Archive for the ‘ramblings’ Category


I was blind, but now I see, but perhaps too late.. :.

December 12, 2007

Last night, I got a wake up call. There was no telephone ringing, or a shake to the shoulder, but a flash of final moments. It was God calling to me, his lost child, the wayward one, telling me to come back to the path I had strayed so far from.

As I stood in the blinking light, and I breathed, a solemn, almost relieved breath, I knew that this was it. This was my last call, and if I didn’t listen, I would be lost forever.

I know now three things:( a) I am not immortal (b) I cannot keep running, hiding and ducking from my mistakes forever (c) everything and everyone I needed was right there, and I just never realised it.

I escaped with my life, last night. From what, I’d rather not say. I don’t want to dismiss it easily, but rather publicise another mistake that I will obviously never learn from, I’d rather keep it to myself and carry it in my heart as a reminder of who I was. I am definitely a much different person today, than I was last night.

I guess I don’t learn unless something shocks me into reality. The vivid, vibrant world I was living in was just an illusion, and last night, it snapped in two, revealing in the harsh light of day, that everything I had been doing/living so far was just an escape.

I am sorry, but I am also grateful.

My eyes are wide open, and damn, it’s bright. My mind is clear, and it’s strange and beautiful. Though I’ll be in the doghouse for a long while,but it means that there are people who love me and care for me enough to put me there.

For now, I have to put aside my dreams and wishes, until I can truly stand on my own two feet again. There are other things I have to think about before I can once more be a dream chaser, but perhaps, it’s for the better, because maybe by then, I will have better insight and wisdom, and I won’t be just chasing the dream, I’ll be living it.

Last night though, someone whom I had taken for granted stepped into the light. And I finally saw him for who he truly is. And though, I had locked away my heart in reserve for someone else, it somehow broke free from it’s chains and and landed in his hands. We stood there, over the wreckage of my once carefree life, and he held me close and tightly, and I knew that not only I was safe, but I was cared for. As we conversed into the wee hours of the night, our thoughts no longer guarded, our opinions honest, and most importantly, my mind open, I realised that perhaps all this while, I had been chasing things, too far and too hard, that I completely forgot all the things that were right in front of me.

For now, I think I must retreat back into the maze which I had lost myself in, and find my way back. Start at the beginning and instead of just trying to find the center, I have to find my way out.

I close my eyes, and as shaky and frightening the memory of last night is, I can feel : hands that reached out to help me stand, arms that held me to tell me I was alive and safe, a gentle kiss that comforted, angry words that meant someone cared, but above all, shaky breath that let me know I was alive, and that God still loved me and wanted me back in his fold.

So friends, and dear readers, I don’t know if this will be my last entry here, or if it’s the last entry for now, or the last entry for this year. Everything now is entirely up in the air. I’ve been given a second chance at a life I don’t deserve, but from now on I am grateful for. I need to do more than the superficial soul searching, I need to dig deep and find myself again and climb up from the dark and evil pit I threw myself in.

But let me just say this, if anything, it definitely happened for my own good. And the fact that it did in December, perhaps was a reminder that yes, you’re reaching the end of the year, the end of a cycle, and also the start of a new one. I cannot honestly say that from now on I am going to a pious, better person, but only that I am going to change things for myself.

Friends, don’t look for me for now. I’ll find you when I’m ready. Readers, both old and new, thank you for actually taking the time to read any and all rubbish that I had to share in my life, and especially to PTB (I’ll be in touch) and Jasmine, D and all other who have been kind enough to leave a comment and let me know that my humble, yet sometimes arrogant words were duly appreciated.

To all, Selamat Hari Raya Aidiladha, Happy Hannukah, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy New Life. I hope that when I decide to return, that perhaps my stories will be richer, fuller and more colourful. Thank you for your company in the search for serenity. I thought I had found mine, and it’s obvious that I haven’t. And when I start anew, I hope you will join me again.

To the one I wasn’t looking for but I have now found, I’m so happy that I’m starting anew, and this time the journey is with you.


One night a week :.

December 8, 2007

I think we should just declare one night a week where everyone in the world should be bonking. Everyone that’s the age of legal consent anyway.

Think about it, apparently, there are more and more recent studies that state the benefits of regular SAFE sex, like:

    Lower mortality rates.
    Reduced risk of prostate cancer.
    Improves posture.
    Boosts self esteem.
    Makes a person feel younger.
    Firms tummy and buttocks.
    Keeps spouses connected emotionally.
    Offers pain-relief.
    Gives people a positive attitude on life.
    Reduced risk of heart disease.
    Makes a person more calm.
    Improves fitness level.
    Makes a person less irritable.

Among other things.

You bet your bunions, regular sex can be beneficial. So the world should just declare one night a week (I’m favouring Saturday) as the designated night to mate. Male singles form a line to the left. Female singles, pinch the butt of the guy you fancy. First fingers on the guy gets the ass for the night.

Yes, one night a week where we won’t be lonely or horny, the world gets a break from negativity and the world slows down into one big cataclysmic orgasm. Even thinking about the entire thing gets me hot under the collar. Like I wasn’t there already anyway.


It’s just a crush… :.

December 6, 2007

… so why am I squee-ing with glee from seeing his name in my inbox?

Last week, while conducting a course out of office, I met a really good bunch of interesting people. The good part was they were my age, and I made a lot of new friends. The best part, I met someone who gives me butterflies when he smiles at me.

Initially, I thought he was just the joker, the clown of the group. The comic who didn’t take anything seriously. But after he smiled at me for the 10th time, and gave me a compliment which he meant from his eyes, I felt so smitten.

I felt like a teenager in high school again, internally sighing when he said my name, quivering with excitement if he paid attention to me, and trying not to blush when he winked at me from across the room during a lecture.

Yes, I confess to taking pictures of his butt, because it was just as delightful as the rest of him.

I found excuses to wander over to his table, to hang around, and stay close, but also had to keep myself at a distance, because I was there with him in a professional capacity. But that didn’t stop me from wanting something so much more from our interaction.

There was no denying our flirtation, I think everyone else knew. But I guess, maybe the attraction wasn’t strong enough to warrant something more forward. Or perhaps there was that heavy blanket of professionalism that hung over our heads.  We parted as friends, and with a sad smile on my face, because I wondered if I ever would see him or hear from him again.

My heart flutters when I read the friendly e-mail, sent in the late hours of the afternoon, that read with as much personality and friendliness as if he were addressing me in person. With each smiley, I can imagine that cute, friendly face, with the mischievous smile that makes me want to melt like chocolate on a hot sidewalk. And I think I can hear his voice in my head.

It’s just a crush… I hope.


Love, marriage and other half-truths :.

November 24, 2007

Love and marriage, love and marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage..

Wasn’t that how the theme song of “Married with Children..” That was a funny show. I loved how dysfuctional that family was.

Okay, enough fluff.

Marriage, that’s the buzzword these days. No matter where I am, that word inevitably pops up in conversation, bringing with it the good, the bad and the ugly. Mostly the latter reaches my ears though. And it makes me more determined to enjoy my life and be true to me before I settle down.

I don’t have to look far for examples of marriages that don’t work. In all honesty, my parents marriage has hardly been all hearts and roses the past 7 years. There are times, I don’t know, I just want to ask my parents to go and get the hell divorced because I am so sick and tired of living day to day in a warzone. There are times I’ve had to choose sides, and it kills me on the inside, because as much as I am Daddy’s little girl, I love my mom too. But little miracles happen, and they stay together another day. Often I do wonder why they do, is it because they love each other, or they’re just too old to live without each other?

Excuse my cynicism when I illustrate with another point. I’ve got friends in marriages who are so unhappy, they have to find other pursuits. Loveless marriages, the only glue keeping it together are either children or family pressure. Some are just with their significant other because they’re too afraid that if they leave, they may just end up alone. And the thing is, they pop up so often, you wonder if there are any ‘real’ marriages left in the world?

Like anyone and everyone else, I am myself afraid to be alone. I feel like there’s this missing part of me because I long for someone to share my life with, give all of my heart and soul; full and complete. It’s not that my life is lacking because I don’t have someone, but it would be more richer with someone in it.

But I guess I’d rather be alone than be in a loveless marriage, bitter and angry at my husband, and forced to pursue extramarital affairs just to keep myself sane.

Typical scorpio, it’s either all or nothing, either one of two extremes and never in between.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not pooh-poohing the whole institution of marriage. I do have illusions and dreams of adjusting my husband’s tie before he goes to work, sitting by the sink as I watch him shave, having all out spats and making up on the kitchen floor later. But I think I’d rather wait it out and find someone who I can be happy with the rest of my life.

Maybe I ask for too much. Yes, I’d love a guy with Hayden Christensen’s brooding looks, or Jake Gyllenhaal’s dark, blue eyed gorgeousness.. But you don’t have to be hot or cute to get me. I’ve said before “Romance my mind and you have my heart,” I’d love someone who has much to teach me and open my eyes. But by the same token, he should be ready to learn from me, seek adventure and love life. I’d enjoy the give and take of good intellectual conversation for the rest of my life. Yes, and he should be tolerant enough of my ‘blonde moments’ and my demanding personality.

Back in August, I was sitting with Gray Eyes in ‘The Dead Poet’s Society’ and he was listening raptly to what I was saying, and wasn’t even shocked when I revealed a little of my wild side. I could live that afternoon ala ‘Groundhog Day’ forever, because I saw in his eyes, not just wisdom from living a lot longer than I have, and living on the other side of the world I have known, but, this great sense of eagerness to listen and learn to what I have to say. When I was telling him about how engagements go in Brunei, (‘The Village’, our inside joke), he just so earnestly wanted to know more.

I want that from a guy, that you never stop getting to know me. The same way I’ll continually discover new things about you everyday, even if it’s the fact that you have this aim to collect 100 plastic lobsters from a particular restaurant on the Upper East Side that gives you one everytime you eat a lobster there.

I was never a ‘sweet kind of romance’ girl. Don’t give me roses, give me gerberas. And call them by the nickname I give them. I don’t want cute bears with hearts, give me a Stitch or Yoda doll. You don’t need to sing me “I will always love you”, sing to me your favourite song of all time badly on karaoke. Even if it’s Aqua’s Barbie Girl. Give me a thousand memories, rather than one super romantic moment.

I in turn, will probably laugh at you if you accidentally swallow the ring while drinking the champagne it’s in. And then I’ll help you by performing the Heimlich maneuver when you’ve almost turned purple.

I don’t care if ends up the most spontaneous yet manky ‘Britney’ quickie wedding in Vegas with the worst looking ‘Fat Elvis’ presiding. Janji saja sayang selamanya. (Just promise you’ll love me forever.)

No, I don’t want to be unhappy in a marriage because I said yes to the wrong guy, because I had an ‘accident’, because I just didn’t want to be alone.

And I could have very much made that mistake earlier this year, with Zz. I’m glad that my reluctant heart hung in there as long as it did, and didn’t fall for all the songs of romance and perfect companionship. No. It wanted the right love, and it wasn’t going to settle for anything less.

If anything, all of these words that have been burning my ears have made me realise, I’m going to wait for the right one. Not Prince Charming, but the guy who will understand that his geek wife will get dressed up in cosplay and drag him around to Sci-fi conventions.

It’s better to wait than regret. I don’t want the only regret in my life to be the biggest burden for the rest of it.

One family of cousins all got married in their 30’s, and they seem to have done alright for themselves. Even though they were the talk of the family, and the subject of clucking tongues for the longest time, they decided they were going to do the right thing and wait. And wait they did, they’re all happy, with no pressure to spawn future progeny anytime soon, all taking it at their sweet pace.

And under the very same roof as one dysfuctional marriage, a life’s journey between two kindred souls has begun and blossoms more with each passing day. I talk, of course, about my sister and her wonderful husband. The very same people who gave me a song and dance routine for my birthday, complete with excited, high pitched singing. Their love story started a long time ago back in High School, but unlike High School sweethearts, they didn’t get together until later. No, the romance in their story comes from a single page, with a pencil drawn sketch of a rose.

When my sister first left for the UK, her classmate handed her a letter of several pages, wishing her luck, and so much more. One of those pages contained that hand-pencilled sketch, which my sister kept along with the letter.

Several years away studying, and a VERY BAD BOYFRIEND later, these two souls would be reunited as friends, and start spending more and more time together. And last year, they got married, despite initial parental resistance, and differences in education and status, which in the end, truly didn’t matter.

Today, that pencil sketch is framed and hangs in their bedroom, as testament to a love that started long ago, but didn’t blossom until late. The rose has become their logo, and their love just evermore grows.

I will not get caught up in the excitement and wanting of all engagements and marriages around me. I will not be brainwashed by the cutest babies in the world, and googley eyed couples. I will not envy the happiness of my friends as they take the next steps towards the rest of their lives. My time will come.

But I reserve the right to be Bridezilla, and squee myself hoarse when the time does come. And until it does, I will wait.


No Anonymity :.

November 23, 2007

Not that it just occurred to me, but two separate incidents in the last couple of days made me think about how I can’t just be just anyone walking down the street or collecting my mail at the post office.

A couple of days ago when I was collecting my parcel at the office, the lady customs officer who was examining my parcel took one long look at me, and asked directly, “Are you so and so’s granddaughter?” Though I was taken aback at how she could recognise me from my family tree no less, I answered yes. Then she proceeded to question me about my parents. Though slightly annoyed, all I could do was smile, and answer questions about my mother and my grandmother, wishing that she would hurry it up and I could leave and examine my goodies in the privacy of my car.

Today, I was at one of my favourite local Indian, waiting for my egg bread, when I thought I heard my father’s name being mentioned. Then I also heard my dad’s former workplace  said too. I groaned inwardly, as the table I was standing close by to was probably either a bunch of distant relatives or my dad’s friends. Just when I thought they could say all they could, the man who had been talking mentioned that I was probably the unmarried one. I was so grateful that my food was ready and I could flee quickly, and walked off as fast as I could in my baju kurung.

My parents are good people, and lots of people know them, this I don’t mind. But it kinda puts me off when the conversation starts involving me. Here, as I’ve said before, you’re never your own person, you’re always somebody’s daughter, granddaughter, etc. I miss London where I was so anonymous, I could walk down  the street in my jammies and fuzzy slippers (Edgware Road, late one summer’s night, I was desperate and hungry and didn’t give a damn) and no one gave a fcuk or knew who I was. Hell, I once ran around the London Eye on New Years in a teeny tiny skirt, a big old parka, and heels.. randomly hugging people and wishing them “Happy New Year..” and the next morning (late afternoon, really) I didn’t have to worry about my conduct or clothing making the rounds on the BGN (Bruneian Gossip Network).

I guess really you could blame the fact that there’s nothing to do here except eat and gossip, and not necessarily in that order. *sigh*

I can’t wait to move to a faraway land where being someone’s daughter doesn’t matter.


Lib(er)ation at a price :.

November 22, 2007

The father gave me a look of pure disappointment as I walked in at the not-so-ungodly hour of 8.15pm. I pretend I don’t care, but I really do. It’s just the daughter in me, wanting not to disappoint and play it dutiful. But that’s not really me, so I brushed off the guilt and ran upstairs to continue the ‘party of one.’

Despite my best smile, and the thought of the party tomorrow, I can’t help but sit and cry and miss my Gray Eyes. He’s working hard during Thanksgiving. I know it’s for me. I wish that I would wake up one of these days and not be alone, that I’d wake up hearing his soft breath by my ear, and feeling the fuzzyness of his beard caressing my face. Even though I hate winter with a vengance, I want to wake up to a cold New York morning with Gray Eyes, and go out with him grab H&H bagels, and walk leisurely in the freezing cold snuggled in his arms.

Then I think about everything I would have to sacrifice to be with him. My family, friends, and perhaps the country of my birth which I long to raise my children in. Though nothing prepares me for that.. I don’t think I could live a life of loneliness.  I would sacrifice it all in the name of love. Not just love though.. I’d sacrifice it all, just to live a life so free.

And as the days go by, and I get closer to that date I so long for. Much fear, anticipation, hope and courage fill my heart. I’m like a soldier readying for war, you can prepare all you like, but nothing could ever really prepare you for the true horrors about to be faced.

When that date comes, I’ll know if I cease to be a daughter. And no matter how the decision goes, I’ll have to live with it.

All in the name of living a life you want to lead, and not the life chosen for you.

I’m not selfish. I just want to be me.


Catching Up – Small Bytes:.

November 21, 2007

Whoa, Wednesday crept up on me unawares.. I guess I’ve been partying too hard. The date of doom has come and gone, my  emotional spiral has finally stabilised and I had the best damn birthday weekend ever. I’ll blog about that on a later date, I suppose.

Today is my Brother-in-law’s birthday. The quiet unassuming guy who will break out into song with his wife. I think he and my sister are a pair and a half..

My strange bruises are slowly disappearing. I have these two odd bruises, one on the upper wrist/lower thumb area of my right hand, and the other in the fleshy lower part of my left arm. Very odd. They are just in such odd places, that I can’t help but think about where I got them.

A couple of items I ordered from eBay ages ago have finally arrived. My magic moisturiser and a couple of DVDs. I’m still waiting on my hair products from the U.S and the Transformers posters for my brother’s birthday. :-/ His birthday was back in September. Can’t blame the post office though, because if it hasn’t arrived there yet, obviously I can’t collect it.

Last night, I went with Green to meet Doris to collect my ring and oogle jewelry. I bought a couple of other pieces that I’m so in love with, a butterfly pendant and a pair of pink star earrings. I’m really hoping that Doris can order the shamrock earrings for me. I wish I had bought them at the BCL event a couple of weeks ago. I’m having the ring resized, and a necklace loop made for the pendant at a silversmith. I hope it won’t cost a bomb.

I find myself missing a couple of people who are not so far away. I miss my little moments with them. Is it because that I’ve had so many of these that now I’m being greedy and wanting more? All I know is, all these little moments fan the flames, and I feel so alive because of it.

I just want to run around and feel.