New Year's Eve
To remember those who are still in danger from the tsunami attacks, and to remember those who lost loved ones to it, our prime minister has called off
all New Year countdown parties in the nation.
I think this is apt, seeing that there will be many who will not be in the celebrational mood, for they will be thinking of those gone, still missing, and hurt.
Our government is finally showing some sense.
Tonight I will be having dinner with two aunts who supported me and my mom during the two years that my father disowned me.
They did alot for us - put down the down payment for a Kancil for us to drive around (since my father had hinted that the road tax for the Datsun was expiring, we just left it to him), left us stay at one of their apartments for free (but mom insisted on paying them something small at least), renovated the bathroom in anticipation for our move in, helped us move whatever we could into the apartment, bought us groceries subtly whenever they visited and did any other amount of small little things to help us out.
I am indebted to them. Forever they will maintain a special place in my heart and life, for all the things they have done.
Tonight, hopefully, she will be less glacial, cos we will be with company.
News from Ke'chara
I am hanging on by a rope, but my hands can only hold on that long. What helped is the farewell lunch for my colleague… although that didn’t sound exactly right… cos once she goes, I’ll be alone in this dingy company, with no more old colleagues… everyone’s new now.
Well, the lunch was good, she cooked chicken curry, mutton curry and fish curry, and papadum; everything was good. One colleague bought a cheese cake, yum, and another bought a banana chocolate cake, yucks! One made a fruit salad, delish! The management bought yam cake, cheapskates! I made jelly.
It was good eating. Had some laughs. Released a little tension, before going to generate more. After all, the magazine is not done yet!!
Another plus was receiving an email from my ke’chara. Finally. After so long of never having any news for him. And the best part is, he got laid!!! Finally! Woo-hoo!!!
Actually his first email was very short, only saying that the latest developments was that he got laid with a black guy, but that’s for another day to tell. And I wrote back and gave him a nice scolding and ordered him to dish!
And he wrote back. I was delighted to learn that in spite of him not feeling that there was a potential relationship, they were still friends. I’m extremely happy that he finally got laid and further more, that it was a great experience! In his words, not bad for a first time.
Ke’chara has a special place in my heart. Although I cannot say that I knew that would have happened from the first moment I met him. But I knew he was different the first time I laid eyes on him. Only later, I realised, that he was gay. Since then, my gaydar was triggered, and have been accurate 90% of the time.
We related because we found we loved all things fantasy. In fact, we found out when he bumped into me writing my fantasy story in the computer lab, during the holidays. Those days, we still go to the computer lab, even during the semester breaks. To surf the Net. For me, it was some sort of escape from my mom and also to write my stories. And to chat on IRC! Sigh... those were the days. And when he saw me writing, he insisted on reading what I had written. When he finished, his eyes had a gleam and I never knew such joy of finding a kindred spirit in the least unlikely place of all – in my writings.
It was this that tipped me off about his sexuality. You see, I was writing a lesbian story. Where I came up with this story is for another day to tell.
But he was fascinated with the world I had written and after talking and sharing, and he did mention that he was interested in the topic of homosexuality, I suspected that he was gay. But since we didn’t know each other well then, he didn’t confess and I didn’t push for confirmation. And we went on talking about expanding on other angles for the story and got to agree to co-write it.
As the first semester ended, I was even more sure of his sexuality. But he still didn’t mention anything. I think it was in the second or third semester that he pulled me aside with a very earnest look, that he told me he wanted to tell me something, that he told me that he was gay.
I think he was afraid of admitting, and afraid of the reception of his fellow college mates, because he wanted to come out of the closet, and by that time, we were almost inseparable in college because we found so much in common and we genuinely loved each other’s company, to the point where other classmates were asking if we were lovers, but we always said no, just good friends. And we were never afraid of the other party misunderstanding each other, like ‘I thought you and I were an item’ kind of thing.
My only expression was to throw my arms around him and hug him tightly for being so brave and for seeing me as a close enough friend to admit his sexuality to. For I’d come to appreciate his humour, his wit, his intelligence, his compassion, his warmth and his dreams. He wasn’t pretentious, or arrogant. And he was special in that, he knew and understood certain things that most people wouldn’t.
We had a few differences as we reached the end of our uni years, while being involved with some projects. But I still loved him. No matter that he hurt me and he disappointed me in a few areas, I never stopped loving him. I had to take a few steps back and stay away from him for a while. But I still loved him, and forgave him. There was once we didn’t speak for almost… a year or less, having told myself that I will not speak to him. I was so angry with him. And yet when he started to communicate with me again, I couldn’t ignore my heart’s loud answering call.
There were times when I would just wake up and have this overwhelming love spilling from my heart for him, that I got frightened. ‘Jenn, what is this? How can this be? Why does it hurt when all I can feel is this immeasurable love for him? God, how do I bear it?’
I still cannot answer this. I imagine I will experience this brimming love till the day I die and still have no answer to this puzzle.
I remember everything; the good times and the bad times.
I remember crying in his arms when I had a sudden panic attack in Perth. I was struck mute, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. When my roommate and best friend A. frantically called him to see me, I still couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong with me, but he stayed with me for a long while, trying to console me and to get me to quiet down.
I remember clubbing in KL - Viva, Bali; in Perth - Post Office, Soul City, Metropolitan. We would compliment on each other’s outfit and check out all the good-looking lads on the dance floor.
I remember late nights at Fast Eddy’s – him smoking, me drinking Irish coffee, with the cold sharp winds slapping at my face, just so because he could smoke outside. The Irish coffee, latte, Flat White, hot chocolate and Big Boy.
I remember going out to catch movies and plays. Heading out to North Bridge on late night Thursday shopping and then afterwards, swinging by a few bars.
I remember the problems we faced when we tried to get his play out. The publicity, poster, postcards, programme and logistics of the whole thing. The wrong assumption that we would drop everything including uni assignments to work on his play. The negligent way he handled some of his friends who worked their ass off for him.
I remember many many other things. I even had some dreams
about him before. But sometimes, we choose to forget and focus on the good ones.
And I still cannot ignore the fact, that I still love him, despite everything else.
This is my ke’chara.
I am not ok
"R u ok?" my senior writer smsed me.
No, I am not. For as long as I am living here, I will not be okay.
The day after my cousin went back to Spore, she went back to being glacial, and then to silence. I expected it, yet not. I just didn’t observe the exact moment that she changed. But I was not surprised that she had.
When she didn’t answer my morning greeting twice, I knew the silent ritual was on full blast. Tonight I tried to talk to her again.
"I don’t want your crap. If you think you want to have fun, you move out. You don’t stay out till so late and then drive all the way back at that unearthly hour. You make me worried and I don’t want to stay up so late waiting for you."
"I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do it again."
"You move out. I don’t want you around. You should know by now, and you are not stupid like your father, that when I said things I mean it."
"Please don’t. I promise that I won’t stay out so late again. I’m sorry I worried you. It won’t happen again."
"I hate lies. You don’t tell me lies anymore."
"I’m not lying. I promise I won’t do it again. I’m sorry."
"Or, another way to do it is, you don’t come back that night. If you want to stay up so late, you sleep over. You don’t come back for that night."
"I promise, I won’t do it again. But if I am staying out that late, I will call you and inform you that I’ll sleep over."
"I don’t want you to call me. And I don’t want lies. If you think you want to stay so late, you move out."
"Please forgive me, I’m sorry…"
"I don’t want to hear your sorry sorry. I’m fed up of it. I’m trying to think of a solution here instead of hearing you said sorry all the time. At least you sleep over."
"I promise I won’t do it again. If I do stay that late, I will then inform you and stay over."
"Don’t make me scream! I don’t want to see you or hear your voice! I’m telling you that you can either move out or stay over for that night!"
* * *
A radio station’s topic in the evening yesterday was this…
"I love my brother/sister, but……."
… and listeners were invited to call in to fill in the blanks.
I wanted to, but couldn’t get through the line. So I’ll just say it here.
I love my brother, but I wish he were normal. Because if he were normal, chances are that my mother wouldn’t be as ballistic on me as the present, and that even if there were moments of these incidents happening, my brother would help to ease the situation between me and her, even though he is the younger one.
It’s not my brother’s fault, I know, but there were so many, many times, when my mother would say things like, "If your brother were normal, he would ten times better than you!", and I would so angry, and wish, so wish, that he WERE normal, that he could be with me in mind and spirit, to support me whenever these things happen, or who knows, that even these things won’t even happen!
I mean, is it that difficult to tell me in gentler words, that I should call her and inform her, or that why not I just sleep overnight, instead of driving back late? I mean, I know you hate my father, but is it that difficult to, just say, "Sleep over. Don’t drive back. Next time do that"? Is that so hard to do? Do you have to go all ballistic and say I should move out and start a cold war?? For what purpose?
I know you are a mother and you were worried, but I believe, or I’d like to believe that, if I were in your position, my daughter would feel better if I did it a gentler way? And for Christ’s sake, I am over 28 years old!!!
For as long as I live, I will never understand why you are the way you are and why you do these things to me… never…
I am having a hard enough time at work. I don’t need anything from the homefront to complicate things. And I certainly need my mother to be more understand in all manners. Do you not understand that every time you do this, you devastate me?
The life in-between
Sometimes I feel like I am living in perpetual in-between, with no sight of the horizon or the bend in the road.
Some people are feeling the blues at this time because they have no one to share the Christmas hols with, and no one to share the incoming new year with…
Got news for all you buds… I never had any, ever.
Some people ask me what’s my new year resolution. But I never really bothered having any… don’t know why really… maybe it’s because it’s useless to have them at the beginning of the year, when it could happen at any time? Sorta like Valentine’s Day. Why only buy two dozen roses on 14 Feb, when you should be doing it whenever, impulsively, compulsively and surprisingly? And why pay double the price of a dinner when you could sweep your loved one’s feet off anytime at more reasonable prices, and at more relaxing timings, I mean, do you want to line up to queue to have dinner or have to be shooed out of the diner when you’re just done, to make way for other couples? And do you really to pay RM10 for a stalk of rose?
I’m not bitter. I’m not saying that because of sour grapes. It just doesn’t make sense. And totally unnecessary. I mean, don’t tell me on other days you don’t think about improving yourself, you don’t think of trying to be a better person, you don’t think about your loved one and just do something for them without needing a date to remind to do so?
… what was I talking about again? Oh, resolutions, no, wait, life in-between, yeah… ok.
I guess I do feel the blues like everyone else in between. But being a Scorpio, it’s dangerous to dwell too much on negative things. I get destructive. And then I know I’ll just trigger an unhappy ritual war with my mom. Have to control. Have to be cool, be calm, be… what is this?? A Desiree singalong?!! What the fuck!?
Ok… calm, Jenn… breathe deep…
I’ve not been sleeping well for the past month. Probably a combination of worry of things happening at work and my uncertainties of whether or not to switch jobs, and also been unhappy with myself… always thought that there is always room to have a more happening life, always room for more exercising, always room for giving more time to my family and friends, always for improving some skill, always something missing…
And no… I don’t think that I’d find fulfillment in religion… how to say this…
There have been a few people who say that I can find fulfillment in God, that God is everything, that as long as you have God, you don’t need anything.
I don’t know… I haven’t come to that stage yet…
I only know that I am very unhappy now; very confused, very lost, very aimless, very scared of the future, and still very unhappy…
I think my life, since I was born, has been a perpetual state of in-between.
Aid for Tsunami victims
Anyone have anything to contribute for the tsunami victims? Money is not a must, after all, how many of us have money, I don't.
Provisional items - Food, clothings
Clothes, blankets, food and milk powder for the children... anything. There are many people doing this collection thingie.
Below are the things you could look into contributing:-
2. Food (Pre-cooked or ready-to-eat meal packs)
3. Water Purification Tablets
4. Wheat Flour, rice, other staples
5. Drugs: Paracetamol, anti-biotics, wound dressing, suturematerial,disposable syringes, vitamins, and vaccinations for diarrhea,cholera and malaria.
6. Intravenous infusions (saline and dextrose)
7. Portable generators
8. Clothes and blankets
9. Toys (to comfort the children)
1. For those closest and/or in PJ, you can go to McDonald's, Centrepoint, Bandar Utama, on Thursday (30/12), from 9am-9.30pm, to pass your items to a lady called Pauline (012-238 6103). I'll be sending stuff there myself.
2. Buddhist Maha Vihara is collecting provisional items, clothes and food,etc,to be sent to Sri Lanka. The container is moving out this Friday. Those who wish to contribute, contact is below.
Buddhist Maha Vihara (Brickfields Maha Vihara)
123, Jalan Berhala, Brickfields
50470 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Tel: (603) 22741141 /886, Fax: (603) 22732570
Web site: www.ksridhammananda.com
3. The Sathya Sai Baba Council of Malaysia is also collecting things likebaby food, blankets, biscuits, pampers, etc for Kota Kuala Muda, Kedah,which will be sent by Friday (31/12).
The contact parties are:
Elankumaran - 012 222 6753
Jeevan Rajoo - 012 277 9999
Chandra Mohan - 012 372 3651
4. Sri Lanka Airlines, contact Mr Prasana of the KL office
3rd Floor, MUI Plaza
Jalan P. Ramlee
50250 Kuala Lumpur
Tel : 03-20722833
Fax : 03-20788233
If you want to donate money, however small, via some organisations, you can do so to the Malaysian Red Crescent Society (MRCS) and Mercy Malaysia, send to the Star.
15 Jalan 16/11,
46350 Petaling Jaya, Malaysia
or to the Penang office
202 Jalan Sultan Azlan Shah,
11900 Bayan Lepas, Penang.
a. If you donate to the M'sian Red Cresent, write your cheque to Malaysian Red Crescent Society and mark "Tidal Waves Victims" at the back of the cheque.
b. If you want to donate to Mercy Malaysia, write your cheque to MercyHumanitarian Fund, and mark "South-East Asia Earthquake Appeal" at the back of the cheque.
For more international awareness of the aids coming all over the world, go here
27th Dec – Monday
Spent the whole day with my nephew. Took everyone to shopping malls cos my cousin’s wife wanted to buy cheap clothes. In between we dumped the little tyke at the hotel to rest, and it was those few moments that we checked out the updates on the tsunami disaster all over the afflicted areas.
Thank God we didn’t go to Lumut, as originally planned. Nor did my cousin go up to Penang for Christmas, having opted to visit us in KL instead. And mum’s second choice of holiday was a cruise! Phew!
It’s horrifying to watch it on screen, whatmore those who were there.
I called a few friends who were Penangites, but luckily they were in KL this time around, for one reason or another. Blessings in disguise, in my mind. One was in Penang though he said he was fine.
Geological experts tell us to expect a few more to come, but thankfully of somewhat lesser scale. Yet, still. Goodness knows when Penang can clean up the mess. Or the other countries.
At the end of the day, I reluctantly parted with my nephew. They are planning a first-year birthday thingie for him next month. Dunno if I can make it then. Sigh.
Christmas fun unplugged
25th Dec – Saturday onto 26th Dec - Sunday
Woke up and got recruited to doing household chores. I don’t like holidays sometimes because this is when mom makes us clean up the house. I made lunch, then after a short rest, I got ready to make sushi for a potluck dinner at my senior writer’s place.
Took me 2 hours to finish, then I did a quick change and flew off.
And since it was small, it was cosy, and we had a blast. Laughing and chatting. There were some unexpected guests of two others, but they turned out to be totally hilarious and good sports.
We ended up playing Truth or Dare and it soon become some sexual confession session. I had to admit a few things which I will not mention here cos it’s too embarrassing. And we had a few bonding moments, for some of us had an opportunity to unburden their chests of some things, which include an unhappily married woman of 35 with 2 kids (I hate her already cos she’s slim and fit), a 23 yr old who was molested when she had a motorbike accident, and a 32 yr old who had recently broken up with her boyfriend of 5 years.
Ended up going home at 4am. Despite the four bottles of wine, I was sober as a churchmouse, and cheerful as a bell.
Nearly reached the toll that would allow me to hit home, a call came from the house. But I couldn’t answer it cos I didn’t put on the handsfree. So I left it. When I was in the parking lot, she called again. I answered.
“I’m in the parking lot.”
She hung up without a word.
I unlocked the door and saw her sitting on the sofa reading. She didn’t say a word, but I knew she was pissed because her breathing was fast and shallow.
No amount of telling her that I was alright, that there was good food and good company, that I didn’t drink and drive, well, technically I didn’t cos I drank lots of water and soya after the fourth bottle, and that I didn’t do this kind of thing often!
“A lot to talk, huh? You were there from 8, 9, 10, your mouth not tired, is it?”
, shouted my head. But I couldn’t say it outloud. Chinese have a saying, ‘Talk more, get more trouble.’ So I kept quiet.
“I’m not old fashion.”
“But you’re a girl, and girls don’t stay out that late. 4am? Might as well have a sleepover.”
As if you would agree to me sleeping over at a guy’s house?!! Hello!!
“You are not doing this again, as long as you stay under my roof.”
Fine. Whatever. It’s your roof, you pay for the apartment, fine.
So no more 4am fun sessions with my friends.
I’m not too pissed and sad now. I’m writing this a day after it’s happened. Many a times I’ve written in the heat of anger and passion. I think sometimes it’s good that I wait out before writing about it. But not too often though. I need to vent somehow. Anyhow, I did vent it out to my senior writer in an email.
Dinner came and she had to put aside her unhappiness with me cos my cousin brother and wife came up from Spore with MY FIRST NEPHEW for a short holiday and as an unspoken favour for me cos I couldn’t go down to see them all for Christmas. Which was great, cos he is soooo cute!
I am his ‘bieu gu
’. Chinese have such proper titles for the different family relations; my mom’s side never followed, but my dad’s did. But apparently my cousin’s wife’s family have observed this Chinese custom, and she was figuring out what my nephew should be calling me, as proper.
Ah… if I am allowed to use any word to describe my life and yet be a contradiction in itself, that word would be ‘Boring’.
Christmas has always been a sedate affair in my family; dinner, midnight mass, open presents. Case close.
This year it was totally… dead… it didn’t feel Christmasy at all!! Nevertheless, there must be some ‘excitement’ stirred by her.
24th Dec – Friday
Chinese mass was at 8pm. English mass was at 11pm.
We were standing outside the church, waiting for the Chinese mass to finish, at 9pm.
Mom had gone down first to see if she could ‘book’ seats.
When I had parked the car and walked towards the church, she was standing outside, talking to a lady, who was also waiting for the English mass, who eyeballed me when I approached them.
After saying ‘hi’ and ‘merry christmas’, I stood one side with my brother, and were sorta singing along to the Chinese hymns in English, when I heard little snippets of the conversation.
“… oh, she’s 28 this year…”
“…oh, he’s 32 this year…”
“… can be considered quite good already…”
“… ah, must be a good girl… so fair and so…”
“…so does she….”
“… oh, she is still single… why? … she says it’s because no one wants her…”
Laughter ensued, as I was shocked that my mother, MY MOTHER, actually told a perfect stranger, STRANGER, that I was single and that no one wanted me!!!
“… must introduce my son to her then…that would be good, eh?…”
Speak for yourself, lady!!
When the people finally milled out of the church and we went and sat down, my mom whispers in my ear.
“That lady wants to introduce her son to you.”
“I heard!! Did you have to tell her that nobody wanted me?”
“Seems he’s still single, even at 32… and he’s an engineer…”
“And he doesn’t drink and smoke…”
“So you wanna….?”
No, mom, I don’t wanna. In fact, it would be good if you didn’t tell strangers that nobody wants me, hence my single status!!!
After the mass, as we walked out, she suddenly stopped and said, “Supposed to introduce the two of you so that you can make friends…”
“Walk, mom, walk!”
Merry Christmas to All
Thank you very much to those who sent me wonderful words of encouragement and support. I really appreciate them.
I don’t know if Christmas will thaw some of the frostiness from her demeanour, but hope springs eternal.
One thing that is keeping me cheerful is the fact that my favourite cousin brother is coming up from Spore with his wife and son to visit us in KL. My first nephew – I’m looking forward to seeing that little tyke.
Last I saw him was early this year in March, and he was two months old. My cousin sis-in-law says he’s very naughty now.
They are gonna be here on the 26th, so I’m looking forward to spending time with them.
I will be on leave tomorrow and on Monday. But I think I’ll still be around online at some time. Can’t stay away from the computer too long! I think I must figure out a way to configure my new phone to access the web! After all, it has GPRS so I should be able to go online right? Don’t know phones much….
Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
Try not to get TOO drunk!! Then again, what would be the point of holidays then?? I for one will definitely be drinking on Christmas day evening at dinner…………
Yeah, I hear some ‘aye’ from the alcohol-happy bloggers out there. me too… *smile*
Time to say 'No'
For as long as I live, I will never hear the end of ‘Just give me back what you owe me and I will not need anything from you’
, from Mum, until you pay her back all the money you owe her.
The ‘you’ she keeps saying, is always said to me. The ‘you’ is supposed to be you. But, in saying it to me, it has come to signify both you and me, simply because I am your daughter. Because she refuses to speak to you, so she has ordained me as her mouthpiece, and she expects me to make things happen, from your end. Little does she know, that I know you won’t be able to return her money, in this lifetime. At all.
Perhaps she knows, but she’s in denial, thinking that your precious daughter can make you pay. Notice I say ‘your’ precious daughter, because she always sees me as a mirror reflection of you, a representation of all that you are. Brother is HER son, but I am YOUR daughter.
Yes, perhaps it’s time I admit that I am bitter by your marriage with her, that I am affected by the divorce. For many years, she has asked me the most irritating of all questions, ‘Are you sure you are alright with the divorce?’. And I always answered ‘Yes’.
It’s time to say, ‘No.’
I hate the fact that you were a stupid, narrow-minded man, who didn’t listen to the sensible things that she said to you.
I hate the fact that you thought you could get even by going to Thailand to sleep around, and instead, you came back with syphilis, and possibly infected my brother to be born with brain damage, jaundice and autism.
I hate the fact that you married her in the first place, even though you knew, before the vows were made, of her foul mannerisms and tendency to wage irrational cold, silent wars when irritated.
I hate the growing years that I had to suffer that tendency, even when it was for trivial and nonsensical reasons, like forgetting to switch off the bathroom lights or doing my homework; for being rough when playing with my brother when I was a kid; for saying silly things, as children would.
And I hate that I still suffer from this tendency, that became worst and more intensive, after the divorce, because I was the only logical punchbag, as she couldn’t possibly do it to my brother, and she refuses to speak to you.
I hate that I still suffer it, even though I am a grown, working woman of 28 years old.
I hate that because you took her money when you were married and didn’t return to her as promised, she has taken to address ‘you’ to me, as if I were you, as if I was the one who cheated on her, as if I was the one who wronged her, as if I were your mouthpiece.
I hate that you disowned me for two years, and all because I wanted to go to Australia to study direct. In those two years of studying twinning, I suffered through the fear of financial lacking, with feelings of insecurity about whether I would be able to study; and during those two years, the cold rituals were ever more intensive and agonising, till I attempted suicide and wanted to be done with the whole mess.
I hate you, for you know what I go through everyday, and yet, still, you intentionally subject me to the torment, by not returning what you owe her, and for still not admitting your fault for those two years of disowning me.
I have no intense daughterly-love for you anymore, just as I have no more intense feelings for her. It’s not my fault. You both killed it.
But I will still be filial, for the two of you did bring me into this world, cruel as it may be, being that I have to share it with you two. But truth be told, I hate you two for giving birth to me.
Maybe someday I will forgive you. And her. But for now, I will always remember the wrong that you did me, and I will not feel guilty over swiping your credit card, over you paying for the monthly car instalments every month and every year, over making you buy our supply of vitamin supplements, over you buying brother’s expensive epilepsy medicine, over making you put down that down payment for the apartment, and taking over the subsequent loan repayment when I get over to Australia since I’m paying it now, and over making you buy me that phone for my birthday; because you owe me and more.
I will not cry
I will not cry. I will not shed a tear. I refuse to waste a tear on a woman like that.
Don't cry out loud,
Just keep it inside
And learn how to hide your feelings
I should be used to it, as my best friend A. says. But it never fails to hurt, it never fails to sting, each time the words come out from her mouth.
How many times do I have to try to tell you
That I'm sorry for the things I've done
But when I start to try to tell you
That's when you have to tell me
Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun
I tell myself too many times
Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut
That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words
That keep on falling from your mouth
"Because you’re my daughter I am not kicking you out of my life. Other people I don’t like, I will not have them in my life. This is the only reason you’re still living under this roof."
That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words
That keep on falling from your mouth
Oh, I knew we were due for a ritual. It’s been peaceful for awhile now. So I kind of expected something to erupt.
Perhaps I’ve been too cold, too aloof, too obviously indifferent. Perhaps that’s why she would eventually find some bone to pick with me.
I try to remember, and feel, those times you said that no matter what, you still loved me. Then I believed you. Then I wanted to believe you, the conviction. But I know that no matter how hard I try, I cannot feel the conviction anymore. For I see the look in your eyes and I shudder at the hatred and anger. Am I so like my father? Do you see him in me?
But it wouldn't have made any difference,
If you loved me
How could you love me
When it wouldn't have made any difference,
If you loved me
You just did not love me
I try to remember that day, at the retreat, I made a conscious effort to put the darkness of such a failed affair aside, to try to move forward and to forgive and forget.
But I cannot. I can never forget what you did to me, all those years, what you still continue to do to me. I cannot forgive, but I will not be vengeful or bitter. That I can do. So the only way to handle it everytime it happens, is to be indifferent and distant. To remain sane, it is the only option I can take. I am sorry, but I cannot show much emotion around you, for you purposely misinterpret my every word and behaviour.
To speak is a sin
You look first, then stare
But you never truly see me as I am, but only a mirror reflection of the man you divorced, hated and still hate.
What do you want from me
I stand before you no attempt to leave
I'm too tired to disagree
In the end, I can only resign myself to fate.
To others the pain was obvious
The colours of shame a bruise - unjust
Abuse of trust can't be wiped
I can't remember why I chose to say goodbye
I'm terrified of what I might have severed
I tried to forget the drowning truth
Lashing at my sea of youth
Life seemed a fair sacrifice for peace
I can't remember why I chose to say goodbye
I'm terrified of what I might have severed
I ended up too high
But never learned to fly
So coming down I'm very thankful…
I was doing the usual thing of strolling through the streets of blogs in the early morning at the office. And stumbled upon his blog
and started to think about the ‘what-if’s. An all too familiar subject that plagues me whenever I allow myself to wool-gather, or when I’m bemoaning the fact that I did not stay put in Perth for my Honours.
Constantly, I ask myself, what would I have done, if I had stayed put in Perth and continued on with one year of Honours study; who would I have met and where would I end up eventually?
Though I always tell people that I regret coming back for a short holiday only to end up remaining home to work, I know that I cannot think that way and that things haven’t turned out so bad.
For one thing, for my field, paper qualification is over-rated; experience is what matters. In the mass communication industry, it’s all about the work experience and the contacts that you make and the network you have set up. It’s a small world, given that Malaysia is still developing, and the media/mass comm industry is still in its infancy. And we are not really that liberal and freedom of speech is not exactly practised here.
But most of all, I stayed back because the family needed an extra income bringer. Though my father said he could put me through another year’s worth of study, I couldn’t make myself buy that ticket and head out on a jetplane. And so, I stayed.
It’s been four years now… Amazing, if one wanted to look upon it in a lighter sight. Then again, what’s the point of bemoaning when it’s not moving anything along.
Depression has come and gone; and will continue to do so. That cannot be helped. I am a Scorpio, after all.
But what can be helped, is the knowledge and truth of having met many, many wonderful people, some of whom I’m proud to call friend, and grateful to count as my chosen ‘family’.
Had I gone back, I would never have met my teddy bear, Shekhar, the sweetest man alive and who constantly motivates me and who reminds me of all things good.
Had I gone back, I would never have met my Senior Writer
, who is the most gentle and sensitive soul, that I believe is twin to that of the Dalai Lama; intelligent and learned far beyond his years. My constant inspiration to be better than myself, than what I can be.
Had I gone back, I would never have met my students, my monkeys… innocent and full of hope and ambition, not unlike what we were when we were that age. They made me feel young again, yet old at the same time. But most of all, they saw me as a friend, and still keep in touch with me after I left the institute.
Had I gone back, I would never have met the Wanderer, lost yet found in his self. A fount of information and knowledge best not experienced by some others, but who is selfless in giving himself to help and comfort.
Had I gone back, I would never have met Jung
. Words cannot aptly express what I feel for him. Words are totally inadequate. But once, he said that I was his candle in the dark. So I can only borrow his words, and say, that He is My candle in the dark.
There are many more who I’ve come to appreciate and value. I guess I’m more of a ‘people’ kind of person in the sense that, when I leave this country, I will not miss the place, so much as the people I leave behind.
But I would never trade my four years here for anything else in the world. To me, the ‘journey’ I’ve made here is more important, the ‘relationships’ made here all the more sweeter.
I start my day pissed off
Eve Dallas once said, "I start my day pissed off."
Well, so do I.
* * *
I know that I am not a good daughter. I know that there are many things about me that can be improved, adjusted and changed. I know you think that I am irresponsible, lazy, fat, insensitive towards my brother, and stubborn.
I know you have issues from your past, things to do with your mother, your father, your brothers and sisters, your dreams and ambitions flown away on the wings of financial lacking and familial peity, anger with your ex-husband and the way the marriage turned out, dissatisfaction with your work and colleagues, and general paranoia about everything.
But please, for Christmas, there are only TWO
things that I want from you.
1. Don't talk to/jump on/reprimand
me in the mornings when I am grumpy, cranky and unresponsive to the whole world. 'Cos you'll only make yourself irritable and angry.
2. Please don't immediately mouth the phrase, 'Don't become like your father, or pick up his habits.'
whenever you are dissatisfied with me.
your screwed-up (becos of you and dad) daughter
They found him!
They found the old man!! See this post
. Finally after two weeks!! Thank God!!
Details are scant at this moment. But all I heard was that, when the police found him, he was put in the lock-up, and the inmates in then took his spectacles away!! Poor thing! His lens were quite thick!
One of my many blessings
I had a thoroughly wonderful time last night at my senior writer’s house. He had called for a House-warming-cum-Christmas get together with his friends and (ex) colleagues at his new apartment. He had just moved in a couple of weeks ago.
I had not seen him for 6 months, since the Sarah Brightman concert
, and so was looking forward to seeing him again.
Usually I would be hesitant to join any gatherings becos I am wary of the kind of people who would be there. Basically, anti-social me is afraid of feeling out of place and odd with other people and ending up sitting by herself.
But since this was my senior writer, who is the most wonderful and sweetest person I’ve ever felt grateful in my short and blighted life to know, I was sure that the people who were gonna be there, would be just as lovely as he was. If you met him, you would know what I mean.
And that was so the case.
There were people from the different phases of his life; school, high school, university, and work. And they were all fun, warm, funny, and lovely people. We talked about how we all met him. I met him at an interview that neither of us got, and again when I joined his company. Where he taught me to lie and cheat about where I went (for interviews), to bluff the way I write my articles, and he also encouraged me to join the education line.
Towards 11-ish, some people left, and there were only five of us remaining; his high buddy, uni buddy, ex-colleague, me and him. Totally cosy and comfortable with each other. I can only say that they were totally delightful creatures. Laughed and teased him and his two buddies as we poured over his photographs. I was surprisingly sober (had some wine and vodka) and was all the more glad to be there to enjoy the moment. We all said we should do this more often, with less people, like then, after all it was his own place now. If I had my own place I would certainly have more gatherings with my friends too. So waiting for that day to come…
I left around 2.30am. Reluctantly. Senior Writer said I could stay the night. But I still had my translation to finish for submission on Monday, so I declined. Besides, he had no extra bed or mattress! His buddies laughingly reminded me of this lacking. I gave him a gimlet stare at his offer.
Since I was unfamiliar with the location, his buddies offered to lead me out to where I could turn off to go home. Like a celebrity convoy, one led me, while another took the rear to ensure that I didn’t stray. So sweet! Like my Senior Writer. sigh…
Days like these I count my many blessings, in the shape of kindred spirits and charming acquaintances that could become potential good friends.
I had a horrible, horrible, HORRIBLE dream. And when I woke up with a cold, jarringly sharp jerk, it didn’t get any better. The intensity still had me in its clawing grip and I was compelled to throw away the blanket and dash for the phone.
But then I stopped myself. How do I contact someone, when he was oceans away, when I didn’t know his number, when I technically didn’t know him, and the only way to ‘contact’ him was to email him?!!
Oh, the anxiety of having to wait till the computer booted up, and the hurriedness of rushing brushing my teeth while waiting, and the pacing as the modem dialled up the Net. All while still in my night dress.
In the end I could only email a message to enquiry but I knew that I would only ‘hear’ from him a couple of days later, especially since it was the weekend.
I was with some people. It was a convoluted mix of people from the different circles that makes me ‘me’. A few colleagues from the office, some ex-colleagues, some ex-students, some college friend, some outward bound organisers and participants, and mostly strangers.
It was a funeral. For him
. And as I tried to absorb the shock and accept the reality, this lady came up to me and asked if I knew him. Paranoia set in, I don’t know why.
Who is this? What does she know? Why is she asking if I knew him? Should I acknowledge that I knew him at all?
I found myself sitting down in one of the chairs. How she guided me to sit, I don’t know.
Damn she’s good. That was subtle. Must be careful what I say.
:You knew him?:
Yes, I do.
:It has been a shock to all of us here too.:
:No one really knows. That’s the problem.:
How can this be?
Inside, I was keening...
:I know. He was so young. I heard that his heart just gave out?:
Just gave out?
:Yeah. So sad. How did you know him?:
There was something in my memory banks but it was elusive. I decided to chance it and tell her.
I knew him through his blog.
She nodded, as if she knew, as if she was like me.
:Yeah. I heard that he wasn’t really doing anything.:
I tried to recall if I knew what he did during the day. But I couldn’t remember.
It must be what she said. But, oh,... why Wayne?
I woke with a gasp. Already scrambling in my mind, split second later, stopped, cos I didn’t know where to scramble to.
What did one do, when one felt this compulsion to find out if another person was alright? What did one do, when there was no way to call, to phone this person, when there was no number? What did one do, when only a voice could calm this fear inside, but there was no way to do it? What did one do, to get rid of this oh-so-real emotion inside; not knowing if the dream was real, or reality decided to take a page out of your dreams? How does one differentiate between the two?
It was so real. I thought I had made it come true, or it had seeped into my dreams to torment me, because it was had really already happened, a moment ago.
Imagine my relief when it was just a morbid dream… Imagine my relief to see some movement in his blog… That it was just a cough he was having…
How does one protect oneself from one’s own dreamings?
While trying to shake off the fear inside, I imagine the sorrow I would feel if one day, suddenly, he
went silent… and he
… and she
, and so many others… how do I ever quell the loss?
I think I’ve become too attached to the bloggers’ world… I think I've been wondering too much everyday what happened to him
... Made too many friends without realising that I’ve been setting a trap for myself here… if one of them was gone… I wouldn’t know how to patch the hole…
I’m too morbid, I know… but then I’ve always been so... can't help it...
As promised long ago, introducing FitnessMan Malaysia!
Not very clear. But you can surely see that they are not very impressively BUILD. But they sure are fit, I have to admit.
So bloody tired. I wish I had someone to come home to at the end of a tiring and crappy day, to lay my head on his shoulders and know that I can stay there awhile, and let the day’s toils melt away, instead of having to tolerate some selfish people’s attitude.
Me sitting on the sofa resting. Mum came out of the bedroom.
Mum: What? Waiting for me to serve you all dinner is it?
Me: Bro is still bathing. You were washing your hair. I’ll get the plates and food out in a bit.
She walks away after giving me a look.
Give me a break, will you?? Can’t you see that I’m bloody tired? I’m just sitting down!
It’s these kinds of days that I am all the more acutely aware of my state of singlehood. Wish I could get out of this place and be on my own.
This gave me a good night’s sleep and gave me a happy disposition for the day. And it is so sweet that I have to document it, and the only way to document it, is through my blog.
At a meet that was 2 years overdue recently, I told Jung that I will be getting a new phone. And he asked me if I typed my smses with ‘predictive text’ or the long way. I said I typed the long way. He called me a dinosaur. But I really didn’t know how to use it and found it totally confusing and time-consuming and gave up after one try a long time ago.
Last night, I was feeling a little… white, not blue, just white. I didn’t have any translation jobs and was just wondering if I should fill my night spare time with more jobs. Yeah, I know, I’m a sucker for pain.
So then I decided to pick up my phone and give the ‘predictive text’ a try again. And I thought I could send Jung an sms to say, “I know how to use it now. haha.” and throw the word ‘dinosaur’ back in his face.
But I couldn’t get pass even the word ‘know’!! I couldn’t type ‘know’. It came out with a lot of gibberish and the only coherent word I could get was ‘alone’. Yeah, go figure.
So ok. I had…
Ok. I tried for the word ‘again’. And it could only come out with ‘ma’.
I alone ma
Ok. By then I was pretty frustrated and was willing to settle for any word that I could ‘predict’ out. And finally, this is the message that I could spit out.
I alone ma tonight so need you to help me with men before time spruns out
Best of all, I couldn’t even key in any punctuation. Sigh. So I sent it to Jung, with a note that said, I give up on predictive text.
Below is the sms replies between us.
You are a dino. Thats what you are. A dino without a mate.
You know I will never do that and thats why you love about me anyways. He he. Enjoy the night.
Dun be too sure abt that. Hmph. Nite.
Love you too. Night. He he he
And I went to bed smiling. Woke up this morning, still a little moody, and went to work. And he smsed me this.
You know what, I saw an angel yesterday. So I ask the angel to look after you and off he went. One moment later, the angel came back and said to me, Siow lang. How can an angel take care of another angel.
I know it’s hard to wake up but it’s a beautiful day so good morning and may your day be as beautiful as you.
My heart melted, just plain melted. And I replied,
"Ok. Maybe I do love you after all."
There's this 70 yr old man, who has Alzheimer's Disease, who has been missing for a week now.
Over the weekend my mom and I went rounding a few places where he was last sighted. But as of today, he is still missing.
It seems while this old man was missing, another old man was found lost and taken to the police station. But the police did nothing and eventually after sitting there for a few hours, the old man wandered off again.
We have long lamented about the sad inefficiency of our police. Corruption abound and horrific indifference is not uncommon. But this takes the cake.
But wait. There’s more.
Last night we went to two petrol stations at our area on the way home. It was Shell and Petronas. Both refused to put up the poster with the old man’s picture and contact person’s details. We were appalled and disgusted. They said that their management don’t allowed people to simply put posters up.
Ok. There was a McDonald’s next to Petronas. We went there.
They wouldn’t allow us to put up one poster! Their excuse was that there were children about and it wasn’t nice.
Fuck ‘it wasn’t nice’!!! This was a missing old man! It could easily have been one of these children’s grandfather! Moronic assholes!! And this is the company that was so generously donated money to the Cleft Lip Children’s Society!! Hypocrites!
You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna write a letter to the management and tell them to stop being hypocritical and to not bother with doing charity, when they are not charitable enough to allow a poster of a missing person up on their notice board!!
I’m boycotting McDonald’s.
* * *
Ok. Wrote letter. Faxed letter.
To Whom It May Concern:
Disappointment over attitude of staffs at BSD branch
On 12 December 2004, Sunday, at approximately 7pm, I went to the McDonald’s where I lived, the BSD area (rather isolated, granted), to ask the staff if I could put up a poster of a missing 70-year-old man who has Alzheimer’s Disease. This man has been missing for nearly a week now. I am one of those who are trying to help locate this man, whose family are frantic.
Imagine my disappointment when the staff said that I could not put up the poster, and was given the lame excuse that there were children about.
Given that McDonald’s is giving aid to Malaysian children with cleft lip and palate, I am disappointed to hear such an excuse. After all, this old man could have been any of these children’s grandfather!
I only managed to ask this one branch of McDonald’s. I am optimistically sure, that not all branches would have given me this kind of excuse and not allowed a missing person’s poster to be put up.
My friends were also disappointed to hear about this. I am just writing in to tell whoever is in charge to think about educating all staffs, no matter where the branch is, on being charitable towards the less fortunate; and that includes a 70-year-old Alzheimer’s man.
Thank you for your kind attention.
(A very disappointed consumer of McDonald’s and who will reconsider being one after this episode)
Let's see how and whether they will respond to this.
A man called home to his wife and said, "Honey I have been asked to go fishing up in Canada with my boss & several of his friends. We'll be gone for a week. This is a good opportunity for me to get that promotion I've been wanting so could you please pack enough clothes for a week and set out my rod and fishing box? We're leaving from the office & I will swing by the house to pick my things up."
"Oh! Please pack my new blue silk pajamas." The wife thinks this sounds a bit fishy but being the good wife she is, did exactly what her husband asked.
The following weekend he came home a little tired but otherwise looking good. The wife welcomed him home and asked if he caught many fish? He said, "Yes! A lot of Salmons, some Bluegill, and a few Swordfish. But why didn't you pack my new blue silk pajamas like I asked you to do?"
The wife replied, "I did. They're in your fishing box.................."
Busy, busy, busy
Been really busy. Still had to sit and crack my head to recall what I've been doing for the past 4 days.
After work, I rushed to see this lady who runs a yoga centre to talk about her contributing articles on yoga living for the mag. Invited me to join in the Belly dancing class which was exhilarating. I'm almost rushing to sign up for the classes!
Went to this lady who runs a pregnancy yoga centre for pregnant mums and mums and babies. Also to contribute articles and stuff. Evening saw me rushing off to meet my friend to watch 'Ocean's Twelve' which was funny and interesting. Brad Pitt looked good here. I've never liked Brad Pitt before, but lately I've been bewitched!! I think it happened after 'Troy'. *gasp* *horrors*
11am: Drove to Sunway Pyramid to ESPRIT to pick up clothes for photoshoot.
1pm: Rushed back to PJ for an interview for a copywriter's job. Missed a turning and ended up 15 mins late. Sat there for 2 hours. But don't have a good feeling about it. Dun think this will work. Not that I doubt my skills. Just that I think they are not truly looking at a fulltime hiring.
3pm: Was late to meet merchandise exec at NIKE to pick up clothes for photoshoot. Nevertheless met up my cousin briefly who is the HR manager.
4.30pm: Didnt want to go back to the office, besides hand hurt so dropped at the doc's place to check it out. Gave me some herb powder for the swelling and pain.
5pm: Decided to go for yoga, but mistaken the day's classes. Instead, got thrashed at Fitball. I hurt in places I never knew I had anew.
8am: Had Chi gong session at the office. Felt really good and refreshed cos I was still half dead from yesterday's Fitball.
11am: Went back to Nike cos the exec had dropped one of the cardio tops and I wanted that top for the cover.
12.15pm: Reached Marche Movenpick just in time for lunch and the new launch. Pigged out with Rosti (sigh, heaven), oyster and mushroom with cream pasta (oh, sinful!), salad greens, latte (oh, baby, hit me one more time!!), a vanilla fruit sponge cake, and two glasses of carrot juice. All free for media! Woo-hoo!!!
2pm: Late picking up make-up artist for the photoshoot.
2.30pm: Extremely late. Told the make-up artist to jump off my car as I skidded to a stop in front of the studio (no lah, just kidding!).
3pm: Shooting started. But I hated when my editor started making the photographer take extra shots becos she wanted to pump up her image bank. Without extra cost. Without telling him beforehand.
7.30pm: Finally finished. But when photographer asked for compensation for the extra pictures (over 100 shots on angles, poses, gestures, fruits, milk, juices, and many more) my editor said she couldnt pay him extra. I was so disgusted that I refused to support her arguments, but neither did I voice my opinion in support of the photographer.
8pm: Reached home totally beat. Dinner tasted like cardboard.
11pm: 'Sucker for pain' moi waited till I was yawning like a hundred times before I hit the sheets. Sigh...
8am: Breakfast and dumped car at service shop to fix signal lights.
9am: Went driving around the Bandar Utama 11 and 12 areas cos an Alzheimer's patient was missing for the last 5 days. No sign.
10am: Took mum to doc.
11.30am: Picked up car with lights fixed. Yay! No more hunkering down in the seat!
12pm: Home. Started cooking lunch.
2pm: Lunch. Tired. Watched 'The Apprentice'.
3pm: Bath. Plucked eyebrows. Hurt. Hate pain.
5pm: Chilling out and surfing net and answering mails and typing all this shit. ahhahaaa....Should be working on my freelance writing assignment.
Obnoxious, broke and deaf
My signal switch died on me this morning while driving. I had pressed it to indicate a ‘right’ turning, it went ‘tick-taaaaccckhup!’, and the lights went off. For a moment there I panicked cos I thought I had broken something to cause it to make that weird sound. I kept switching it ‘left’ and ‘right’, but no lights, and no ‘tick-tack’ sound.
‘Shit.’ I thought. There goes my money, for something that breaks down and needs money to repair.
It’s always like this! When I think I’ve been able to save a little money, it has to pay for something that cannot be ignored. I never save this way!!! Damn!
And I felt bad all the way as I was driving. Cos the signal light was off. I eyed the cars in the next lane and waited till one was quite far off before I jumped lanes. Still I felt like the obnoxious little twerp that everybody curses, who doesn’t signal change of lane or when turning left or right. I wanted very much to push myself down the seat and hide from the window’s view.
While agonising over this I suddenly thought of something that my friend Jung said when we finally met up for dinner after 2 long years of missed appointments. He said that I should do something different when I’m in Australia.
Me: What do you mean by different?
Jung: Something different. Something that you’ve always wanted to do. Something you’ve always dreamt of doing.
Jung: What would you like to do, if you didn’t have to worry about anything, money, etc?
Me: … I don’t know. Maybe work in a bar. I’ve always had a fascination for bars. Yeah, can anyone tell I love drinking?
But that really wasn’t what I’ve always dreamt of doing. Sure, I’d love to do lots of things. But I didn’t know what I REALLY wanted to do.
But the other day I thought of it.
But this morning, damn it, I couldn’t remember what the hell it was. And it was perfect. That much I remember!!
I forgot my dilemma over the busted signals and started racking my brains for what was that one thing that I would love to do.
And still can’t remember.
I believe I’m malfunctioning.
My memory power is definitely lacking. And my hearing is also going.
This evening at a potential article contributor’s place, I swear I heard ‘dirty dancing’, instead of ‘belly dancing’, and I heard ‘lots of nudity’, instead of ‘lots of yogi tea’. When I docuble-checked with her, she looked at me funny.
Oh, the mortification!
I mean, I always knew that I had faulty hearing, ever since I took up martial arts back in high school, when we had weekly Saturday Lion Dance practise with the gongs, chimbels and drums. We would be banging those chimbels for 2 hours, with the drumming pounding rhythms in time, and the occasional gongs clanging for effect. And after class, my ears would be ringing for an hour and would still have this echo a couple more later. Somehow I knew it would be long term. Sigh……..
Finally got my new phone from daddy-o last night! Pantech
G200. Got really nice tones and the idle screen pic is nature-ish, which I totally love!!!
Never used to like flip-opens. But been liking it recently. Now I totally love it!! muahahhaaa... talk about been influenced by advertisements!!!
My new 'dial-o-rama'...
... it's slim...
And it's pretty!!
A quick one before I dash out for my interview.
Now what WERE you all thinking???
Got an interview with Dr Dahlgren from Switzerland who's the creator of Imedeen and now Estime. I missed the interview yesterday cos I forgot!*gasp* Oh horrors, I was never so embarrassed!! Today's the replacement. Now where is that press kit that they sent me.... damn, I gotta search for it.
Last night went to a Media Open House makan to celebrate Deepavali and Hari Raya together. It was good. Food was in abundance. It was very tasty. This is the time you get to see members of the media lose all inhibitions and make gluttons of themselves. Anyone seen Spirited Away
that very nice Japanese cartoon film?? Recall the scene where Chihiro's parents turned to pigs and were snorggling away.
Oh dear. I gotta run. "I'm late. I'm late. For a very important date. No time to say hello, goodbye. I'm late. I'm late. I'm late!"
What's in your world
Hate translation. Tedious. Agonising. Painstakingly long.
I guess I hate the fact that I have to do it at night. When night should have been my solace. My blanket of comfort. My darkened world of escape.
For a very long time, and since I was very young, back in Ipoh, I’d liked to stay up at night, be it in the hall, or in the bedroom, and looked out the window and watch the shadows, the darkened clouds, the swift bats winging in the night, imagined the wind as the trees swayed, and I would ponder the night away. Till my eyes grew weary and I had no choice but to sleep.
That was the last time I had a bedroom of my own, with a window that looked out into the garden and with a wide skyline to gaze upon. I left many things in Ipoh when I moved to Spore to study.
Friends. Pets. Trees. House. Grandmother. Clean air. Green parks.
I’ve been dreaming of houses lately. Big roomy, spacious, luxurious houses that are unfamiliar to me.
It’s my subconscious screaming my secret desire for a place of my own, I know. Yet I cannot do anything about it now.
It’s my subconscious screaming for privacy and space. Yet I cannot fulfill this desire.
Waiting is so very hard to do.
I woke up this morning to a song that aptly describes my heart recently. And I heard it again on the radio in the car on the way taking my aunt to the hospital. Been hearing it alot lately.
I don’t bother to hide or ignore anymore. It will always be there waiting for me. I just learn how to control the raging tide that threatens to drown me.
Tell me what world you're living in
I’m trying so hard to understand
Searching my soul just so find any line
That connects me to whatever you are hiding
Remember how we used to be
We shared the best baby, the best of everything
Now it seems like we're slowly drifting apart
Tell me when did we stop communicating
Heart to heart
What’s in you world
whatcha trying to hide from me
I can’t fight what I can’t see
I need so know what’s going on
What's in your world
I’m standing here with a broken heart
Trying to stop before l start
Falling all over again
Baby I need to know
Need for you to show
What’s in your world
Girl I’m not ready to walk away from you
Unless you say that it’s over and done, I know
I’II do what I gotta do
It’s time to remind you that love's on the line
So baby say what you gotta say
But if you’re gonna walk away (tell me)
Now I'm sure you understand
That a man must be a man
I've got so many promises to keep
Maybe l'm in too deep
Can't see to other side
And baby all I want to do is satisfy
How can I give you what you need
When you're not telling me
What’s in you world
whatcha trying to hide from me
I can’t fight what I can’t see
I need so know what’s going on
What's in your world
I’m standing here with a broken heart
Trying to stop before l start
Falling all over again
Baby I need to know
Need for you to show
What’s in your world