Lost in…. translation?

I don’t get it. He does not understand anything I say. I have to repeat everything everytime I talk to him. It gets so irritating. Today, it just boils my blood every time I have to repeat something to him. It is so hard to understand me? I talk to the rest of my friends and everyone else fine. Everyone else understand the words coming out of my mouth. Why doesn’t he? It may seem like a small thing. But after a while, you’re wondering, he can’t understand the words I use… mental gap? I’m not saying I’m so smart… Can I take this for the rest of my life? I don’t think so. Its hard when I want to talk to him but know it’s not going in or he doesnt understand what I’m saying. I’m not sure its what I want….

I want to say everything once and not have to repeat. And I want him to understand and say something meaningful to me.

Sinking in quick sand… and learning to run

I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be in quick sand. The harder you struggle, the faster you sink. I guess its because you shift the sand around. And when you do that, the sand accomodates you and you fall deeper in. I guess shifting isn’t a good thing then.

I don’t know how that applies to daily life. But I’ve been feeling that way the past few days… Think I’m sinking into a very slippery spiral. Though I doubt anyone has noticed.

I’ve been trying to do a few things. None of which has succeeded. There’s something about following thru that I can’t seem to do. I thought about my big plans and the many resolutions I’d made at the beginning of this year. Of course, I did not succeed in any of them. I’d wanted to make sure I ran regularly, save enough to buy a car, maybe a house, be married. Baloney. I can’t even reach the goals I set for myself weekly. I don’t know why I’ve been less driven than I used to be. I think a large part of it is not feeling in control.

For one, and probably the easiest, I’ve been wanting to go running for the past two weeks. Haven’t ran once. A part of me thinks that if I could just have one good run, just one, I’d be able to figure my way out of my problems. Maybe my problems will seem easier. Or I could just feel like I’m running away from it all. I can already feel my face getting rounder since I didn’t run the past two weeks. It seems so long ago.

I’ve been trying to save enough money.. to buy a car maybe. I don’t think I can even consider myself a thousand-aire. Yep, with all the money I make (not) and after working for two years, I haven’t saved anything. I should have saved at least 24,000 my now. A whole lot of good I am. But I keep telling myself next month I’ll do it. Next month. Next month comes and I have insurmountable bills to pay. And a very large portion of that money is spent on drinks. I drink practically half my salary away. I think that’s bordering on alcoholism. A cheaper way would be to buy the bottle and drink at home I guess. But it just seems worse to drink alone in my room. That would confirm that I’m alcoholic. Do I really have a problem?

The thing is, if I continue drinking and not running, I will get fatter. And after spending so much money on training and gyms, it would be a waste. Will all my problems be solved if I start running? Is that really the first step? It makes me frustrated to not know how to jolt myself into doing something.

When I woke up this morning and realised the situation I was in, I didn’t want to run. All I wanted to do was sit at the bar downstairs and drink it away. Somethings very wrong with that picture. I may have always jokingly said I was one, but never thought I really was one til this morning. Maybe that’s the cause of all my problems.

I need to find a way out of it. But I keep wanting to take my mind of it and all I want to do is have a drink.

This isn’t the path I chose… or is it?

Its the way he… irritates…

Sigh, perfection does not exist, other than myself.

 My seemingly perfect plaything has two… no three annoying habits.

1. The TV watch and phone talk

He does this regularly. He will insist on talking but then he watches TV. I don’t know what it is about the male brain, that it can only process one thing at a time. He cannot process a word I say. When I asked him , once, what I had said, he repeated the words off the TV! If that is not enough to incur my wrath, he continued to insist that he can, indeed, talk and that he is listening. Indeed!

 2. The “be-in-my-mood-not-yours”

Oh, this, this he just did! He has been in some warped super happy, annoyingly irritating, think he’s funny by being sarcastic, sort of mood. It is more annoying than anything else and, hello! it does not endear you to me at all. It is not romantic. It is not loving and it certainly does not evidence sympathy after a long hard day. I don’t know what gave him the jambronic idea that I would enjoy his ridiculously immature attitude. Or what made him have the gall to thing that I would feel happy with his constant silly antics. Men should, i think, accomodate what the woman wants and not the other way. Why should we? As Russell Peters said, Be a man!

 3. The “No, don’t shop with your money….. or mine”

WTF. (nuff said)

 I’m so not in the mood to look beyond all the small things to see the big picture. When they said don’t sweat the small stuff, it did not relate to men. If it did, who would train our little playthings? I was so annoyed, I actually jumped on the floor and did a noteworthy number of military stye push-ups to vent frustration. (yes jules, it works!) and now my arms are aching and there is no one to massage them, except Mr. Perfect Annoying.

A pure pure night….

Had a very good evening yesterday with J, other than the hour long wait. A very pure night I must say. Pure annoyance from the wait, pure stupidity from the “astute” waitress, pure and genuine disbelief on my part and pure illogicality from J. All in the confines of the pure room at MOS. Blast it, I’m so corny! 

 THE WAIT: I received an sms last night at 8.12pm. It read “ready to go when you are”. I replied immediately that I was ready. Then I waited and waited and waited.

 Anyway, J finally showed up in his “i-don’t-know-why-its-so-ah-beng” looking car. Picked me up. Went to Clark Quay. After some… no, a lot of walking and deciding, we had dinner and then went to Pure at MOS. His phone had apparently died on him and he had the gall to call me later to ask what happened. I smsed, I called, never go thru.

 THE ASTUTE WAITRESS: Dinner was ok. Had a swine of an astute waitress. We waited at the entrance of the “dinner place”. She said we had to wait in the (non-existant) queue, on the other side of the pavement. Ok, fine, we did that. Except that when we turned around, she was standing right next to us asking us if we mind sharing a table. We didn’t. We walked back across the pavement.

 Nevermind that. There was an empty table right in front of us but we had to share a table with this really weird couple. The girl had unusually big boobs, for one belonging to the race that is rarely endowed such blessings. Unfortunately, hers were NOT a blessing. I think one was higher than the other. But J was quite happy about that. Ugh! Here I sit, across from you with PERFECT boobs and you’re looking at mis-matched ones.. Geez.. (Oh, 36D by the way… perfect no?)

PURE DISBELIEF: Anyway, astute waitress (not!) made us sit there. We eventually moved..but I still can’t get over how stupid she was. Later on, another couple came right in and sat at the empty table. See! We who were so polite kena. That’s what you get for being nice to service staff!

 Ok, I digress. MOS.. Pure. Ladies night…

J had issues to grind and sorrows to drown. Not that he’d listen to the voice of reason… noooo. Plus, he hardly drank enough to even drench his sorrows, much less drown it.

PURE ILLOGICALITY: But listening to J had got me thinking. I can appreciate his situation, just not the time-frame within which it happened. I also cannot understand why he can’t extracate himself from the situation and look at the facts. But like he said, he can see it, but whether he wants to believe it is another thing. Poor man. Caught in such a sucky situation.

Also, J nicely rubbed in how old we’re becoming. Each relationship lost is no longer just a love lost. Its time wasted. Precious time that we’ll never get back. Personally, I think its a good thing that J found out so fast that there were issues in there that he could not comprehend. That is enough to let him know that the femme fatale has too many layers. too much complication. Yes, you might want to peel of the layers. It’s appealing at first. But with too many layers, it eventually becomes tiring and nothing more. The best girls are the once that are open and, maybe a few layers, but not so many that you cannot figure out what they are thinking. J, this one, too many brudder.

I don’t want to be heartless, but J you need to start being less emo and more well b*&ta*dly.

Anyway, you know what to do brother, you’re a grown man.

Wanted to give you hug… but then, worried my perfect pair would get squashed with your now rippling chest Hubba hubba….

Working, drinking and running…

Another long long day at work.  And the work doesn’t end. Sigh, wish divine intervention would help. Alas, my powers are for good.. I’m a lawyer so anything to aid me at work is not not for good… hehehe…

Anyways, I’m starting to wonder if I’m turning alcoholic or just nuts. I seem to crave a drink every day after work. The day seems so wasted when I can’t have that drink that I want. Am I slowly wasting away, drinking my liver into overdrive, dissolving my brain cells into oblivion?

 And there are days when I am dying to run, but I can’t find the time. Last Monday, I had the time, the gear…but didn’t have the motivation. wtf?! I don’t know why I’m being so indecisive lately. There must be so psychological logic for this nonsense that I am going thru.

 Anyway, I hear that JLJL is feeling a little better. (wow! I actually made a link. wonder if it works). Waiting for the china-man to call. Supposed to go drinking.. AHA! You see. I need a drink! Anyways, he still hasn’t call so I’m wasting time here.

Well behaved women never succeed

Just caught an episode of Oprah featuring Maria Shriver (she’s Arnie’s wife). My favourite bit of the show was when she said “well behaved women never succeed.” Well said!! If she’s right, I’ll be successful and, hopefully, rich and influential when I’m 30? That’s 5 years away.

As a Goddess, I don’t see myself bound by the constraints of this society, or of my race. But I’m wondering how many seemingly liberated Indian women in Singapore find themselves unwillingly constrained by the rules our race imposes on us.

So many of us seem domesticated and unwilling to challenge the ideals imposed on us. Many times, I’ve heard many of my indian female acquaintances questioning something I said, did or thought. The point of reference is always, your father would never agree to that. Yes, he wouldn’t. If he did, he’d have done it. The point is, I’m doing it, its what I want to do and I”ll be the only one that will reap whatever the results of my act, thought or words.

Some of these acquiantances are seemingly liberated women. I say seemingly, because they still perceive themselves as obligated to play by the rules of the Indian community in Singapore. Many have great careers, good education and even have a gutsy attitude. But not a single one of them has ever looked at the ideals imposed on them and tried to break out of it or question the source of these ideals.

Of course, there is always advice to be had from the older generations. But that is all it is; Advice. We have the option to listen to it and take heed or take a different route. It does not mean we disrespect our elders. It just means on that point we disagree. Its amazing how our elders expect us to take their words as the final decision on any and all matters. Its more amazing how many Indian women are willing to accept such advice as the final decision and feel obligated to follow.

Then there are Indian men who think they rule the lives of Indian women. For some reason, most Indian men in Singapore think they know much more than the average Indian women. The audacity of some of these men. Take yours truly. I know I’m smarter than most of the Indian men I know. And yet, 99% of these men try to explain things to me and attempt to impose their “superior intellect” on me. Please, I’m not an idiot. And for heaven’s sake, if you want to show off how smart you are, make sure you know what you’re talking about. Don’t try to explain the basics of something that I know more about than you.

What makes the situation even worse is those Indian women who call themselves liberated, but then say, yes I am acting against the cultural norm. Why, why on god’s green earth, would you want to identify yourself as a rebel? You acknowledge there is a cultural norm that you should follow. That doesn’t show liberation. It just shows a woman with no clear sense of identity.

Indian women in Singapore should identify their own values, their own goals, their own ideals.

Its a worrying trend. And the only way out is for us to live by the rules that we create. Men are our playthings, they need us, and when we change the rules, they will follow.

The Covenants

A stroke of genius.

The Covenants

1.  
   1. All men are a Goddess’ playthings.
   2. We do not play with our food, neither do we eat our playthings.
   3. We do not cry over our toys.
   4. A man, unable to drink of his own wealth, is not worth our time.
   5. We were meant to be wooed, and were not made to woo.

The most important rule of all:

You worship me and I will keep you happy. You anger me, and I will destroy you.

Chocolates and Wine

I want to get a bar of chocolate and a bottle of Red.

Then I want to sit at the beach, or near any large body of water, at night, in the dark.

I want to devour all that chocolate and get drunk on that bottle of wine.

It’d be great to have “good company” with me when I take this step.

Will you come with me? You know who you are.

C’mon, say you will. Its been so long, surely you miss it as much as I do.

I’m a bitch

Bitchiness…. thankfully only women can be bitches. Men, sigh, they’d make a mockery of themselves if they tried.

What’s a bitch? I personally do not think that bitches are all bad. In fact, I take it as a compliment. There are women that spoil the term and give it a bad name.

These “bad” women are the nasty, evil-eyed, green-eyed monsters that go out of their way to wreck other people’s lives.

Then there are bitches; so labelled because we’ve reached further and climbed higher than most men and women thru sheer guts, will and determination. We are not mean. We are not evil or nasty. We don’t play games. We work hard and are no-nonsense girls.

I’m a bitch. So I’ve been told. But yet, it came as a compliment. I’ve never denied what I am. I’m a bitch and proud of it. I’m gutsy, I don’t take nonsense from anyone and I don’t play games.

But then, I suppose, even a bitch needs that shoulder to lean on. That one, very special, male that is man enough to love her, cherish her and support her. He’d be the only person in the world who’d see her softer side, who’d ever see her cry.