Wednesday, April 27, 2005
i remember...
I was nine and so was she. We were neighbours and best friends. Then she moved away. But not too far away.
It was her birthday. She invited me to her party. There were lots of other kids around; kids I didn't know. She left me sitting in a corner while she played with her newfound friends in her new big house.
She had her life and I had mine. Our friendship gradually slipped. Right through our fingers.
12 years later, she calls me. We talk. We promised to meet up but we never did.
I guess things can never be the same again.
Monday, April 25, 2005
the daily irrelevant
I pointed to myself that this blog is named "the commentary of my life". An astute observation, indeed. And so, I have decided to begin a running commentary on my life, starting with today.
This will be an infinite-series of largely irrelevant entries. Such is the wonder of my life.
This will be an infinite-series of largely irrelevant entries. Such is the wonder of my life.
:::
Today, I woke up. I was tired. I stumbled to the bathroom, had a quick shower, washed my face and brushed my teeth.
I stumbled back to my room. I was still tired. I picked out my dreary office grab, patted on some powder, grabbed my bag and stumbled out of my room and into the car.
I dragged myself into the office. I sat at my desk and cleared millions of redundant emails. I had a smoke, a cup of coffee and a really satisfying yawn.
I went out for lunch.
I came back and did more work.
I had dinner downstairs. And now I should be going home.
:::
Tomorrow marks the second week. That's a long time.. isn't it?
I wish I knew.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
my iffy life
I wondered to myself, if...
Myself probed, if what?
I admit; I don't know.
***
If I had to be a bird, I'd be a dodo. I'm mildly acrophobic.
If I were a dog, I'd finally be able to understand the need to pee on every other lamp post.
If I could meet God and ask him one question, I'd be too dumbfounded to utter a word.
If I could meet the Devil and ask him one question, I'd ask what eternal damnation feels like, and whether my decadent lifestyle automatically qualifies me for it. And whether there are more people in Hell than in Heaven. And...
(Ok, make that a barrage of questions.)
If I could will something to happen now, my mobile will ring and good news will arrive.
***
If only I could.
quando quando quando
Dedicated to a certain someone.
The one who owes me a phone call.
***
Tell me when will you call me
Tell me quando quando quando
We can share a work divine
Please don't make me wait again
***
I can't wait a moment more
Tell me quando quando quando
Say it's me that you must have
Then tell me when
Yea tell me when!
***
Like pins and needles, the torture of anticipation is not necessarily painful. But it certainly is a pain in the ass.
Such torture lies not in the waiting; but in the knowledge that I have to wait.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
in the loo with nothing to do
Not too long ago, I went to GV Grand to watch Sahara. Before entering the cinema, I decided to visit the loo (it was going to be a long show). The ladies' were clean and best of all, empty. Rejoice filled my heart.
I stood there facing the long row of unoccupied cubicles, enjoying the moment.
Then I ventured a step forward and peered into the first cubicle: wet mushy toilet paper lined the floor.
Next!
I cocked my head to glance into the second cubicle. It seemed clean and dry. But not even knowing why myself, I took a decisive stride towards the third cubicle and entered it without even so much as an backward glance.
It was alright, I suppose. But the seat cover was rather loose.
In any case, I plonked myself down to pee. While doing so, I had quite a philosophical debate with myself, in my head.
I figured that Cubicle 2 was superior to Cubicle 3. And if I had made an informed decision, I would have chosen Cubicle 2. But I didn't!
Why?
I frantically searched the back of my mind for that one particular thought that swept past as I glanced into Cubicle 2.
"This is fine. But I think the next one might be better."
That was it. Because of that, a perfectly pristine toilet cubicle was forsaken and I took a chance with the next one. Best of all, I didn't hesitate to enter Cubicle 3; resolute in the above (rather baseless) thought.
What on earth was that???
I can't decide which is scarier: not knowing why I did what I did; or not knowing why I'm still talking about it.
***
P/S I decided that waiting is not torture (refer previous post). It's anticipation that kills.
Friday, April 15, 2005
hope gives you wings
And wings that are better than those Redbull promises too.
Hope gives me courage to live, and to dream.
Hope lets me float above it all; flirting with clouds, touching the sky and basking in the warmth of the sun...
... Before the sun melts my wings and I plummet to my death in the vast open sea, of course.
***
Waiting is such torture.
Monday, April 11, 2005
home!
I'm home! After 5 days and 4 nights in beautiful Bali, I am home.
It's an odd sort of feeling right now, actually. Good to be home; but bad to pick up exactly where I left off. The daily grind, sucky job. That sort of thing.
What I needed out of Bali was time away to recharge, rethink and rebuild my sense of self. To assess where I am, where I'm headed, and whether where I am is leading me to where I want to be headed.
And I've come to the conclusion I've always felt was right, but have been - admittedly so - afraid to commit to.
I reach home now with a slightly enlarged sense of hope. Things are looking up, and if they head where I think they're headed, I'm home free.
My fingers are crossed.
***
So anyway, Bali was brilliant.
We stayed in Bali Hilton, located in Nusa Dua - a pretty, resorty estate on the island. Clean and lined with greenery and huge, exquisite Balinese sculptures. Quieter and nicer, in my opinion, than the hip Kuta area. If Kuta is Bali's Orchard Road (although it looks more like the Mohd Sultan stretch), then Nusa Dua is equivalent to Sentosa.
The initial weather was a slight letdown - it was drizzling when we landed. Drizzling when we woke up the next day. Just kept drizzling, no doubt. Washed out all water-sporting plans. And a certain someone's tanning hopes. Ha.
Lounging around the room, watching cable and more BCC than I have ever watched in my entire life was probably what I needed. Time off to do absolutely nothing. And god, it felt good.
The skies cleared out by Sunday and we popped down to the pool/ beach for a quick tan. Read: He was baking in the sun with the help of tanning oil, SPF 0; and I was hiding under the beach umbrella, protected by waterproof sunblock, SPF 30, and going through two scoops of chocolate ice cream. Good day, it was.
There was shopping, of course. Spent hours trolling the streets of Kuta and eventually bought a handful of stuff. He was rather surprised, really, and kept asking if I wanted to buy more. But there's really limited stuff to begin with. I had no intention of buying labels and labels galore it was. I was particularly fascinated to see a Paul Smith boutique. Alongside Gianni Versace, Burberry and Prada. And Polo Ralph Lauren. Oh yeah, Polo is big in Bali. I swear we saw at least 20 different Polo boutiques; I will reserve my comments on their authenticity, however.
We had a nice final-night dinner in Hilton, albeit disappointed that they didn't have any restaurant that resembled a semi fine-dining outfit. Even so, it was still nice.
***
I am now recharged and ready to fight the battle again.
And maybe, just maybe, it'll be a slightly better battle.
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