I plough through the tasks I have on my plate in the coming hours, days or weeks. Yet, this little revelation, brought about by someone’s untimely demise, has spurred me on towards loving my life… and the people around me, no matter how unlovable they are.

Rest in peace, Miss Grace Chow. Your words and life have touched many, not the very least, myself.

Dour III

One day, it will all end.

Mine has ended. I can’t, for the life (or death) of me, find it.

It is gone now. How shall I mourn for it? Where has it gone? What has taken its place? What have I done to deserve this? Is this a little lesson to put across the evils of pride? Do I really have too much of it?

Questions. Unanswered. As always. The words I have, the answers for myself, are never enough to fully satiate the desire to have them addressed adequately.

Or perhaps, there is nothing from within that is able to sustain me thus far. Is this the reason why the weather has turned greyer than usual? Or is this mere coincidence on the part of the cosmos?

Why the overbearing and overwhelming feeling of emptiness, O my soul? Why the sadness, despite the pill? Why the despair, when there should be wells of hope, bubbling from within at the prospect of a glorious future? Why the pessimism?

I have no answers. I can only entertain speculations which no third party will be able to analyze, assess or deduce how legitimate they are.

Is my family falling apart? What if things just happened one day? Where will I be and how will I be able to take it? Why do I seem to despise the love I have and crave for the love that I will never get? What is it that prevents my heart from committing to the one decision which I am afraid to make right now?

One day, it will all end. Somehow, I actually entertain the prospect of it, just because what I have as the present is torturously unbearable.

God, please take the cup away from me. Please.

Dour II

Silence, a faithful companion, followed me around today. Only 8 people were in the office today and because I slept pretty late this morning, I felt very restless and lethargic.

By Sunday night and after the hopefully final debrief, I was feeling a little down already. Not sure what brought about the mood. Perhaps it was the fact that I was still struggling in my football manager game.

Now, I am at the end of my tether. These are moments when I hate the most, times when I feel so alone despite having people whom I can contact by pressing a few buttons. The world feels strangely so far away from me. I feel estranged. Why do I always feel so estranged?

Or maybe this is simply the peace before the emotional storm which may blow me away in its melancholic cries as I slowly enter into a period of mourning for the loss of the old place. It is like having to put to sleep an old, faithful friend who has stuck with me through thick and thin, yet it has to leave me because every breath it takes will mean another intake of resource which will only serve to prolong its pain and overdue departure from this world.

I can still remember the time when I was thinking of a name for it and the waves of satisfaction which hit me when I thought I came up with a brilliant name. Three and a half years, countless comments, meetups, entries, stories, tears, pain, nominations in a blog contest and a few U-turns later, circumstances beyond my control are made it such that I have to say "Goodbye" to it.

One of the biggest benefits it brought to me during its existence was how I could use (and subsequently, exhaust) my reserves of inspiration, brought about by years of silence. Another one of those that I would possibly miss is how friendships and relationships established through the medium would now start the process of deterioration. This is not as though people have not moved on. Since 2001, when there were but only 60 or so local bloggers, many have since moved their domains or set up shop somewhere else anonymously.

I guess the only thing that I can show for is the zine. It was a labour of love and I am still not a little amazed at how I managed to pull everything together and properly publish (amateurishly) it.

Now, this represents a new beginning.

A new dawn during an appropriate time.

***

It is not how you start but how you end that will determine how successful you will be.

I can inclined to believe that I started with a bang, and now, I leave with barely the softest of wimpers.

Dour

Just as well, the old site had died on me and I was too knackered to want to try contacting my host to find out what went what wrong.

Just as well, because I was contemplating getting a fresh start to life or at least blogging. I felt stale and now, this is the best platform for me to try to regain a life that I lost.

Readership counts for nothing now, really, for me. I have lost track of who my real readers are and with the proliferation of spam comments on the old site, the rise in hit statistics looked extremely suspicious. Readers are important to me because I have formed friendships with some who actually desired to take the first step in unveiling the person behind the old place. Those were the days when I could still find reserves of inspiration from within, but somewhere along the way, something happened on the way to heaven.

I am now contemplating if I should just fade away quietly over at the old place or I should simply do the proper thing, i.e., to leave bits of information of this new place to those who were sticking with me, through the good times and the bad. Yet right now, the inclination is more towards fading away.

***

Probably around the same time when my blog started to die on me, I was wandering around Kino books, trying to see if they had the two books I wanted on sale. After a rather fruitless phone call I made to Borders to enquire on their availabilities, I was not actually very hopeful of the fact that Kino books had them as well. To cut a long story short, the very nice sales assistant whom I approached at the information counter made a few calls before telling me that their supplier did not have copies of the books on hand. So it is Borders 1 Kino 0, because the lady on the line from Borders told me that I could order the books (for an exorbitant price of course), which would take about 6 weeks to reach me.

I scrapped that intention of procuring the books locally and decided that while I had made reservations to borrow them from the library, I could also call on a colleague, who would be leaving for the States in the next few days to help me get the books, be it a fresh copy or second-hand.

That’s not really the end of the story.

I was still wandering around Kino books when I thought of the film “Crying Out Love, in the Centre of the World” and reckoned I might have more than a chance of acquiring the VCD or DVD version of it at Kino (since it was a Japanese film and Kino’s a Jap bookstore). Tried my luck again (this time at the Japanese book information counter) and asked for an English translation of the book.

The polite male sales assistant went off to check their database for a while before coming back to tell me that there was no English translation of this best-selling novel (with which the film was adapted from) but (hooray for the “but”), someone had already translated it into Chinese (traditional script, though) and this version was on sale in Kino.

The “better than nothing but this can actually be something” thought crept into my head and within moments, I clad, in my arms, the translated version of the novel, together with another novel (also translated into traditional Chinese) by the same author. The books did not cost a bomb and they were more therapeutic than anything else I experienced during a rather uneventful weekend.

Now, I have fresh inspiration to draw on in wanting to (a) finish the books (or at least one book) and (b) start the reading habit. Not since the days of me being a rabid Louis Cha fan that I have actually read something in Chinese (traditional version some more) and this will prove to be a challenge as to whether I still have it within me to complete a novel, written in traditional Chinese script.