about...

I was just telling B (who I incidentally don't love in "that" way) this evening

as we drove home that I was so excited

to be able to go on home and blog about the things that have been happening...

...about the books that lured me with their magical song,
about the supplier who thought I had 2 children,
about the boss who spent half of my WIP meeting talking to me about pimple/acne creams,
about the boy who broke my heart,
about the dreams that I have been having,
about the vomiting and nausea I feel almost daily,
about the photos I took,
about the urge to up and leave,
about the voices in my head that have come back,
about the champion night when I puked nine times without the aid of alcohol,
about the new stuff I bought,

about grinning on my on accord,

about the “re-awakening”,
about praising God and feeling parts of the old happiness and peace return,
about the party that wasn't quite like a party,
about growing up and growing old,
about a boy who thinks I am in love with him,
about the bookshelves and cupboards and SB room and heaps of other stuff that I want,
about the emo songs I love and try to sing along to...

about singing with a passion that comes from some unknown place in me,
about what I have learnt in this short time about love and relationships,
about the wedding that might not have been,
about learning to let go,
about learning to plant your own flowers without waiting for someone to give them to you,
about the banking summit,

about the dangers of pretending to be someone else,

about telling the truth although the truth hurts painfully,

about advising your friends when you know your decision could

change their lives forever,

about smiling eventhough your heart is breaking,
about the bar where almost everyone knows your name,
about eating too much salmon and its effects on you,
about my cool family,
about the big boss who seems almost human at times,
about my insecurities,
about JT and how he writes awesomely crappy emails,
about the man who occupies my daydreams,
about my new passion,

about saying 'I am sorry' and actually meaning it,

about drinking apple juice in a Hello Kitty container and not cringing,

about dropping chocolate cake with a "SPLAT" in front of your big boss

and pretending that nothing happened,
about learning to be happy for your own sake rather than anyone else’s,
and about everything else that has happened since...

But the words fail me tonight.

The books have been luring me once more but I can't read...
Piles of books stacked up, one on top of the other bid me warm welcomes

and entice me with their stories of which I can only imagine

as I hastily tiptoe pass them to get to my warm slightly cramped bed.

I reckon I need sleep more than anything else... (I can’t believe I just said that!) It is lovely in my dreams more often than not... Everything is less complicating with more happy endings and in my dreams, I am able to say the things I really want to say out loud *smile*
So to bed I shall go...
perhaps I will be able to write tomorrow.

~*~*~*~

In Your Hands

I have done the best that I can...

It's all in Your hands now

The Barrel

I read in the Economist today while waiting for B in the car that...

"At the end of the barrel is Hope"...

How apt a saying for today...

a day where Hope was playing hide and seek with me.

A month has gone by so quickly.

I would have liked to change the way things turned out this past month...

but like a game of Texas Hold'em you get what the dealer doles out to you

and you can't quite change your cards for better ones...

you gotta just make do with what you have, lie about it to make it seem really realy great

or you can fold and cut your losses.

One part of me tells me that I should have not gambled

and cut my losses at the very start of the game

... but its a little too late for that.

You can't quite erase memories or perfect moments

from your mind or your heart...

I have lost quite a far bit in month... but its okay.

I have done the best that can be done with the hand that has been dealt

and its not too late...

...cos at the end of the barell is Hope.

The Phone Call of Salvation

The clock read 11:39am and she was uncharacteristically restless as she stared at the bright white monitor in front of her. Words like ‘Integrated Financial Portal’, ‘Total Cost of Ownership’ and ‘Services Oriented Architecture’ start to blur and whirl in front of her eyes while the blinking line on her word document mocked her repeatedly, waiting for her to type out yet another word which would invariably lead to the creation of several sentences and then a paragraph and then another and another which would finally result in one of her boring documents that would be read in the papers in about two weeks time.

It’s at times like this that she wonders about her choice of profession and if this is really right for her. The telephone rings and she listens to the voice ramble on while she flips stoically through the pile of documents that have accumulated seemingly overnight on her already overflowing desk. She pushes aside several documents distractedly and realizes that the person on the line is requesting once more for her email address. That would make it a grand total of seven this morning she thinks to herself and wishes that more interesting people would ask for her email address rather than people who needed her company’s money. As it is her job and she is the gatekeeper of the sponsorship money, she repeats her rather long email address to the man whose name and organization she has already forgotten and cringes when he makes her repeat her email address over and over again.

“Its P and M. P for Penang . M for Malaysia ,” she says twice for the benefit of the man on the end of the line. “NO! Not B. its P. P for Penang , Perak and Pahang,” she adds for emphasis when the man fails to hear her correctly. “NO! NO! NO! Not D. It’s P. P for Penang ! Penang ! Penang !” She exhales loudly out of frustration and annoyance at the deafness of the man and inhales two deep breaths and begins again. “Its P and M. P for Penang . M for Malaysia . Got it?” He mumbles that he will email her the sponsorship letter and promptly hangs up. A string of grumbles that the common mind would not be able to discern flows from her lips and several of her colleagues look up from their workstations and grin at her sympathetically for she gets calls like this pretty often. She wishes not for the firs time that she could also get more interesting calls instead of boring work ones.

Another 29 minutes till lunch time she muses while glancing at the little numbers on the bottom right corner of her monitor. She clicks into her inbox, professionally ignoring the word document that remains disturbingly unfinished and clicks on several new emails she has received over the past few minutes and laughs rather manically when she reads that she has been nominated by the head honcho a.k.a Big Boss to attend a BM professional writing class for three miserable days. Dread plagues her heart and she shudders involuntarily as she imagines the three devastating days ahead of her.

She can’t remember the last time she wrote in her national language and tries to string a sentence together out loud. Her attempt at knitting a sentence catches the ears of a colleague sitting nearby and a chuckle escapes his lips. She reaches for the nearest object, ah a stapler. She grips the blue and silver object and calmly tells herself that she should not throw it at the annoying chuckler for fear of hitting someone else in the process. “I am sorry but were you speaking in BM or some kind of alien language” he asks in a voice that provokes her to seriously consider throwing the stapler at him. Too weary to reply she just glares at him and then stares back at her computer screen, only two miserable minutes have passed. She sighs inwardly and wishes that time would just fly by now so that she can waltz all the way to Kinokuniya and be amongst her hard covered and paperback friends.

The hi-fi which is located behind her takes the opportune moment to spew the theme song to Greys Anatomy and her thoughts whir to a collage of different scenes that brings up unwanted emotions. She shrugs them off and gets up from her seat to turn off the hi-fi which she knows will belt out more sappy loves. SNAP. Silence once more punctuated by the tap tapping of the keyboard and clicks of the mouse. Seeing as there are several minutes more to go to midday salvation, she half heartedly goes through the pile of documents on her right and realizes that she does have quite a bit of work to do. Feeling a mixture of panic at the prospect of not being able to meet deadlines and yet a feeling of nonchalance, she decides to make a list of the things that needs to be done.

Grabbing several sheets of recycled A4 paper, her trusty purple mechanical pencil and her plastic bendy ruler, she makes a clearing on her cluttered desk and draws several lines on the crisp whiteness. She stops and surveys her handiwork. “Crap”, she says out loud as she realizes that the lines are all slightly crooked saved for the first line which is perfectly straight. She takes her rather mangy eraser and erases the awful lines. The marks though don’t come off and leave faint indents on the pristine whiteness. “Crap”, she says for the second time and snatches the tainted page and crumples it in her fist and promptly tosses the crumples ball into the black Ikea dustbin underneath her desk.

Her frustration mounts as she realizes that she has still not perfected the art of drawing straight lines with a ruler. Another one of her defects that she can’t seem to overcome. Once more time, she thinks to herself. I will try just one more time… So she picks up another recycled A4 paper, her trusty purple mechanical pencil and her plastic bendy ruler and draws several lines but they look identical to her first attempt, perhaps even a little bit more crooked than before. The phone shrills again and she picks up the phone. The voice on the other end of the line brings salvation. “Lunchtime meet you downstairs, k?” “OK!” she choruses and hastily keeps her stationary and places the recycled paper back into the recycled tray. Salvation in the form of a phone call has never been sweeter

Dream of You

I had a Dream of you...

You stretched out your hand towards me

and I readily took it.

We danced...

We swayed...

You held me close

and I wept...

and then I reluctantly let you go

for you never belonged to me
You were never mine to keep...

~ taken from her Dream Journal ~

A long day

It's just that wee bit sad when you have had a long day - had several crisises (which thankfully were settled and dealt with in a perfectly harmonious way), a nasty headache, a blocked nose and a voice so husky you sound damn hot on the phone and so unlike your usual self (which could be seen in a good or bad light really!) - and find yourself still sitting in the office in the same damn position (well almost the same position) for more than 12 and a half hours.

The office is deserted in your section (its kinda freaky) and for company you have your Facebook account (that is not really working very well) and thank God, a pretty decent hi-five set which is belting (sadly) soppy songs that make you want to thump it with your massive umbrella you save for monsoon season!

And then salvation appears (cue sarcastic but grateful smile) in the form of R who was supposed to send you home hours ago. Not only do you have to listen to him make snide remarks about your crappy hair and husky voice but you have to listen with utmost patience when he hints about possibilities of an office affair with him - which to be honest is as appealing as going to the dentist (which i absolutely detest!). I mean R is a pretty decent boy (a little bit pervy but aren't all boys that way?), but I have known him since I was 15 and its just damn wrong! Then you have to listen to him compare himself to McS and McG and well you basically get a very very really really long ride home.

And now 2 hours later, I sit infront of Sam my laptop and recap the day. A pretty fulfililng day to be honest. Managed to do quite a bit of work, arrange several files, clear my desk and solve those nasty crises all in one day *pats her own back* and yet after it is all done and the day is drawing to a close I still find my day not that complete... I guess it has to do with you... I really wish I could take a spade and unearth you out of my head, mind and heart where you are wedged so very nicely ~ Heaven only knows how you sneaked in to these places! Perhaps then I wouldn't need to feel so strange and I would be able to *grin* on my own terms...

SIGH! SIGH! SIGH!

The flues is getting worse. I hurts to even talk ~ sniff!

I am going to go and sleep now... perhaps I will see you in my dreams

I miss you... still... unfortunately

The *grinning* has stopped...

ponderings

It's strange and a little saddening how you can be in the same vicinity

as someone and you can miss them.

It's strange that sometimes the things

that you seek are the things that evade you.

It's sad that the person whom you miss,

doesn't miss you back... doesn't even know you exist really,

or has perhaps placed you in a category you don't quite want to be in.

It's sad that memories fade as quickly as they are made

and all that remains are fragmented pieces of hope...

that will also in time fade away.

But I guess what I can take out of all this; out of the strangeness, sadness and in-between-ness... the "I miss you's" that are never said, the actions and nights that are meant to be forgotten, the perfect moments that were meant to be just moments, is that

'one happiness is worth a thousand sorrows'

~*~*~*~