You Can Run, But You Can’t Hide

a week ago, my lady boss told us that there was an outbreak in the office. i didn’t think much about it, cos the word “outbreak” suggests dozens of people being violently ill. since only three of my colleagues were on one-week sick leave, i decided to carry on with my extremely unhealthy lifestyle – chain smoking, refusing to sleep, putting off exercising.

then came two days ago. as soon as i reached the workplace, my friend jul screamed, “what happened to you? you look like shit.”

but i always look like shit. so i ignored her, though in hindsight, she was probably trying to tell me something.

an hour later, and more comments on how i looked like i was dying, it finally hit me: i was the latest casualty of the office outbreak

Fear Itself

horror movies make me laugh; cemeteries are as scary as parking lots. so, technically i’m fearless, right?

errr… no.

you see, supernatural beings are not frightening if you don’t believe. as a non-believer, it naturally doesn’t bother me. but heights… *ahem* HEIGHTS ARE DIFFERENT. and we’re not talking about a skyscraper here; more like two floors above the ground.

i went to singapore with my bro last year, and we checked into this room which was on the 11th floor. as soon as we stepped in, i caught a glimpse of the windows and i could only imagine how frightening it must be to look down. i didn’t sleep for five days; i made stupid excuses to go to 7-eleven throughout the night, like it was the best-est store on the entire island; i opted to sleep in the bathtub only because it was the furthest from the windows. i would have taken the closet too, but it was too dusty.

five years ago, my cousin conned me into taking the giant drop at jerudong park. to these days, i still refuse to talk to him. i’ve had recurrent dreams of that fateful night. unless he’s willing to cough up money for therapy, we ain’t friends.

my friends are always saying, “try bungee jumping. or maybe skydiving? conquer that phobia of yours already.” but unless they forced me at gunpoint… wait… forget it. just shoot me instead

Click, Click, Click

maybe there’s a significance to july; maybe it’s just me. but every year, at the end of june, i feel the need to change, like a good spring cleaning of my life. this time last year, it was kissing singledom goodbye. this year, it’s photography.

well, okay… the interest didn’t pop outta nowhere. i’ve been flirting with the idea for… five years? oh well, now that i have a hand-me-down-canon 350D-from-brother-dearest, i’m ready to snap away

no, no, no. don’t expect anything spectacular anytime between now and 2056. we all have limitations, and art is mine. then there’s photoshop, which is another roadblock. even this new wordpress dashboard had got me so confused, it took me months to figure out how to get around it.

but if july is the month of changes, then photography *has* to stay ;P

p/s: the pic was a sad attempt at earning a spot in the world of photography…

CNY Without The Bang

i know it’s too soon to say, since chinese new year only starts tomorrow. but i have a feeling it’s gonna be bloody uneventful. i’m so cynical that a) i didn’t shop for new clothes, b) i was half-hearted about spring cleaning, and c) the living room is still a mess.

maybe it has something to do with age – the older you get, the less you are inclined to celebrate anything.

i sure hope it wouldn’t be as mundane this year. so, whoever is capable of surprising me, surprise me within the next 15 days.

and to all CNY celebrants, happy new year

#@*($*&%*

my mom has been stressing the hell outta me in the past few days. first it was installing wooden flooring in my room, when i was perfectly fine with my cyan carpet. then, it was the inability to get rid of the carpet because according to her, “it might come in handy someday”. and since it’s too big to squeeze into the store room, it’s been right outside my room the whole time. no one is allowed to move it; no one dares. if i’m so stressed that i feel like my head is gonna explode anytime now, she’s in a worse shape.

then there is the *thing* at work. i found out on thursday that i still have 40 days of leave to clear from 2006 and 2007. woo hoo! but of course, my lady boss is onto me. boo hoo….

in times like these, i usually just wanna abandon my social life and head on home… except this huge wardrobe parked in the middle of my living room. it’s so big that it cuts the room into half, blocking the view of me and my bro’s rooms. so whenever one of us comes out to grab a smoke, the other person will get a scare. and whoever is having a smoke can’t also watch tv; the wardrobe is not a see-through, you see.

thus, my quality of life has decreased significantly, since the installment of wooden tiles. who to blame? i’d say the person who invented wooden tiles…

What’s With ‘Today’ Today?

lately, it seems everyone is going through some changes in life. what’s up with these past few months, anyway? is there a mystical explanation as to why we are faced with such ultimatum all at the same time? take the old familiar road or the one less travelled?

death card comes to mind when i think of our little situation. in tarot, death is not all sinister, unlike what most people think. it’s about sacrificing “your old world, your old self… it is the only way to be reborn. a new sun is rising, and it is… a time of great transformation”.

while a part of my life is falling into place, another part is crumbling before my eyes. i’m more sentiment than i let on. so, leaving a part of myself in favour of new beginnings – whatever that means – is frightening.

i’ve been reading tarot for others who are seeking an answer or a guide or something. funny that, cos on top of being a non-believer, i feel it’s better not to know than to know. it’s all about distraction, after all; confronting my problems doesn’t mesh well with the masterplan i’ve devised to distant myself from myself.

while running away has always worked well for me, i wonder if i should carry on like this. sure, it’s a wonderful way to cope, to pretend nothing is wrong. life goes on… yada, yada, yada… but sooner or later, anyone is bound to reach a stage where the mind says, “i can’t take this shit anymore. now go fuck yourself!”

i’m scared… but i guess it’s time to grow up…

And The Reason Is…

as an atheist, it’s hard for me to buy into the whole destiny, fate and other terms that everyone uses to explain the unexplainable. but lately, my life has been working itself out, and i’m starting to wonder if things really happened for a reason.

i can’t remember the exactly date, but roughly three months ago, i had this strange feeling that i’d be met with a big change, for better or worse. prior to that day, i had been going through the motion quite a bit; i was – for the lack of a better word – fucked. i didn’t know who i was anymore, or what i was supposed to do next, or why i was doing what i was doing. i knew i was lost but i moved along anyway, ignoring the numbness that was growing inside.

when my bro took me to singapore for a short break, i took the chance to get my 7th tattoo. instead, we stumbled upon house of rock, where a band brought down the house with dozens of covers including my beloved iron maiden and metallica. then i hit me: i love rock music. i was once in a band and loving it. but instead, i had been hopping from one social group to another, engaging in conversations i barely understood and pretending so desperately that i was one of them. i hardly picked up the guitar, except to play oasis songs for entertainment purposes.

soon after the singapore trip, “my people” started to come back to my life, one by one; and i met a couple more rockers along the way. i began to remember who i once was – a simple girl who just wanted to write a good song.

i have a long way to go before i can say: i’m back. but the glass is always half full, ain’t it?

Cemetery Gates

it’s my birthday today. two hours before august 18, i felt the urge to see my grandparents, who passed on years ago. there’s something beautiful and peaceful about cemeteries. it’s dark… it’s quiet; and completely devoid of daily bullshit that is life.

i must have spent an hour at their graves, telling them all that was on my mind. it was comforting to know that they had loved me unconditionally. i miss their smiles. i miss the way they looked at me, like i was worth something, that i was good enough.

and i cried.

I’m A Bimbo

“why don’t you just dye your hair blonde, so you can complete the whole bimbo look?” nad asked in the presence of lyn, who nodded in agreement.

*ahem* i’m not a bimbo; no one has ever called me that…

…okay, that’s not true. as a matter of fact, nad was probably the 5,467th person to say that. if not the word “bimbo”, it’s “retard” or “airhead”. i’ve never really put much thought into what i say. whatever pops up in my head, and it’s out a few seconds later, no matter how stupid or irrelevant it may be. most people are kind enough to just flash me a frown, while others – lyn, are you reading this? – feel the need to remind me everyday that i’m the most retarded person they have ever met.

i’m sure i have a brain somewhere. and i would certainly like to believe i’m merely playing dumb most of the time. but since i’m bad with faces, names, numbers, and everything else that requires a bit of mental processing, maybe ‘em 5,467 people are right… i am a bimbo.

Yikes! I Have Two Left Hands!

when i was asked to join a jam session, i thought, “why not? i haven’t done it in… what… forever?” so i dusted off – barely – my squier strat, which had only been largely ignored by her owner for years and years and years.

fast forward the whole “sending the guitar to the shop for repair, being told off by the technician for treating the guitar like shit, and struggling to remember how to connect it to the amp”, i found myself at the studio with absolutely no idea what i was supposed to do there.

kelvin “the rockstar” suggested guns n’ roses’ sweet child o’ mine, which was a relief because “i – oooh! oooh! oooh! – know that song”. then came the realisation that i knew the song alright, but not the guitar parts, or how many bars before the chorus, or what came after the second chorus or…. oh dear…

the word “disastrous” couldn’t begin to describe the whole session; i barely got out alive. then came a painful reminder of my shortcoming, in the form of a band rehearsing for their upcoming gig. all five of them understood their respective roles in the group, and played them accordingly. suddenly, i wasn’t sure if my attempt to blend into the world of rockers was such a good idea. or if i was even good enough to be one of them.

while i was beating myself up for being a loser, johnny told me, “forget about skills… it’s your mind that’s the problem.”

ahhh…. so, i came home, went online and searched for techniques on mental programming.

it’s a start, right?