nuisances

so ... went to little Ove's birthday party today. cute boy, round face, practised smile, easy personality and most importantly, quiet. not one of those with a worm in their anuses and screaming round the clock for attention. i hope my kids dont turn out that way. i might suffer from permanent post-natal depression.

was surrounded by kids. so many kids. and it was great! i mean, gotta confess that i'm not super comfortable with kids - am absolutely terrified of rejection. but ok, i've realised that a camera does many tricks for kids. they love themselves, of course. and digital cameras are god's gift to the narcissistic. you take a shot, you look at yourself. it sucks? delete it. pose, take another one. before i knew it, all of them were posing like runway models. one of them even pretended to laugh so i could get a half-laughing shot of him. it was brilliant.

i want kids. and if i can afford some, i'd love to have maybe three. if we can afford it, i'd quit my job to look after them and get a maid to look after household matters. aaaah, that would be the satisfying life. but would need to trust husband through and through. with father's cautious approach to people and assumption that all men are bad, his daughter has also turned out mildly similar.

then went to the night safari. in my tube top, corduroy jeans, bangles and hoop earrings so huge hamsters could fly through them. perfect wear for the night zoo. was completely looking forward to going to the night safari. however, a big mac, cheese prata and teh tarik can really change all that. i found myself rather looking forward to going home to sleep instead. being the babirusa that i am.

but heeeey, the night safari was pretty nice. something i wouldnt really do again for maybe five years, but it was nice. seeing animals in the dark with my major astigmatism problem was dope. my camera even started taking in green giraffes - major leaves reflection out there. and boy, was it humid. humid, humid, humid. 34degC and humid air does wonders for my skin. i get heat rashes across my bloody cheeks and nose and pimples erupt everywhere like Vesuvius. there were the adorable civet cats, the surreal slow lorises, the extremely-satisfied-with-my-10kg-of-meat malayan tiger, the attention seeking otters. the otters - my, oh, my are they performers. the night show host was trying to promote recycling. three otters came by to help. each of them picked out plastics, paper goods and cans respectively and put them all into the right bins. the can-otter picked up TWO cans, put them into the bin, went after the cans INTO the bin, then took them back out again - just to prolong his performance. he LOVED it. so did the audience. by the way, otters know how to clap. who knew?

by 2345, we were pretty psyched about going home. luckily the night safari wasnt as huge as i feared, and wasnt as small as i would have been disappointed at. it was ... just nice. but like i said, wouldnt do it again over the next five years. my best memories of the night safari? the otters and the tails of the babirusas - absolute-fucking-bloody-ly disgusting tails. i prefer pigs.

then off to ambrosia to smoke sheesha. while i admired eric's hand at drawing and wondered why the tablecloth reminded me of what my grandma would wear UNDER her skirt, i confirmed to myself that i am an absolute loner. i will probably die alone too. i cant change that, can i? i cant pretend i am sociable. i can be friendly, but i'd rather sit in a corner, watch, and be alone. when i was walking in the zoo, sometimes, i realised i trailed off on my own, or walked on my own and shermaine came up to me, "why are you walking alone?" gee - i didnt quite notice it. to be honest, i was pretty comfortable with that. five years ago, it would have pained me if someone asked me the same question. i would have gotten defensive. instead, i replied "havent a clue! didnt quite realise it." and at ambrosia, while others played cards or talked animatedly, i was contented with laughing at someone else's comments, watching other people or taking their pictures. ordered some fantastic escargot, drank something i didnt like and tried to keep my stomach in - i HAVE put on ten kgs and i'm trying not to make it obvious though i can no longer fit into my push-up bras and no longer need the asphyxiating suckers for unflattering tops.

and then my friend's sister, F, sends me a message. [brief history of F: F's elder brother is a very good friend of mine whom i love dearly. F's parents stay in malaysia but she studies in singapore and has been living with her auntie for some years now. F's brother called me to say that he needs a favour, that his sister, F, needs a place to stay as she can no longer live at the auntie's place. apparently due to emotional duress. how could one say no? F's brother said it was temporary till they renovated their new singapore home and he'd pay the utilities. i thought, "fuck, F talks too damn much." but i agreed. like i said, how could one say no? so F moved in. and F has very little sense of shame or consideration. and F had been fraying my nerves for some weeks till i said i didnt want her to bring her friends over anymore - i'm just too private and i'd like my own space at home. i also do not trust strangers walking in my house. of course i didnt expect these people to turn up at my place as she assured me she was not bringing her friends over and only bringing her boyfriend over "once in a while" when i brought the subject up the first hour she was at my home. it took barely days for her to shamelessly forget everything. and for her boyfriend to bloody stay over.

so, about the message F sent to me, "hey, my bf is coming over, can?" as i found out, it wasnt a question, she wasnt asking. her boyfriend was ALREADY at my place. i didnt know that at that time but i replied anyway, "OK, but he goes home."

now, how difficult would it be for an english-speaking person to understand "but he goes home."? she has the fucking shamelessness and sybaritic cheek to ask "ok, he cant stay over?"

what can i say to that? "you fucking bitch, i said bluddy NO, didnt i?" instead, i replied, "F, no."

so - it's now 0359am and F's boyfriend's shoes are still here, his van still in our private carpark.

this girl, F, is pushing all my buttons.

5 more times, and i'm telling her brother she has to move back to her auntie's which is NOT an option.

this girl just has no fucking respect for anyone else, has absolutely no control either. and she is barely much younger than i. absolute-fucking-ly unacceptable.

she needs to grow up.

i dont need to take care of someone else's affairs. but i want my own fucking home.

my own fucking space.


How to Annoy Your Housemate?

two boys

matchap and ravi at esplanade
Originally uploaded by crimsondevotchka.

two boys giggling by the stairs
one matchap the other ravi
giggling over jokes i cannot bear
but that's ok cos they're so luverly

gosh, i'm fantastic at corny poetry!

a dream i sense

i cannot decide if i love having vivid dreams. or that i'd rather wake up thinking i've slept too little in a vacuum. i am beginning to think the latter.

if i cannot have dreams of flowers, nice cats, of a sweet love stroking hair away from my face, i do not know if i want to face the horror of my dreams.

the teacher was talking about dreams. i do not believe he believes himself to be a dream translator, but i am sure he reads a lot in a bid to understand his own life. he asked, "who floats? who flies?" stupidly, i whispered a loud "yes".

"then you have no faith."

*wham*
a stone in my gut. thanks. telling me straight in my face that i do not have faith in a religious class full of people isnt the most politically correct or sensitive thing to do.

but last night's dream was too supernatural to my liking. i hated it. you know when you're in one dream, then suddenly you diffuse into another?

exactly that.

i was in another dream, not exciting, not delightful, but most importantly, not horrifying. then i focused on a building, not so far away. grey with white window perimeters and dirty windows. like the optical zoom in a camera, somehow my eyes zoomed 11x onto the building. it looked like an apartment complex, unlike those found in asia. strangely, there were chips where the outside walls of the building met. these chips were white, like broken styrofoam.

i walked towards that building. everything of the dream preluding this one disappeared. the streets were deserted, everything was gloomy. (am re-considering if i want to immortalise that dream by writing about it. but it probably makes no difference since i remember most, if not all my horrifying dreams.) there was absolutely nobody on the streets.

it was all still.

no leaf floating by, not an insect kekeketing away, not even the movement of air.

somehow i found myself past the heavy, worn oak door of the grey building and came face to face with an extremely ugly lady. so ugly, she looked like a ladyboy who was better off as a man. even her hair looked bad. thick, coarse, all matted up, apparently never heard of V05 leave-in conditioner.

but what was worse was how my heart dropped when i saw her.

it wasnt the aesthetic shock that did it. it was instinct.

the way your subconscious pokes at you when all alarm bells ring telling you that something is not right, or that you've forgotten something.

i dreaded her.

but i followed her.

i followed her along the perimeter of the desolate, rectangular lobby. when i looked up, i realised that i could see the second floor, much like libraries you see in bluddy hollywood movies. on the second floor, there were shelves and shelves of books that didnt quite register in my head. i didnt even register the furniture on the first floor.

i was too preoccupied by how my blood pressure dropped in the dream. how my heart felt like it stopped, then ran. like it was running for its life.

somehow found myself on the second floor with her. she kept looking at me, this strange look. she tried to look into my eyes, always doing something that would make me look at her eyes. felt like she tried to possess me.

to say i was uncomfortable would overstate the understatement it would make.

and then i knew i had to run.

the way you'd know to cup your hands under the table when you've accidentally pushed something over the desk. you dont think. you just do.

i just ran.

and she ... didnt run. but she was after me. i was not quite sure how. but i ran so much, i thought i couldnt run anymore. everywhere i ran, i found myself facing her or feeling her so close to me, the hairs on my nape stood on end.

and i started to pray.

ash hadu allah illaha ... why am i muted? why cant i pronounce the words properly? why cant i say it. something caught my tongue. i felt like she had an invisible grip on my tongue, that she grabbed it taut out of my mouth so i couldnt say what i wanted to say.

i was scared shitless, horrified, almost to the point of death from fear. at least i felt i was.

i tried again.

ash hadu allah ...

ash hadu allah ...

ash hadu allah ...

ash hadu allah ...

THEY DIDNT BLOODY COME OUT! they didnt bloody come out. i gritted my teeth and thought to myself, "faith ... faith ... faith ... for nothing is greater than God. faith ... faith ... faith ... "

and somehow i knew, i was dreaming. i fucking hate it. i fucking hate it when i know i am dreaming and i feel so stuck in it. when willing yourself out of a dream becomes a physically exhaustive and daunting task while in the dream.

you almost feel ... dead.

trapped.

in your greatest fear.

like you're in a box and wherever you run, you hit a wall. you just cant run.

and so ... i flew. i flew in my dream. i flew over the barrier on the second floor that prevents you from falling into the lobby below. i flew. but oh so slow. so slow, i knew i shouldnt even have tried flying.

she grabbed my feet.

and as i flew, she was hanging from my feet, almost in glee she caught me. not on foot. but in the air. i cannot describe the look she gave from below.

i was already flying so slowly, she was dragging me down.

but it makes no difference.

i couldnt fly anywhere.

i couldnt run.

"faith ... faith ... ash hadu ... ash hadu ... " i felt like my tongue had shortened. i couldnt say anything, i couldnt reassert my belief in God and his last prophet.

i was trying so hard not to look at her and concentrating on slowing down my heart beat that i didnt feel the oak door on my back.

it was the way out.

but there was no way out.

i yelped silently, willing myself so hard out of the dream. i just wanted to wake up. all i wanted to do was wake up.

like a man under water for too long, i burst into consciousness gasping for breath. the fear was so real i could still taste it. i could still feel her in the room. i couldnt stand the darkness in the room anymore. i lost grip of reality. i couldnt even bring myself to reach under the bed for the side lamp for fear i'd see her hand grip mine and realise that i'm still stuck in the dream.

somehow i reached out for the side lamp and switched it on.

i reached over for ravi, the only real thing i knew in those infinite 5 seconds and tried to wake him up. i needed to know he was real, that everything was real.

why?

i want it to stop.

how do i make these dreams stop?

how do i stop running?

what do i have to face?

myself?

what, oh God, do i have to do to gain peace?

what a bluddy rotten day

of course after a great round of sex, we were unable to go to sleep. of course after we actually got to sleep, we were unable to get up this morning. not like as though mornings where sex was not on the agenda the previous night arent hard enough. somehow we manage to drag ourselves through the first hour. i fell asleep on the throne and ravi claimed to have ironed my pants. i couldnt comprehend how my pants were ironed when there were creases anyway. but i figured that glamour was not in the creases or non-creases, but in the way i walked in creases.

so fuck it, i wore my creased white pants and white striped shirt that can no longer button around the abdomen area. my shirt has suspiciously shrunk. or is it just me, but as days go by, i am losing sight of my own feet ... ??

and then i got one of those nightmare cab drivers who couldnt tell right from u-turn (deja vu, deja vu) or victoria street from cantonment road. i could have reached over with my creased pants and strangled him with my cheap necklace.

the ride was great though. i fantasised and re-fantasised about the fuckalicious night before. i hope all our kids are made this way. as the cab approached the office, my fantasies magically evaporated and i was rudely pulled into the world of freight forwarding.

i switched on my wonderful desktop and the laptop that once belonged to my already-2-weeks-old fired colleague. and i realise that i have glazed over.

no.

that's the end of the day. once dali glazes over, the day is over. she cannot concentrate no matter how much she wills herself to. hell, she cant even count to 13 without skipping three numbers.

i do not know how i got through the day. but i did. and i felt miserable. but mostly annoyed due to the crisis at home. friend's sister is staying at my place and she deems it her god-given right to bring her friends over whenever she wishes to. *poof* goes my privacy. but enough about that, i can go on and on about that.

i need a holiday badly. but i also need to save money badly. i have no idea where the save-money panic came from, but i'm hooked. am also thinking of scandalous ways to make more money. i still remember the night when leona told me i could easily make $1000 per night. "still young, still juicy, this kind of mixed blood face, sure can get." this was also the night when she taught me how to steal rolexes from unsuspecting horny, bald losers when in their KL hotel rooms. somehow i am sure i wont even be holding these men's hands in the first place.

am 22 years old. all of 22 years. bloody HR department wont give me a raise as i am not eligible. she has been unable to define "uneligible" especially since it was my direct boss who wanted to give me a raise. what? am i too young? what? lack of degree?

gosh, i can get a degree in a zip. it aint so hard. everyone has one. well, almost everyone.

i just wanna study something i actually want to study. something most parents would deem unnecessary, useless and stupid. like philosophy, theology, English, Latin, Arabic, documentary photography.

but where oh where do i get the money to study the things i crave more knowledge on?

$1000 per night doesnt sound too bad. i'd be rich by the turn of the year.

rat race

oh how does one regret in all veracity when it looks like you just cant get out of it? i'd never imagined myself to hold a desk-bound job as a pencil-pusher with high risk of arthritis of the fingers due to megafast and subhuman keyboard typing.

but i've relented.

and not only that, i'm surrounded by numbers. lots of numbers. we deal with figures. ok, we deal with more than just figures, but figures is what i see day in, day out. always imagined myself in a job where i'd practically be in solitary confinement. someone at a desk at 2300pm surrounded by dusty books, researching or reading. whatever.

i'm a money chaser now. i love money. i love the smell of it.

and i hate money.

i hate what it does to you. i hate what it does to people.

i hate it.

bloody colonialists.

why cant i

--this post has been removed due to overwhelming wave of conscience and love i have for particular subject of complaints--