berburu-buru borobudur

emotionally - stuffed
physically - stuffed
mentally - dead

i really, really, really am convinced that i have probably lost 40gms today. i feel lighter already! there's a bounce in my step despite impossible 2.5" shoes. i really cant understand why i let myself suffer so bad.

work has been - tough.

weight has been - tough. what with everyone telling me how i've put on weight blablabla. and cecilia came up to me today and said, wow you're fat. yes, you insecure nitwit. i am feeling fat, thank you very much. also the epitome of tact, this one, this woman.

this woman who prays day after day that her daughter will not turn out to be like me although it does look like there is a pattern to most convent girls. even though i was only in the primary school bit.

my brother and his girlfriend have left for jakarta today.

i.want.to.go.

to.the.borobudur.

i.want.to.go.

to.the.borobudur.

i.want.to.go.for.an.adventure.again.

it.has.been.two.fucking.years.

it.has.been.too.long.

kuala lumpur hardly qualifies as a holiday. how does visiting your in-laws in any way at all make that trip a holiday? besides holidays are all about discovery, discovery, discovery! well, at least they are when you're at this age.

i.will.go.for.a.holiday.by.june.or.i'll.go.blistering.mad

of rennbahns and amalgam.

rennbahn '50 1
Originally uploaded by crimsondevotchka.

i swear i didnt get off the bed to switch off the alarm. but it got switched off. so, instead of already leaving the bank by 1030am, i woke up at 1030am.

drats.

but OK, tried to save myself. gave nancy from the dental clinic a ring and told her i was stuck at the bank and could only make it at 1200. luckily (for me), there was a walk-in emergency who was apparently rolling on the floor in pain and could take over my slot. woke my brother up and rushed over to the bank in a cab which took all of two minutes. a walk would have cost us 10 minutes and i didnt want to have to lie to nice nancy again. like the bank guard was placing me under arrest for sucking on a lollipop in a non-eating area.

we were in and outta there in five minutes and found myself at dentigiene a lot earlier than i liked. dentigiene is linked to my family clinic and we were surrounded by sick shits. the man in front of me was snorting continuously, throwing funny sounds from the back of his throat every bluddy fifteen seconds, blowing out spurts of air from his nostrils while reading the mandarin newspaper. i mean, hello, other people wanna read that newspaper too? not me for sure, not only because i do not read mandarin but also because i am not going to hold a newspaper that has snort all over it. not even if someone collapsed of a sudden heart attack and i need to give mouth-to-mouth with a rolled up newspaper.

so i thought, hey, come on dali, give this guy a break, he must be sick right? right his sick wife left the prescription counter and nudged him to get off the sofa.

some people just have habits that are abhorrible.

then enter missy dali into the dentist's room. was greeted by unfriendly female orderly, then a 5 year old boy on the sofa by The Chair, apparently the unfriendly orderly's son (as long as he wasnt assisting in any way) - then i saw my dentist, dr susanne lim. it was like i entered some kind of time warp back into the 80s.

she had a haircut like ... like ... like my math teacher in school, mrs mok. or like that designer woman from The Incredibles (who also looks like my friend edna). like a shredded coconut husk was overturned and placed on her head.

real old-school.

in the middle of bleeding my gums to death, she chucked the murder weapon/bleed weapon/electric drill/whatever on my chest and then said 5 seconds later, "dont mind, ah? i'll place it there."

that wasnt the only thing she threw on my chest.

*ching*
*cling*
*keclingding*

it was equipment after equipment piling up on my - my - chest.

the first dentist in all my 22 years of life who chooses my chest as a makeshift table. says a lot about the flatness of my chest. hmph.

although i'd like to add that breasts do tend to look like they disappear when in the horizontal position.

i love dr susanne lim. i will make an appointment with her the next time. although it was the most painful dental visit i ever had, i just adore her attitude. she knows her stuff. she doesnt sweat the small shit.

walked out with brother who was patiently reading annoying pretentious socialite magazines (because i am not featured in any one of them) while i was being used as a makeshift table and went off in search of a supermarket with new zealand mussels. we were planning on lemon butter mussels *slurp*

then i saw it. the puma rennbahn '50s. despite precarious current financial situation due to expensive dermatologist consultancy fees, dental fees and conman-cum-plumber, i went into the shop and bought it.

am now proud owner of puma rennbahn '50s in pearl white and cordovan (just imagine maroon). you may view my flickr page to enviously drool over my shoes on the right.

got home, amputated prawns, boiled linguine, boiled clams, cubed scallops, sliced calamari and cooked a delicious pot of marinara sauce with beloved brother.

too bad ravi was asleep (sick, he said. sick, my ass. not even snorting one bit. just wanted to sleep. tsk.)

with these new pair of shoes, i feel like a new woman.

i shall walk tonight and deflower these shoes.

sona

it's a tuesday. rushed home, walked past everyone on the train platform, in the tunnel, the bus exit. the protagonist in 'the shadow of the wind' has taken a tragic turn in the book, depressing me for a total of 8 minutes till i realise at the ATM that i bluddy 'ell need to withdraw money from another account. rushed home, folded up white pants, took broom and swept balcony furiously. then rolled pants further up thighs, mopped balcony madly. three times over.

then found myself cleaning the entire goddamn house, sweeping and mopping twice over. even the room.

i'm coming home, baby.

damn, was hoping for at least an A1

lessons from the capital of malaysia.

miss george, edna and matchap already (not listed in order of preference).

12. watching extreme makeover instead of packing bag an hour before train departs singapore is a bluddy fucked up idea.
11. some taxi drivers need to be shot, like the one i called for. instead of helping me catch the train, he was 10 minutes late and gave all kinds of lame excuses. will just walk down the road and grab one of the other cabs in future.
10. F can be rather useful. had bought me much needed mineral water and assisted in changing money for me at my request.
9. remembering that i took the socks out of the drawer for the freezing train ride is not good enough. remembering where in the bag i placed it is more important.
8. bringing ravi’s oversized puma jacket was a bluddy fantastic lesson he had taught me on the last ride back.
7. wearing a saree for someone else is much bluddy fucking easier than it is for self.
6. always put camera in the right bag so you wont end up cursing yourself repeatedly when you grab the other bag.
5. do not step on the pallav of the saree with killer mules.
4. bring portable electric fan when travelling in hinterland malaysia at (what felt like) 40°C insane heat amongst mad drivers who contribute to rising blood pressure and body temperature.
3. do not line lower eyelid with broken eyeliner – looked like panda once i left the arumugam residence and wanted to bury self in hole when entered boutique with mirrors.

2. that if i feel like hugging someone, well, dammit dali, just fucking hug ‘em. even if you think traditional indian culture doesn’t “allow” the future daughter-in-law to be super affectionate.

1. that i know, i know despite myself, i know through episodes of denial that i could never love another the way i love ravi. have newfound respect for man in life, my protagonist, my roborant, my lover, my rock.

ignorance, unlike my own.

i was in the office till late the other night and was about to leave when i noticed another colleague in the office. i asked her if she wanted to leave with me, "i drive!" so she bought a car. when i was at her terminal, i saw her calendar, her christian calendar. on that day, it said "Anger. Before you get angry with someone, count ten faults of your own."

i have intense emotions that i struggle to control on a day-to-day basis. no one in the office knows that, of course. i look like a giggly young girl. it's important that they continue thinking i am a happy person without problems.

thinking of my own anger management problems sometimes, i casually mentioned in a hippy-hoppy tone that i should have a calendar like that too.

"why?"
"cos i am a taurus, we can throw mad rages. haha."
"haha. but it's a christian calendar!"

now, why is that a problem? why cant a muslim possess a christian calendar? does she think that a muslim would not want a christian calendar because she would not want a muslim calendar?

"so? doesnt matter what, we're practically practising the same religion."
"NO."

god. what the fuck? defensive, defensive. get outta here. aint gonna waste time on constricted-minded shits.

"didnt you know a muslim man and a christian woman can marry without either converting?"
"NO. What kind of law is that? Who said that?"

oh god. forget about it. she's one of those. like an ex-colleague who went to church regularly, who donated generously, who distributed donated food to the poor by driving around and using up about 1 hour of her saturday afternoons and $15 worth of petrol. and yet, knew nothing more about the poor she helped. she knew nothing of their personal lives, nothing of their cultures. nothing, cos she didnt bother to learn.

i hate it when the ignorant do not recognise their own ignorance.

didnt matter, i was pretty grateful i hitched a ride with her to a drop-off point just ten minutes from home. but the thirty minute drive there was somewhat torturous.

country christian music with cheesy lyrics.

if only these people sang in hebrew! lyrics could be more meaningful than "i will fly away, oh ... oh ... yes, i will fly away." i bet she didnt know that the original bible wasnt in english. i bet she doesnt know jesus isnt blonde and white either.

why do i even get angry? why? do i actually feel the need to change this? i cant! can we?

it's just like the pak hajis we know. they look at young girls in mini-skirts, shake their heads in disgust/disagreement, then go to bintan for cheap prostitutes on the weekends. all different situations, but somehow the same, know what i mean?

ok, off for milkshake now. jun's on her way, i'm looking fat in my babydoll dress. oh well, at least people might at least mistake me for a mildly pregnant woman.

hors d'oeuvres

fir just gave me a ring to rant about how much weight he's put on since he opened up the restaurant at tanjong pagar. i didnt quite notice, he just looks beefy. but it disturbs him a great deal - enough to go to the gym, enough to do laps at the pool, enough to watch his diet. and i?

i decide to go out and buy a pair of lovely nike shoes so that maybe, just maybe, i'd think of exercising.

hey, i cant just lament about how fat i am, right? at least buying a pair of shoes sets me on the right track (cheesy pun intended). but you know? $150 can buy me some nice crabs, crispy buns, tiramisu and chocolates.

i dont feel good, i dont feel i look good, if looking good can be a feeling.

i remember that when i first received the first few friendster notifications from people i knew, i just deleted all of them - i really couldnt give two shits about joining yet another of those annoying web portals that was just going to send my details to every other tom, dick, harry, jane and mary and mass-mail penis enlarger ads and discounted cialis into my already over-spammed hotmail inbox (cant believe they have a limit to how many addresses you can block!). then my brother and nuril raved about it, about how cool it was to see how you are related to a complete stranger by one friend, then another, then another. you'd know the links, but not the stranger.

i thought, hmmm ... interesting.

so the next time i got a friendster notification, i joined. within a week, i realised why people were raving about it. but as with most things, i was cautious. it got fun for a while, reuniting -so to speak- with classmates you forgot about. then it brought back flooding memories of things i'd locked up in pandora's box.

memories of insecurities. memories of my insecurities. memories of their insecurities. memories of their insecurities feeding on hurting others. then i just didnt bother.

was looking through friendster now and saw all these girls i once knew. all their friendster profiles had pictures of themselves partying with lo-and-behold themselves once again. the same girls who, when a beautiful chinese girl with fantastic boobs entered school in our second year, bitched about the porcelain beauty like as though they fucking knew her, goddammit. wasnt her fault she had flawless skin, wasnt her fault she had thick waist-long jet-black hair, wasnt her fault she was one of the smarter girls in school. it was her blessing.

and i made the effort to get to know her better. and i liked her. and the girls kept bitching about her.

and then i knew what i'd always known all along - these girls arent for me. at least not then. not anymore. at least that was the last i could lie to myself about.

you are what your company is.

and i was not what my constant company was.

didnt think i'd do something like that, but i abandoned ship. i couldnt bear to be near them, to even hear them talk, i'd feel disgusted. but it wasnt all of them. some were leading A1 bitches, the rest were backboneless followers. i couldnt decide which was worse, the class A bitches who prided themselves on preying on others or the backboneless slaves who didnt stand up for others or their own opinions when they knew the predators were wrong.

but it doesnt quite matter now. to say that i do not care would be a lie. perhaps i take too extreme a side of every story, or too intense an emotion fit for any circumstance. but that's all i've ever known. moderation is still a word i am unable to comprehend or abide by. going by the looks of it, i dont think that's ever gonna change. my father got more intense, not mellow, as he aged. so did his sisters. so did their mother.

hence, so will i.

i do not hold grudges. but as linda the astrologer said, a taurus would simply avoid you if she didnt like you.

succinct. i avoid having to pretend i fancy these people, no matter how remotely even if remotely possible. i avoid having to pretend i am actually interested in what they have to say. i avoid having the rest of my day ruined as i avoid having thoughts of how these people should stop bitching about innocent people and start bitching about the bitches.

now, that's what bitching's all about, isnt it? not preying on people you wish you were.

bitching out of envy is over me, i just dont get it.

so i thought they'd get out of it. right? i mean, it has been some years. but noooooo ... read their friendster profiles and noticed that they are still proud of preying on people they wish they were like.

ok, i am acting all holier-than-thou which is just as disgusting, especially when i think about all the preaching pak hajis i wished dead.

so, on a lighter note, have survived three nights without ravi. have only called him 2x. am extremely proud of self as self has now gained some control over impulsive self, and self suspects self is actually happy or somewhat contented.

bluddy hell fuckin' lonely though. even had the mad urge to go to kuala lumpur today just to visit his parents. i miss him madly, so i see his parents? yeah, sure, i also see the point. but hey, can see edna, matchap, george and mike, right? soooo ... but didnt do it la. found out my brother is returning from the KL meeting on saturday night itself so it would be pretty stupid to go down to KL just for half the amount of time it takes to bluddy get there and come back.

as lonely as i might be, i find it strange that i do not have the urge to pick the phone up to ask anyone out. gee.

do you think "gee" is a cut version of jesus?

alright then. take a look at following droolicious recipe and wish you were in my midst to taste it. while i look for an excuse to be inebriated tonight.

crimsondevotchka is outta here to make some experimental devilled eggs hors d'oeuvres.

8 large eggs
2 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons sour cream
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
Salt to taste
2 ounces black caviar

Place the eggs in a saucepan just large enough to hold them all in one layer. Add water to cover by 1 1/2 inches. Add 1 tablespoon salt. Partially cover the pan and bring to a full rolling boil. Cover, reduce heat to low and leave on heat for 30 seconds. Remove from heat and let stand, covered, for 15 minutes. Pour off hot water and rinse eggs under cold running water for 5 minutes. Pour off the water and shake the pans to crack the eggs. Peel under cold running water.

Cut peeled eggs in half lengthwise. Transfer yolks to a bowl. Cover and chill yolks and whites separately for 1 hour.

In a large bowl, mash the yolks with a fork. Mash in the mayonnaise and sour cream. Add lemon juice and salt; stir until well blended.

Fill the egg white halves with the yolk mixture, extending the filling over part of the white. Generously sprinkle each half with chives, leaving a little yellow showing around the edges. Sprinkle each half with lemon zest. Cover and refrigerate. Serve well chilled. NOTE: The stuffed eggs may be made 1 day in advane and kept covered and chilled. When ready to serve, spoon a bit of cold caviar on each half.

the lowest of men

when the lowest are more pakistani than they are muslim

day one

ravi has left. eric too has left. ravi will be back in two excruciating weeks and eric will be back in one year.

body : lost 2 kg (suspect it's the 3xshit i had performed today
hair : wild-dog status alert due to lack of leave-in conditioner in the morning
feet : aching and stinking :)
nails : desperately need a french
work : stressed, busy and regretting the last email i had sent

heart : having fits of cravings

for ravi

i kinda lost it last night. it was his birthday, and also his last night in singapore before he leaves for his business trip. his friends as usual decide to take him away from me for a night of alcohol and sexist jokes on the night we should be together before his business trip. but as it was his birthday, i thought, come on ... really ... let him do what he wants.

then he says, "i'd rather be with you."

but the night ended with him going out with friends for drinks, coming home later than he promised, me sitting at home crying my eyeballs out cos he broke his promise the millionth time.

and then we fight. and he insinuates that i fall sick everytime he wants to go out with his friends.

"yeah, but i've realised that the moment i tell you i am going out, that you start telling me how much you miss me and fall sick."

boy, did that get to me. i do not think it's fun to get bloody cystitis practically every other week or have a fixed appointment with the urologist every other fortnight either. and i do not pretend to GET cystitis for god's sake - no one can remain sane sitting on the throne for hours squirming in pain with a 1.5l bottle of water beside you.

i guess i sort of lost it.

i threw the mug of milk i was holding against the wall, marched into the room and slammed the door. i've had great control over that part of me for the past six years. i've had strong urges to break things but i've managed to control them fairly well.

till last night.

insinuating that i have fun suffering from pain he cant even imagine.

i locked the room door of course - it was extremely unreasonable but i knew anyway he'd get the room key from the bunch of gazillion keys outside. and he did find it after spending 2 minutes banging the door continuously.

he forced the pillow from over my head and told me crisply:

you have two weeks here, then ship out.

man, did i just get dumped again? kinda getting sick of this.

a shouting match ensued, apparently. i didnt think i raised my voice but he said i did. he said he's had it with me. with ME??!!

i mean, WHO'S THE ONE WHO FUCKING PRETENDS HE DOESNT CARE AND HURTS PEOPLE LIKE HE DOESNT CARE?

so anyway, we had a good talk.

it ended with a hug.

he understood - communication is a luxury in our relationship. he refuses to talk.

i have learnt that it is not a problem unique to our relationship. his brother complained the same too. i've had his friends asking me if i actually understood him cos they dont.

"why dont you let people in?"
"then they'll know me."
"but i'm your wife-to-be."
"i know."

and so - today became a better day.

only he isnt here. and i am so afraid i'm going to fucking screw it up one bluddy more time.

p*rnstar

and what have i achieved with my life? i have not even made a video like Ron has.

pyre

i.


just.


want.


to.


fucking.


set.


fire.


to.


ravi's.


things.


the whole fucking lot.

Happy Birthday Schnookums!

ravi bday
Originally uploaded by crimsondevotchka.

happy 35th birthday, sayang.
i hope you dont turn senile by 42 and start fucking keyholes by mistake.

i love you anyway.