Do you know where you're going to?
Do you know where you’re going to?No, I don’t.
Do you like the things that life is showing you?Not everything. Some I can do without. Some I wish could have happened earlier… who knows it might have changed my whole perspective on certain things in my life. I might be totally different from who I am today.
Where are you going to, do you know?Seriously? No. But I would hazard a guess that I am only following a course that my mind has tentatively set, a course that my eyes can see only so far ahead. Life is a highway, with many interchanging routes, in my opinion, that is. At some point I might develop brain fever and swerve off my intended route and journey onto another that seem brighter, shinier and more rewarding. Yet that route might not lead me to my original imagined reward…
Do you get what you’re hoping for, when you look behind you there’s no open door?At times the closed door is a blessing in disguise. It prevents me from looking back and becoming too pessimistic and doing harm to myself, because instead of a door, I find an alleyway. Dark and cold and lonesome, they are, most of the times, but it is a pathway. Where I emerge out at the end is another story.
What are you hoping for, do you know?Freedom to do what I want. Freedom with no strings attached, no boundaries, no fears. I hope that all my dreams come true. I hope that I will obtain inner peace and fill the hole inside of me. I hope that I can bring love to everyone I know. I do think that, as cliches go, what the world needs now is love.
I hope that the world will love. No killing, no fighting, no diseases, no anger... Not too much to ask for? But maybe too much to hope for?
I’m ready to crash
My father says that he will give me the monies from the sale of the car, which might not even be sold off in time before I leave... that's my worry.... also I cannot get anything from the apartment yet becos it is not completed yet.
My mom is not sleeping well too... she sleeps earlier than me, around 10pm, but finds herself awake at 2am and can't sleep deep after that... she's been tired and worried over when she's going to start job again and whether or not she can find time for my brother....
Another worry that’s been causing me sleepless nights is that the editor of the magazine I spoke to about contributing articles when I’m in Melb has resigned. I heard the rumour and when she didn't call me, I called her. Couldn’t get her for a week, but she did finally call me back and confirmed that she was leaving, and that she wouldn’t be able to confirm my deal with the mag now, that I would need to reestablish connection with the new editor once installed... she gave me an email of a current writer inside, so that I can contact him later, but she said that she will mention to this writer of our conversation and plans.
Ah well... I believe everything will fall in place. But sometimes I will be struck with moments of doubt, moments of fear of the unknown. Then sometimes I’ll be fearless... So what if I have no money?!! So what if I haven’t gotten a job?!!! People have been in worst situations than me!!
But then my mom will keep asking, 'Have you saved any money?', 'Is your father going to give you money?’ And my aunt over in Melb asked me that a few days ago again!!
I am terrified of those 2 questions because the answer is always in the negative… and she continues to have the notion that I should have money (I know – my fault for not saving properly) and that my father should be giving me money.
How to tell her that (a) I shouldn’t expect money from my parents for my migration, (b) that my father will not have the funds for me?
I’m not doing so well mentally...... I begin to understand why that gurl committed suicide a month before her migration... when the mind is pushed to the extreme, it cannot tolerate the pressure...
But I’m not suicidal… I’m not sleeping well, yes, but I’m okay. I have to be. I refuse to be like that gurl… I wish I could sleep deep… but not the eternal sleep… Yes, it doesn’t help that I’m lonely… that I have no one to call for support, prep talk, strength, courage…
Railings, beams, handles, ropes, even that straw that broke that poor camels back... that's all I need...
Did I know I would feel this way?
I was totally filled with love and wonder early this week because I met up with the counselor who did The Soul Retreat workshop where I found the courage and wisdom to let go of my emotional baggage.
Hard to explain the feeling because I just felt so buoyant about it and there’s no way to tell of it to others. I can only associate it with the feeling of having been gifted with a miracle that you never thought you would be bestowed with.
But now, my life can be summarized in a few key words.
Headache – if work has synonyms, this word is one of them.
Filled with idiots – people in low-ranking positions, who demonstrate behaviour of flippant delegation usually become incompetent management heads. Sad for the world at large, really.
Gagged – though I wish this to be a wholly different formed of ‘gagged’ – I’m allowed my occasional moments of sadistic and decadent pleasure – this is actually a psychological manifestation of frustration and anger. When I am particular stressed over certain problems, I have difficulty swallowing (intended!!) even my saliva and I have this lump in my throat that refuse to go away no matter how much saliva I swallow, sweets I suck, or water I guzzle. It’s psychological I know. But I can’t get rid of it. So I live with it and attempt to fill my mouth constantly with either liquids or confections.
Oh, forgot, I also have this air inside that has difficulty coming out. I feel like I’m heaving air.
Talk about the irony of working in a health magazine! Cacat!
Still kept that reserve well of love and wonder inside though… somewhere… think it took refuge when confronted with the incompetence I had to face. Ah well. Love has been called yellow-livered before.
And I’m so so SO hiding from my freelancers’ calls, messages and emails! I can’t face them!! Accounts hasn’t paid them and I can’t help them!! I know how it feels cos I haven't been paid my own freelancer's bill yet for my translation... *grumble*
Hmm... maybe I should start a freelancers union so that I can fashion myself into a Joan of Arc-like representor for us poor freelance writers.....
Lost: A Cat’s Mind
I walked past a restaurant where I was supposed to meet my colleagues for breakfast and had to backtrack all the way to the end of the row.
My boss came out of the lift and greeted me while I was only registering a walking human body, and only snapped to when she called my name.
I can’t count how much 7 and 7 is, despite using two hands and my colleague’s.
When confronted with 2 routes to getting to my destination this morning, I was totally confused and was irrationally complaining that I had too many choices.
I have no appetite during lunch however I finished a 20cm-in-diameter roti sardine.
Suddenly granted a free Thursday evening since my tuition teacher has returned to Taiwan I didn’t know what to do with it. So I hedged and stalled till my colleagues dragged me whining out of the office.
Had a strange dream that included a wolf, a philosophical lecturer and a goat in a high-class apartment. And something in the layout of my office carpark brought back the memory.
I stood dazed in front of my wardrobe for 15 minutes not knowing what to wear and finally walked out in blue jeans, purple t-shirt and green hangbag (please dun judge me) despite knowing my boss will give me the evil glare for dressing so casually.
I’m totally zonked out. Can someone find my mind for me??
Who I am no matter where I go
I am a Chinese. But even every now and then, I’m shockingly aware of how little I know of my mother tongue, my origins, my fellow countrymen, my similar coloured kin.
Yet I can be jarred to awareness by a simple song that reaches deep within me, that somehow manages to dredge up a reserve well of patrioticness for my kin, my culture, my heritage. And I am reminded how infinite and hopeful a species can be.
I have a permanent Mandarin channel on my car radio, but I so seldom put that on immediately. But today I accidentally pressed that channel, and it’s stayed on, right until I parked my car, and I even lingered, reluctant to get out.
Such a simple thing. A flick of a button. A blind brushing of the hand. And a whole world opens up and reminds you of its existence. Full of endless possibilities. Has any person, from any culture, ever had instances like this, that awakens our complacent sleepy senses to the infinite possibilities, to wonders worth looking forward to despite its tantalizing state of unknown?
I have, though I forget, being a mere homosapien. And each time, I am awed, I am overwhelmed. And I am driven to do something that will arouse this occasional awakening.
For my sojourn in Ozzieland, I shall buy as many CDs as I can, sung by my talented countrymen, that they may serenade me of the hope and tenacity that we are made of, that we carry within our breasts wherever we go, no matter how far. That I never forget who I am.
Life’s little pranks
Great. Now I have spam in my Haloscan comment box. Great.
Happy Mother's Day
I know that I will forever have clashes with my mom. But I acknowledge and am grateful all the things that she has done for me, the things she has sacrificed for me.
How she believed me when I told her of a teacher who treated me unfairly in Sunday School, and how she pulled me out without questions asked.
How she supported me emotionally, physically and financially when my father disowned me. And took out ALL her hard-earned savings to put me through university.
How she always told me to strive to be better than what other people say I'm only capable of.
How she gave her unconditional love, in spite of all the injustice done to her, in spite of losing what was rightfully hers.
Today she received this sms from her ex-colleague, and I've been forwarding it to my friends and aunts. Bcause it was lovely.
"It would take a thousand workers to build a castle, a million soldiers to protect a country, but only 1 woman to build a happy home."I wish all mothers a 'Happy Mother's Day'.
What do single women do?
When I was 10, I was engrossed in Enid Blyton’s Famous Five, Malory Towers and Secret Sevens to bother about what other people thought of me. Too intent on escaping the sorrow and tension that permeated the house to care if my only companions were the characters in the books I treasured. My constant thought that became a mantra to be chanted whenever I was sad, ‘I don’t care. I don’t need anything else.’
When I was 13, I was constantly reminded and threatened by my mother, who had heard too many slightly exaggerated stories from my aunt about girls who forsaken their studies to be enamoured with boys and dropped out of school to work in shopping malls and supermarkets, not to be caught going out with a boy, otherwise suffer the consequences.
Personally, even at that age, I couldn’t understand why someone would forsake their studies for something as fleeting as love or romance. For haven’t I seen in the example of my parents’ failed marriage, that it doesn’t last forever, that it doesn’t end with ‘Til death do us part’? I told myself, I would never be like that, I would never be so foolish, I would not need anything as transient as love. For who could guarantee love? ‘No, I don’t need it. All I need are my books and myself.’
When I was 15, I was preoccupied with struggling through secondary school in a foreign country with no true friend, before I found my true friend, my kindred spirit. The locals didn’t quite like my fierce countenance, my indomitable spirit flashing at those who dared make things difficult for me. Even when they whispered behind and in front of me about my ‘tiger-eyes’, I told myself that it didn’t matter. ‘I don’t care what they say about me.’
When I was 18, I was trying to come to terms that while I have the occasional respite from the trials of life, that I still had to continually adjust my expectations to life and life’s expectation of me at every corner I take. Getting the right paper qualification was of utmost importance, nothing else. Relationships did not feature in my list of priorities, not even as an afterthought. Throughout my puberty years, my mother had continually issued warnings and threats of having a relationship while I was still studying. But she need not have done so, for in truth, I found living with her more challenging and intimidating than anything else. And I must admit, she scared me into not even considering one. I even let go the possibility of one when I was 14.
But if a small nagging voice told me that one day I would think about relationships, I ignored it and instead chanted my mantra of childhood, ‘I don’t need it. All I need are my books and myself.’
When I was 21, life was full of too many things happening at the same time. College work, money struggles, family troubles. I didn’t have the time to think of anything else. But at this time, relatives started arriving on the horizon, demanding to know if I had a relationships. All of which I managed to remain politeness and civility, by maintaining that I didn’t need one. I affected a bravado, a kind of spinsterish stance that I didn’t need men to fulfil my life. And I didn’t. The most important man in my life had let me down. I didn’t need them. My mantra since then – ‘I don’t need men.’
Throughout my early 20s, I managed to maintain that attitude, with no wavering, or doubt. My mantras of ‘All I need are my books and myself’ and ‘I don’t need men’ were strong and very affirmative.
But lately it has been becoming fainter and less discernable.
Today as I am approaching my 29th year, I am disconcerted to discover that whenever I meet my gurlfrens, the topic of the evening is mostly about the sad state of singlehood, the sad state of having failed relationships, the sad state of not being able to find the right companion and the even sadder state of loneliness.
Last night the conversation almost started with thus, and never changed, even till the moment we parted. And the dinner I had last week with another gurlfren was similar.
I admit that today I am constantly thinking of when I will be able to find someone, but, I never expected to find that it is uppermost in most of my gurlfrens’ minds, and that it is what we would be conversing about mostly. I am extremely horrified. And I wonder, is this all we are going to talk about? Because if it is, I think I will meet them less!
We haven’t come to the depressing stage yet, because all of us are very much occupied with work. Work still consumes our mind. But it is the lonely nights, the time in-between during traffic jams and waiting for an appointment, that it creeps up on you. But we are handling it, because we are sort of resigned to not being able to be lucky enough to find someone in the near future. After all, men are even more consumed with their careers than us women.
So I sit here at my computer, typing out my thoughts and reflections on this state of singlehood, experienced not just by me, but shared not probably a lot of working young women in KL, like me. Apparently PJ has the highest number of single women in Malaysia, or was it Asia?
“You should write a book about this, Jen,” said a gurlfriend last night.
Easy to say, but do I really want to write about this depressing topic, and make money out of tons of lonely women out there at the same time, who probably would use my book as a doorstopper when they see the seemingly futile situation for us KL women in the first few pages?
Nah, I’ll just pound in frustration at my keyboard and post it on my blog, with the most optimistic of hopes that one day, one day, I’ll be typing a different note in the near future.
Is there hope at all, you ask. Well, while the sun still shines, the moon still smiles her elusive and secretive smile, and the rivers flow, that is all we poor single women can do.
That, and also, sing 'Alfie'.
What's it all about, Alfie?Is it just for the moment we live?What's it all about when you sort it out, Alfie?Are we meant to take more than we giveor are we meant to be kind?And if only fools are kind, Alfiethen I guess it's wise to be cruelAnd if life belongs only to the strong, Alfiewhat will you lend on an old golden rule?As sure as I believe there's a heaven above, AlfieI know there's something much moresomething even non-believers can believe inI believe in love, AlfieWithout true love we just exist, AlfieUntil you find the love you've missed you're nothing, AlfieWhen you walk let your heart lead the wayand you'll find love any day, AlfieAlfie
Not all peaches and cream
A 3-day long weekend is not much of a weekend if they are freaking hot and if they are spent looking after your sick mother, complete with flu and headache.
I’m not complaining about looking after her… but I think I caught her flu bug…
Sigh…
*red-nosed cat*
