This is Me. This is 31.

I have a barrage of thoughts that I could go on visiting in my head again and again but I'm unable to actually write a proper article on them so I'm just going to have to break them up. Which would probably make it easier to read anyway.

2016
Great year indeed. Made a few good friends. Keep having breakthroughs in career (or at least I think), bad dates and reconnections of a couple of people who I had thought were lost. Got crazy, really angry, egged a car (the shame). Called a few people losers, one 'an arrogant prick' and decided to drop people like they are totally invaluable to me. Starting to really love myself a whole damn lot and I think that's what made me the way I am today -- no bullshit.

Sex
Sahara. Oh, but checked out a line item on the bucket list and did it with a local celebrity. A hot one mind you, and no, it's not Gurmit Singh or Mark Lee.

Love
As I've mentioned above, I went out on a few bad dates. And didn't really enjoy myself even when the dates weren't bad. I think 'unavailable' is now a tattoo on my forehead. Funny how it traveled from the back of my mind to be out exposed. Oh wait, but...

I met Benjamin a few nights ago. I think I've grown a helluva lot in the last three years. I've grown to be really different from the person who he fell for -- he doesn't has to say it because I noticed it. Still, there's a little part of me which aches for him (though I don't admit it and though I think he's not exactly the person who I thought I had been madly in love with all these years). Like I keep wondering how it's like to kiss him again. Is it the hormones?

Books
Reading 'Think Rich & Grow Rich' by Napoleon Hill now. Contextually speaking, it's as good as reading 'The Secret' again but it's more long-winded and convincing in a sense, and it's amazing how the great richest people of the world practise the belief unknowingly -- the law of attraction. You know what they say, that like attracts like and you're the person you perceive to be. I'm a sucker for LOA. Everyone knows this. It's probably the reason why I'm this strong these days.

Downed a few books earlier in the year but haven't been able to get started on the fiction that are currently sitting on the shelf. Because in my nature of work where we get to see probably thousands of words every day, you just fucking don't want to see any more of them when you have the time to yourself.

But when I do have time to myself, I lie in bed and surf the web. Dafuq?

Money
Pittance.

Alcohol
When you don't remember a thing, it doesn't count.

Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence

I love this piano piece by Ryuichi Sakamoto. It very well depicts the chaos amidst calm, much like how I'm always inside. Counting down to the big 31, I am beginning to feel I've lost the drive to seek better days for myself. I'm busy devouring whatever there's out there everyday in the digital marketing world. That seems to be the only thing I'm programmed to seek these days.

I no longer feel hyped about anything anymore. I don't remember waking up feeling I'm on top of the world. It seems, as I slowly wither, I lose myself too, bit by bit.

I do admit though, a big part of me is still living in the past. Making believe that I still go to Keppel Club, Sunrise Terrace and Snoop was still around. And when reality sets in, I could only hold all the pain in. I look indifferent on the outside, but little do people know that I'm in pain.

Why does everyone think I'm fine?

I'm not. I'm sad, lonely and most of the time I just feel like crying. But I keep telling myself not to. Because I'm well aware that being miserable isn't going to change anything. Happiness is a state of mind and not something to seek. Crying is only an amplified expression of pain and that the more you cry, the more weight it'd be on you.

She ain't you.

I don't exactly feel anything right now and neither am I occupied by any thoughts but I just really feel like writing. Maybe this will be an entry of pure randomness and it might not make sense to you, but I don't really care if it even make any sense to me at all.

I briefly went through my entries from 09 and I actually discovered something rather disturbing about myself. My writing has deteriorated. Long gone was the florid display of wordplay and that pompous tone. My vocabulary is stuck at where it used to be, if not took a downhill turn. Haven't I been reading? I have been. That's the thing.

Anyhow, I'm so sick of having to deal with men and their desire to try to get to know me. Not because I'm totally frozen inside but I think my bars are rather raised now. And it really takes a lot for me to notice you. I think I AM going to die a spinster. Doesn't really matter. Anyhow, if it's any comfort to myself (and you), I think I have a crush on somebody. Ridiculous it is, unlikely it seemed, but it happened. I am not too sure if I should tell him this? Sorry to disappoint you, it's not a her. But whatever. I just am not too sure if I should do anything at all. Cause I'm not really interested in another failure. Yes, this time around, I'm really scarred. Carl, you happy now? You managed to hurt me to this extent, push me to this far end where I lost all hopes in finding my Mr. Right. And I am not even remotely positive or confident that there is after all a Mr. Right out there for me.

Whenever I hear people say, 'your time will come. You will meet somebody right and meant for you,' I shutter. I tremble at the thought of that somebody being not good enough for me (anyone who knows me well knows that I get bored easily if you're not mentally stimulating enough) and I somewhat know that I could possibly be alone for the rest of my life? I mean, there are people who never got married, who's single and has three cats.

Carl.

Hey,

That was how we first greeted each other. You sent me a long message on OkCupid telling me how you love grooving to Disney tunes in response to what I've written on my profile. And I sent you a message only one month after, telling you to holler at me at my mobile number. Which you did, of course you did.

When we first met, I thought we hit it off well. While I didn't exactly find you attractive on our first date, your charm grew on me like a bud in spring. It was only natural it blossomed. And it sure did. You brought me to my first IMAX movie knowing I've never been to one. You were so thoughtful and kind. You still are.

As time passed, we started seeing each other very regularly and we quietly slipped into dating each other exclusively. We slipped into a relationship in a very subtle, gentle manner which seemed only natural and right. We were like long lost friends who share identical lifestyle, interests and core values. I can't remember when it was exactly but I do know this, that it didn't take long for me to fall in love with you. You're the kindest, most patient and understanding person I've ever known. You always listen to me attentively and you provided me with a support I never had. I felt safe, understood and loved.

On one early morning before dawn breaks, I told you that I love you before we bid each other goodbye. While I stood remained in your embrace, you didn't say you love me back. That's when I felt you struggling inside, trying to find a way to ease yourself out of the situation. You didn't want to lie, yet you couldn't bear to hurt me to tell me the truth. I understood this and I let go of you, bidding you goodbye as I headed home. "Maybe not now but perhaps soon" was all I could tell myself the next day and the following weeks after.

The day came when I asked if you love me. By then, I have fallen for you. I knew if you say 'no', you would have crushed me. You said 'no' but it didn't just crush just me, the both of us were. You cried because you know you really like me and you care a great deal about me. And you know you couldn't let me go because of this. So we established the understanding that we would try. We would try to build this even when we know that it was a one-sided love of mine. I took the risk, I wanted to try working things out with you because you were so dear to me. I didn't want to let you go.

Time passed us by and we built something. We shared memorable times together and took trips overseas. We hopped around town, enjoying each other's company and bringing nothing but joy to each other's life. You treated me well and with utmost respect. I tried my very best to be the best version of myself for you. We were at ease in each other's company as we pushed each other towards our dreams. I wanted us to have a future and I know if you could, you would have wanted that for us too. But the day finally arrived where you realized you couldn't do it anymore. And in order to be fair, you decided to set us free.

We've broken up for more than a year now. And we haven't heard from each other for months. Never had we been away from each other for this long. And I do know, that this void will continue to stretch into the horizon, with no arrangements of an expiry date. We will continue living this way, creating a bigger void that will only stretch further into an abyss. We might one day forget each other. We just might.

While I still remember you vividly at present, I want you to know how thankful I am to have found you; to have spent a considerable amount of time with you. Those days we had were easily the bestof my life. Even at then, I was thanking the universe for having brought you into my life. I still remain grateful today to have met you even though we have gone our separate ways.

I still think about you every day. I still miss you being around. I still miss the in-jokes we have which no one but us will ever get. I miss the chemistry of us finishing each other's sentences. And I miss so dearly, the times we goofed around at all the places we went to. Our carpool karaoke was my favourite and I know there won't be another who I'll do it with.

You mean a lot to me and you still do even after all this time. That is why I am almost certain that I will continue loving you in this quiet fashion, from afar, and in a corner on this great great world where you won't see me. I guess this is the best I can do for you now.

You still visit me in my dreams at night -- most of the times waking me up in tears. But I guess that's how I get to see you now, that's the only way I can ever be close to you again. And I think I have to live with that. I think I can live with that.

You mean so much to me. And I know you wanted so badly to be able to love me and to give me a
future. But you couldn't. Love didn't begin for you and it didn't want to be found despite you having tried for more than a year. It's not your fault. It was never your fault. You did try your best for me -- no one else but me.

I once told you that whoever has your love is one lucky girl. I remember this. And I still stand by it firmly today. Whoever she is, she has the one thing we lacked in us which we tried so painstakingly to find -- that one thing that was missing which was the only thing we ever needed in order for us to keep going.

We tried but we failed. While it's hard to say goodbye to yesterday, we had managed to. And we've come this far without each other. We've grown, aged a little and we're now back to the old days where we're strangers. I hope you'll succeed one day in finding the one for you. I know you will. And I'm happy knowing you will. I'll be happy when you do.

I love you, so very dearly and in ways you will never know. I still say this today and I'm sure I will say the same until I grow old. 98 and 3/4 percent.

You are the best, remember that.

Love, evermore,
Bunneh

The Momentum of Conundrum

I can sum up my life in three words -- no more.

"Work, workout and eat clean."

I've been living the life of an almost-recluse for as long as I remember. This is the story.

Last Christmas eve, I met Calvin. Someone who was really into me and purused me relentlessly. Then on one fine night, he kissed me and I didn't push him away. That was how he started saying we're in a relationship. Seriously.

That week, because my time was pretty much occupied by him, I strayed from Carl for a good while. We didn't talk for days, we didn't even seen each other for a while. For clarification's sake, I was trying to move on and heeding what they say about getting a rebound to do so. It worked! On the surface that is, God knows how much I was beating for Carl deep down in my heart during those times with Calvin.

Calvin and I didn't work out. Turns out he was an arrogant prick who couldn't care more about people around him besides himself. I should have noticed the signs. Who the fuck blew up his own picture in A3 size, framed and hanged it up on the wall? Who the fuck put together a collage of photos of himself on another wall? I was a little taken aback when I first went over to his place but I thought to myself that it's pretty common to love yourself this much especially after you've had all the achievements under your belt. But no. It's fucking not fucking common. Narcissism was what echoes day in and out at his place, bounces off the four walls and onto the windows then ricochet off the door. He took narcissism to a whole new level. And to think I thought I was pretty narcissistic. He put people who love taking selfies to shame.

When I ruminated over this mistake of mine, I understand why the Universe has planned for Calvin's existence in my life. He was here to help Carl and I move on. What was I thinking? Carl and I broke up a year ago and for the entire year, I had the both of us stuck at the same spot. It wasn't working out. He just wants out and I kept him around in hope that he'd change his mind. Which he never did. I imprisoned the both of us for a year. On a selfish note, I had successfully plonked a huge boulder on my life path.

You know, I miss Carl a damn lot but at the same time, I am fucking mad at him for having me replaced. The story goes... he met someone new and he's interested to know her better. They even went out on a date! But who am I to interfere? We're no longer in a relationship and I slept with Calvin and I dated Calvin for a month! So it's only fair right?

In my previous entry, I had mentioned that I haven't been single for 13 years. Which is very true. I was never single for too long and this time around, I think I'm ready to discover the true meaning of being alone. I'm just going to focus on my career, my weight loss plan and my ageing face. I will casually date men without any expectations that I'll find my happily-ever-after. I'll read a lot of books, compose poetry and learn coding. I'll spend less time on social media, the internet and cut back on drinks. I should quit smoking too.

Yup, that has been a real bad habit that I've been trying to kick for almost two decades. I think I could have lived till 80. But I think I'm going to be dead by 75.

We don't live forever do we? Thirty years later, where will we be?

The Honest Truth About Love

Today is the 15th of February of the year 2016. Exactly two years ago, Carl and I were at Sentosa. We celebrated our first Valentine's Day together at Movenpick Heritage Hotel. He had made the trip down to Lauren Bernard to get me a box of expensive chocolates. Exactly one year ago, this time I was having dinner with him at Coastes. He had arranged for this surprise dinner one week after we returned from Bali. He did it because he knows I love the sea. He knows I love Bali. Twelve days later after the Valentine Dinner by the sea, he left me.

If time is the only instrument to measure everything, if there's an unknown dimension it brings, then we're still living out our known history despite this current point of consciousness. Just that we no longer feel what we used to feel. And we no longer see what we used to see.

I read that love is a verb and it involves conscious effort from two parties so that it could live. I read that what will bring two strangers together is a perfect marriage of mutual physical, emotional and mental attraction. Love will then develop between the two as time proves. Time will measure the depth of feelings. It will take into consideration the number of breaths you two share, the number of times you fall asleep in each other's arms and all the laughter and tears. Love will find its way if the three aspects of attraction come together. 

The writer was wrong. 

When time travel in a linear fashion, love doesn't. It implodes within one then engulfs two. For Carl and I, it never imploded within him at all even when the three aspects of attraction were perfectly in place. After this whole time of trying and the number of breaths and secrets we share, I was greeted by a strange yet familiar sense of loneliness. I am now, once again, without him. I'm back to where I began initially before I met him. If we take Benjamin into count, I had Benjamin before I met Carl. And I had to leave Benjamin because 'we' were killing us both. 

And before Benjamin there was Mairah. And before Mairah there was Simon. And before Simon, there was Andy. And before Andy, there was Desmond. Going way back, I realized an honest piece of truth about myself. That is, I haven't been alone since the age of 18. 13 years in the making and I found myself sniggering at my dependency for a presence in my life. Whether having someone in my life makes me feel wanted and validate my need to feel it, or whether having someone in my life helps bring excitement into what I regard as conundrum, it all doesn't matter. It just means I need someone in my life to feel alive. Which is pretty shitty if you ask me. 

You need to love yourself in order to love someone else. If this is true, then maybe Carl doesn't love himself. 

I cannot remember when was the last time my heart aches this way. Probably when Bennett and I parted ways. If Bennett was my first true love, then Carl is the second. I guess. 

"How about Carl & You 2016," asked A. 

"It will not happen. We're off. He doesn't love me, remember?" I responded with clearly audible shattering noise of my heart and soul. 

Carl was my best friend, my partner in crime and we share the same jokes. He clearly doesn't think much of this but I think a great deal of this. I know, that it's near impossible to find someone who shares the same sense of humour. I just know this. But he's more into the new chick he met and probably he could adapt to whatever sense of humour she has and make it theirs. He's adaptive, he's a Libra. 

With tears in my eyes as I write, I can literally hear the sound of silence engulfing me with no mercy. Like a blanket, it wraps me up in the coldest fashion I've ever known and chill me down to bones. For once in my heart, there is no joy, rapture or conviviality. The dancer in me broke her legs. The singer in me got throat cancer. And the funambulist fell off the tightrope finally. Therefore, it brought out the poet and writer in me. If you've been following me for years, you would have known this about me, that I happen to have the most tragically beautiful poems and an endless stream of words whenever I'm down at the bottom. 

Fate always likes to throw me to the bottom of the dried up well. And with compliments without fail, she will always throw in a notebook and a pencil. That's how she starves me for all she ever wanted was my words of sorrow. That's how she gets her satisfaction.

I wonder what of me I will find

if I just try to,

all in the absence of you.

Oh wait... Isn't it?

I give birth to many thoughts in the wee hours. And most of these thoughts are plain horrifyingly regretful ones. I kinda am feeling pretty awesome yet shitty about myself these days. You know, takin yet another downtime from work, twice in a year is a luxury not a lot of people wish to claim their own. No Monday blues, just Mom's stares. All good and cruising.

I really HATE the initial phase of dating, getting to know someone, wanting to plunge soul deep into the person yet having to keep constantly reminding myself to hit the brakes. But wait... Am I not a strong independent woman of the 21st century who obviously can hold her ground? So why should I be holding back like a little coy peasant girl and not make any bold move at all?

"No darling, that's not how it works", said all the single women who call themselves love gurus. The other night I wailed to a friend, "I am so tired of having to have a relationship. I am so tired of games, guessing what he's thinking and all. I OBVIOUSLY want to have an earth shattering relationship and tower shaking sex (not forgetting trippy morning kisses and kitchen sex yup) all at full throttle but that's not how the game is played. I have to wear the shrimp costume and beautifully position myself at the end of the fishing line, waiting for him to come take a bite --- and mind you, one bite at a time! Don't we all live in the digital age now? This is WHY I'm so tired! I am so tired of being scared that I'll scare him away, I am so tired of having to pull the brakes. And most of the time, that just makes me feel I'm better off having a toy boy. No relationship, no love, no inordinate fascination of marriage, and hallucinations of us exchanging wedding vows."

Oh, but an honest piece of truth here: I didn't pull the brakes this time when it comes to sex. Maybe it's because of the 10-month celibacy I had, having someone desires me this way was such a big turn on. And so I couldn't keep my panties on. What a shame. Built up sexual tension is so sexy and I think I just heard you say you forgive me.

So I slept with Calvin on our sixth date. Statistically speaking, in the eyes of everyone, six dates sounds about right. But hang on, we had our six dates all in a week -- how's that? He was so into me that he had to see me every day. And I guess that did the trick for me. I got more and more into him (boy knows what he's doing oh yeah) and wanted to see him too. So before we even did the act, I pranced up and down in his living room for a good five minutes while he's in the shower (his neighbours prolly thought I was working out), recalling every dating tips and articles I have ever read on the Internet and kept questioning if I should sleep with him or not. 

"Yo, you only knew him on the 7th Dec. You first met him on the 24th Dec. Today is the 1st Jan 2016. Isn't it a little too soon? But we already had six dates! And it's perfectly fine if I check if he's a girl in disguise or not! If he's not, it's perfectly fine for me to check his package too!" 

In the end, I succumbed to my raging hormones and blamed it on New Year's Day. On a consolation note, at least, it's special. It happened on New Year's Day. And we first met on Christmas Eve. THESE must mean SOMETHING right?

And I think I am in love. 

P/S I so don't want yet another failure. 

My Epiphany

Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the time of the year. I had a sudden realization as I walked down busy streets all by myself with a haversack on my back and converse sneakers on my feet.

I realized I have been living my life wrong. Maybe not wrong but not in the way my heart tells me to.

All along I had thought I wanted fame, sense of importance and everything else that comes with having a rather reputable job. The corporate ladder is not for me, I don't wear heels. And I'm not for earning the riches and driving fast cars. I want to create and make something that will change the world. I want to save something. I want to help.

So last evening before bed, I made myself promise that I will never buy another leather bag or purse. I told myself I will cut down on my meat intake and I will try to be a vegetarian. I told myself that no animal have to die just so I could enjoy its meat. (Carl and my mom are going to be rather sad over this)

I saw yet another article on sport hunting of the largest elephant in Africa killed. I saw its lifeless body, its long white beautiful tusks. Then I saw a disgusting human being squatting next to it, posing for the camera. With a smile so wide that I just feel like giving him the Joker's scars.

I realized I have a vigilante in me. I can't stand watching the helpless being bullied. I can't stand not helping anyone.

So I promised myself that I will give unconditionally from today onwards. Do my best to protect those who can't protect themselves and help whenever I could. I will save the animals. I will.

I will even speak up for the rape victims in India. I will and I will.

I will be the voice for those who can't speak or tell a story. I will and I will.

I will save the world. Even if it means me being murdered. I will not live and die like this. I will live a true life, a meaningful one. I will not leave this world without contributing anything to it.

P/S Tony, if you're reading this, please lend me one of your suits?

Closure of Cs

I left Carl today. 

Left whatever we have built over the last two years. Left Keppel Club, Snoop, Sunrise Terrace and all the feeling of him being around, the memories and his smile. 

Love is a choice. Leaving is also a choice. 

I did my best. I really did this time. 

29th September 2015

On this fateful day, something rather big happened.

It is to me.

I had duly gone to the Superdry store at VivoCity to meet up with Alicia for a product sponsorship. Before that, I had gone to La Senza to check on the new arrivals and returned the goods I had previously loaned. Met up with Alicia at about 5:05pm and spoke with her a little on what our requirements are. Managed to catch up a little on our common friends and went on to talk about Yoga Movement.

Then the phone ranged, ding ding.

I had to look at it again. For a good 10 seconds I couldn't believe my eyes.

"[WhatsApp] B K. Siew Hi, xxxxxxxxxx"

I took the SuperdrySport collection I've picked out for Alicia and told her to go try them out. Spoke with her a little while my brain was racing up and down, to and back. And I said bye to her.

But I didn't leave the store. I had to breathe.

I hid in the storeroom and reread the message a good ten times. I was panting very heavily and for a moment I thought I was going to faint. If I were to faint there, I am sure my colleagues would have sent me to the hospital. And they will notify my boss in the office. Which will then be ridiculous so I tried hard not to pass out.

Thank god I didn't.

So it finally happened. The day I always somewhat knew would come.

He had dreamt about us the night about, about our quarrels and fights that were surely, unforgettable in his words. To me, I had let go of the unpleasant times and remembered the good ones for these two years.

Glad he remembers it's been more than two years since we last spoke. Not pleased to know that he has only been able to think about the bad times we've had for the past couple of years.

If fate has a nickname, let's dub it wicked OK? Let's agree on the existence of sheer coincidence as well because two nights before, I had dreamt about him vividly.

If I had subconsciously been practising LOA on him, and even in my dreams, I've manifested him back into my life again. Not trying to sound arrogant or cocky here, but I've always known that Thor Tan Tui and Mrs Thor will always find their way back to each other somehow. Maybe not in the romantic way, maybe not even on friendship basis. But maybe for a closure.

And this is our closure.

He had decided to let go of all the resentment and anger that he has been keeping for two years.

"Are you serious? For two years, he's only been able to think about the anger?" asked Tracy.

Later that day, I went home and had a good long stare at the diary he had previously gotten for me when he went to Germany for some military training exchange. I took it out from the box that usually sits at this corner on my bookshelf. Inside were his photos, our photos, air tickets, receipts, a couple of letters, a card and March 2013 tore off from the calendar. I am a sentimental freak.

I opened the diary and skimped through some of its pages. The last entry was dated 28th September 2015. The day after I had dreamt about him.

Through the years, there were a few entries written. Sporadically.

"Wow, I was so childish," I felt disgusted with myself.

For the next three days, I contemplated whether to return everything to him which I had meant to for the past two years. Imagine if I had given the diary back to him in 2013, there would never have been entries dated 2014. There wouldn't have been entries written just because I had wanted so much to talk to him.

You see, we did really talk a lot when we first met each other and when we're not fighting. We usually talk to each other as soon as we wake to when we sleep. Never for more than an hour did we not text each other. We have endless subjects to talk about, ideas to share and identical habits to discover in each other. That was us. We're almost like best friends. Or I would like to think now, we used to be best friends in our past life. But not this life. The Universe had decided that this is the end of this arrangement which has spanned across a few lifetimes.

On 3 October when Carl left for LA, I picked up my phone and told Benjamin I have something for him. I have my closure and that was it. I want to return everything to him, the piece of him that he had given me. And if by reading all the entries I've written him all these years could give him the bit of solace he's been seeking for for years, then please let him read it. Please let him know how I felt, how I used to think and perhaps, allow him to understand why I reacted the way I did, which resulted him in not being able to let go of the resentment and hatred he has been habouring for two years.

I wanted us to say goodbye. I know we can never live with each other. Have we been thoroughly happy for the last couple of years? At least, I would like to think so. Even though Carl and I aren't officially back together, I know and hope we will one day be able to commit to spending the rest of my life together. Whether will I be thinking about Benjamin on my deathbed when I'm 85, I don't know.

***
14th March 2013 Thursday

It was a warm night. We took off to Sentosa after our dinner at Piedra Negra. You had a beer and I had a sangria. We sat by the beach and listened to the waves. For a good moment, we both kept quiet and allowed ourselves to be, to just be in the presence of the moment, right next to each other.

"When I went to the states for this military training, Schofield Barracks to be exact, we had potatoes for meals all the time. But the food was good, they were good."

Silence

It was September 12, 2015 that I decided to disappear and live a life of a recluse. I didn’t want to take a shower but decided to because I desperately wanted to brush my teeth. I had this unspeakable paranoia that if I don’t brush my teeth for a day, they will all be gone the next day. Sitting on the toilet bowl and emptying the little of which I’ve consumed the day before, I found out that the bathroom felt safer than my bedroom. It’s where I smoke and clean myself.

“Since you’re taking a shower anyway, why don’t you make sure you clean every inch of your body real clean?”

I have a habit of buying and keeping toiletries as and when I visit Watson’s. I always have a fear of running out of toiletries. Even when I do have a lot of travel sized ones, I still feel safer with the full sized version. I am worried about having no shampoo, no shower gel, no toothbrush and no facial foam. Funny thing is, I never worried about running out of toothpaste. My youngest sister was the one who worries about that so she always has it covered. I guess I take this for granted.

*

How could one who live in the light of day comprehend the depths of night?

*

I had to put away the Haruki Murakami book that I was reading. Once again, I fear that if I ran out of his books to read, I’ll be lost again in the depressed funk that I’m very familiar with and start crying. I made myself noodles and coffee for breakfast this morning. When I was still hungry, I had three crackers and felt bad for having nothing nutritional but carbohydrates.

*

“Hey, are you OK?”

“No.”

“OK.”

The phone ranged and exchanged were three short sentences that lies a whole lot of underlying meaning beneath. The display of concern at the beginning, followed by something which the asker didn’t want to hear, followed by something which the respondent didn’t want to hear. What’s the point of checking in on someone when you know you are incapable of doing anything if she’s not OK? Don’t anyone realize it makes people feel more helpless than she already is?

*
I can’t talk today. Or rather, I’m tired of talking and I have nothing I want to have a control of anymore. Things are not expressed don’t exist. If we strictly abide by the learning of this, reality will crumple. Kingdoms will fall and the government will cease to exist. It’s as simple as that.

“If you don’t say it, how will anyone know it?”

“It exists within me and I know it.”

“Bullshit.”

Goodbye Kitteh.

Everyone damn girl I see;

they look like they will make you happy.

They look like your dream girl...

one of them must be. 

Everyone, anyone

but me.

When Is Too Much Too Much?

I've been sitting alone pondering about the failures I've had in life and asked if I'm indeed as what they have labeled me to be - not strong enough. If I take away the self blaming element of this entire career saga that I've been going through, I realized it isn't me who's flawed. It's the work and elitism system here in Singapore that is. Having been out and about MNCs and SMEs, I noticed the huge jaw dropping difference in both. MNCs care a great deal about employee welfare, SMEs only care about the business. And when you only care about your business, guess what, you shall forever remain as an SME.

I've been down in the rut recently questioning myself once again what is the matter with me. I ran a barrage of questions I had with my friends who worked or work in creative agencies in hope to determine if I've being fairly treated at work. The answer they gave was no. I'm on the client side and rightfully speaking, it shouldn't be as taxing as it is on the agency side. Yet my friends from agencies can tell me, that they think it's too much.

No more self reproach. For I've taken far too much medication to calm myself when I wake in the middle of my sleep to weep like a child. I haven't been sleeping well that's to say. No, I haven't been sleeping at all without the aid of my medication. I'm most probably labelled as flawed and weak in the eyes of workaholics and control freaks. But in all honesty, I don't give a damn. This is my life after all.

Paying Dues

The saying, "You'll never know what you got till it's gone," truly resonates with me.

Not long ago, I enjoyed the surreal luxury of leaving work on time every day, with public holidays and weekends off, and not having to work during sick leave, on paid holidays, or after hours. Now, I find myself grappling with the chaos of modern life. The deeper I dive into social media, the more I lose the precious "me-time" I once had. It feels like I’m always on call—emails and WhatsApp messages flood in no matter where I am or what time it is.

It seems many Singaporeans struggle to grasp the concept of work-life balance. I was fortunate to spend two years at John Wiley & Sons, where I learned what true balance looks like. We were actively discouraged from working after hours, on weekends, and during public holidays. When we were sick, we were expected to focus on recuperating, not replying to emails. If you were working after hours, it raised questions about your productivity during the day. This was their culture.

Additionally, we were granted an extra half day off before every major holiday, recognizing the diverse cultural landscape in Singapore. The UK and US teams understood that when Malays and Indians enjoyed a half day off before CNY and Christmas, the Chinese deserved the same before their New Year. It made sense.

Ironically, I haven’t encountered this kind of understanding in any Singaporean company I’ve worked for, despite the nation’s pride in its multiculturalism.

There’s a misguided belief among some Singaporeans that if you’re sick, you should still be answering emails and texts. If you don’t work after hours or on weekends, you’re seen as lazy. I find this cynical mindset baffling.

I miss my life in the publishing industry, where authors, professors, and doctors were a more pleasant group to work with. The perks that John Wiley offered have set a standard that few companies—except perhaps Google—can match.

I fondly recall walking into the office free from political tension, headphones in, working in a peaceful, conducive environment. I miss the two-hour lunches with colleagues, sharing ideas and discussing politics instead of gossip. I long for the simple pleasure of finishing work at 5:30 PM and walking to the lobby to see my black Mazda waiting for me.

I've come to realize that fame and prestige aren't what I seek. I want to be carefree, yet recognized as an academic—someone who loves books and literature. I’m not interested in writing ostentatious press releases or fancy copy. The spotlight of social media feels overwhelming, and dealing with the online crowd can be stressful. If you’ve spent time on social media, you know exactly what I mean—some people seem to revel in negativity, and there are those who thrive on being cruel.

Becoming Freer

I've always believed there's something more in me. The ability to put thoughts into words without sounding phony, the crisp style of words usage without flamboyance. But the funny thing is, I always thought I was never good enough until I read how Haruki Murakami started writing.

I remember vividly when I was 11, I received my marked English essay and was very surprised that I had scored a high 38/40. The teacher then announced that my essay was the highest in class and also I had topped all combined 4 classes. I wasn't very impressed with myself but I was nonetheless surprised. Because on the day when I handed in the essay, I had thought I was going to flunk it or score really low. My classmate who sat next to me borrowed my essay to read and then returned it together with a black facial expression. I returned the favour with a blank expression as well.

The both of us clearly didn't know how I had managed to top all classes.

The writing style was nothing to boast, the story plot was nothing spectacular where there's a hidden plot twist at the end, the main character was named John.

I had a thought just earlier today (I always have a lot of thoughts) that I could live on $50 a month at a backward village where if I want to drink, I would have to fetch water from the well. That way maybe I could write something, figure out my life and quit smoking altogether.

My Sacrifice

I think this little speck here in the cyberspace is the most brilliant example of paradox. You see, I fucking well know there's no one reading whatever I write here YET at the same time, these words are possibly the truest form of my reality. No pretense, no lies and a whole load of swear words. Yes yes, and whatever that has taken place in the last TEN years of my life. So I am honestly documenting every thoughts I have, every struggle I go through, every breakup, every men I've known and the list goes on.

Ten years later, check back and you might find baby photos. Fifty years later, my writer daughter is going to turn this into a book.

I have 198 songs in my favourite playlist on iTunes that I can never tire of listening. It should be 199. I had forgotten to pull Foo Fighters - Everlong in.

It's 9 August today. One more day and Carl and I would have known each other for two years. He's been really sweet today. It feels like we are back together. Alas, we are not. According to him, he needs this space to be on his own to figure himself out, as well as his future. I mean... What's there to figure out about his future? I am YOUR future babe. But it's okay, you'll see it in due time. You'll never meet another person like me. You know this all too well. How often does one meet someone who's:

1. all your friends love (without having to buy them rounds of shots)
2. watches football with you
3. plays games with you (and bought you Football Manager before anyone in SG gets to play)
4. debates whether 2pac or Biggie was the best rapper ever lived with you
5. eats whatever shit you eat
6. travels with you and carries her own bag
7. fashion savvy enough to style you
8. has a Mensa IQ
9. almost became a Googler
10. am the best in bed that some call her Sex Goddess
11. has a fucking wicked sense of humour

And the list goes on.

So babe, if you're ever reading this, you're really just plain stupid if you never come back. If you did, which you will, you're being wise.

If you're the new girl of his, well, I have a longer list. You might even start to think I'm perfect for him, not you.

12. i speak my mind all the time.

50 Years Into The Future

Lying semi awake in bed, I can't help but to log in here to write down some of the much random and melancholic thoughts I have. As Singapore ushers in her 50th birthday, I tried to flash back as much as I can, peering into my childhood and teenage years, all since the year 1985 in which I was born in. 

Hello 30. 

Time has its way. Whether you think of it having a good horsepower or one akin to a Picanto, it travels linear without showing a tinge of mercy on us. Hitting 30 made me realize I am no longer young. While the days of incessant partying has long gone, I can still smell the sweetness of the residue left behind by the days of my 20s. The rebel, the carefree, and the careless. My body has failed me quite a tremendous bit where four hours of sleep no longer suffice. Aging is real and so is our race against time, the one thing we can never beat.

50 years into the future, Singapore will be celebrating her 100th birthday. Technology would have taken yet another huge evolution and the politicians we see now would have long died. Without doubt, my parents would have also died. And I, will be 80 years old. The idea of losing my parents is devastating in an abstract fashion I would call my own. I do believe there's a paradise which we all go to after our time here is up. That thought makes me happy. Alas, before I can confirm whether this is true, the absence of their presence would be a thing I will notice with regret. They were after all, once roaming on this land, living in the same dimension.

What would I be like when I'm 80? Will I have a lot of children? Grandchildren? Will I still remember this feeling I have right now when I'm old and feeble? Will I be placed in a nursing home thinking about my husband who had died before me? Will I be a happy elder? Will I still remember I do social media for a living? Would I have, by then, be able to decide whether 2pac was a better rapper or Biggie? 

How will Singapore change? How will the world change? Will it be an apocalyptic one which Interstellar best depicts? Will mankind be struggling to find a chance to live in the unknown dimension? 

With so many questions on hand and I have no answers for. I know I can only wait to find out. Knowing that we are all in fact dying, and time is the one which will eventually kills us, I no longer wish to chase fame, prestige and money. 

I only want more time.

Just One of Those Days.

I have heard this saying for a million times, "When something doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger," and I have a very opposing view of this. Sans the belief that everyone lives a life that's akin to a bed of rose, I am absolutely certain that you too have had something in your life that didn't kill you. It may have made you stronger, it may have made you a better person but sure, you would have changed quite a bit from the experience. To quote a book that I read years ago by Marian Keyes, this sentence she wrote has been deeply etched in my head which I stand proud to believe even until today: 

"When something doesn't kill you, it makes you funnier."

I have always thought that from the photographs one takes, you're able to sorta tell what kind of emotional landscape she happens to have at the moment. I have always wished that I was a better photographer, but on a self-comforting thought here, I perhaps fare better at words than capturing moments. 

Today is one of the days where I will work once again. After a newly found disgust for weekends, #TGIF hasn't meant anything to me since. I find myself empty and lost on Friday evenings, not having the same dose of joy that once meant a lot ot me. So I diverted a lot of attention to work, online and offline shopping and also alcohol and cigarettes. 

I had successfully quit smoking for about a hundred days. Kicking an 18-year addiction, I became a social smoke with a snap of a finger, just because I had wished to be healthier, a lovelier person for Carl. At the end of the day, I realized when I'm in need of company and something to do, cigarettes never betrays. And alcohol is my temporary solace that I could have from all the madness I have within myself when I am sober. 

Who the fuck says it's wrong to drink to escape from problems and woes? Does this person even understand how it feels like to be miserable and yet pretending to be positive and strong on the outside for 150 days? Does this person know how it feels like to cry for 150 nights? 

My escape consists nothing short of alcohol, cigarettes and the utmost desire to run from the reality that's right before me to a past where I was carefree and happy. 

Good Woman

I have a thing for giving the title of any entry here the name of the song I happen to be listening to. When others think of it as nothing special, I think there's a lot to it. If the Universe chose to play the song (Spotify) when the urge in me to write was brought forth, then it must damn mean something. I believe, in some extent, that this is how the Universe is communicating with me. At this point of time, the Universe is telling me something.

I don't want be a bad woman

And I can't stand to see you be a bad man

I will miss your heart so tender

And I will love

This love forever

And this is why I am leaving

And this is why I can't see you no more

This is why I am lying when I say

That I don't love you no more

'Cause I want (to) be a good women

And I want for you to be a good man

And I was right wasn't I?

These four months have come and gone in a fashion that is not favoured by me. During this period of time that has passed, I have cried and bawled more than I ever did in my life. I have cried in the shower, I have cried before bed, I have cried when I took the train, I have cried when I was on the bus, I have cried at work, I have cried in all places you could possibly thought of. And surprisingly, I am still crying today after Carl and I have broken up for four months.

I have not gone on a holiday, reserving myself for him. I have not gone on any dates and I haven't had the desire to find someone new. They say the best way to get over someone is to find someone new. But what happens when you are sure you want no one else but that one person who doesn't want you? Do we give up and let go just because it's easier to do so, or do we stay put standing at the same spot because pain is the only feeling that you could feel in order to feel closer to the person? Whether it's walking away from a love you cherish so dear or staying put, it hurts nonetheless isn't it? Crying is my expression of hurt and pain.

"Yes, you can leave and hope for the best," I thought to myself on the train ride home this evening. I can hope for the best. But I too wish to fight for what I really want. It's my way of survival and I was taught that this is the way to do things. I have fought for who I am now, what I have now, and possibly the little achievements I have now. So when it comes to matters of the heart, why shouldn't I put up a fight? Isn't perseverance the only ingredient anyone need to achieve anything?

It's 2 July today and Carl and I are still not back together. It's my birthday soon and I don't want a new bag, not riches, not fancy dinner at fancy restaurants. I only ever want Carl and I to be back together. Not the same manner we were before but better.

Is this too much to ask for?

Opera Ghost

It's Saturday and I'm at home reading A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami while listening to The Phantom of the Opera. How long have I not listened to it? Quite a substantial amount of time. How long haven't I stayed home on a Saturday to read, have coffee and listen to the opera? I can't remember but this doesn't feel brand new at all. This feels like I've once again returned home.

[At this point of time, Prima Donna came on. It's one of my favourite segments of the opera. Mainly because, if you realized, there were six of them intersecting one another at the same time. How they managed to keep up to the arrangement while not forgetting a beat and remember their cues while not getting distracted by others absolutely amazes me. Wait, there were six of them right?]

It's once again Saturday. What used to excite me a hefty lot now hurts me. There is anger building in me and I can feel myself gradually slipping away, choosing to be angry while I try to regain my worth by being myself -- the same and only bed of roses that Carl has managed to trample on and destroy. I'm a train that has run out of steam. The irony is while there's something burning inside, it's not the same kind of fuel that's pushing me forward to chase my dream. On the contrary, it's the kind of fuel that's pushing me the other direction. 

Of late, I found myself thinking about Ben a lot. Maybe because I've started to listen to The Phantom of the Opera again. I suppose one can hurt thinking about one man and seek comfort in another who used to hurt you. With time, all anger has dissipated and faint are the memories of the both of us fighting every night. All that are brought forth now are fond memories of the both of us together. But we're over isn't it? We will never have our paths crossed again. One thing I don't understand is why are people generally OK with loving someone who had once betrayed them mentally, physically and emotionally? I can't do that. Maybe because I'm a Leo and I pride loyalty above everything else. 

Never say Never

I wonder who still visit this space of mine here, one that I've been diligently updating every now and then since 2006. It's been 9 years and this space could well be the only thing I can easily trace back the forgotten past and the perhaps revisit emotions trapped somewhere if they are ever found again.

My insides are churning as I pen this now. My eyes are welled up with tears yet I am not crying. My heart rests the same, surrounded by my rib cage, beating in clockwork. We know a heart is a fist that pumps blood but at this moment, I wonder how a broken heart is able to do that. Still, I am living, I am breathing and I am in pain. 

So much has happened since February. I have lost the man of my dreams, the one who I thought I'll be with forever, the one who told me that all he's ever wanted of me is for me to be happy. Yet, all this unhappiness I am going through right now is summoned by his decision to end us. If our relationship is as what he's claimed, cherished, memorable and precious, why was the decision made in the first place? If I am one, who he's claimed to be, significant, important and valued, why did he choose to lose me? If this isn't love that he's feeling, to be crying, to be caring a damn lot about what I feel and think even until this day, then what is it? 

God, Universe, I wonder if you had heard me the other night where I pray to release me of this grief and pain. I would rather forget everything than to go through this again and again. I want to forget. I want to forget every thing. I want to forget him. 

So it seems,
the way you feel,
your frustration,
your patience running thin,
is all that matters to you.

And what I've been through,
what I'm going through,
doesn't call for a chink in your armor,
doesn't call for a bat of eyelid,
doesn't send a wrench to your heart,

You're the human.
And I'm only an object.
I have no feelings,
no thoughts,
no voice,
of any sorts.

Fortune Telling

There was a year I went to have my fortune read.

"In the future, you will meet someone who you will love a lot but he won't reciprocate. When that happens, it's crucial you surround yourself with family and friends for you might do something foolish."

He then continued, "You will never be happy working. And you will only be happy when you are in your 40s."

At this moment, I refused to let him be right. He then went on to pass away the year after.

I Wished

I wished I had controlled myself better
I wished I was stronger
I wished I hadn't gone down this path
I wished I am not back at square one

But I am

I hate this. I hate you.

White Noise is The Artwork Installation Babe

I wonder who still reads this here. As compared to other blogs where people only post glamourous photos of themselves, this is obviously the opposite. And no one enjoys reading a blog where there's no photos, beautiful girls and body expose shots.

Sometimes, I wish someone will agree with me when I said Time is our best enemy. Time is the best weapon to kill things. I slowly feel I'm drifting away with each minute. I'm standing at this place right now where I could clearly see things that happened in the past now. I'm seeing things that had taken place over the last year. Engulfed with sheer memories, I realized I couldn't shed yet another tear anymore. I guess that's what people refer to as complete numbness.

Left behind is self that doesn't feel.

And I noticed the departure of my soul with dismay.

Monotony is inevitable;

The sense of loss of things,

The loss of sense of time. 

***

And under the water you scream so loud but the silence surrounds you

But I hear it loud and you fall in the deep and I'll always find you

If my red eyes don't see you anymore

And I can't hear you through the white noise

20,000 leagues away, catch up to you on the same day

Travel at the speed of light, thinking the same thought at the same time

Heart beats at a steady pace, I'll let the rhythm show me the way

No one can find us here, fade out and disappear

- Blue Ocean Floor, Justin Timberlake 

***

Do you still remember how I smile when I first tasted medovick at pasarbella?

Do you remember the hello kitty pancakes I made at slappy cakes?

Do you remember our marketing spin for it?

Winter in March.

I am known to be expressive, creative and very good at articulating my thoughts. That's what I'm known I guess.

A lot of people don't realize about me, is that my thoughts tend to erupt in a dynamic fashion, they are never linear. When I look at things, I see its future, its past and the possibility of having it altered some way along the road. If I look at someone and I want that person near all the time, I look at his future, his past and wonder if there's anything I could do to his past to help me better understand him in this present, which may lead to me having him near me in the future. Thus, I have an undying curiosity about everyone's past. I like to know you from your past before I could go on to know you in this present and dive into your future.

Many think I'm expressive and outspoken. The truth is, I am not. I'm one better with written words. And my journals are my chambers of thoughts. I have a journal for everyone that matters to me. And I have one journal that I keep for myself. They are all my written thoughts and I know my memory is as fleeting as time. When time pulls me away from something I want to remember, I'll end up forgetting somehow. I yearn to remember the way Bennett and Benjamin made me feel. But time has pulled me further than I was meant to. I couldn't fight it.

As humans, we all feel pain. It's only right to express pain. It's only right to feel pain. Winter has fallen on me this March. And I'm left here alone to deal with my thoughts that don't travel in linear, my pain, my solitude and all the cold.

For Carl:

Winter came this March.

Gentle snow befalls around

a heart left alone and cold.

She can't make you stay

because you were never hers

She could only let you go

and wait for Spring

Till then

it'll be gentle white snow, 

soft, cold and lonely

Sun, will you ever shine?

Spring, will you ever come?

Let's hit restart all over again.

I kinda have a lot to say so I'm on my phone (my tiny iPhone 5) writing this out. Good thing Apple has got quite a remarkable predictive language build in. This will explain the lack of typos in this entry here but anyway!

You know I just returned from Bali right? Right. I had a helluva great time and couldn't remember when was the last time I did. So yes! I had a great time holiday making in Bali and damn I love the laid back vibe of it. Though it was helluva short, 3D2N, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. So I came back to Singapore on Sunday.

Now this is where the twist of fate comes in and bit me in my ass. I think because I went out to the beach on Saturday, I started to develop really itchy and bad rashes all over my body. They come and go and Carl assured me that they will go away eventually. Unbeknownst to me, Sunday turned out to be a terrible day where the itch was unbearable that when I was having massage, I kinda felt my massueue was tickling me instead.

So I came back to Singapore on Sunday evening thinking they will go away eventually as really, this is my fucking first time having sand rash. On Monday morning, it didn't go away. So I had rashes all over my body that is really uncontrollably itching the shit out of me. I had to see the doctor for relief I know. So I called in work sick. Taboo right? MC right after a holiday? Please, if it's your body having all the rashes I bet you won't even want to leave your house without wearing a brown lunch bag over your head. I went to the panel of GP that my work recommends and the doctor merely gave me oral medication for relief and what I call, temporary tripping sensation that is sleep inducing. Why didn't he give me some cream to apply? I have no fucking idea. Maybe because the rash had subsided a little but really I highly doubt the case because I went to my family doctor just today and he gave me Elomet cream and which the entire consultation turned out to be 60 bucks! So I concluded that the GP I went to yesterday was just stingy.

So who's to blame that I couldn't recover in time? That GP no fucking doubt.

But you know something? After this itch saga, I found out how unhappy I've been at my job for the longest period of time. Persevering all this while, I couldn't help but to type out my resignation letter this afternoon. You may call me rash (hahaha! The irony) but seriously, a couple of red flags were raised just because I'm covered in rashes after I returned from my Bali trip. I didn't choose to be a monkey I repeat.

For the longest time, I had thought I had the perfect job around. I really did try to hoodwink myself into believing I did. But no, just today, I finally was able to pin point what's wrong in my current placement. Firstly, there had been no propped training and i really feel that I have been misinformed of what my role entails. Since the beginning, there had never been a proper flow or standard way to do things. Most of the time I feel I was just a headless chicken trying to find my answer, in hope I'll seek enlightenment. Which, you guessed it, most of the time I don't get things done right. How am I supposed to when I wasn't given a clear set of SOPs or instructions to follow through? And when I didn't get things done right, I have been bestowed the feeling of being penalised (note that I am only barely four months old at the job and I was entrusted to deal with a lot of business as usual stuff as well as being actively involved in the rolling out of new initiatives and projects). Why is it my fault then?

In addition, I came to a conclusion that I am not a right cultural fit for the organization. It's never easy to work for a local company for me. I should have learned this aeons ago. Wait a minute, I've worked in local companies before and I didn't feel I wasn't a good fit? Ok, whatever. Let's just say I'm not living up to expectations and I am certainly not a right fit for the company.

I quit.

Un-happy.

I'm possibly by far the most unhappy person you'll ever met in life. This is not to be confused with the most unfortunate person you'll ever meet. I'm saying this because it really seems I have everything but at the end of each day as I lie awake doing nothing in bed, all I could ever daydream about is to have a life that's rid of commitments, feeling, heartstrings. I am constantly dreaming about being somewhere alone out there, be it the wilderness or in space, where I can do nothing but just being still.

Don't get me wrong. I am not a Hollywood celebrity where I'm required to put on a facade every day nor am I a teacher of any sort where it's important I set myself as a role model. I'm just your average singaporean girl who lives next door, a plain Jane with nothing much to brag about. You could easily say I am one of those faces you won't spot in a crowd.

It seems that no matter how hard I try to be content with what I'm doing, I'll never be thoroughly happy. Many so often, when I'm religiously and duly carrying out tasks at work, I find myself asking "what for?" Corporate life doesn't enthrall me, neither does societal status. And I can't fit in to the society because I don't really give a hood if you're a manager or a director, neither do I care about that of myself. And so, I'm perpetually on the embarkation of questioning my existence every day.

I wished I wasn't born this way. That I could be a tad normal. I know I am unhappy in life constantly. But what is it I'm seeking to be a happier person remains unclear.

Can I really let go of whatever I have now to live alone in the wild?

Crossroad

From the way this post is titled, I'm sure you with a good sense there, would have guessed that this post is about Boyz II Men's End of the Road song.

Nah, I'm kidding.

So in less than four months (that's right, not even half a year) I have once again met ANOTHER crossroad in my career. Which is pretty unlucky if you asked me but this is what I have to say...

FUCK.

Here's the story, I joined a local small start-up (even smaller than the one before the publishing big boy) and the deal was that I will be made a digital marketing pro in three months as they scale up in operations and blah blah in the later half of the year. Which I naively believe because I genuinely believe in the company and gave away 80% of my skepticism when I decided to put my signature down on the employment contract.

But wow, these past three months have been quite an eye-opener. As with any local startup, I went in with the mentality that I'm supposed to take on more than what I should and I was ready and up for it. But sadly, after about a month, I began to question whether there was any mentorship in place, training that was clearly fallen short of (I honestly didn't get briefed on the entire business strategy, operations and blah blah at all) and the existence of the light at the end of the tunnel.

In essence -- that's to say -- in about a month's time, I began to question myself and also, my initial judgement. Upon noticing this, I began walking into work every day with contempt and didn't actually look forward to it any more. Surprise, surprise. Just after one month.

But I sucked it up, and decided that I should be MORE proactive and take MORE initiative. So I requested for, an one-month check-in, a two-month check-in, weekly meetings with my boss and the rest of the team members, and also the department which I was supposedly to be working very closely with.

UNFORTUNATELY FOR ME, when end of September should have been my confirmation, I was asked to leave because:

1. They need someone with more experience who could act as the right brain of the team
2. My boss said it's not his capacity any more to train me
3. He said it's his failure

DAMN RIGHT IT IS.

Because I reckon I have:

1. Been honest about my lack of experience when I went for the interviews
2. Taken MORE initiative than anyone could have and determine my OWN JD, role, and responsibility
3. Requested for check-ins so as to find out about my progress and whether I've been measuring up to my expectations
4. Chaired meetings so as to promote transparency among the team

One thing here which I must mention is that maybe they find me a snob/stuck up/anti-social/introverted at work and I didn't fit in the culture. Because as I was weeping over this failed initial judgement of mine in front of my boss when he broke the news to me the other day, I asked him whether was there a possibility of me moving lateral across (for also formality's sake) and he answered no. This, I concluded that my existence in the co. wasn't welcomed at all and that they want to let me go completely.

Here's the story why I could have been portraying myself as a snob/stuck up/anti-social/introverted:

1. I am really bad at small talks
2. When I work, I work
3. Don't expect me to come to you with cookies cause I can't bake
4. I don't carry balls too

One thing for sure is that, in my previous employment, in all the roles that I had undertaken, NO ONE ever told me that I shouldn't pass my probation period. And let alone, ask me to leave.

On the contrary, I have always been receiving nothing but good appraisals from all my previous bosses. Just fucking ask.

ISIS: I SEE IT SUCKS

I would like to express my deepest condolence toward the families of the victims of the (shitty and absolutely lame) ISIS drama. You have my deepest sympathy. Your son, brother, husband or father didn't have to go through this way of passing. 

Those who are committing heinous crimes in the name of YOUR GOD, stop it. You're just plain evil and are using God's name to be evil. Just admit that you're plain downright evil and inhuman. Don't use God's name. Fuckers. 

Why hide behind masks anyway if you're so wanting the world to watch how you behead people? Those people you beheaded are decent people. The world doesn't need people like YOU. You're no different from Hitler except that he came out and faced the world without hiding behind masks. He had balls and you have none.

You're nothing but a speck of dust. Hitler made it to history but what will you become in the future? 

And to the number of people flying over just so you can be involved in terrorism in the name of God (I reiterate), you guys fit very well into the equation that I've done up for a segment of people that I have encountered a lot in my life:

IQ Less Than 100 = Easily Brainwashed

You're dumb cause you don't have a mind of your own because if you do, you wouldn't have been convinced to join in the terrorism demonstration.

If you wish to argue that you're not dumb, then you must be intelligent I believe? Like the female British medical student who flew all the way there just to behead someone and tweeted about it with a photo saying, "dream job, a terrorist doc"? Her Twitter account has been suspended so how smart can she be? I don't know if she's really a she (as she's hiding behind the costume) but I don't know any woman who has such an evil and warped heart. The only female who I've ever known to have such a bad personality was my late hamster who I named Nunu. She ate her babies.

To the British medial student who's reading this: I don't know why your parents spent that kind of money on you. If only they had spent that kind of money on my education, I will be your school principal and expel you from school. Or I'll be your rich classmate who will rally up a few mates to cyber bully you until you take your own life had I long known that you're going to partake in such activity and threw your entire life out the window. 

You're an absolute disgrace to the education system, women and the entire England. 

So if you're insisting that you're somewhat intelligent like the medical student and really think you haven't been brainwashed into joining terrorism, you must be plain evil.

You need to be ashamed of yourself. And think of cockroaches. They are better than you.