Do you believe I forgot about you?

In fact, I don't think anybody I know comes here anymore.

I'm much =) now.

It's just to say Hi.

Today, I thought of surfing Friendster and I found someone's profile.

They look good together. Even though his status says "In a Relationship" and hers read "Single" for the first time in a long while.

Now I know what FnF means.

On a sidenote, I hate the feeling of insecurity and being left in the dark.

They are first his friends before they're my friends. That's the order of the hierarchy here.

I will get over it. This whole damn thing.

I think I've discovered another side of me which isn't exactly the best trait to possess.

I believe in holding on. Hanging in there. Sticking it out.

It's like this job opportunity which is happening right now. In my mind, it's not exactly something I'll drop everything for right this instant. So I decide to stay where I am. And wait. For the best.

It's the same for my relationships.

Maybe actually I am the world's biggest fool. No doubt about it.

Random thought of the day:

Maybe women want to get married so that they can have a rock they can call their own (without paying for it, of course). The bigger, the better.

I made a major boo-boo when I commented that a particular colleague's diamond ring from her boyfriend/fiancee isn't that big after all. In her face. How stupid can I get? Yes, I'm not proud of it.

Everyone around me seems to be on the idea of rocks, rings and marriage lately.

It doesn't help that I seriously don't know much about rings and diamonds. The only jewellery I know are from Perlini's and the odd Tiffany & Co. And they're both silver.

Diamonds? I just know that they look good.

What's clarity? Cut? Carat?

I have no idea which diamond is the biggest. Which is probably why I said what I said. I could have been staring at a freakin' 10-carat diamond ring and I won't even realise it's like freakin' 10-carat.

I only know a solitaire when I see one 'cos it's the easiest one to identify. Like a lone island out in the vast ocean. Nice.

One of my closest buds from my JC class is getting married. In July. In Hong Kong. And it was planned only 2 months before D-Day. You get the idea.

An ex-colleague is planning her ROM this year.

I heard that another colleague is planning his wedding too.

Strange. I still think these people are like adults wearing diapers, we're too young to be talking about marriage. And wedding rings.

I lost my motivation a long time ago and I don't know how to retrieve it.

She's right. I have no goals in life now.

And that is why I am perpetually unhappy.

Because there's nothing to be happy about.

I need to get out and start afresh.

Remaining at where I am is akin to not doing anything for myself, not improving the situation and being perpetually "stuck in the rut".

It may not be true that I'll be any happier if I leave this place, but I think it's worth a shot.

Because it's not just about leaving a job, it's a metamorphosis of sorts.

I want to leave the old self behind. The past. Him.

I want to say hello.

Happy Birthday to you.

I hope you're happy. I really do.


"我在幸福的门外　
却一直都进不来"

Remember my last post?

It happened.

Again. And again.

Men over 30 leaving messages on my Friendster.

I shouldn't have started that test in my mind. The results are frighteningly skewed.

I wanna die.

Give me a child! I'm actually a closet paedophile.

I am conducting a test in my mind and the results so far have been disgustingly astonishing.

Every once in a while, like so many of you out there, I receive messages from strangers via Friendster saying something along the lines of "Hi, I'll like to be your friend, etc.. Pls add me to your msn/friendster..." and then I go click on the guy's profile 'cos of course I'm curious as to how this guy looks like right? and then I see his age on his profile and I look at his face in his photo and 99% of the time the guy is close to 30 or above 30 and does look white-collar middle-aged. and every single time I have something close to a seizure because my mind tells me that there's something about me that's attracting guys who are O-L-D.

And of course that gives me a perfectly legitimate reason to ignore these men because they insult me by being so old.

And then I think - Could it be because maybe I'm a 24 year-old who looks *gasp* looks *hyper-ventilates* O-L-D?

What the fuck.

I should change all the photos in my profile to Chicken Little's.

That way, I'll attract guys closer to my age.

Did you catch the interview with MR G on the English news channel last night?

I wasn't even sure if it was him until he started rattling off on the infamous form all over again. I thought what I saw instead was a doe-eyed deer caught with his eyes in the oncoming headlights.

Crash and burn, baby.

Pardon me, I'm not exactly pro-ruling party. Like all others, I believe in free speech, loosening of controls, a healthy mix of parties in our political system, and I'm definitely all against rising costs and all that moolah that's feeding them.

But - This entire Mr G saga is nothing short of a farce.

Sure, you might say, it's just a missing form and most people feel sorry for him that he's having to face the music for a MISSING FORM, nothing else. I would have voted for him if all he did after that was to come out and say, "I was an ass, blur like sotong, I kept the form without knowing what I did, I was an ass, I was an ass (to the power of 10), now if only everyone can move on".

The way I see it, he was a complete fool and no way am I going to place my vote on someone who's an idiot and does not have the guts to admit he was an idiot after being an idiot. I mean, c'mon, his own party did not have any explanation for what he did. Which goes to show the stupidity of it all.

Again, I'm not saying that everyone in the ruling party are genuises. But at least none of them has gotten themselves into trouble because of a MISSING FORM. Really.

Integrity is something that's always contestable. You can't pinpoint someone to the slaughter because he wasn't honest about a piece of document. To use those high and mighty terms in something as dirty as politics is being, well, phony. Unless you were really brought up in an ivory tower that tells you there's only goodness in this world and shuts you from the real evil around you, I can't believe anyone can sincerely cross their hearts and say that politicians are people of high moral integrity. Woe begone to you, if that's the case.

My point out of this almost pointless post is this - If you have to try anything dirty, even attempt it, for whatever reasons, do it so well that nobody catches you in the act. Because I'm looking at someone who's smart and effective to successfully lead an opposition against the mighty fortress, not a martyr about to be hanged a la Guy Fawkes. Which is only a good idea if your aim is to be commemorated in a film 400 years later.


Remember, Remember the Fifth of November
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot

I started paying more attention to Gilmore Girls reruns on tv because of him.

And slowly, I found out that I did enjoy Rory's quirky way of speech, Lorelai's paranoia and how their sharp retorts at one another (mother against mother, mother against daughter, daughter against mother) intrigued me.

I like how Rory styles her hair - brown, straight and sleek.

I like how both mother and daughter pull off demure frilly tops with such ease, as if it's second skin.

I like the producer's hidden stab at alliteration - there's Lorelai, Luke and recently, Rory's boyfriend, Logan.

I find that I'm beginning to like the sound of the name Lorelai so much that I'm considering a toss-up between Evey and Lorelai for my own daughter's name. It's a tough fight though. Evey is such a cool name for a girl and the image of Natalie Portman with a shaved head is imprinted so strongly on my mind.

Luke still holds the crown for top favourite name for a boy - not because of Luke in Gilmore Girls, but because of THAT other more famous Luke with a light-sabre.

And now. If he knows I enjoy Gilmore Girls as much as him.

I'm blogging because I'm wide awake at 5.10am in the morning.

I woke up earlier at around 4plus am, couldn't get back to sleep after and decided I needed to brush my teeth, wash my face, prep my skin and cut my nails (both fingers and toes), in that order. I don't know of anyone who does all that at 4 in the morning other than me.

That must have been my punishment for falling asleep at 10pm earlier (an insanely early time for me).

Already, I'm thinking of excuses for not turning up at work in a few hours. Yawn.

My tummy's giving me a hard time now because I had a super big dinner at Fish n Co despite not having a bite to eat the whole day. This was what I had - 1 Fish n Chips (shared), 1 Seafood Platter for 2 (shared) and 1 big glass of Passion Fruit drink (all to myself), on top of glasses of iced water. I felt like dying at the end of the meal.

That was our indulgence. Both of us have had nothing to eat the whole day and all we did was curl up in bed falling in and out of sleep, getting into each other's way in the process. We agreed that we were both torturing our bodies - sleeping at insane hours (6am in the morning), not getting adequate sleep, skipping meals, and eating a huge meal at one go.

I understand now how some people choose to get off from work and just sleep the whole day and why it's such a great fat luxury. Except it was Sunday and there was no work.

Where I really want to be is somewhere other than here. Maybe Mexico. Or a little south of Mexico. Or a little further to the right south of Mexico. Yah maybe that's about right now.

He said he's leaving for a holiday over the weekend. Needless to say, with her. I didn't ask where. All I said was, have a safe trip, enjoy and take care. I can be so damn fake.

The partying on Friday helped a little. Although at the moment when I read his sms and immediately after I'd replied, I really felt like just shouting at the top of my lungs. Which I did. In the karaoke room. I need distractions 24/7.

I want to go on a holiday too.

Leaving seems to be the trendy thing to do these days.

An old friend left for Bahrain to pursue her dream of being an air-stewardess. She's contracted to stay there for 2 years, and maybe the soonest we'll get to see her is half a year from now.

Although half of me thought the idea of her leaving to stay in the Middle East is crazy, for a pay that's not exactly what you would call attractive, or prospects that are not potentially sky-high; the other half of me admires her courage to just give it up here and leave at the same time.

It's not that easy to just pack your bags and leave. Sometimes, it may even defy all reason.

Except passion.

The only thing that perseveres at the end of the day is passion.

And I'm still trying to figure out if passion can be cultivated.

I'm still working at it.

I have zero passion for my job but I work at it continually, giving it bursts of passion like periodic jabs at the doctor's.

At other times, I just block out everything and WORK. Yes, I do function like a robot sometimes.

But everyday, I tell myself that I will find a way to get out. Nobody understands the degree of excitement that I crave right now.

And yes, passion can be cultivated.

I know because I'm still doing it for him right now.

I'm so drained, it's unbelievable.

Shedding tears has always taken alot out of me. Each time, I feel emptied, hung out to dry like a wet towel, and it always makes me want to just cuddle in bed and zonk out.

Like now.

Seeing her sob was like the straw that broke the camel's back, i.e. it triggered a chain reaction in me.

I know we were hysterical, we even scared one or two people, but we'll be fine tomorrow. I'm always fine tomorrow.

They can't understand why we reacted the way we did, it all seemed too emotional for them to swallow. I admit it was overboard, but I totally understand her mixed emotions. As for me, I have no defence at all because we will still get to see each other, it's not like Armageddon, you know.

Can they understand when I say that I feel left behind? No, I don't think so.
Like everyone you know has moved on but you're still stuck behind, because your shoe got caught in a rut on the ground and unless you leave your shoe behind, you're trapped there until someone rescues you. And you don't know how long that might be. A few hours, maybe days, months? You don't know whether you can survive that long in one piece. On the other hand, it could be your favourite pair of shoes at stake here, like a pair of Ferragamos or something, and you're caught in a dilemma because you know, no girl can bear to leave her Ferragamos behind. So what do you do? Stay or forsake something in order to move on?

OK, that was a crazy analogy, but you know, only to bring the point across.

And everyone who knows my position in the workplace is telling me to stay, to persevere, because they say I've got a future here, I can go far. I can do so much more.

And I know they're right.

It does not make the problem any easier. I've been thinking about it until my brains are fried.

All I want to do is get a good sleep.

It's 3am Saturday night into Sunday morning (however way you want to see it).

I haven't decided if I should try to make it for the Easter Sunday service at o63ohrs Sunday.

It's too freaking early.

-But- I made it for the Good Friday service on (when else) Friday. *pats back*

A sea of old faces, some of which I feel nothing, for nothing, anymore. I'm not sure if that's good or bad.

Again, I played the part of social chameleon that night.

Made earnest small talk, appeared attentive and interested, even made it seem like I might just come back to church on a regular basis. Oh yah.

But, I will not deny that I enjoyed a good moment that night. Even had it enough in me to pray for a friend as I sat in the pews sharing a quiet moment with God. As usual, I omitted praying for myself. It was pointless.

Although I was reasonably touched, and would certainly like to believe that there was someone out there (human or entity) that genuinely loved and cared for my goodness and wellbeing, enough to make the sacrifice of death for me, I am still disillusioned.

Because of everything I have gone through and all that have yet to come, I now only believe in one thing. What I can do for myself. Which no one else can.

There will be none who will sincerely love me without selfishness. Maybe God. But even that is uncertain.

I have only me.

Happy Easter Sunday, everyone.