Lightbulb

By the way, I've named my unborn son. I did while putting myself to sleep after the uneventful Eng-Ecu game last night..
Brian Nilash, may you be born within the next 5 years to salvage my sanity.haha..

Ravaging

I know that when you write journals and diaries, you'll have to honour the shit as much as the good times. Maybe that's why my blog is more of a shithole than a pot of gold.
Why do I have so much of not-so-nice things to write about? My life can't be as pathetic as that, you say.
Well, it is...and I don't bother writing about the zippideedoodah stories so much because they don't last. Not as long as misery. You can go on dwelling in sadness and tears, but you can't in joy and content. It's there only for a while and that makes it insignificant in the face of misery. Because I have a longer time to wallow, it's there in my face, so I HAVE to write about it, that's the only way to deal with it..
Ok. Enough now.

Here's a another lump of dung for the shithole.

I'm depressed. No, not because of the World CUp, and not because I'll never ever have a chance to ask for Klinsmann's hand in marriage.

I'm depressed that I'm almost 24 and don't have a career objective. I have no drive and what's worse, I have no idea where to drive to. This is not what I used to be. I've always been a high achiever-be it school exams, in my music and in whatever I do and it scares me that I have lost this motivation (the same one that has carried me through all the years). At least I had a perfect score to work towards when I was studying.
Now? Nothing is certain.
One minute you may have the job of your dreams, the next you can wake up and feel like this is not what you wanna be doing for the rest of your life.

I hate this feeling of being aimless in my one and only shot. I can't belive that I don't know what I want in life. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I want my own family and I want to get out of my house. fast. However, the thought of being only a housewive scares the crap outta me. It's not that I think lowly of housewives, I just refuse to believe that's the only thing I'm capable of. On the other hand, I need to be in love with my job. Why can't i strike the balance?Why?WHY?WHY?????
Why can't I just be one of those idiots who take whatever job that comes their way and bitch daily about their job/boss/colleagues?

I know not the zest of life or the satisfaction that comes with career accomplishments. I look at working individuals wondering if they're truly happy. I listen to stories of their marvellous relationships and wonder, "Why can't I have that?" I sing a song over and over, only realising its meaning when it's no longer played on the radio.

Right now,I have faith in nobody. NOBODY. If you're someone who prides yourself in being my good friend or a person I can trust, don't anymore. Coz I don't have faith in you. And I'm going to take the rest of today, and maybe tomorrow to hate. I'm gonna hate the One dollar toll lady, I'm going to hate the children that scream in the field opposite my house. I'm going to hate the idiots who don't watch where they walk in the pasar malam tomorrow. I will hate the fucker who flashes me on the road and the asshole who came up with the blasted idea of a 5-day week for banks.I'm going to hate the next person who calls me and the popiah man who sells filthy crap to people who park haphazardly along that road.I cant make a resolution to hate cats, coz I already do. So there.
Should you bump into me over the next few days, I'm excusing myself in advance if I bite.Don't say I didn't warn you.

When home becomes just a house

Home is not quite the sweet right now. It's not what it used to be-everyone's doing their own thing.

My room is in a complete mess, and that's because I'm not the only occupant-there are a couple of maggots living with me. It's so unnerving to come home to a heap of clothes on the bed, on the table, on the chair, on the floor. Dusts of powder on the dressing table and the floor beneath it.To make it even better, clothes in the cupboard are not folded and there are gumpalans of hair at every corner of the room and books on the bed and the floor. Does it sound like a shithole already? yeah, thats what it is.

I guess that's partly why I can't bear to be in the house. Nowadays, I come home just to shower and bed. Thanks to my clutter-free years in Penang, I absolutely hate unorganization with a passion.

I don't understand how my father can wet a rag and squeeze it, wipe the table, wash of the muck and leave that lump of wet cloth by the sink! Why can't he wash it properly, squeeze it dry and hang it on the window pane (which is just next to the sink) to dry? How hard is that? He thinks I'm mad to get down on all fours to scrub the toilet once a week- his idea of keeping the bathroom clean is to pour some detergent on the floor everyday and spray it of with the hose! Honestly, who's the silly one?

I live with a bunch of clowns!My dad is unbelieveably calculative (I'm talking in terms of newspapers and Nescafe, not land ownership or mortgages) and he absolutely CANNOT admit that he is wrong. God!

Anyway, I think I'm getting subtle hints to pack up and move out-get married/ get my own place/go study...I dont know. I don't feel at home anyway, everything and everyone is so wooden (its literally true) so maybe I will...once I save enough or once I find someone I can drag down the alter.Ha ha.

3/4 of me hopes that it'd be soon. real soon.

Twenty Something

This weekend has been a real slow and trying one. Despite having a lot of time to myself, I still am unable to tap in and identify what my actual problem is. There's an unexplained void inside that I wish I knew what caused it, and who or what can be done to make it whole again.

Ah, well...I guess that's everyone's story.

In some ways, I kinda miss being a young, silly teenager with absolutely no financial worries on her mind-except of course when the phone bill come at the end of the month. Then I'll have to cook up stories to explain the calls that cost more than a ringgit.

There was once a call to a mobile number that my dad was furious about, I think it was 8 ringgit something.It was made at about 3am to this guy from church whom I had a crush on (who btw is getting married soon..sigh!)To cut a long story short, I thought I'd take a chance and I really thought I'd be able to get away with this one-So when my dad asked whose number it was, I justs shrugged a 'I don't know'..so did everyone else in the family (obviously). I never would have done that if I knew he was gonna call the guy up and find out who he was and who he was talking to from our home. I was busted.

I never thought I'd say it, but I miss the 'watcha doin?' just because phone calls about five or six times throughout the day, the midnight yakking and the clock-ticking-meter-busting comfortable silences (never mind that the mozzies were having a feast on my legs, and irritatingly on the soles of the feet) when neither had anything to say. I am not one that thrives on too much of attention; and that kinda explains the occasional claustrophobia attacks I suffered from in the past.

However, there are too many days now where I wish I was the centre of someone's life, that I could use someone as my punching bag when things don't go my way, that I could bury my face in comforting arms because I'm scared of tomorrow, that I could listen to their fears and hopes as well, just to know I'm not the only freak. Over time, I just find myslef turning into a deranged psycho instead whose only solace is in the screen of a Notepad.

But this is the life of a twenty something (a syndrome, rather). This is when you can be in a relationship and not get a phone call or an SMS the whole day or even longer- so forget the 'simply' calls. This is also when relationships are something that you 'juggle' and when 'ask and you shall receive' is an unsaid policy. Even if you can't talk to the concerned person about certain issues that will definitely cause tiffs, you're not 'encouraged' to blog or talk to your frieds about it. On the other hand, you can send looong smses or emails (just to avoid an ugly situation) and not get a reply...but god forbid you don't reply theirs.

Because people in this age group would have been through somewhat significant relationships and breakups, everything changes and you should expect to be shortchanged in the next, even if it's as promising as Brazil in the World Cup Finals. They enter a relationship with only one foot and a constant reminder to not let go wholly/freely 'just in case it doesnt work out, things wont be so bad.'

If you're a twenty something girl, you're always making a big deal out of nothing. 'Nothing', for example is when a sleazy w*or* lights your man's ciggarette-in front of you. 'Nothing' is when you feel that there's something not quite right but it has to be almost 'tangible' to be recognised as 'something'. The ultimatum is 'I'm not perfect-take it or leave it'. When you're in deep, would you leave it? Of course not..you'll take it like a spineless love sick puppy.

I know someone whom I felt was shortchanged like this, and I used to be baffled thinking about how she could go on with someone who seemed like he had the relationship with her out of conveniece; it was always he who decided when to meet or when to talk...if she initiated it, it would be at the 'wrong time'. She said that he did on occasions tell her that he cared for her (nothing more), and I used to get so furious because she took him for his words instead of actions. I tried to look at all the different angles to decipher why she stayed on, and I also distinctly remember trying to talk her to get her out of it by telling her that she deserved better.

I know now why it didnt work-she loved him dearly. Sometimes the shoe has to fit perfectly for you to get that lightbulb moment. There's a line in the song, 'Midnight Train To Georgia'-"I'd rather live in his world, than to live without him in mine".

By the way,I'm really,really glad for Debbie(I've said this for the how manyeth time,I dont know)