the internet whore.
i am so irrevocably pathetic i have taken to other people's blogs for solace. and if they are all untouched since my last visit i would feel as if i exist plenarily on the moon 150 000 km (?) away from civilization. it is friday night. i am seated here. typing this. that is the second volume (this stanza alone) in the series of my literal still-life gymnastics.
- saturday may 11th 2002

self explanatory
the end of the week is ending and if you thought bummers are white horses to the monday blues then perhaps you'd like to try delighting in unemployment. and while you're at it, throw in hoards of bestfriends and good buddies with full-fledged careers. i wish late saturdays were infinitus - that last hour you spend swinging your crossed legs, catching up with bestfriends you've not seen since whenever, waiting for the (perceived) red carpet arrivals of the (perceived) fashionably late, anticipating saturday's shenanigans.

well if life were so rosy you wouldn't even get cigarette hang-overs. bleah.
- sunday may 12th 2002

the seductions of f.t. (dare i print his full name? it's scandalous. har har)
i sit here languishing in humidity, sluggish and inclined to the mistresses of ennui. and still there fashions mild throbs of affecting thoughts, a coveting, a partiality for Aphrodite's acquaintance. and you know the tip of the honeyed arrow he's running slow and sensual on your lips leaves moist, sticky trails of the ambrosial poison. but you stick your tongue out anyway, and you lap at the venomous treacle because it's begging you with the song of the Sirens and you can't stand to resist anymore. and really, the liquid juices of surrender taste of indelible, saccharine sorrow. and immediately you are remorseful. but you know it comes too late, because the vile sweets from the love affair is ebullient in your blood.
- tuesday may 14th 2002

cold turkey.
the nights are colder now i find, because all the digital faces i know have vanished. everybody's busy, everybody says. perhaps it's just the absence of one that's sensitizing me to the absence of all the others.
- tuesday july 9th 2002

an eventuality of chemistry (over chat no less. nobody none of you knows, so there.)
it is a stirring, a knocking on the gates this proceeding need to look at you, to be physically near you as we sit miles apart just sharing, spilling thoughts, enticing covetings, wrapping words around each other. so let my pockets fill already. part of me hankers for your skin.
- wednesday august 14th 2002

the pathetic justification of my desertion of a friend.
because quite simply i had a choice. because i made it. because i don't owe you an explanation. because i am nomad. because i come and go. because the hypocrisy was killing me. because i'm not the same girl you knew. because my writing means more to me than you'd ever fathomed possible. because i don't care to be understood.

this. because i am sorry. because i apologise. because i owe you too much, and because i know it.
- sunday august 18th 2002

the definition of the parental-child relationship
i think it is a rule of nature that all living organism carrying offspring will produce it in complete opposing polarities to herself.
- tuesday august 27th 2002

see? i was an ex girlfriend too. =)
i was sitting outside for nearly an hour, dragging cigarette after cigarette, just thinking about him. i dreamt about him again, my lost love. still eludes me why.

post endy's birthday gathering we were sitting around getting rowdy with a deck of cards. and then we mellowed and started playing the game of chance. one of them included the supreme behest of coincidence, which told the stories of relationships. we made it all happen, i know that. (they were) things we already knew. the cards merely a confirmation, if at all you could attach convictions to their accuracy (chance and coincidences, remember?).

that was probably why he was morpheus' delivery. but i do miss him. and it is more than a year of regrets that i keep warm in the folds of this heart.

so i just sat there, rocking myself with nicotine and cold, cold palms. she will never be me. but between the two of us, she's the one he's seated next, slapping the grooves on his bass.

it's always times like these when i think of you and i wonder if you ever think of me. cause everything's so wrong and i don't belong living in your precious memory. - vanessa carlton
- saturday august 31st 2002

the inception of j_ay - the first guy i know, outside of my PRIMARY school, who made shows of disgust for the women he fancied. *lol*
lesson # 2 for the girl diaries of a boy - when he calls you m.i.n.a.h and u.g.l.y, he was being w.a.r.m.

the biggest joke of the day was anticipating sobriety, the full circle of realization. i sit in lethargy, alcohol burnt from my blood, but my mind banishes morpheus. at least for a while. whizzes and spurs of all that's transpired, and then all that's to come.

it's been a while.
- friday september 13th 2002

self-explanatory
possession is insecurity. possession is not trusting the other person loves you enough. possession is paranoia. in some typical cases, possession is part of exercising control. but i'm supposing that's beyond our scope here, since "typical" does not exist in my longman's.

the line is drawn when, you take an interest in the places she's been and the company she keeps but knowing that not knowing would not give you panic attacks, would not give you "another man" scenarios. the line is drawn when you know the only person she thinks about, the only one she comes home to, is you.
- tuesday october 8th 2002

learning to trust.
i can't echo enough how you've brought me this state of repose. there's so much of yourself you keep locked away that every shred of introspection you let spill i lap up. and still i hunger. i'm ravenous now not only for you, but for who. and rest, rest i will not til you grant me repletion. emotional repletion. of my hunger for who you are.
- saturday october 12th 2002

i'd always listen to your bike purr away in the distance. i bet you didn't know that. now you do. and as you were just now, i ached for want of being the soft jacket on your back. priviledges of being immaterial, taken for granted... but always near you, wrapped around you, company on your way home.
- tuesday october 29th 2002

geylang in ramadhan.
j's most asked question the whole of last night was "so where's this atmosphere you were talking about again?"

i'm sorry that half of geylang in the month of ramadhan crawls with youths having too much to prove. helmets and face paints, boyfriends and girlfriends... singles checking out the crowd. but see, however far we've strayed, we've still at least retained a culture, whatever culture that may be. and it's become ritual for almost everyone to congregrate, at least once in this month, every year, from all corners of this minute island, to munch on ramli burgers and pieces of meat with more affectionate nicknames than i. perhaps that's the culture, and that's the atmosphere... forget who fulfills it.
- sunday nov 10th 2002

on growing *up/older (*delete where applicable)
my period is finally here but i'm still feeling like a plenary fuck-up. everybody loves raymond two days back reminded me that some women down prozac to help tide through the pms monster. but i'll be damned if i'm gonna have to start smiling with prescription capsules for happiness. i was never this fucked up at 17. not even at 20 when most women go through another tsunami of hormonal changes (apparently so. they neglected to mention this course of transmorgraphy in all those ridiculous talks about females and the layers of change throughout our ages). i don't mind the onsets of cramps (for me personally, since i never had them before 20), but prolonged mini-depressions and bitchfests i can do without.

fuck you, pms. i don't need becoming hyde once every month. and if u're gonna sit with me two whole weeks before i might as well institutionalise myself.
- wednesday nov 20th 2002

self-explanatory.
i should think ultimately everyone writes for him/herself, except the unfortunate circumstance of having to share this planet with 6 billion others means that nothing comes free anymore, not even privacy. when you make that conscious choice (of posting thoughts up on vehicles accessible to anyone anywhere), you've traded expression for that freedom. and more often than not, that trade is yet again a conscious choice. an obligation to yourself. you express and suppress. all in one space.

we learnt this in writcom (desmond kon anyone?) - freedom is not free. the price you pay are reverberations, most often of a moral sense. because everyone bears the weight of moral responsibility towards themselves and society. plenary freedom of anything jeopardizes that precarious invisible divide on which it is understood that one man stays in his space in order to give the other man his.

perhaps all i am trying to say is that your little space on the world wide web is laced with two million different options. every single one of them bears the heft of consequence. because everyone understands that simple logic, the most popular choice award goes to self-censorship.
- tuesday nov 26th 2002

the ten minute introspection
i am different. again. an adaptation again, to situations, circumstance, and person. i thought with this past year or so, for sure, with a hopeful finality to it that i have truly found myself. and yet since a few days ago i've come to mortal realization that i have morphed. again.

i feel my existence has shifted from a primary focus in my own fields of hay (all golden solitude) into blinding territories of wild mental challenges. i find i've retreated a little, my dominance tamed a little, my arrogance slapped around a little, and my cock-sure-ness questioned. a little. because of you. you have not consciously, intentionally brought this to me. but you have showed me that i'm just not as assertive as i thought i was. not as all-knowing and wise, not as worldly and open. because of you. and my confidence is shaken, and my intellect questioned. over and over again. and still i have not seen why you have not seen this. perhaps you have, but you're choosing not to.

i loathe this feeling of smallness, of invasive stupidity, and my growing fickle and indecision are their glaring attributes. i've been standing on glass the colour of earth, and you've come and blown cracks on it. your intellect, your perceptivity, perhaps some of your principles intimidate me.

i am not as invincible as you think, not impenetrable, not unfeeling and not indomitable. but today and all days to follow, i would like to try to be. for a while i ceased to be an entity of myself and faded into one-half of a situation i thought had become my fortress. but those very walls caved in on myself... so for the past year i've been over-compensating. i stood on glass and believed it soil. but you've come. and you're showing me.
- thursday nov 28th 2002

the daughter that i was.
i demarcate with my parents because the conventional malay family (mine at least) dictates when you sleep, what you do, what you listen to and where you go. i am averse to rules, and so over the years, i learn that less communication breeds less friction. not very healthy at all. i tried giving their picturesque good girl a go, but then they start demanding more. my mother at least, because when she sees a glimmer of hope she starts clinging desperately to it. and that drives me away. and when it does, she is left despaired and disenchanted at her daughter's seeming fray of morality (if she wasn't so naive she'd be spot on, except i hate it when other people are right about their presumptions of me). so i figure benevolence is trusting their stumble in the dark. as opposed to handing them a torch to douse.
- sunday december 22nd 2002

the tourists of sentosa!
asian tourists have a superlative knack for attempting to wring every drop of their money's worth, by shoving and pushing to the front of exhibits and blinding sentosa's hostages with trigger-happy fingers which seem perpetually glued to snap buttons. favourite interjections include... forgive me, the ONLY interjection there is (an asian creativity of variation), is made up of the letters w-a-a-a-a-a-a-h followed by numerous exclamation marks, in that order. to sympathise with a malaysian (namely the johor-bahruians), you need only visit the underwater world during tourist season. be immersed in fafillions of japanese, chinese and indian bodies. for safety (both you and potential troublemaker), keep your eye open for screaming miniature adults. but you won't be missing them for obvious reasons (they run everywhere and... they scream).

fuck. and singaporeans need courtesy campaigns.
- monday december 2nd 2002

the idiosyncracies of hope.
i kept lurking around the website for some sign. that in a million longshots of longshots they've somehow announced that they've found the candidate they've been scouting for, and see my full name etched, emboldened and arrogantly swept across their webspace.

ha ha. i need to stop dreaming. i am going to be SORELY disappointed.
- tuesday, august 26 2003

association is the capsule of time.
notice how sometimes your memories are compartmentalised into segregrations of timesframes? and how most of these timeframes are validated by sights, sounds and smells? well when you have not the sights, and aren't close enough for the smells, you'll get imprints of sounds. and this timeframe has been wrought with images of you.
- thursday, september 04, 2003

defining my progression and regression with fen.
in so rightly a due course of time you've managed to evolve from a fierce mystery, to an intrepid attraction, then courageously fought into fond indulgence.

and now finally, when you are amplified into full-blown affection, you lace your sneakers and announce another journey.

into distance. from me.
- sunday, september 28, 2003

trying to be the smart alec.
my point is this: relationships = love = companionship = company = ?

? being time. inevitability, whichever the inevitable may be. you gotta stop thinking about surviving the relationship, and start thinking about how you survive it. stop treating relationships as something altogether separate from everything else, because it's really all the same. everything needs a f.o.c.u.s.
- friday january 16th 2004

mama. on her first inductions of fen. geez. lol.
she's been taken by something these days and so in her prevailing naivety, started developing her own ideas. while it is flattering it is scary, if only because of the pounding constance she invests badgering me about it. i have partly didi to blame. sha, i can hear you titter so shuttup >( my most frequent reply to her (these days our conversations are limited to the door, the phone and my bed) is "ok BYE!", which i try to exploit as much as i can. but she really is cute. annoying. and silly. but cute nonetheless.
- wednesday january 28th 2004

my approach to the practise of my religion
it shames me to know that i conform to certain assemblies of the spiritually void. it makes me hypocrite. charlatan. everyone's egocentric in varying degrees, even socially defined "altruists" (in fact, altruism itself is highly debatable). so is this a manipulation of faith? the only reason i'm even contemplating this is for pure self indulgence. i dreaded that this might happen. i used to be too proud to stoop what was then imho, so low. but then again, my "prinsiples" were merely euphemisms. i needed to justify my own hypocrisy in the most vain bohemians.
- thursday february 5th 2004

this was love at first sight, and wot will always remain a favourite
making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two separate passions, not merely different but opposite. love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman). - milan kundera
- sunday february 8th 2004

how i fell in love.
and as sha said that, my thoughts reverberated to you luv, and that night of first kisses. because we could not stop. i could not stop. because i was falling into you. and your breath to me were blankets from the cold air, and oxygen in that 6th layer of stratosphere into which you were bringing me. high up into heaven.
- friday february 20th 2004

on connecting.
i loved it, reposing with you, debating with you, listening, talking, sharing. last night was that half of us so long overwhelmed by the daily grind, that its re-emergence was the soft, sweet touch of long forgotten friends.
- sunday february 22nd 2004

i loved the ends of tonight. i love our lounging to talk. because talk is intimate. and all our intimacies leave me whole. another paradox. when your departure is supposed to empty me.
- saturday february 28th 2004

mush. mushmushmush. biasa kan?
you swim into me, and over me, kisses that knot in the strands of my hair. your hands on my belly, your breaths in my ear. i carry all of you in all of me. every single day. and i can hardly contain it, luv. i can hardly contain it - luv for you. it pounds on doors in my ribs. it is overwhelming.
- monday march 15th 2004

this entry still remains highly personal.
no, of course i know it was not your intent. it is so fully woman, so much a part of our inevitable cycle of heartbreaks, this being so full with you in one moment, so immersed, so intensedly whole... then so forcibly rejected. baby have you known yet how much of myself i give to you in each of these declarations? it's been such an exhaustive expanse of late. so when you push me away like that, all of me in myself that i surround you with is left in vacuum, so abruptly empty in your absence.
- saturday march 20th 2004

re-adjusting to structure after chaos
you struggle to string together the logic of your time now. before = no time vs after = too much. and then your psyche inevitably identifies a non-existence of time on your hands with the attributes of a career, which obviously mean the absence of that ridiculous amount of activity starts signifying a dysfunctionality to life. your life. so that's when you depress.
- wednesday march 24th 2004

the fate into which women are inexorably born.
and i hate how we are fashioned so immeasurably attached to our emotions, as care-givers, nurses, holders of interminable love, so much so that we are expected to forgive and comfort and anchor all who will ceaselessly find their joys everywhere else but here. so how has our conception as a sex been fair, when all there is that defines every ounce in our being reeks of the sorrow at being continously left behind?

i don't want to be a guy. if it's that difficult being a woman, then i'll take up the challenge. - didi, the mornings of sunday march 28th
- monday march 29th 2004

one very precious lesson
i feel as if so much of one part of me is crushed. one whole fraction. the one which defines who i am with you. i am not the same anymore. there are certain philosophies i have been forced to subscribe to, philosophies that are not myself. i am not myself with you. not these days. it hurts.

there is a divide. i am here. and you are there. but i cannot pretend it does not exist anymore.
- saturday may 1st 2004

truth that is measured by the DOW, and conglomerates of the selfish society
<runn|ng> bottomline is - truth is expensive. its a matter of whether you wanna pay the price.
<runn|ng> thats sad isnt it? when truth should in actuality be the most basic framework of humanity
<runn|ng> i have never known the value of truth, and trust until now
- sunday may 16th 2004

in summary of me
if the measure of a woman's independence is the girth of her purse and the circuit of her bed, then i am not an independent woman. at the end of the day, i want my turkish van and my scottish fold that come curling up to me... with my husband. and our kids.
- wednesday may 19th 2004