backwards

i'm about to pass out, and i will. i brought the lappie home to do work with, but i just can't do it. tomorrow will come.

i think i found mc hammer's blog in one of blogger's buzz pages or something - i just can't believe it's him. it's too weird. i read online somewhere, last year (on a list of ppl forgotten) that he's a man of the cloth now. well, he sure doesn't write like one!

i look into the mirror and whine over tummy.

i look through the newspaper detailing goodies at the digital exhibition going on - and decide that i will not trade in the printer or buy a new camera. or buy an iPod.

i watch a documentary on terrorists and wonder, why is it that i can't make a difference to make it stop?

i read the papers about 18 men found dead in a bus, all blindfolded and gagged. and allegedly sunni - and victims of sectarian violence in iraq. for a psychotic millionaire, saddam did pretty well in curbing civil war in iraq. once again, why can't i make a difference? why don't these muslims see that sunni, shi'ite, maliki, whatever they are all called etc, etc - it doesn't bloody matter. at the end of the day, the crux of all their beliefs meet at one point, there is no god but God and Muhd is His Messenger.

i have vegetable soup and crispy fried beef. i bite into a cardomom and curse. i hate biting into spices.

i come home and look at the empty room. then wonder why my cashew nuts have been moved two levels up from below - it's now at the top of the junkfood pile i amassed from phuket. nan's been touching my stuff again, as usual.

the taxi driver volunteers a 50 cents discount for taking me on a huge maze ride through the city when he could have taken two straight roads to my place. i didn't ask for the discount, i just asked halfway, "are you lost?" he admitted he was daydreaming. i hope he isn't in trouble. what's 50 cents to me anyway?

ok, a sardine puff, a banana cake, an apple, etc. note to self: not everything should be quantified with food.

i leave the gym, content i had done 62 minutes on the wonderful elliptical machine and burned 593 calories. but i could have done more.

i walk through the entire bugis shopping mall looking for a lock, for the gym locker. i gave mine to ravi as i spoilt his combination lock - the english on the instructions sheet was atrocious, i locked it and we couldn't get it unlocked. i walk up and down cold storage's shelf #9 only to find out it's sold out. i find it at seiyu's luggage section.

there must be a lot of forgetful gymmers or a lot of tourists in this area.

i walk briskly and silently along north bridge road from the hospital. i ask myself, should i go for the surgery?

prof urologist tells me to think about it. either i go for the surgery or suffer for the rest of my life. if i can take the discomfort and pain, why not. but it doesn't make sense to. something-plasty it's called.

sounds like vaginal plastic surgery to me.

this is me.

i am born with tumours and a urethra so deep in, i have to have 5 surgeries before i turn 25.

post-surgery pain in the arm - i can take. but i am not sure i can take the pain that accompanies moving my urethra outwards. i still have to pee 5 times a day, that's 5 excruciating times a day, for 7 days.

i will be biting my lips till they bleed at least 35 soddin' times.

a big part of me says, just bloody do it.

the vagina crouches away, hoping to be forgotten.

i know what ravi'll say, just do it.

who will take care of me when i am healing at home?

i know what to do, but i do not know how to feel. i am cutting myself off from me, so i can make the right choice.

how was i so brave as a child, was it innocence? or ignorance?

or an acceptance?