A weekend away...

... is very relaxing, as they say.

(As you can see, I'm rhyming.... hooray?)

For the Wesak Day holiday, Princess Jasmine and I decided to drive four hours (traffic congestion) down south to the land of commercialised history, Malacca.

(Actually, I drove four hours down south while she played navigator to my driver by offering Pringles and keeping me awake)

We stayed near Jonker Street because we are tourists.

Our guest house is located along the river that smells like a fish tank.

The bathrooms were communal and had a very large window opening towards the river.

Princess Jasmine told me "You will enjoy the view"

I returned to the room after my visit to the loo and asked "I will enjoy the view or THEY will enjoy the view?"

Our room had four beds so we rolled around like queens.

Once we were freshened up we immediately went searching for lunch.

Princess Jasmine wanted the famous assam laksa so she lined up for 45 minutes while I searched for a place to sit among the throng of tourists.

Then we walked along and met up with SeoHun who lives there.

She brought us to a place called The Baboon House which is the loveliest place I have ever been to. 

Words don't do it justice, let's hope my pictures do.

On the way to The Baboon House, we walked by an antique shop which I was attracted to because of the many antique chandeliers hanging from its ceilings.

I was informed by SeoHun that it is one of the better antique shops.

I found my dream lamp there. I have never been happier.

(This is the part where I leaned over the van parked outside to look into the antique shop)

We had dinner at the very touristy Geographers Cafe.

Filled to the brim and vowing not the eat anything more, we exited into the night market and promptly purchase Ma Zhi which was so good.

... and then we called up SeoHun (who was helping her friend at his restaurant)

We met up with her at this little hole called Shantaram. Owned by a lovely Malaysian man and his Swiss wife, we were greeted by the wife with a "Canned beer is 6 dollars and soft drinks are 5. It's in the fridge so help yourself"

Lovely!

 (Note: Instead of business hours, it says "Beastness Hours")

The next day, we woke up late.

I woke at 7 because I heard thunder. She woke up at 8 to visit the loo. She promptly returned to fall back asleep. My alarm rang at 10, I rose to switch it off and she did not even so much as twitch. We both woke up fully at 10:30.

After showering in the communal bathroom, we departed with SeoHun for some dimsum.

Then we did the touristy thing and visited the Masjid Kampung Kling and the temple (something Hoon Teng, I think).

Don't tell my very Christian grandmother but I kneeled before the 'idol' and did the can shaking thing to get my fortune read.

An experience this born-Christian-now-free-thinker has never experienced.

After coming out of the temple, Princess Jasmine and my minds filled with giddy thoughts due to the lucky fortunes we received, we walked into a village called Kampung Ketek.

According to SeoHun 'ketek' is 'ketiak' which is 'armpit'.

I would love to write that in my address.

Within this village lies a few graves; of course we walked in.

After the temple and grave visits and before we retrieved our luggage and my car, we dropped by a second hand bookstore owned by the same lovely couple who owns Shantaram. 

I bought two books, The Many Loves of Casanova Part 1 and The Story of English Literature.

Both were printed in the 60's.

I love finding old books.

 After driving through a very intense jam on a one lane road, we arrived in Klebang for ye famous coconut shake.

After crowding with the weekenders, we realised it was 5:30PM and decided to leave for home.

 Basically, a really good weekend.

Waking up on the wrong side of the bed...

... or just that time of the month.

Or, I did not have enough sleep.

This morning, against what I have been telling everyone, I had to return to college to observe the printer putting up the wall decal.

He had no ladder, as did we.

Our campus has an area with a ceiling height of 6 meters and we only have a 6 foot ladder? 

Unbelievable.

I walked to the eatery nearby and asked the lady behind the cashier and she proceeded to shout at me and demanded I bring someone from college that knows her.

So I asked, "Who do you know in college?"

And she said, "How I know?! You go and tell them Grace!"

Very un-Grace-ful of her.

 

So I told her quite frankly, "I asked for your ladder, not your first born"

She said, "Now you think I want to lend you the ladder?!"

I replied/raised my voice, "Even if you want to give it to me on a golden plate, I would still say no"

She kept silent as I turned on my heel and walked out.

I don't usually lose my cool that way. Even to rude people.

Today, however, I couldn't hold it in.

A simple yes or no could've solved her problem.

Then I walked down the road towards the hardware store.

The old man was grumpy but at least he didn't shout; he just said, "I still have to do business"

And I replied, "Can you spare us at least two hours?"

His wife said, "Leave $50 then when you return it we'll give you back the money"

As I did not have cash on me, I offered them to hang on to my iPad.

No.

Apparently $50 is more worth their ladder than an iPad.

Thankfully, the printer had cash and we got the ladder.

Then I went over to pick up the pink laptop from Donovan.

I slept at 4AM the night before and was therefore, blur.

I turned in without realising the car that just emerged was not stationary.

In my mind, it was stopped. I swear, I did not see it moving.

He told me that the guy was staring at me in a peculiar way.

Oops.

I'm sorry, dude.

Some days, you just want to hang yourself.

People climb on me...

... alot.

It is remarkable how many pictures I have of various people putting their un-welcomed legs around my ass.

And not in a good way either.

Raymond and I, 2007

When we were young

Throughout my secondary school years, the friends I kept close were always the same few.

When we were 15 and were spending all our time discussing where we were going to hang out during the weekend and what we were going to wear and do, we sometimes brought up the subject of "What will it be like when we're all working? Will we still sit around a table and have lunch?" and truth be told, I've always thought about it until I started working and got too busy to remember.

Now we're all working, one of us have a kid and married and here I am doing more than one thing and trying to establish something. We no longer meet each other everyday, no longer chat online everyday but yet, when we meet, there is no awkward moment, no awkward pause.

Sometimes, when I sit down for lunch/dinner with any random one of them, I always remember our conversations back in the day when our priority were bands, clothes, movies and just having a good time. Back when distance WILL cause the friendship to crumble.

I am very thankful for these few friends of mine.
I don't have many friends but I have a few very good friends.

And, it's always good to meet them. No matter how short the time is.

SJ, Nut and I during SJ's 19th Birthday, 2007

Today we celebrated RyeBread's birthday in the restaurant of her choice, Chilli's @ MidValley.
SJ ordered a Margarita and got a little high.
Nut continued trying to poison me with how awesome her new S4 is and trying to pry me away from BlackBerry.
Jasmine experienced more of SJ's nutty pervyness.
RyeBread, I hope, enjoyed all the molestation and harassment from her drunk friend, SJ..
I walked across someone taking a picture right as she was taking it and I have never been more embarrassed.

We might be 25 but sometimes, we still go about like we are 15.
Think what you may but I enjoy not being an old fart.

Like a monkey...

.. swinging on a proverbial branch (emotionally)

When writing yesterday's post, it did not occur to me what the last one written was.

I have completely forgot I wrote a post while I was in the deep abyss.

I'm fine now.

It's been a few months.

I did manage to pull myself out of it.

Princess Jasmine, SJ and I had yoga today.

One word: 

 OUCH

Money Money Money

... it ain't funny.

As a teenager, I went through the usual puberty that resulted in my face resembling the moon.
No, not bright and white.. but damaged and uneven.
In layman terms, I had an acne problem that was comparable to a terrorist attack on innocent skin.
Even at that age, I had a myriad of products in the bathroom that most people won't use due to price because my parents place a lot of importance on physical beauty (and inner beauty) that manifested in their daughters and son also wearing braces.

(Yes. I had an awkward phase which I will never recover from and I have NO pictures to prove it)

When I first started working, a few months after my first salary, I found myself running out of my Clinique Mild soap. RM60 for a bar.
Handing over cash for that bar the first time made me feel like an adult because for the longest time, I felt guilty each time my Mum bought it. (Over-use of "TIME", excuse me)
That was the cliff before the drop.

Now I use Clinique's Mild Soap, Clarifying Moisture Lotion 2, Dramatically Different Moisture and Pore Refining Serum.
I also use this thing called Cure Natural Aqua Gel (which removes dead skin like magic)
I usually follow that with St. Ives' Apricot Scrub (I alternate between the pore/blemish one and fresh skin one)
All of which has become a normal daily routine for me.
I'm not sure when it came to be that my face products outweighed all other expenditures but it is these things that constantly remind me of how far I have come from the girl who refused to ask my parents for a new phone (even though mine was lost and I was using a very old, outdated model) because I always felt guilty when I spent their money.

I'm only saying this because I cleaned out my bathroom the other day and realised I had a large collection of rather costly face products.

In other none vain news, Friday was SJ's 25th birthday (when I first started blogging, she was 16).
The usual thing we do is go out and splurge on a good dinner.
This year, I decided to do something different (On the 18th).
I asked her what she wanted for dinner and OF COURSE she wanted to go to the Japanese restaurant where the owner and his chefs are cute.
Good food and eye candy; all us girls did not disagree with her choice.
I asked Nut to come without informing SJ of this as a sort of attempt at a surprise.
I also asked RyeBread which SJ sort of knew about but wasn't sure as there was no confirmation.
We also bought her a cake.
Only because I have never done so and 25 years deserves a bit of 'hoo' and 'rah'.
Midway through our dinner, Nut, Princess Jasmine and I got up for the bathroom. Nut and Princess Jasmine needed the bathroom but I needed to find the cake because I have no idea where it went to.
As I was standing outside the bathroom while Nut was in it, Princess Jasmine walked up to me and said "I DID IT".
We discussed and joked about asking SJ's eye candy to sing her the birthday song but I did not actually have the imaginary balls to do so.

Princess Jasmine has more than just imaginary balls.

She might just have real balls because she actually asked the waitress to ask him to do so and he agreed!
So we held our bladders and ran downstairs to motion for them to start.
(After Nut exited the bathroom, of course)

He walked out and started the chorus of Happy Birthdays.

SJ blushed and "Oh, Jesus Christ"-ed (although she is Buddhist) her way through the entire thing but I think she was genuinely happy (and embarrassed).
I think she was also glad that this time, there were more loud girls around the table to further liven up the night.

Nut, RyeBread, Me, SJ and Princess Jasmine all having an after dinner drink.
Thanks, girls.

[Yes, I'm blogging again because I'm currently writing and I need to get my words flowing so there is an ulterior motive behind this blogpost but what's written is truth]

As they say, I'm in a rut

The rut here being in reference to my emotional well-being. Contrary to the use of the word 'well', I am not 'well' at all.

For the past few months, I have been experiencing random bouts of depression. Initially, I assumed it was the time of the month but as it went on, I realised that it wasn't that at all and it really came about at random without anything particular source.

I hid it pretty well, I think.

I still maintained my usual facade.

And then it started to tire me out.
I got physically, emotionally and mentally tired.
I did not want to speak. I just wanted to eat. I did not want to meet anybody. I stayed in my room all day, everyday when I was not at work.
I began to feel too self aware. Too conscious of what people are saying or doing.
I felt my self-esteem plummet. I felt my confidence, or lack thereof, slipping away.
Occasionally, I will feel happy when doing or seeing something that strikes my fancy and it will help in cheering me up for a while.
For the past week though, it will only cheer me up momentarily before I begin to look sullen, tired, distracted and downright stoned and if anyone said anything at all, I'll feel irritation and impatience. Even if it has nothing to do with me.

And it was okay, I thought, I've experienced this before and I'll pull myself out of it as I usually do.
Then came the random tears that fall at will.
I'll be staring off into space, thinking of absolutely nothing when a wave of melancholy will hit and I'll just begin to tear. For no reason. Or no reason that I am aware of.
While on a weekend retreat with the classmates, tears were threatening to fall the entire time and I did not want them to see me in my depression (even though it was obvious there was something wrong with me)

Today was bad.
For the entire day, I did not feel like myself.
I tried too hard to be chirpy. Tried too hard to look normal.
I did things I wouldn't have done normally. Said things I wouldn't normally say.

I do not want to discuss what I'm going through with anybody.
I know no one will understand.
The older sister will scoff and say I'm over reacting or thinking too much and to just forget it.
The second sister will not say anything but try to comfort me without really knowing what's wrong.
The brother won't know what to say.
The father will say exactly what the older sister will say.
The mother will say 'It's all those books you've been reading' when I haven't had the mood to read anything for a while now.
The friends will not know what to say or do and will just ask if I'm okay which I'll say 'Yes' because that is the polite thing to say.

All I want to do is not talk, eat, sleep and find a quiet place where it's safe to cry.
I am no longer interested in doing what I normally do. I have lost interest in a lot of things I was interested in.
I feel tired even when I've just woken up from a 12 hour slumber.

Just now at dinner, I finally decided to tell my Mum what I'm experiencing and tried explaining what it means to be depressed.
She asked "Do you need to see a doctor?"

Do I?

Would it help me?
Now this question is swirling in my head.

I feel like I'm standing at a cross junction all alone in a barren land with no one and nothing around me and I can't walk down any of these four roads because at the back of my mind, it isn't an option. I am stuck in the one position and I'll always be in this one position.
I feel like a rubber band that has been stretched far beyond its means.
I feel like the rat in the sewer that has been chased out of another hole.
I feel like the one lone planet touring its way around the galaxy.

I just want to stop feeling like this.

In a pensive state

Ignorance.

A word that I've been taught from a young age to be something negative.
One cannot be ignorant.
Ignorance can be the downfall of a person, a family, a community, a society, a nation.

Why then, do I know so many shamelessly ignorant people?

Ignorance is NOT bliss.
I've said it once, I'll say it over and over again.
It is an escapist ideal to say "I ignore so I won't know all the bad things in this world".

Also...

DO NOT insult people in front of me. Ever.
I'm very strict about this.
I'll outline the perimeters of the word 'insult'.
Racism, I take with a pinch of salt because almost every Malaysian I know has been programmed to be racist whether consciously or not.
Gossip, go ahead. Unless you're stepping over the NC17 boundary, I'd back off.
However, do not come up to me and say "He was girly so we whacked the shit out of him". Also, don't say it with a smug look.
I'll whack the shit out of you, your dog and your girlfriend.
Never say, "Shit. How can she be on TV? She's so fat!)
Just, don't.
Refer to whacking shit out of you, dog and girl.
Do not joke about women being weaker, softer, less intelligent and housewives.
I live in an unfortunate society where some guys, who are obviously lacking in proper masculinity, consider bits of flesh without a spine to be 'good catches'. That, I can do without. My parents worked hard to put me through schools and I've worked hard at my career. My spine is titanium, bitch.

I just realised, if I go on forever, I'd never end.

Basically.... Do not be ignorant.
Ignorance causes you to look down on people.
Ignorance causes you to unconsciously fear certain types of people because you lack the capacity to understand.
And when you know things, and are aware of things.. trust me when I say, you won't feel depressed. I know. I like to be kept informed. It is very good for the development of the mind. Try it. It might do some of you people some good.

(NOTE: I've just met too many people like this. It might not apply to your neck of the woods by over on this side of the neck, it's running rampant)

It is true what they say

The older I get, the more confident I become with my physical appearance.

I used to stare in the mirror and check off the things I wished were different (I had an imaginary checklist)

I didn't like my nose, my chin, my ears, my butt, my legs, my height, my waist...
Uh, I generally didn't like myself.

But, lately, I've become a bit more comfortable with my appearance.
While at dinner with Jasmine, I noticed my legs in the reflective surface and realised, my legs aren't disproportionate at all.

It's a very nice feeling.

Avoidance is futile...

Title is unrelated to contents of this post.


To relate... I'm stepping on fire and feeling pain but I'm not backing down. Why?

Late night viewings of Dr. Who now.
I really do love this show.
I've fallen in so much love with Series 5 and 6. Stephen Moffat's genius is unrivaled.

The past few days have been tiring.
So tiring.

And I've got nothing to say anymore.
I'm just waiting for my 3D to render.
How long has it been since I've said this?

When your brain just fails

Sometimes, you consciously tell yourself not to do something.
You know it's wrong.
You know no good will come of it.
And you do so well at it for a while until one day, for some unknown reason... you do that ONE thing that you've been telling yourself not to do.

As much as it takes two hands to clap, I just wish I hadn't said that.
That is who I am but sometimes, I don't want to show people who I really am.

So... oops.

The window on my right.

The area in which my computer is located is on the halved floor of my two and a half floor house.
It is located in the common area next to a window. My spot is jammed against the wall and against the window. An arm's length away from me are french windows.

When I'm doing things on my computer, work or play, and I find my brains blocked, I always look out the window.
When merely looking out does not work, I open the window, stick my head out and voice aloud my observations about everything I see - the pile of rubble that used to be a house on the big piece of land next to my house, the German Shepherd (my dog, actually) in my garden (which was originally a neighbourhood garden but my Dad fenced it up for himself), the cars that whizz by on the elevated road located next to the ruined compound. Sometimes, I see random flowers that I've never noticed before growing in the garden and say aloud, "When did you arrive here?"

I just did it about 3 minutes before writing this and it has never occurred to me how silly I must look. In my kaftan and everything.

But being silly, looking silly and sometimes behaving silly seems to be the bane of my existence.
High levels of self-awareness does not help get rid of it.

It needs to be documented.

On the 23rd of July, Alex, SJ and I were in Pavilion seeing Miyavi for the first time in a decade.
All those years of waiting.
We watched him perform two acoustic sets and that was done.

On the 24th of July, we met and greeted him in Tokyo Street, Pavilion.
I got him to sign a cover that I've had since a long time ago.
He said "Oh, this is very old" and "I look young" while pointing at his face.
I asked him "When will you wear a yukata again?"
I don't know why.

On the 25th, while waiting outside, a bird pooped on Alex.
I told her it was good luck, "Something good may happen!", I said.
After the show ended, we were quite high and happy and decided to wait around for him.
We waited until 2AM.
Just as he was leaving, he turned around, grabbed SJ and hugged her. And then he hugged me. And then he hugged Kas. And then he hugged Alex.
I think a good amount of tears were shed after that.
Never did we think he would turn around and hug us.
And it wasn't just a light hug either, it was a real hug.
Needless to say, we all felt really special.

10 years?
It was so worth the 10 years.

Wow, it's been a long time

So long in fact, that the entire Blogger has changed its appearance.. and I don't know how to use it.

I'm only blogging because I'm currently suffering from a random bout of insomnia.

And I accidentally made it worse by listening to music...

Music generally helps me do most things. Work, sleep etc..
However, the theme to Zorro started playing and my eyes just flew open so quickly that I think it is now impossible to close it willingly.
Why did that happen?

I've always been in love with Zorro. Since I was a little girl. This is no secret.
(That love I have for Zorro is also what made me so inclined to being a fan of Batman later on in my life.. as the two are similar)

When the movie was first released in cinemas, I was worried that it will forever change the way I look at Zorro. Worried that it will taint the story and feelings that I remembered so fondly.
Surprisingly, while the movie was not its best, the casting was fabulous and the image of a cartoon Zorro in my mind, was replaced by the actor instead (I know cartoon and movie was a different guy but it is generally Zorro, the caped dude, that I'm in love with)

But all that aside, it was the theme that really got to me.
It was romantic, majestic, dramatic and, all in all, fantastic.
And to this day, every time I hear the song, it brings back all my childhood memories of Zorro.
Of sitting in front of the television every day, watching the same few episodes.
Of dreaming and dreaming that I will one day marry Zorro.

...
Maybe the next time someone asks me "Why are you still single?", I can say "I'm waiting for Zorro"

While I may have many love for many things and people (and I do have many loves).. The one love that has remained constant in my life was my love for Zorro. It is a shame that not many people my age watched the cartoon. And also a shame that not many people understand why I'm in love with Zorro. It's not the guy that I love but the idea. The idea of such a man.

I am given to flights of fancy.. and my imagination is always in overdrive.
These sort of things appeal to it.
It appeals to me, immensely.

(Can we call this a love letter to Zorro?)

4 days of holiday

Woohoo!

And that should speak for itself.

Yesterday, for the first time, I felt comforted at the failure that was my final project.
I had a good idea and I just did not execute it well enough.
And it has bothered me for the past two years.

Oh, well.. better now than never I suppose.

It's been a while..

.. Since my birthday at least. Ho-hum, pigs bum.

Surely my absence here speak volumes of the monotonous life that I now live.

Job has changed. Hair has changed. The boredom hasn't.
It's not so much boredom with my job (that aspect of my life is definitely more exciting, satisfying and rewarding now) but rather boredom with the fact that I have become one of those people I use to swear I'll never become.
A person who has become comfortable with routine.
Day in, day out, it's the same thing.

You know what this means...

This means that I indulge my loves.
My loves being loves of the materialistic persuasion.
I am now Queen of the Impulse Buyers.
(Although, my computer did take a LOT of contemplation but only because of the price)
I see clothes I like, I buy.
I see bags I like, I buy.
Do I even need to talk about SHOES?

Somehow, through the act of shopping, I feel comforted.
Yes, I believe in retail therapy.
While my Mum has long stood by the fact that WINDOW shopping comforted her, I can't be comforted by merely looking.
I need to OWN.
It's a problem, it truly is.

On a non-rambling hand, I have discovered a new side of me.
People who know me generally know that I am hardly serious or sober.
However, I've come to realise, through my classes and my teaching.. I can be the most serious and sober person when it needs to be.
I generally have a habit of drawing boundaries.
With teachers, I could never treat them as friendly as some of the peers could.
With my students however, I can talk to them as an equal (for you know, I am all for equality) but when it comes to tutorials, I find that the boundary is immediately drawn.
If people were to watch me, I don't think they'll recognise me.

Speaking of my job... I love what I'm doing now.
I wake up every morning and look forward to what will happen.
I enjoy the fact, of course, that Mike works with me which means I have company that is on the same wavelength.
But I just enjoy the fact that I can speak of my passions without people looking at me weirdly.
However, there are many around me (of the familial-persuasion) that I know do not approve of my decision.
I think, in a lot of ways, I should take it as an insult because obviously they don't think I am able to teach.
But I try not to think about it. I know what I'm doing and I know I can do it so I try to ignore.. but at times, it bothers me because nobody wants to know how I'm doing at my job and even when they ask, it's the vague-est question imaginable and the conversation usually drops after I answer.
And I can see it in their looks that they find it incredibly silly that I've decided to do this.
I should say "Suck it" but.. out of respect, I shan't.

And on another hand, when I first saw an Alienware, I swore to myself that one day, I shall own one.

I own one :)

I've never felt more proud of myself.

10 More Days

... And I'll be old(er).

When I was 14 and was desperate to be older.. I used to dream of being 18.
18 is good, I thought.
18 is when I'm legal.
18 is when I'll probably gain the freedom I want.
18 is when I'll probably be able to make good decisions for myself.
18 is when I'll be a rockstar.
... Is what I thought.

When I became 18 and realised that it isn't all it's cracked up to be.. I fantasised about being 20.
20 will be better, I thought.
20 is when I'll no longer be treated as an irrational, irritating, immature teenager.
20 is when I'll officially be an adult.
20 is when I'll definitely be able to make good decisions for myself.
20 is when I'll be able to go out without having to seek permission beforehand.
20 is when I'll realise that rockstar-dom isn't going to happen and I'll be cool with it.
... And I was right.
I loved being 20.

But now... I'm going to be 23.

I'm not the kind of girl who looks forward to my birthday.
I don't sit around thinking about what people are gonna give me for presents.
I don't care much for parties, celebrations or festivities of any sort.
For as long as I can remember, I've always thought of birthdays as just another year closer to my inevitable doom.

However, as it occured to me 5 minutes ago, that I'll be 23 years old in 10 days time.. I started to wonder.
What if I had looked forward to my birthday as every other girl has?

Don't get me wrong.. It's not like I grimace at the thought of a birthday cake. My parents made sure we all had a cake at every birthday to celebrate.
I got a few presents over the years and it was always a surprise... especially from my parents for they aren't the present-giving sort.

But what if I had parties?
I had a party when I was 8 years old... and I hated it. It is filed under 'Horrible Memories to Forget' in the shelves of my mind.
I told my parents (who convinced me to have the party that year) that I'll never have another party.
I thought it was a waste of time.
For most of my 'party', I sat with my grandma at the dining table reading a book...

I had one at 18.. and it was comparatively better but it still wasn't how I'd have liked to spend my birthday.
My 18th birthday barbecue party was due to my father wanting a barbecue party... not me.

However, every year.. people ask me 'How are you going to celebrate your birthday?'
And when I say "Not celebrating"... They ask me "Why?"

Why?
Because it isn't important to me...
It's just another day...

And also...
Because I do not have enough friends to invite to make a 'party'.
All my friends on both sides of the rainbow that I will invite to a party can be counted with all the fingers I have attached to me.

So No.
I'm not having a party this year (Stop asking, by the way)
I'll be celebrating it like how I have been celebrating it for the past how many years.

With my family and the friends that I care for.

By the way... It falls on a Friday night... DRINKS!

大切な友達は宝物

I don't blog much these days.
That is an understatement in the true-est meaning of the word.
However, I have crawled out of my self-dug hole in this blog-o-sphere to expand upon Claire's recent blog post and all the sweet things she said about us.
(She called me fickle, bossy and talkative and still I say it's sweet because she also called me her Wikipedia.. Hopefully without all the false information)

I never realised just how much I relied on them all for my sanity until a few weeks ago when I stumbled into really bad bumps on my proverbial work road.

But I'm getting ahead of myself... As I so often do.

It started, as Claire mentioned, when she was unhappy with work.
It was a simple tweet of "Let's meet up"
And we did.
She ranted and we joked and we laughed over drinks.
After that session of mindless chit chat, we said "We should make this a weekly thing".
However, the members of this weekly happening kept changing and waning.
I cannot pin point when exactly the current group became the core group because as with all good things, it was never planned.

The second time another of us was unhappy with life, Mike sent out a tweet saying "YL is upset. Let's meet him".. Thanks to the power that is Twitter, within minutes I was out of the house and surprising YL at Starbucks and minutes later, Claire was there and just as soon as she was settled, Mike appeared and then we bugged YL to spill his problems.
Personally, I'd like to think we cheered him up that night for he smiled a lot more towards the end.

And that's the thing about our sessions that I enjoy.. the fact that it's just a group of people getting together to make one or each other feel better about something or another.
I was always happy just being there for them.

Then, September came.
And for some reason, life at work became hard.
Maybe I had enough of it or maybe the people didn't like me.
I would probably never figure out why and I don't think I want to.
I'm not the easiest person to be with and through my almost-23 years of life, I have learned to accept it. I'm not a like-able person but there are people who love me for who I am and so I wouldn't change just to fit in.
It all happened one fine day when I had a brilliant string of bad luck followed by what shall henceforth be known as My Worst Phone Conversation Ever.
I tweeted Mike, Jasmine and Claire about meeting up that night because I needed some group therapy (YL does not have Twitter, I need to see to this)
We met, we ate Hokkien Mee, I imbibed and I complained.
And the moment I was done complaining, I felt so much better, words cannot begin to describe (for I am not the best writer and user of words)..

So here's what I love about the people that I meet weekly...
Their individual quirks and characteristics are always what lifts a down person's spirits up.
(And I'm doing this to reciprocate Claire's kindness on her blog)

Claire: The one with the wittiest retorts and sarcasm. So witty that it never offends but always amuses and lifts my spirits. Always says I'm bossy/fickle but somehow never literally stuffs the shoe down my throat... though, I'm assuming if I don't watch my back, you might.. soon. I love you for always listening to me talk about whatever random thing that is on my mind although you make it very clear that you aren't interested/have no idea what I'm talking about. You suck it up like a boss!

Jasmine: I'll always find our friendship to be unique and that's what I like about it. I don't remember being particularly close to you in college. I think we can thank Twitter for getting us closer together for I got to know you over random tweets and my random responses. You appear to be the embodiment of everything that I am not and that's what I love. Don't go back to Singapore.

Mike: The first person in my life who has made me feel like I have acquired useful knowledge. I spent my life reading every single thing from encyclopedias to newspaper clippings I find lying around on the road and all people have ever told me about it is that I am weird or I'm wasting my time. You also acknowledged the one thing that I do best - talking. You guys are kind for not telling me to shut my trap outright.. for many people have done so when they don't want to hear me speak of my favourite things. I love you for inviting me to give that lecture... I really do. You made me feel smart.. which I've never felt before.

Raymond: Ah, so many words so little time. I stand by my word that I love you for your pride. Your pride in who you are and your confidence in yourself. Whether or not you really feel that does not matter for that is what you show. And that is your greatest asset. You do not let people walk all over you and as much as I poke fun at you, know that I do it all in jest. Although sometimes I want to pummel you into literal pulp, you know I love you.

Yeow Long: To this day, I always have to double check as to whether I spelt your name right. In fact, I have a suspicion that I spelt it wrong already. Although your recent topic of 'changing people' shone some light on what may be a dormant megalomaniac lying within the black holes of your being... know that it is weird, random things like that that makes you unique. And it is your unique-ness that I love. Stop saying that I "suddenly became cute", though. I've caught you doing it on two different occasions now and I'm not loving it at all. However, that also magnifies your 'uniqueness'... You're probably the only person out there who says I'm "CUTE". I'm not. And it'll be good for your physical well-being to take note of that fact.

お久しぶり

おす～！
私は最近大変忙しいかったから、ブログが出来ない。

私のライフはつまなくなってしまったよ～
前の気がない。
毎日は働いてと寝て。
少しアドベンチャも無い。
幸せか、俺？

今月の仕事は全部多きなエベント。。つかれすぎるけど休みが出来なかった。

Sigh...
You don't know how much I'm hoping for it.
[The English might or might not be related to the Japanese]

RIP TAIJI

1966 - 2011

It's been almost 10 hours since I heard the news and I still cannot believe it.

I'm trying to type how and why he ended up dead but... I seriously do not how to do that.
All I know is, he finally got his life/career back together and then... this.
I didn't even know he got arrested.
I didn't even know he attempted suicide.
And then today, my sister messages me saying that he was brain dead after his attempt and that they decided to unplug the life support...
It's not good to start off your week by crying at work.

I had so much of hope of actually seeing him live after he popped up on stage at the X Japan concerts.

Now.. from the original 5 members, we're left with 3.
I do a little tribute to hide every year and I do feel sad whenever I think of the fact that he is gone.. but somehow, because I wasn't aware of the fact that hide died until a few years later it isn't as sad as it is with Taiji.

I probably don't make much sense typing but my brain is a little muddled with the fact that Taiji is dead.
Taiji!
The cowboy hat-wearing, tattoo-sporting, bike-riding, bass-ripping piece of awesome that composed Voiceless Screaming.

Mum said "Life isn't fair" when I practically wailed that "It is unfair".
It is.
I'm going to be selfish and immature and insist upon the fact that IT IS UNFAIR!
It is unfair that people like Taiji die and useless people are left to prowl the earth.