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