Me duele el cuello = I have a pain in my neck.
the prophecy weighed down heavily on her, and Lelia was forced to walk the lengths of her great corridors, pacing and brooding and biting her fingernails to a quick. she was struggling with the lies she had fed her aging guardian over their early supper together, and she wished sincerely that she could take it all back. that she could have leaned on her guardian instead and revealed the appalling truth of what she had finally decided to do. she exhaled heavily, and her deep sigh echoed loudly into the eerie darkness and beyond, bouncing off the dark red-brick walls of her father's castle. the balls of her tiny feet were cramping from walking in her stockinged feet across the cold marble floors, but she persevered in her bewildered pacing, worried that walking in her shoes would have had her guards up in arms, investigating the suspicious noises.
she belittled herself for hiding from the dark master and battled internally with her ever present conscience, knowing that she needed to make this journey to him and soon. she heard a matching sigh ripple through the air and froze. despite the fact that she had been waiting anxiously, expecting that he would come looking for her, she stood rooted still in her stance with her heart lodged in the back of her throat at his shimmering appearance. "the mistress is disturbed... and what has caused this sudden vexation, pray tell?" he seemed to fade in and out of the moonlight, and was almost translucent in parts. he glided softly over to her, towering over her when he finally stopped.
he reached over to her and caressed her cheek. she felt the cold of his fingertips and shivered involuntarily. "i asked you a question, but perhaps you did not hear me Lelia. allow for me to ask you again... what vexes you so?" he whispered menacingly into her ear, and she shivered again. "have you forgotten your promised visitation to me child? hmm... i have been waiting for you ever so patiently and now the wretched dawn is almost upon us. why did i need to come here looking for you, risking the travel across the lake?" she found it hard to breathe now and could feel her pulse jumping in the side of her throat as he wrapped his strong pale fingers around her neck, squeezing her ever so slightly. "i can feel your blood coursing through your veins... are you excited at what is to come Lelia?" his words seem to slither out of him, hovering in the silence between them. she stared wordlessly up at him, her breathing suspended now as she looked unblinkingly into his chilled gray eyes. "come now Lelia, vampire get your tongue?" he laughed inaudibly. "let me see," he ran his fore-finger ever so gently between her lips, leaving her chilled and in an unexpected show of humor, tried to pry her mouth open.
her statue like fear triggered a sudden quickening in his veins and he became impatient to finish what he had committed to.
"enough of these silliness Lelia. shall we begin? all this pointless waiting on my part has just halved our night of mutual beginnings." he cupped his hand under her knees and scooped her up effortlessly, wrapping her warmly into the deep recesses of his cape. she remained soundless and held on to him woodenly as the clouds swirled below them.
Lelia awoke to find herself standing upright in his great hall, watching the moonlight diminish behind the dark clouds that had gathered swiftly, putting a definitive dark chill back into the night's air. she could feel his hard body against her, and realized that she was resting against him. she leaned back into him and murmured, "yes," to the question she heard form gently in the back of her mind, "let us begin now sir, before i lose my conviction." she felt his hand gently sweep her hair off her neck in response. felt his cold fingertips brush up against her. and then she felt him bend her backwards deliberately. she closed her eyes slowly, savoring the stark reality of this moment. remembering her promise to herself, to take this gift of death and rebirth with quiet dignity, she let her arms drop to her side and drew in a deep breath. she felt his arm anchor her around her waist, pinning her unmoving against his broad chest. in a flash he had pulled her hair back violently, making a fist through her long dark tresses. he was sinking his teeth into her neck and she felt his fangs break into her skin. the rush of sudden irrational fear made her urinate and she buckled, falling to her knees. he followed her to the ground, and his teeth were now replaced with his mouth, drinking greedily, and she collapsed in a silent heap at his feet, where he left her to die in her own pool of crimson.
she was thirsty. parched was a better description, and she awoke again only to feel the cold marble slabs against her skin, naked and exposed through her self-torn clothing. she didn't open her eyes, knowing full well it had been 3 long nights, with days of bright fuzziness in-between. she could smell the small animal he had put into her chambers for her. it had been freshly slaughtered and Lelia could still sense its last breaths, as tangibly as if they were her own. her senses were heightened and it hurt her to be able feel what the other creatures of the night were feeling. she willed her dead body to stand, battered and decaying flesh housed a mind still very much alive and perfectly alert to every second of anguish these last few hours had brought to her. excruciating pain and self-inflicted wounds as she had desperately tried to tear the evil blood out of her own veins. in her waning moments of human awareness, she had bled and convulsed for hours at end, shaking uncontrollably as her body turned. and so now finally, she was physically dead.
she threw herself up into the air, jumping to stand on the balls of her feet like an acrobat. she could still smell the animal's paralyzing fear prior to having its neck broken and it made her dizzy with the sheer wanting. she glided over to carcass and dropped to her knees, tearing into the skin with her teeth. she found its jugular and picked it up hungrily, tipping her head back, violently shaking the doe to feel its still warm blood drip down the sides of her face and neck. she ate some of its raw flesh greedily, before throwing the doe hard against the bedroom door. she was beginning to feel a sense of contentment unfurl in her belly and slowly crawled back to her bed, pulling herself off the cold marble floors, she lay down on her filthy sheets and waited for the blood to ease her thirst internally. her skin started to tingle and she looked down in childlike awe at her hands, watching the ashen gray of death transform back to her own light brown colored skin. the back of her hands starting to fill out now and she could feel her flesh rejuvenating. she threw her head back and howled with peals of laughter. and so her rebirth into the realm of the undead, had begun.
~author's note: i have edited this piece now, and am much happier with it.
a fictional piece by amreeth~
Monday, July 30, 2007
ghosts do not use umbrellas...
Quiero un impermeable = I would like a raincoat.
the little girl always remembered her grandmother's raspy voice shouting out at her, laughingly when it rained. warning her about the undead and signs of how to recognize them in the rain. she could see the old woman crouched over in her usual squat, near the back door of her kitchen, smoking her illegal cigarettes, unfiltered. she could almost smell the wisps of smoke floating out into the wet gardens and the little girl always remembered achingly how she had come home from school one day, running through the rains for yet another story from Amah... only to find her dead, sitting in her famous squat, with the ash built up at the end of her cigarette, waiting to be found. the police said she had been dead for almost 48 hours and they had to carry her out squatting as the rigor mortise had stiffened her limbs and they had dislocated a shoulder trying to straighten her out.
now a nondescript young woman in her early 30s, Alex stood shivering under the crowded bus-stop on Jalan Raja Chulan. she dragged herself into the present, wondering why she was back to thinking about her grandmother in this reality of pouring rain. it had been too many years now and that little girl had long since died inside of her. she was next in line for a taxi, and exhaled, watching the Kuala Lumpur rakyat scuttle through the rain with their numerous styles of umbrellas. you could almost tell the person from the umbrella, she thought smiling wryly to herself, hearing Amah's raspy voice once again on what colors and shapes went with what types of people. those with little slips of gaudy colored umbrellas that turned up in the rain letting more rain in than keeping it out. those with conventional black and blue umbrellas that looked store bought, and doing a respectable enough job if the rain fell flat. those with the silver golf umbrellas that were sturdy in any condition and kept their bags and laptops completely dry. and of course, those that were caught in the rain with only their bare hands feebly turned out, palm up, to protect what little they could.
she heard the taxi door slam, and inched up to the top of the line gingerly. she still found it difficult to walk, and swore internally at her choice of clothes. she had worn the drabbest pair of overalls she could find. intended to cover her bandages, she grimaced thinking that if she managed to keep herself standing straight up, no one would guess that her ribs were bandaged, or that she was still reeling with the pain of just having them set back into place. she had forgotten to roll up the legs of her overalls however, and now her ankles were sopping wet from the heavy rain-sodden material. she hadn't the conviction to bend over when the rains started, afraid that she would have passed out from the effort, and so made do with the uncomfortable draggy heaviness. she was suddenly struck by this waif of a girl, crossing the busy streets. unconcerned with the snarly traffic around her, and the multitude of zig-zagging motorbikes. she made a straight line across the road and seemed to glide, making no attempts to either hurry in her journey, or to move her arms protectively up against the elements. she was suddenly in front of Alex, and their eyes locked.
"may i share your taxi?" she said. Alex was quite startled and moved back instinctively. the girl seemed to just glide closer and asked again "may i share your taxi?" her lips didn't seem to move and Alex surprised herself by agreeing. she was beginning to find it difficult to focus, and had to remind herself not to slouch against her bandages. a taxi pulled up almost instantly, and Alex crawled in after the girl. it was one of those new Perdana cabs, and Alex found herself sinking back into wide, clean, leather upholstered seats. "nak ke mana? going where?" the stout taxi man asked. the girl gave him her address, which was coincidentally, the same as Alex's condominium. the girl seemed to hover on the top of the back seat, and despite being drenched, seemed to be quite comfortable. her face was heart-shaped and very slight. she was very pale and her black kohl lined eyes retained their perfect pencilled in lines, with no sign of wear and tear from the storm she had literally just walked through. rivulets of rain dripped into her collar from her long hair.
"hmm, you live in Mont' Kiara as well?" Alex shook herself out of her stupor long enough to find her voice. the girl had a subtle scent on her skin that seemed to deepen in the confines of the back seat. "what a coincidence."
the girl looked directly at Alex and was in an instant sitting right next to her. "what makes you think this is a coincidence Alex, hmm?"
Alex reeled backwards, to find herself up against the edge of her seat and the car door. "how.. how do you know my name?"
"i have always known your name Alex. it's what i do." again, she seemed to speak with her lips unmoving.
Alex tried to pull her arms together, to either cross them or to hold them out against the girl. desperate to create some personal space, Alex tried. but the girl had moved into almost a semi-hug with Alex, and her scent was now becoming quite oppressing. Alex could see the taxi man's eyes look at them through his rear mirror, and he was frowning quite disapprovingly at the sudden apparent intimacy.
"what.. what do you mean.. it's what you do??" she looked down to find the girl's fingers uncurling around a syringe. it was in her side before she could blink, and the girl's eyes flashed menacingly above Alex's now. Alex could feel her head droop forward and struggled to keep her eyes open. she started to feel a flash of blinding pain rush through her veins, and started to convulse slightly, she felt her eyes rolling back into her skull, and heard herself croak "why?" the girl rearranged Alex slightly, holding her arms down as she shook. "because Alex, you left a fingerprint at the last hit... and when he broke your ribs, you bled. and so now, you need to cease to exist. nothing personal you understand?"
Alex fluttered her eye-lids trying desperately to stay awake. "shhh... just relax... you have 5 minutes, and then it will all be over.." the girl's voice droned into a welcoming haze of whispers, and Alex convulsed backwards to find herself sitting in her grandmother's lap. Amah was smiling, toothless, holding her infamous cigarette... "Alexia, come... come girl. why are you playing in the rain? you know it's no good for you..."
the taxi driver cursed as the waif stepped out of his taxi unannounced at the next set of traffic lights. she almost got hit by a motorbike fast weaving its way through the heavy traffic, in near zero visibility, and he almost lost his back door.
~a fictional piece by amreeth~
the little girl always remembered her grandmother's raspy voice shouting out at her, laughingly when it rained. warning her about the undead and signs of how to recognize them in the rain. she could see the old woman crouched over in her usual squat, near the back door of her kitchen, smoking her illegal cigarettes, unfiltered. she could almost smell the wisps of smoke floating out into the wet gardens and the little girl always remembered achingly how she had come home from school one day, running through the rains for yet another story from Amah... only to find her dead, sitting in her famous squat, with the ash built up at the end of her cigarette, waiting to be found. the police said she had been dead for almost 48 hours and they had to carry her out squatting as the rigor mortise had stiffened her limbs and they had dislocated a shoulder trying to straighten her out.
now a nondescript young woman in her early 30s, Alex stood shivering under the crowded bus-stop on Jalan Raja Chulan. she dragged herself into the present, wondering why she was back to thinking about her grandmother in this reality of pouring rain. it had been too many years now and that little girl had long since died inside of her. she was next in line for a taxi, and exhaled, watching the Kuala Lumpur rakyat scuttle through the rain with their numerous styles of umbrellas. you could almost tell the person from the umbrella, she thought smiling wryly to herself, hearing Amah's raspy voice once again on what colors and shapes went with what types of people. those with little slips of gaudy colored umbrellas that turned up in the rain letting more rain in than keeping it out. those with conventional black and blue umbrellas that looked store bought, and doing a respectable enough job if the rain fell flat. those with the silver golf umbrellas that were sturdy in any condition and kept their bags and laptops completely dry. and of course, those that were caught in the rain with only their bare hands feebly turned out, palm up, to protect what little they could.
she heard the taxi door slam, and inched up to the top of the line gingerly. she still found it difficult to walk, and swore internally at her choice of clothes. she had worn the drabbest pair of overalls she could find. intended to cover her bandages, she grimaced thinking that if she managed to keep herself standing straight up, no one would guess that her ribs were bandaged, or that she was still reeling with the pain of just having them set back into place. she had forgotten to roll up the legs of her overalls however, and now her ankles were sopping wet from the heavy rain-sodden material. she hadn't the conviction to bend over when the rains started, afraid that she would have passed out from the effort, and so made do with the uncomfortable draggy heaviness. she was suddenly struck by this waif of a girl, crossing the busy streets. unconcerned with the snarly traffic around her, and the multitude of zig-zagging motorbikes. she made a straight line across the road and seemed to glide, making no attempts to either hurry in her journey, or to move her arms protectively up against the elements. she was suddenly in front of Alex, and their eyes locked.
"may i share your taxi?" she said. Alex was quite startled and moved back instinctively. the girl seemed to just glide closer and asked again "may i share your taxi?" her lips didn't seem to move and Alex surprised herself by agreeing. she was beginning to find it difficult to focus, and had to remind herself not to slouch against her bandages. a taxi pulled up almost instantly, and Alex crawled in after the girl. it was one of those new Perdana cabs, and Alex found herself sinking back into wide, clean, leather upholstered seats. "nak ke mana? going where?" the stout taxi man asked. the girl gave him her address, which was coincidentally, the same as Alex's condominium. the girl seemed to hover on the top of the back seat, and despite being drenched, seemed to be quite comfortable. her face was heart-shaped and very slight. she was very pale and her black kohl lined eyes retained their perfect pencilled in lines, with no sign of wear and tear from the storm she had literally just walked through. rivulets of rain dripped into her collar from her long hair.
"hmm, you live in Mont' Kiara as well?" Alex shook herself out of her stupor long enough to find her voice. the girl had a subtle scent on her skin that seemed to deepen in the confines of the back seat. "what a coincidence."
the girl looked directly at Alex and was in an instant sitting right next to her. "what makes you think this is a coincidence Alex, hmm?"
Alex reeled backwards, to find herself up against the edge of her seat and the car door. "how.. how do you know my name?"
"i have always known your name Alex. it's what i do." again, she seemed to speak with her lips unmoving.
Alex tried to pull her arms together, to either cross them or to hold them out against the girl. desperate to create some personal space, Alex tried. but the girl had moved into almost a semi-hug with Alex, and her scent was now becoming quite oppressing. Alex could see the taxi man's eyes look at them through his rear mirror, and he was frowning quite disapprovingly at the sudden apparent intimacy.
"what.. what do you mean.. it's what you do??" she looked down to find the girl's fingers uncurling around a syringe. it was in her side before she could blink, and the girl's eyes flashed menacingly above Alex's now. Alex could feel her head droop forward and struggled to keep her eyes open. she started to feel a flash of blinding pain rush through her veins, and started to convulse slightly, she felt her eyes rolling back into her skull, and heard herself croak "why?" the girl rearranged Alex slightly, holding her arms down as she shook. "because Alex, you left a fingerprint at the last hit... and when he broke your ribs, you bled. and so now, you need to cease to exist. nothing personal you understand?"
Alex fluttered her eye-lids trying desperately to stay awake. "shhh... just relax... you have 5 minutes, and then it will all be over.." the girl's voice droned into a welcoming haze of whispers, and Alex convulsed backwards to find herself sitting in her grandmother's lap. Amah was smiling, toothless, holding her infamous cigarette... "Alexia, come... come girl. why are you playing in the rain? you know it's no good for you..."
the taxi driver cursed as the waif stepped out of his taxi unannounced at the next set of traffic lights. she almost got hit by a motorbike fast weaving its way through the heavy traffic, in near zero visibility, and he almost lost his back door.
~a fictional piece by amreeth~
Friday, July 27, 2007
public transport...
Tengo que cambiar? = Do I have to change (trains)?
so, we all know how i feel about that :(
but, Jalan Sultan Ismail may have defeated this highly spirited driver. another 1 hour and 20 minutes in traffic tonight (although the skies were dry), to come home to one sleepy and mildly irritated IggySingh. i forced myself to be upbeat, and didn't say "sorry" too many times this time, and so she gave me some sleepy "where have you been" head-bobs, and then came to me to be cuddled briefly before she promptly fell asleep. almost broke my heart until i remembered that IggySingh is better off with late me than anywhere else :)
so all the way home i was contemplating everything from renting a small room in downtown KL to an apartment in Bangsar to getting a job in Menara TM and just working with a GLC, to have a shorter commute from home to work and vice versa. regardless to say, sensibility prevailed, and i realized of course, that i simply cannot uproot my green baby from her home, her babysitter, and all that she has grown familiar with these past 4 years.
and i can't uproot my parents from their routines and Jalan Cantek tosai and their morning walks and their car-pool lifts to Subang to golf. and i never want them to have to stay with anyone else (selfish me!) most critically though are IggySingh's needs when i travel on work should i move. i will no longer then have the luxury of her babysitter walking from Block B to Block A to watch over IggySingh. and she will be defenceless, unable to care for herself. and no MAMA, i don't love IggySingh more than YOU.
AND sigh... i love my job too. i really do. i love the work i win, the teams i work with, my bosses. arrrgh, hence...
PUBLIC TRANSPORT.
what is that in the Malaysian context? how will i work it? where do i drive to to catch it? where will i park? will my little yellow bullet be safe all day out in an open car park exposed to the raw elements? man, will i start smelling from all that sweaty walking around and being thrust up against fellow sweaty rakyat? how shallow are these questions? (i sound like that new extremely irritating DiGi advert...) okay. i think i will just have to embrace being one with the LRT masses. and i will have to start getting some un-sexy T-shirts and sensible shoes, so i can walk without killing my back and getting ogled for having a "Punjabi" bosom...
working class... that's me :)
i like that much better than "stupid idiot" that takes a job on the dreaded Sultan Ismail!!!
so, we all know how i feel about that :(
but, Jalan Sultan Ismail may have defeated this highly spirited driver. another 1 hour and 20 minutes in traffic tonight (although the skies were dry), to come home to one sleepy and mildly irritated IggySingh. i forced myself to be upbeat, and didn't say "sorry" too many times this time, and so she gave me some sleepy "where have you been" head-bobs, and then came to me to be cuddled briefly before she promptly fell asleep. almost broke my heart until i remembered that IggySingh is better off with late me than anywhere else :)
so all the way home i was contemplating everything from renting a small room in downtown KL to an apartment in Bangsar to getting a job in Menara TM and just working with a GLC, to have a shorter commute from home to work and vice versa. regardless to say, sensibility prevailed, and i realized of course, that i simply cannot uproot my green baby from her home, her babysitter, and all that she has grown familiar with these past 4 years.
and i can't uproot my parents from their routines and Jalan Cantek tosai and their morning walks and their car-pool lifts to Subang to golf. and i never want them to have to stay with anyone else (selfish me!) most critically though are IggySingh's needs when i travel on work should i move. i will no longer then have the luxury of her babysitter walking from Block B to Block A to watch over IggySingh. and she will be defenceless, unable to care for herself. and no MAMA, i don't love IggySingh more than YOU.
AND sigh... i love my job too. i really do. i love the work i win, the teams i work with, my bosses. arrrgh, hence...
PUBLIC TRANSPORT.
what is that in the Malaysian context? how will i work it? where do i drive to to catch it? where will i park? will my little yellow bullet be safe all day out in an open car park exposed to the raw elements? man, will i start smelling from all that sweaty walking around and being thrust up against fellow sweaty rakyat? how shallow are these questions? (i sound like that new extremely irritating DiGi advert...) okay. i think i will just have to embrace being one with the LRT masses. and i will have to start getting some un-sexy T-shirts and sensible shoes, so i can walk without killing my back and getting ogled for having a "Punjabi" bosom...
working class... that's me :)
i like that much better than "stupid idiot" that takes a job on the dreaded Sultan Ismail!!!
what to do??
A que hora debe uno acostarse? = (At) what time must one go to bed?
so i have this friend H.Choe who lives in Korea. she is very hung up on this 1 gentleman. and so who would have thought that gentlemen even existed in this day and time? but there you have it. she has successfully met the (only?) one.
so one perfect lady who is never forward, meets this one sweet gentleman who is just so the very proper (as we say in Malaysia), and their journeys of 1 date per week has been on-going for too many months now.
never on the week-end. meeting up mid-safe-week nights. as it is always then guaranteed to be sober, early nights.
they write letters to each other (albeit on the email) but like real letters, long and well thought through (read as in: witty: suggestive yet acceptable in polite society; riddled with hidden intentions; romantic), with attached self written odes and hakku-s dedicated to each other.
she is sighing and waiting, deeply frustrated, and back to asking her trademark question - "what to do??" and he is stumbling and stalling and overall trying. and being sweet and attentive, and it's all so very hot and cold.
no hand-holding even. just deep, passionate letters.
and the bottom line is she just wants him to "make the first move". and i think she just wants to jump him herself. it is very sobering to know that in 2007, sweet old-fashioned romance lives on :) hallelujah!!!
so i have this friend H.Choe who lives in Korea. she is very hung up on this 1 gentleman. and so who would have thought that gentlemen even existed in this day and time? but there you have it. she has successfully met the (only?) one.
so one perfect lady who is never forward, meets this one sweet gentleman who is just so the very proper (as we say in Malaysia), and their journeys of 1 date per week has been on-going for too many months now.
never on the week-end. meeting up mid-safe-week nights. as it is always then guaranteed to be sober, early nights.
they write letters to each other (albeit on the email) but like real letters, long and well thought through (read as in: witty: suggestive yet acceptable in polite society; riddled with hidden intentions; romantic), with attached self written odes and hakku-s dedicated to each other.
she is sighing and waiting, deeply frustrated, and back to asking her trademark question - "what to do??" and he is stumbling and stalling and overall trying. and being sweet and attentive, and it's all so very hot and cold.
no hand-holding even. just deep, passionate letters.
and the bottom line is she just wants him to "make the first move". and i think she just wants to jump him herself. it is very sobering to know that in 2007, sweet old-fashioned romance lives on :) hallelujah!!!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
abba
prevision meteorologica = weather forecast
do you remember that song? "can you hear (can you hear) the drums fernando?"
well, i have been singing that all of the last 20 bloody minutes but substituting "drums" with THUNDER! hmmph ;p
yes, once again the elements are fast reversing the blue skies of downtown Kuala Lumpur into clouds that are dark and threatening, and the source of it all seems to be right there (pointing to my right) rearing its ugly, enormous head over the Mandarin Oriental (snapshot from where i sit!).
i can now hear the droplets splash against my window. but i am quite happy. taxing home today, remember???
well mr. policeman, wear your water proof gear and POLICE!
p.s. it is chucking down mama! oh boy!
do you remember that song? "can you hear (can you hear) the drums fernando?"
well, i have been singing that all of the last 20 bloody minutes but substituting "drums" with THUNDER! hmmph ;p
yes, once again the elements are fast reversing the blue skies of downtown Kuala Lumpur into clouds that are dark and threatening, and the source of it all seems to be right there (pointing to my right) rearing its ugly, enormous head over the Mandarin Oriental (snapshot from where i sit!).
i can now hear the droplets splash against my window. but i am quite happy. taxing home today, remember???
well mr. policeman, wear your water proof gear and POLICE!
p.s. it is chucking down mama! oh boy!
vomit blood ;p
en el samaforo = at the traffic light
so much for "welcome back Senor Sun". nyah nya-nyah nya-nyah. needless to say it rained in monsoon sheets mid-afternoon yesterday, and whilst the rain had submitted to a measly drizzle by the time 6 o'clock rolled on by, the traffic on Jalan Sultan Ismail had grown into sheer epic "vomit blood" proportions!
nasty. took 1 whole hour to crawl myself down Sultan Ismail, and again the cops had their heads stuck up their back-sides. twice in two consecutive days, the U-Turn near the Shang was again unmanned (read as in: no cops!) and so cars, buses, and motorbikes battled from all 4 sides to beat their individual lights. thinking i was really doing well, i maneuvered myself lane to lane to frantically make that U. only to find myself sitting outside the Shang then for almost 30 minutes.
it was then that i knew, without a shadow of a doubt that i would again miss another IggySingh bedtime :(
ahuh, and then we had two cops happily chatting with each other near the sime darby lights as the fast lane stacked itself almost silly and backwards towards the Concorde, with unsuspecting folk in the first 2 lanes not realizing the bulk of the fast and middle lanes were actually in stand-still lines to eventually make that right turn at the sime junction. now, versus checking each other's uniforms out, wouldn't it have made more sense to ride your little motorbikes a little down the road to start pushing people into the other lanes? or at the very least to man the U-Turn lights??!
needless to say people, my entire 1 hour and 40 minutes home was literally spent sitting in the exact same spots, and just sitting some more, wondering why our cops n.e.v.e.r. get it right. why can't we keep Sultan Ismail clear??? it is still unequivocally the worst black-hole in our KL traffic horror stories, what with its propensity to flood, and the sheer volume of cars it supports. our infamous jalan is enough to make even the Pope curse and rant and rave! (No offense to my Catholic relatives and friends!)
sigh. needless to say, i am back to grinding my teeth and woke up this morning to find myself brushing very painful teeth. so i have decided that i am taxing home tonight. i still have my head-ache from last night, and really just want to sink into the back seat of a nondescript taxi, and be like the vegetable i am feeling... hmmm, belacan brinjals anyone?
so much for "welcome back Senor Sun". nyah nya-nyah nya-nyah. needless to say it rained in monsoon sheets mid-afternoon yesterday, and whilst the rain had submitted to a measly drizzle by the time 6 o'clock rolled on by, the traffic on Jalan Sultan Ismail had grown into sheer epic "vomit blood" proportions!
nasty. took 1 whole hour to crawl myself down Sultan Ismail, and again the cops had their heads stuck up their back-sides. twice in two consecutive days, the U-Turn near the Shang was again unmanned (read as in: no cops!) and so cars, buses, and motorbikes battled from all 4 sides to beat their individual lights. thinking i was really doing well, i maneuvered myself lane to lane to frantically make that U. only to find myself sitting outside the Shang then for almost 30 minutes.
it was then that i knew, without a shadow of a doubt that i would again miss another IggySingh bedtime :(
ahuh, and then we had two cops happily chatting with each other near the sime darby lights as the fast lane stacked itself almost silly and backwards towards the Concorde, with unsuspecting folk in the first 2 lanes not realizing the bulk of the fast and middle lanes were actually in stand-still lines to eventually make that right turn at the sime junction. now, versus checking each other's uniforms out, wouldn't it have made more sense to ride your little motorbikes a little down the road to start pushing people into the other lanes? or at the very least to man the U-Turn lights??!
needless to say people, my entire 1 hour and 40 minutes home was literally spent sitting in the exact same spots, and just sitting some more, wondering why our cops n.e.v.e.r. get it right. why can't we keep Sultan Ismail clear??? it is still unequivocally the worst black-hole in our KL traffic horror stories, what with its propensity to flood, and the sheer volume of cars it supports. our infamous jalan is enough to make even the Pope curse and rant and rave! (No offense to my Catholic relatives and friends!)
sigh. needless to say, i am back to grinding my teeth and woke up this morning to find myself brushing very painful teeth. so i have decided that i am taxing home tonight. i still have my head-ache from last night, and really just want to sink into the back seat of a nondescript taxi, and be like the vegetable i am feeling... hmmm, belacan brinjals anyone?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
feliz cumpleaños señor presidente = happy birthday mr. president
images flash, the light-bulbs blind and the hesitant woman steps out off the car.
remembering her mettle, she shakes out her blonde hair, and pouts pointedly at her fans.
shaky inside, determined to shine, she waves her hand, and starts her slow feminine sashay to the door.
half closed eyes, she pauses occasionally, doing a slow turn around to allow the frenzied crowd a good look.
making her way inside, she is reminded again of the significance of the occasion.
giggling her way through polite conversation, her mind is razor-sharp, précising her actions ahead.
dimmed lights, standing demurely at the back of the stage, she gets her cue, and steps forward. the perfect icon.
she breathes into the microphone, and the president stands to attention.
remembering her mettle, she shakes out her blonde hair, and pouts pointedly at her fans.
shaky inside, determined to shine, she waves her hand, and starts her slow feminine sashay to the door.
half closed eyes, she pauses occasionally, doing a slow turn around to allow the frenzied crowd a good look.
making her way inside, she is reminded again of the significance of the occasion.
giggling her way through polite conversation, her mind is razor-sharp, précising her actions ahead.
dimmed lights, standing demurely at the back of the stage, she gets her cue, and steps forward. the perfect icon.
she breathes into the microphone, and the president stands to attention.
miercoles = wednesday
the steel towers flash the brilliant sunshine of KL today
and i sigh, relieved for its millions of commuters, held mercy
by the elements that drive the police into hiding, and the traffic into a snarly stop-start beast
disallowing the quality of living one deserves, after such a long day.
welcome home Senor Sun.
and i sigh, relieved for its millions of commuters, held mercy
by the elements that drive the police into hiding, and the traffic into a snarly stop-start beast
disallowing the quality of living one deserves, after such a long day.
welcome home Senor Sun.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
an ode to whom i have become
Donde puedo comprar una pala? = Where can I buy a shovel?
bitter. twisted. ugly. and full of hate.
these lingering words left over sit, in a small recess in the very back of my soul.
i almost forget that they reside there still.
happy and content, tripping over my present, i occasionally fall stumbling into my past.
unsuspecting, confused, these blinding flashbacks they flood my mind.
blinking at each individual word, once shouted, so very heart felt, agonizing. each utterance surfaces slowly, drowning my consciousness.
i allow myself the wonderment of how many years have passed now, and i always find myself shaking my head, and pulling back my shoulders.
i laugh at these hurtful words that once made me obediently crawl into those little holes you hand made for me.
and i wonder why? when the sun is so bright now where i stand...
what power did these meaningless words really have?
none, now. and i throw yet another conversation you imposed out of my collective unconsciousness.
another healing step takes place, and my soul, she smiles.
~amreeth~
bitter. twisted. ugly. and full of hate.
these lingering words left over sit, in a small recess in the very back of my soul.
i almost forget that they reside there still.
happy and content, tripping over my present, i occasionally fall stumbling into my past.
unsuspecting, confused, these blinding flashbacks they flood my mind.
blinking at each individual word, once shouted, so very heart felt, agonizing. each utterance surfaces slowly, drowning my consciousness.
i allow myself the wonderment of how many years have passed now, and i always find myself shaking my head, and pulling back my shoulders.
i laugh at these hurtful words that once made me obediently crawl into those little holes you hand made for me.
and i wonder why? when the sun is so bright now where i stand...
what power did these meaningless words really have?
none, now. and i throw yet another conversation you imposed out of my collective unconsciousness.
another healing step takes place, and my soul, she smiles.
~amreeth~
Monday, July 23, 2007
a story for children - iggy looks for the sun part 2
Perdone, por favor = Excuse me, please.
Para ir a la playa? = How do I get to the beach?
"Hello, IggySingh. I have come to visit you. It is too wet and windy out on the porch, and I thought it might be warm and dry inside. Yes, yes, indeed it is. Ahem, may I join you?" Cicak spoke in short staccato baritone sounds, that seemed to vibrate. He looked cold too and was trying to push his enormous glasses back up his nose, as once again they were threatening to fall off.
"Oh, hello Cicak," IggySingh sadly, "Yes. Please do come in. This is miserable weather. I am turning brown."
"Hmmm, yes, yes, tsk tsk. I can see that IggySingh. You are indeed missing Senor Sun. But I am afraid I have some rather bad news," Cicak said, pausing to scratch his neck uncomfortably.
IggySingh could see that Cicak was distressed about something, and immediately remembering her manners, she sat up to ask "Oh dear, is everything all right with Mrs. Cicak and the family?"
Cicak responded, "Oh, ahem, yes, yes, thank you IggySingh. All of us are fine. Junior lost his tail this morning, but he should have a new one all grown back in no time at all. I'm afraid the news I have come to share this evening, is about you."
"What?? Whatever do you mean Cicak?" IggySingh said, suddenly feeling a little afraid, but she continued bravely on, "The bad news is connected to me? How so?"
"Well," Cicak continued, "there is a very strong rumor that Senor Sun has moved to the beaches of Jamaica, where he is meeting up with the broader rays of his family for what started off as a month long holiday, however..."
"What? How can that be?", IggySingh cried out, interrupting Cicak. "A month of his absence will mean a month of miserable rain? Are you sure?"
"Well actually IggySingh, I hear that Senor Sun is not coming back to Malaysia at all now. He has actually fallen in love with the gentle breezes and the vast blue skies of Jamaica, and regrets that he has had to contend with the Malaysian haze and the Selangor Bus pollution situation for as long as he has... and now he has discovered Jamaica, well..." Cicak trailed off, wringing his front legs together helplessly.
"Not coming back at all?", IggySingh suddenly felt quite dizzy, and had to lie her head back down. She closed her eyes slowly and could feel her little heart beating rapidly against her little rib cage. "Oh, no. He has to come back. Senor Sun has to come back..."
to be continued...
Para ir a la playa? = How do I get to the beach?
"Hello, IggySingh. I have come to visit you. It is too wet and windy out on the porch, and I thought it might be warm and dry inside. Yes, yes, indeed it is. Ahem, may I join you?" Cicak spoke in short staccato baritone sounds, that seemed to vibrate. He looked cold too and was trying to push his enormous glasses back up his nose, as once again they were threatening to fall off.
"Oh, hello Cicak," IggySingh sadly, "Yes. Please do come in. This is miserable weather. I am turning brown."
"Hmmm, yes, yes, tsk tsk. I can see that IggySingh. You are indeed missing Senor Sun. But I am afraid I have some rather bad news," Cicak said, pausing to scratch his neck uncomfortably.
IggySingh could see that Cicak was distressed about something, and immediately remembering her manners, she sat up to ask "Oh dear, is everything all right with Mrs. Cicak and the family?"
Cicak responded, "Oh, ahem, yes, yes, thank you IggySingh. All of us are fine. Junior lost his tail this morning, but he should have a new one all grown back in no time at all. I'm afraid the news I have come to share this evening, is about you."
"What?? Whatever do you mean Cicak?" IggySingh said, suddenly feeling a little afraid, but she continued bravely on, "The bad news is connected to me? How so?"
"Well," Cicak continued, "there is a very strong rumor that Senor Sun has moved to the beaches of Jamaica, where he is meeting up with the broader rays of his family for what started off as a month long holiday, however..."
"What? How can that be?", IggySingh cried out, interrupting Cicak. "A month of his absence will mean a month of miserable rain? Are you sure?"
"Well actually IggySingh, I hear that Senor Sun is not coming back to Malaysia at all now. He has actually fallen in love with the gentle breezes and the vast blue skies of Jamaica, and regrets that he has had to contend with the Malaysian haze and the Selangor Bus pollution situation for as long as he has... and now he has discovered Jamaica, well..." Cicak trailed off, wringing his front legs together helplessly.
"Not coming back at all?", IggySingh suddenly felt quite dizzy, and had to lie her head back down. She closed her eyes slowly and could feel her little heart beating rapidly against her little rib cage. "Oh, no. He has to come back. Senor Sun has to come back..."
to be continued...
a story for children - iggy looks for the sun part 1
Como se llama? = What is your name?
Me llamo IggySingh = My name is IggySingh.
IggySingh is indeed a clever little green iguana. Originally from the rain forests of South America and now living in the busy bustling city of Kuala Lumpur, with a human named Amreeth, IggySingh might only be four years old, but still she knew that something was terribly wrong.
You see, it had been raining for days now, and the sun had completely disappeared from the Malaysian skies. It was not usual for this time of the year at all, and the Monsoon Rains would only come at Christmas, so IggySingh knew something was definitely amiss. At first she was just very sad, and sat very very still looking for her friend Senor Sun carefully in the dark cloudy skies above.
Then on Sunday, after IggySingh had waited for Senor Sun patiently for hours through the gloomy skies, she suddenly realized that the rain was getting heavier and that the thunder and the lightning had started. IggySingh sat up as high as she could then and strained her neck to search for Senor Sun even more vigilantly. Puzzled, perplexed, and feeling quite quite cold, IggySingh was standing alertly up on her back legs, scanning the dark horizons high and low, for some sliver of hopeful rays. But her friend Senor Sun did not give her a single sign.
Now feeling gloomy and even colder, Iggy started to think about what would happen to her if Senor Sun never came back. It made her even more unhappy, and she wondered if she would ever be warm again. IggySingh was starting to lose the brilliant green colors of her natural skin, and as her skin became darker she looked over sadly at her human, Amreeth and gave a couple of very sad head bobs. Amreeth could understand the green iguana sign language perfectly and so understood IggySingh's sad question. Unfortunately her human could not help, as Amreeth too did not know where the Sun had gone.
Amreeth took IggySingh out of her green iguana home, and gave her a long hot bath hoping that the steam and the splashing around would cheer IggySingh up. Amreeth let IggySingh swim for hours but alas, it only helped for as long as the splish-splash session lasted, because when IggySingh climbed out of her bath, she could immediately see the dark grey skies all over again. Now feeling quite warm from the bath, IggySingh climbed and climbed to the very top of her green iguana home. When she finally got to the very top, she lounged dejectedly up on the roof, staring out the firmly closed windows.
"Oh, where did you go, my friend Senor Sun? It has been 3 whole days, and I am so very cold", IggySingh said out loud. On the top of her roof, and away from Amreeth, IggySingh spoke out loud, forgoing the head bobbing that she reserved for Amreeth and other humans. Magically, when alone IggySingh could speak out loud, but shhhh, it was a big big secret. Cicak, the Malaysian common house gecko that lived up in the front porch, had come in to visit IggySingh, and so heard this sad question.
to be continued...
Me llamo IggySingh = My name is IggySingh.
IggySingh is indeed a clever little green iguana. Originally from the rain forests of South America and now living in the busy bustling city of Kuala Lumpur, with a human named Amreeth, IggySingh might only be four years old, but still she knew that something was terribly wrong.
You see, it had been raining for days now, and the sun had completely disappeared from the Malaysian skies. It was not usual for this time of the year at all, and the Monsoon Rains would only come at Christmas, so IggySingh knew something was definitely amiss. At first she was just very sad, and sat very very still looking for her friend Senor Sun carefully in the dark cloudy skies above.
Then on Sunday, after IggySingh had waited for Senor Sun patiently for hours through the gloomy skies, she suddenly realized that the rain was getting heavier and that the thunder and the lightning had started. IggySingh sat up as high as she could then and strained her neck to search for Senor Sun even more vigilantly. Puzzled, perplexed, and feeling quite quite cold, IggySingh was standing alertly up on her back legs, scanning the dark horizons high and low, for some sliver of hopeful rays. But her friend Senor Sun did not give her a single sign.
Now feeling gloomy and even colder, Iggy started to think about what would happen to her if Senor Sun never came back. It made her even more unhappy, and she wondered if she would ever be warm again. IggySingh was starting to lose the brilliant green colors of her natural skin, and as her skin became darker she looked over sadly at her human, Amreeth and gave a couple of very sad head bobs. Amreeth could understand the green iguana sign language perfectly and so understood IggySingh's sad question. Unfortunately her human could not help, as Amreeth too did not know where the Sun had gone.
Amreeth took IggySingh out of her green iguana home, and gave her a long hot bath hoping that the steam and the splashing around would cheer IggySingh up. Amreeth let IggySingh swim for hours but alas, it only helped for as long as the splish-splash session lasted, because when IggySingh climbed out of her bath, she could immediately see the dark grey skies all over again. Now feeling quite warm from the bath, IggySingh climbed and climbed to the very top of her green iguana home. When she finally got to the very top, she lounged dejectedly up on the roof, staring out the firmly closed windows.
"Oh, where did you go, my friend Senor Sun? It has been 3 whole days, and I am so very cold", IggySingh said out loud. On the top of her roof, and away from Amreeth, IggySingh spoke out loud, forgoing the head bobbing that she reserved for Amreeth and other humans. Magically, when alone IggySingh could speak out loud, but shhhh, it was a big big secret. Cicak, the Malaysian common house gecko that lived up in the front porch, had come in to visit IggySingh, and so heard this sad question.
to be continued...
Friday, July 20, 2007
my heart got broke...
Tiene algo en negro? = Do you have something in black?
how ironic is life, eh?? i get camo's wedding invitation and i feel this enormous surge of happy relief that her scan results must have come back "negative" and the cancer is finally beat, and she is fulfilling her immediate dream of dancing at her own wedding.
only to call her and hear that there is good news and there is bad news. so the good news is that she is getting married. the bad news is that the doctors have done all they can for her and that she now only has a few months to live.
so is this how this chapter goes? that after battling cancer one battle after the other, since first discovered in september 2006, after losing her womb, and her hip and about 4 inches of her leg, the dreaded C has spread into every possible bone crevice that chemo is no longer able to keep things at bay.
i can only superficially describe the physical and mental traumas camo must have been through. she is however cheerfully upbeat, worried somewhat you might be hurting with her news, always considerate as to how you are coping. she is holidaying with her parents at the moment, savouring the bitter sweet opportunities to make these potentially last memories, before she returns to Melbourne for the benefit concert her fiance, simon is throwing for her, and for cancer patients on sunday night.
and then she rests up, until they have that small and intimate ceremony on the 5th of august. needless to say i started shaking yesterday when she told me over the phone, and i am still shaking. i had to ring off as i lost my composure and i cried like a hysterical baby most of the night. it has been a long time since i fell asleep with the tears still rolling down my cheeks, leaving wet spots on my blanket.
but here's to camo. who will be the most beautiful being at her own wedding. she will laugh and live and love to the very last second. and then she would have also planned her own funeral. wanting always for loved ones to stay happy, and celebrate life and each other, and not the sadness of all things as they stand. pragmatic. all gifts to be instead donations to the Cancer Council of Victoria.
i salute you mi amiga. and i thank you for every second you have been yourself, and a true sister to this malaysian who will eternally ever be grateful for your warm inclusive welcome into your life, your family, and your friendship. God keep and protect you always...
how ironic is life, eh?? i get camo's wedding invitation and i feel this enormous surge of happy relief that her scan results must have come back "negative" and the cancer is finally beat, and she is fulfilling her immediate dream of dancing at her own wedding.
only to call her and hear that there is good news and there is bad news. so the good news is that she is getting married. the bad news is that the doctors have done all they can for her and that she now only has a few months to live.
so is this how this chapter goes? that after battling cancer one battle after the other, since first discovered in september 2006, after losing her womb, and her hip and about 4 inches of her leg, the dreaded C has spread into every possible bone crevice that chemo is no longer able to keep things at bay.
i can only superficially describe the physical and mental traumas camo must have been through. she is however cheerfully upbeat, worried somewhat you might be hurting with her news, always considerate as to how you are coping. she is holidaying with her parents at the moment, savouring the bitter sweet opportunities to make these potentially last memories, before she returns to Melbourne for the benefit concert her fiance, simon is throwing for her, and for cancer patients on sunday night.
and then she rests up, until they have that small and intimate ceremony on the 5th of august. needless to say i started shaking yesterday when she told me over the phone, and i am still shaking. i had to ring off as i lost my composure and i cried like a hysterical baby most of the night. it has been a long time since i fell asleep with the tears still rolling down my cheeks, leaving wet spots on my blanket.
but here's to camo. who will be the most beautiful being at her own wedding. she will laugh and live and love to the very last second. and then she would have also planned her own funeral. wanting always for loved ones to stay happy, and celebrate life and each other, and not the sadness of all things as they stand. pragmatic. all gifts to be instead donations to the Cancer Council of Victoria.
i salute you mi amiga. and i thank you for every second you have been yourself, and a true sister to this malaysian who will eternally ever be grateful for your warm inclusive welcome into your life, your family, and your friendship. God keep and protect you always...
Thursday, July 19, 2007
foiled again in my quest for BK...
hamburguesa, por favor = hamburger, please
almost had me a BURGER KING lunch again today ;p
my 1st attempt was on Tuesday when i was supposed to catch up with Helena. but she got busy so i had a chicken-curry-puff at my desk instead. sigh.
and today as my dear sweet friend Siva is joining Helena and muah, he says no BK. he feels that it is completely non-healthy (yahhh! that's the whole point). but as i am after all (ahem) lunching with him again after (say what??) 7 years. yup, since i left the arena of telecommunications... i have graciously conceded.
BUT there is McD's at the Suria Food Court, so hmmmm... maybe, just maybe, my fetish for trans-fat today, will not be denied again! muahhhahhhahhhahhha...
almost had me a BURGER KING lunch again today ;p
my 1st attempt was on Tuesday when i was supposed to catch up with Helena. but she got busy so i had a chicken-curry-puff at my desk instead. sigh.
and today as my dear sweet friend Siva is joining Helena and muah, he says no BK. he feels that it is completely non-healthy (yahhh! that's the whole point). but as i am after all (ahem) lunching with him again after (say what??) 7 years. yup, since i left the arena of telecommunications... i have graciously conceded.
BUT there is McD's at the Suria Food Court, so hmmmm... maybe, just maybe, my fetish for trans-fat today, will not be denied again! muahhhahhhahhhahhha...
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
boy i hate them inconsiderate smokers...
Unpaquete de cigarrillos, sin filtro, extra largos, por favor = A pack of cigarettes, without filters, king size, please.
i have to say, i used to be one myself, a "smoker" for 2 years when i was at university and i was always getting sinus infections. nasty. but i persevered. and then my grandma died of cervical cancer and i gave up smoking cold-turkey thinking if cancer was already in the genes, why tempt fate? i used to pick up the cigarette very occasionally when out with the bad boys and steeped in the beers. now, i can smell somebody smoking 5 tables away when sitting down to lunch or dinner and my nose just stops functioning and i am suddenly struggling to breathe. all thanks to my ex-tobacco clients and my overexposure to their smoking habits.
i had the privilege of enjoying my 38th birthday June 2006 hospitalized in Sunway and undergoing Cat Scans and sputum tests. i have obviously stopped the wheezing now and am on preventive puffers and a nose spray. this last thing-y for life, unless (as counselled by the super savvy ENT) i do a drastic life change and move to nirvana where there will be NO: smokers, drapes, air-conditioning, carpets, haze, pollutants... hmmm... reality check here. so, what happens if i skip the nose spray (or God forbid forget to take a shot up the nostrils)?? hmm, sometimes i stop breathing through my nose. sometimes i get that drippy thing happening either through the back of my throat or down my face. i start getting 'chesty' by mid-morning sitting in my air-conditioned fully carpeted office and i start finding it hard to draw a deep breath. sometimes my throat gets ultra dry and i start to act like there is a massive frog in it. and i give these deep becha-man type coughs! not attractive :)
this morning, driving to work, stuck as usual at the sime darby junction, waiting for the cops to make sense of the traffic lights, i was kinda adjacent to a Malay guy in a Honda City, and about 1.5 cars back to his right. Honda guy had a passenger in the front seat, and a very small passenger in the back one (either a very short Malaysian or a child, i am pretty sure it was the latter). he rolled down his window and lit up. i remember thinking he had a cool watch on. all cold shiny stainless steel just as i like. he took a shallow type drag, and then he let his arm hang out of his window oblivious to the mad Mat Rempits racing all around us, weaving in and out of traffic on their low CC motorbikes.
he must have waited 1.5 minutes before he took another shallow drag through his now squinting eyes, and then his arm went back down again to flop outside with his cigarette. at this point the other windows in his car start going down, and i am guessing the non-smoking passengers are running out of their fresh air ;p he then sat almost 2.5 minutes with his floppy arm (and the nice watch) hanging outside and i was just watching his ash build-up at the end of his death stick, and the smoke add just a little to our KL pollutants. he actually had to flick it hard before taking another shallow drag. now, at this point, the cops were still blowing out their arses and we were still unhappily stuck in the same exact spot in our traffic lanes. and i started recalling how i used to smoke. back in 1991/1992. i would light up only if and when i needed a cigarette. and then i wouldn't waste it. i would drag most of the cancer causing smoke directly into my lungs, leaving little to linger around me. i would never do this around non-smokers. and i would smoke fast.
i was watching his passengers move around in their seats, perhaps uncomfortably at the smoke. perhaps suddenly realizing that they were still sitting in traffic and it was ticking past 9am. and there were all these red selangor buses around him, and i suddenly wondered why he needed that "crutch" he was holding in his fingers. was he was conning himself into thinking that he needed the stick to de-stress perhaps, or that sitting-put was a good reason to smoke? but at the rate he was actually consuming that ciggy, vis-a-vie the potential discomfort he was causing his passengers, he could have just got himself parked behind a bus, rolled his window down, stuck his head out his window (and emulate his floppy arm even maybe) and just BREATHED in that damn exhaust emission already man! i reckon he would have still got what he needed in terms of the carbon and it probably wouldn't have damaged his passengers' lungs and nasal passages as much... not to mention it, but he would have also not successfully contributed to our bad air!
i have to say, i used to be one myself, a "smoker" for 2 years when i was at university and i was always getting sinus infections. nasty. but i persevered. and then my grandma died of cervical cancer and i gave up smoking cold-turkey thinking if cancer was already in the genes, why tempt fate? i used to pick up the cigarette very occasionally when out with the bad boys and steeped in the beers. now, i can smell somebody smoking 5 tables away when sitting down to lunch or dinner and my nose just stops functioning and i am suddenly struggling to breathe. all thanks to my ex-tobacco clients and my overexposure to their smoking habits.
i had the privilege of enjoying my 38th birthday June 2006 hospitalized in Sunway and undergoing Cat Scans and sputum tests. i have obviously stopped the wheezing now and am on preventive puffers and a nose spray. this last thing-y for life, unless (as counselled by the super savvy ENT) i do a drastic life change and move to nirvana where there will be NO: smokers, drapes, air-conditioning, carpets, haze, pollutants... hmmm... reality check here. so, what happens if i skip the nose spray (or God forbid forget to take a shot up the nostrils)?? hmm, sometimes i stop breathing through my nose. sometimes i get that drippy thing happening either through the back of my throat or down my face. i start getting 'chesty' by mid-morning sitting in my air-conditioned fully carpeted office and i start finding it hard to draw a deep breath. sometimes my throat gets ultra dry and i start to act like there is a massive frog in it. and i give these deep becha-man type coughs! not attractive :)
this morning, driving to work, stuck as usual at the sime darby junction, waiting for the cops to make sense of the traffic lights, i was kinda adjacent to a Malay guy in a Honda City, and about 1.5 cars back to his right. Honda guy had a passenger in the front seat, and a very small passenger in the back one (either a very short Malaysian or a child, i am pretty sure it was the latter). he rolled down his window and lit up. i remember thinking he had a cool watch on. all cold shiny stainless steel just as i like. he took a shallow type drag, and then he let his arm hang out of his window oblivious to the mad Mat Rempits racing all around us, weaving in and out of traffic on their low CC motorbikes.
he must have waited 1.5 minutes before he took another shallow drag through his now squinting eyes, and then his arm went back down again to flop outside with his cigarette. at this point the other windows in his car start going down, and i am guessing the non-smoking passengers are running out of their fresh air ;p he then sat almost 2.5 minutes with his floppy arm (and the nice watch) hanging outside and i was just watching his ash build-up at the end of his death stick, and the smoke add just a little to our KL pollutants. he actually had to flick it hard before taking another shallow drag. now, at this point, the cops were still blowing out their arses and we were still unhappily stuck in the same exact spot in our traffic lanes. and i started recalling how i used to smoke. back in 1991/1992. i would light up only if and when i needed a cigarette. and then i wouldn't waste it. i would drag most of the cancer causing smoke directly into my lungs, leaving little to linger around me. i would never do this around non-smokers. and i would smoke fast.
i was watching his passengers move around in their seats, perhaps uncomfortably at the smoke. perhaps suddenly realizing that they were still sitting in traffic and it was ticking past 9am. and there were all these red selangor buses around him, and i suddenly wondered why he needed that "crutch" he was holding in his fingers. was he was conning himself into thinking that he needed the stick to de-stress perhaps, or that sitting-put was a good reason to smoke? but at the rate he was actually consuming that ciggy, vis-a-vie the potential discomfort he was causing his passengers, he could have just got himself parked behind a bus, rolled his window down, stuck his head out his window (and emulate his floppy arm even maybe) and just BREATHED in that damn exhaust emission already man! i reckon he would have still got what he needed in terms of the carbon and it probably wouldn't have damaged his passengers' lungs and nasal passages as much... not to mention it, but he would have also not successfully contributed to our bad air!
Monday, July 16, 2007
and the Gods made these beads just so...
Quiero una habitacion con una cama doble = I would like a room with a double bed.
i can sleep! finally, at 39 :) praise MALACHITE.
"known as the stone of transformation, it assists one in changing situations. it helps to activate all chakras especially stimulating the heart and the throat chakras. releases and draws out pain, inflammation, depression, anger, heals blocks. it is also the abundance stone, and with its equalizing and balancing vibration, it can create an unobstructed path leading to a desired goal."
most importantly it facilitates sleep and overcomes nightmares and i can sleep now!!! i swear this malachite bracelet has cured me of my "insomnia"... or rather my state of constant anxiety so i can actually sleep right through the night now. yup, all the way from 10pm to 5:30am. sigh.. bliss.
coincidence? who cares? but a happy chance encounter for me irregardless.
what insomnia??! hmm, didn't you know that i am just generally anxious all the time?? even when i am relaxed as in even the heights of the ultimate relaxation and getting a manicure or a foot massage, the poor manicurist/masseur has to keep tapping my fingers/foot every 10 minutes, and say - "just relax. just relax."
even when i am lunching with close friends and family and totally enjoying the moment and just being there with them, i am constantly thinking about what i have forgotten, or what i need to do next. and my mind is half-way elsewhere.
and i have also occasionally suffered the dreaded "anxiety attack" and have just learnt to press my finger-nails into both my palms, to keep on smiling and to breathe deeply. the trigger? who knows? could be a perfectly ordinary sequence of events.
my heart is currently measured at a rapid heart-beat rate, even when in a state of rest. but when having an "attack", boy-o... it is literally akin to having a heart-attack almost. the wrenching pain, the boom boom boom of my heart ringing in my ears. it's a rush alright ;)
so, what more sleep then? every moment of my day, my week, my past week, my potential next day marches right through my conscious and sub-conscious in "repeat". i relieve e.v.e.r.y. meeting, e.v.e.r.y. presentation, e.v.e.r.y. potential pitch over and over again in my REM.
ever watch "Groundhog Day"? hmm, then you get some idea of what my sleep is like. waking up every 2 hours. 2.5 hours tops. staring at the ceiling. tossing and turning. watching the clock. going back to sleep and "watching" the whole sequence all over again.
always awake before my alarm. jumping out of bed with my heart pumping full of adrenalin at the alarm. like i have consumed 6 espressos. chanting in fast forward. even my dentist asked me once if i grind my teeth in my sleep. hah! maybe i should videotape myself?
now? man, i sleep right through my alarm!
i don't remember my dreams.
i don't even remember my nightmares (which are ingredients of a completely different story!).
i drive to work yawning. and i need 2 cups of coffee before i can articulate or make any sense. yippee!
i am sleepy, even mid-morning at my desk :)
and i am happy...
i can sleep! finally, at 39 :) praise MALACHITE.
"known as the stone of transformation, it assists one in changing situations. it helps to activate all chakras especially stimulating the heart and the throat chakras. releases and draws out pain, inflammation, depression, anger, heals blocks. it is also the abundance stone, and with its equalizing and balancing vibration, it can create an unobstructed path leading to a desired goal."
most importantly it facilitates sleep and overcomes nightmares and i can sleep now!!! i swear this malachite bracelet has cured me of my "insomnia"... or rather my state of constant anxiety so i can actually sleep right through the night now. yup, all the way from 10pm to 5:30am. sigh.. bliss.
coincidence? who cares? but a happy chance encounter for me irregardless.
what insomnia??! hmm, didn't you know that i am just generally anxious all the time?? even when i am relaxed as in even the heights of the ultimate relaxation and getting a manicure or a foot massage, the poor manicurist/masseur has to keep tapping my fingers/foot every 10 minutes, and say - "just relax. just relax."
even when i am lunching with close friends and family and totally enjoying the moment and just being there with them, i am constantly thinking about what i have forgotten, or what i need to do next. and my mind is half-way elsewhere.
and i have also occasionally suffered the dreaded "anxiety attack" and have just learnt to press my finger-nails into both my palms, to keep on smiling and to breathe deeply. the trigger? who knows? could be a perfectly ordinary sequence of events.
my heart is currently measured at a rapid heart-beat rate, even when in a state of rest. but when having an "attack", boy-o... it is literally akin to having a heart-attack almost. the wrenching pain, the boom boom boom of my heart ringing in my ears. it's a rush alright ;)
so, what more sleep then? every moment of my day, my week, my past week, my potential next day marches right through my conscious and sub-conscious in "repeat". i relieve e.v.e.r.y. meeting, e.v.e.r.y. presentation, e.v.e.r.y. potential pitch over and over again in my REM.
ever watch "Groundhog Day"? hmm, then you get some idea of what my sleep is like. waking up every 2 hours. 2.5 hours tops. staring at the ceiling. tossing and turning. watching the clock. going back to sleep and "watching" the whole sequence all over again.
always awake before my alarm. jumping out of bed with my heart pumping full of adrenalin at the alarm. like i have consumed 6 espressos. chanting in fast forward. even my dentist asked me once if i grind my teeth in my sleep. hah! maybe i should videotape myself?
now? man, i sleep right through my alarm!
i don't remember my dreams.
i don't even remember my nightmares (which are ingredients of a completely different story!).
i drive to work yawning. and i need 2 cups of coffee before i can articulate or make any sense. yippee!
i am sleepy, even mid-morning at my desk :)
and i am happy...
mr. sandman, send me a dream... make it of the Iguazu Falls...
Es usted sudamericana? = Are you South American?
(when asking a male use "sudamericano")
Soy Malaysian = I am Malaysian.
so why is it that while i have desperately wanted to pick up Spanish for years and years now, i still have to depend on my trusty guide book to "speak"?
i have been thinking a lot about this lately. trying to connect with my sub-conscious to see why is it that i still struggle with this language. having been to Spain (and more specifically to La Coruna) 3 times, i seem to understand everything Mama V says to me, provided i clear my mind, and listen with an open heart.
i understand almost perfectly in fact, and am able to answer precisely at the right times with the right answers, so i am not just winging things, and over-using my intuitive side or pretending i understand just to seem polite (as Fer suspects!). so she speaks Spanish to me, and i respond in English.
i do the same with my tutor Luisa (of my now self-terminated lessons) and am able to follow her classroom directions to a 't' but which word actually meant what? sorry lah.
and then this morning in the midst of a text conversation, i remembered again that i used to dream in Spanish. yes, i actually did! it popped right back at me as i was texting mi amigo.
did you know that??! well, when i was about 12, right until i was about 16 or 17, i used to have this recurring dream that i was living on a ranch.
and that we bred horses (my "dream" family did). we had many men working for us, and they wore cow-boy like hats and did the traditional lassos. and they repaired the fences, and moved the horses around en mass and regularly (to graze). and the "country" i lived in? well, in my dream it was vast, and very green. and in reality, i was clueless.
ahuh! one would think i was over-dosing on the John Wayne era of repeats on our local TV1 or 2, except that all the conversations in my dreams were in a language that i had no exposure too in my conscious life. the Duke only spoke English in his movies ;) and i am 100% Punjabi.
so what was the language? i didn't know.
and then my dreams stopped suddenly, and Julio Iglesias made the air-waves of Malaysia, and my friend in Form 4 or 5, gave me his cassette (do you remember those things?? sorry i digress!)
and in a blinding moment of pure clarity, i realized the language of my dreams, was Spanish!!!
only then when i watched "The Mission" with Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons (must have been about 1986, when i was 18) did i finally recognize the greenery of my dreams. South America. and the rainforests. and the stupendous Iguazu Falls. sigh.
needless to say, it took me 3 - 4 attempts to finish the film. i wept like a baby from the point Robert De Niro took on his penance and started the track up the jungle trails (De Niro played the slave trader turned acolyte). i still to date, cannot hear that version of that Ave Maria sung in those angelic little children voices without freezing.
do i believe in reincarnation? absolutely.
do i think i lived once on a horse ranch in Argentina? yes.
do i know this sounds nutty? yes.
do i care? hell NO! i do not!
did you know that Mama V was originally Argentinian, before she moved to Spain? it gets more curious...
(when asking a male use "sudamericano")
Soy Malaysian = I am Malaysian.
so why is it that while i have desperately wanted to pick up Spanish for years and years now, i still have to depend on my trusty guide book to "speak"?
i have been thinking a lot about this lately. trying to connect with my sub-conscious to see why is it that i still struggle with this language. having been to Spain (and more specifically to La Coruna) 3 times, i seem to understand everything Mama V says to me, provided i clear my mind, and listen with an open heart.
i understand almost perfectly in fact, and am able to answer precisely at the right times with the right answers, so i am not just winging things, and over-using my intuitive side or pretending i understand just to seem polite (as Fer suspects!). so she speaks Spanish to me, and i respond in English.
i do the same with my tutor Luisa (of my now self-terminated lessons) and am able to follow her classroom directions to a 't' but which word actually meant what? sorry lah.
and then this morning in the midst of a text conversation, i remembered again that i used to dream in Spanish. yes, i actually did! it popped right back at me as i was texting mi amigo.
did you know that??! well, when i was about 12, right until i was about 16 or 17, i used to have this recurring dream that i was living on a ranch.
and that we bred horses (my "dream" family did). we had many men working for us, and they wore cow-boy like hats and did the traditional lassos. and they repaired the fences, and moved the horses around en mass and regularly (to graze). and the "country" i lived in? well, in my dream it was vast, and very green. and in reality, i was clueless.
ahuh! one would think i was over-dosing on the John Wayne era of repeats on our local TV1 or 2, except that all the conversations in my dreams were in a language that i had no exposure too in my conscious life. the Duke only spoke English in his movies ;) and i am 100% Punjabi.
so what was the language? i didn't know.
and then my dreams stopped suddenly, and Julio Iglesias made the air-waves of Malaysia, and my friend in Form 4 or 5, gave me his cassette (do you remember those things?? sorry i digress!)
and in a blinding moment of pure clarity, i realized the language of my dreams, was Spanish!!!
only then when i watched "The Mission" with Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons (must have been about 1986, when i was 18) did i finally recognize the greenery of my dreams. South America. and the rainforests. and the stupendous Iguazu Falls. sigh.
needless to say, it took me 3 - 4 attempts to finish the film. i wept like a baby from the point Robert De Niro took on his penance and started the track up the jungle trails (De Niro played the slave trader turned acolyte). i still to date, cannot hear that version of that Ave Maria sung in those angelic little children voices without freezing.
do i believe in reincarnation? absolutely.
do i think i lived once on a horse ranch in Argentina? yes.
do i know this sounds nutty? yes.
do i care? hell NO! i do not!
did you know that Mama V was originally Argentinian, before she moved to Spain? it gets more curious...
Sunday, July 15, 2007
relationship blossoms
Es usted casada? = Are you married? (use casado if you are asking this Qs to a male.)
Soy soltera = I am single.
and why is that?? hah! i am sure this question has invoked many hours of family debates. maybe not so much now this is my last "30th" year and my uncles and aunties are resigned, perplexed but ever hopeful.
it's not that i'm unattractive you see. not also that i lack any intelligence or social/communication skills. not that i don't know how to clean up and wear the appropriate outfits when required(although i would struggle to discard the denim, i do LOVE the diamonds).
in the Indian Times i may even be advertised as honey colored(?) or would it be wheat(?).
as owning my own apartment, car, TV and DVD player, jewellery, hand-phone (what else does one add?). as having a good steady job and a regular income.
of course there would be the things we would struggle to strategically position in the same advert. things like: amreeth owns a 4.5 foot green lizard who is her life and her focus, and rules the house and is non-negotiable. amreeth is outspoken and has stubborn (oops scratch that) definitive points of views. she also prefers her own company, or hanging out with her parents and select relatives and friends versus the night-life now. so is social without a fault if she chooses to be (like at work and within a strictly select inner circle). she doesn't cook or clean house, and believes in outsourcing the management of her house work which she does successfully.
hmm, oh and how do we slip this one in??: she is allergic to commitment(!) she still likes the bad boys (read as in: Heathcliff, Tristan, vampires) and they better be built like Brad Pitt and speaketh the spanish.
aiyoh, this advert thing isn't going so well, and how would we communicate the age??! shock, horror. scrap scrap.
well, 2007 being the year of the golden pig, a marriage relationship is foretold to blossom for the single monkey.
i guess i better start practicing civility 24/7.
Perdone, por favor. Hay una iglesia cerca? = Excuse me, please. Is there a church nearby?
Soy soltera = I am single.
and why is that?? hah! i am sure this question has invoked many hours of family debates. maybe not so much now this is my last "30th" year and my uncles and aunties are resigned, perplexed but ever hopeful.
it's not that i'm unattractive you see. not also that i lack any intelligence or social/communication skills. not that i don't know how to clean up and wear the appropriate outfits when required(although i would struggle to discard the denim, i do LOVE the diamonds).
in the Indian Times i may even be advertised as honey colored(?) or would it be wheat(?).
as owning my own apartment, car, TV and DVD player, jewellery, hand-phone (what else does one add?). as having a good steady job and a regular income.
of course there would be the things we would struggle to strategically position in the same advert. things like: amreeth owns a 4.5 foot green lizard who is her life and her focus, and rules the house and is non-negotiable. amreeth is outspoken and has stubborn (oops scratch that) definitive points of views. she also prefers her own company, or hanging out with her parents and select relatives and friends versus the night-life now. so is social without a fault if she chooses to be (like at work and within a strictly select inner circle). she doesn't cook or clean house, and believes in outsourcing the management of her house work which she does successfully.
hmm, oh and how do we slip this one in??: she is allergic to commitment(!) she still likes the bad boys (read as in: Heathcliff, Tristan, vampires) and they better be built like Brad Pitt and speaketh the spanish.
aiyoh, this advert thing isn't going so well, and how would we communicate the age??! shock, horror. scrap scrap.
well, 2007 being the year of the golden pig, a marriage relationship is foretold to blossom for the single monkey.
i guess i better start practicing civility 24/7.
Perdone, por favor. Hay una iglesia cerca? = Excuse me, please. Is there a church nearby?
Saturday, July 14, 2007
a student of the game.
Como se llama ese animal? = What's that animal called?
serial killers. they fascinate me. i can't turn the channel when i spot a movie or TV series about them on Astro.
no one in particular. can't say i know Charlie Manson or Son of Sam or Ted Bundy any better then the rest of them.
just the collective group is what i am gruesomely fascinated by.
their psyche. the chilling selection of their victims. the methodical torture and victimization of their prey.
Ashley Judd in "Kiss The Girls". now that is some role. and the way she stood firm, hanging on as her self in the midst of the mayhem. fighting back.
i think what fascinates me most is how fear suddenly gets under the victim's skin, chocking all rationale thought. and then the inability to fight the panic sets in, followed by the strict obedience to the game dictated...
as you can see my Saturday today is dedicated to paying homage to my TV, and now, for more zzz... make sure you have checked all your locks.
serial killers. they fascinate me. i can't turn the channel when i spot a movie or TV series about them on Astro.
no one in particular. can't say i know Charlie Manson or Son of Sam or Ted Bundy any better then the rest of them.
just the collective group is what i am gruesomely fascinated by.
their psyche. the chilling selection of their victims. the methodical torture and victimization of their prey.
Ashley Judd in "Kiss The Girls". now that is some role. and the way she stood firm, hanging on as her self in the midst of the mayhem. fighting back.
i think what fascinates me most is how fear suddenly gets under the victim's skin, chocking all rationale thought. and then the inability to fight the panic sets in, followed by the strict obedience to the game dictated...
as you can see my Saturday today is dedicated to paying homage to my TV, and now, for more zzz... make sure you have checked all your locks.
hanging out with the Saturday afternoon...
Buenas tardes = Good afternoon.
Un churro, por favor = A finger-sized fritter, please.
blisss. the start of a week-end = making it through that Friday night crawl on Jalan Sultan Ismail and coming home to blue skies and white fluffy cloud weather. you know just then that the week-end is going to be sweet.
see, i believe in signs. from God. from nature. from the powers that be. unfortunately, most times i have had to mitigate these "signs" in my head so that i am practical. job requirements :) but come Friday night and getting home within just the ONE hour, you know, that's the 1st "sign".
so my happiest week-end is when i get to do NOTHING. that's right.. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.
sigh, my most content moment is knowing i have nothing to do. no grocery shopping. no bills to pay. no hair appointments. no facials (i know, real hardships these last 2, hehehe!).
no hanging out with friends (no offence g-friends!). no packing for the work week ahead and wondering which business suits to take along this time, and which working shoes.
knowing that i can just sleep and watch TV and call McD's (or maybe some PizzaHut today??) and sleep some more and wow! watch more TV. as i am not traveling on work. and i can spread the adult activities completely to Day 2.
yes, truth be told, work travel has made me selfish of preserving my time alone. but most importantly my time at home. staying put at 505. i am now unflinchingly proud to be a couch potato!
hanging out with the Saturday afternoon is my best time, personally. as i know i still have the Saturday evening, and then the Saturday night and then i get to wake-up to a whole SUNDAY and another day of doing nothing unless i want to.
of course, the best reason for having a week-end is hanging out with my green baby - IggySingh. 4.5 feet, all teeth and claws, with a manja seeking personality, week-ends are when i can do all her chores and her routines myself, and i get to wake her up and put her to bed, and give her her showers, and cut her sawi, and i get to just hang out, watching TV from a semi-paralyzed position on the couch. hmm... that is the true essence of bliss. watching TV to iguana kisses!
and so we are hanging out with Harry Potter this afternoon, as he wonders why the Goblet Of Fire picked out his name...
Un churro, por favor = A finger-sized fritter, please.
blisss. the start of a week-end = making it through that Friday night crawl on Jalan Sultan Ismail and coming home to blue skies and white fluffy cloud weather. you know just then that the week-end is going to be sweet.
see, i believe in signs. from God. from nature. from the powers that be. unfortunately, most times i have had to mitigate these "signs" in my head so that i am practical. job requirements :) but come Friday night and getting home within just the ONE hour, you know, that's the 1st "sign".
so my happiest week-end is when i get to do NOTHING. that's right.. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.
sigh, my most content moment is knowing i have nothing to do. no grocery shopping. no bills to pay. no hair appointments. no facials (i know, real hardships these last 2, hehehe!).
no hanging out with friends (no offence g-friends!). no packing for the work week ahead and wondering which business suits to take along this time, and which working shoes.
knowing that i can just sleep and watch TV and call McD's (or maybe some PizzaHut today??) and sleep some more and wow! watch more TV. as i am not traveling on work. and i can spread the adult activities completely to Day 2.
yes, truth be told, work travel has made me selfish of preserving my time alone. but most importantly my time at home. staying put at 505. i am now unflinchingly proud to be a couch potato!
hanging out with the Saturday afternoon is my best time, personally. as i know i still have the Saturday evening, and then the Saturday night and then i get to wake-up to a whole SUNDAY and another day of doing nothing unless i want to.
of course, the best reason for having a week-end is hanging out with my green baby - IggySingh. 4.5 feet, all teeth and claws, with a manja seeking personality, week-ends are when i can do all her chores and her routines myself, and i get to wake her up and put her to bed, and give her her showers, and cut her sawi, and i get to just hang out, watching TV from a semi-paralyzed position on the couch. hmm... that is the true essence of bliss. watching TV to iguana kisses!
and so we are hanging out with Harry Potter this afternoon, as he wonders why the Goblet Of Fire picked out his name...
Friday, July 13, 2007
if not, why not?
Tiene plazas libres? = Do you have any vacancies?
Es para un adulto = It's for one adult.
do you think they have vacancies in heaven?
or at the very least a small space to let for the week ;)
it's these evenings that i miss you most of all, my darling uncle sarge. there are no autumn leaves but...
when i am watching some crappy TV serial on my own, curled up on my chaise and i find myself second guessing every quirky dialogue.
when i am sipping my 12 year single malt on the melting rocks, savoring the taste of just being.
when i can hear your voice - just so, and as gentle as a breeze, brushing my inner ear - telling me to suspend all rational thoughts and just accept things for what they are.
you always start with the infamous "i say" and your right hand is quick to punctuate the air with its shaking wrist, accentuating your POV just so.
i often sit here uncle sarge, and remember the very 1st time i tasted a single malt. do you remember? it was in the gardens of the bed+breakfast just outside the INSEAD campus in Fontainebleau, 1996. it was a gentle evening and you had just poured me an oak liquid that left my throat on fire. the trick is to sip :) i remember. Glenmorangie. a single highland malt whisky that still brings a smile to my heart. yes, i had finally graduated from VBs!
what are you doing right now my uncle sarge? where are you?
are you absorbed into the final light of nothingness? or are you sitting in the after life watching me from behind some white fluffy cloud, with your angel wings, waiting to come back?
to a life of pure masculine activity, and the ability now to run in the wide open cricket pitches you had to forgo thanks to having just the one lung?
do you see what i have become? what i have done these past 6 years. what i have excelled at? what i have regretted? my happy moments; my biggest blackest mistakes?
do you see whom i love now? do you see how i hang on? waiting patiently?
all these questions swell and the swirling malt makes the ice chink against this cut crystal glass, and i wonder where your warm hug is now, when i need you most??
my confession: i watch the clouds too often my uncle sarge. just waiting to catch a glimpse of you :)
Es para un adulto = It's for one adult.
do you think they have vacancies in heaven?
or at the very least a small space to let for the week ;)
it's these evenings that i miss you most of all, my darling uncle sarge. there are no autumn leaves but...
when i am watching some crappy TV serial on my own, curled up on my chaise and i find myself second guessing every quirky dialogue.
when i am sipping my 12 year single malt on the melting rocks, savoring the taste of just being.
when i can hear your voice - just so, and as gentle as a breeze, brushing my inner ear - telling me to suspend all rational thoughts and just accept things for what they are.
you always start with the infamous "i say" and your right hand is quick to punctuate the air with its shaking wrist, accentuating your POV just so.
i often sit here uncle sarge, and remember the very 1st time i tasted a single malt. do you remember? it was in the gardens of the bed+breakfast just outside the INSEAD campus in Fontainebleau, 1996. it was a gentle evening and you had just poured me an oak liquid that left my throat on fire. the trick is to sip :) i remember. Glenmorangie. a single highland malt whisky that still brings a smile to my heart. yes, i had finally graduated from VBs!
what are you doing right now my uncle sarge? where are you?
are you absorbed into the final light of nothingness? or are you sitting in the after life watching me from behind some white fluffy cloud, with your angel wings, waiting to come back?
to a life of pure masculine activity, and the ability now to run in the wide open cricket pitches you had to forgo thanks to having just the one lung?
do you see what i have become? what i have done these past 6 years. what i have excelled at? what i have regretted? my happy moments; my biggest blackest mistakes?
do you see whom i love now? do you see how i hang on? waiting patiently?
all these questions swell and the swirling malt makes the ice chink against this cut crystal glass, and i wonder where your warm hug is now, when i need you most??
my confession: i watch the clouds too often my uncle sarge. just waiting to catch a glimpse of you :)
40 cans of beer on the wall...
una cerveza = 1 beer.
hmmmm??!
so i have this friend, Tony. he's part Jamaican.
i love him unconditionally. he makes me feel like a real woman. and i end up laughing until i cry really, every time we speak. it's a feeling of pure lightheartedness that is completely without boundaries.
well Tony was on holiday recently, and he ended up staying in a very small European country town, that by funny coincidence stocked Budweiser's.
of course being on holiday, Tony was actively scouting around for the hard-core liters to consume, when he suddenly saw the 1st can of Bud's.
it brought a slow happy smile to his face and his heart felt a little tug and suddenly Tony was reminiscing his "good-old" university days.
hence versus the whiskies that he had gone for originally, Tony ended up instead asking the store clerk for all the Bud's they had in stock for the day.
the ensuing conversation actually took a couple of repeated attempts, grunts, loud shouting and then some out-right blatant sailor-swearing-type rudeness on Tony's part to end successfully :) as in he managed to secure all existing 40 cans of Bud's and drove back to his holiday resort to just basically consume them all.
(why the drama??! no one really consumes Bud's in this part of Europe and the store clerk was worried that Tony would realize later that he was buying low-class beer. ho hum.)
Tony's aim after reaching his bedroom was then to see if one could technically suicide-by-beer; or if one would wake up after 40 beers in the one night.
well, he got through 30 cans over many hours amidst the other activities of walking, sitting on the toilet, playing with his loaded hand guns and calling me.
and then he collapsed. only to wake to an extremely runny stomach and 10 more Bud's. which Tony promptly finished for tea the next day.
Tony is still sleeping i think...
hmmmm??!
so i have this friend, Tony. he's part Jamaican.
i love him unconditionally. he makes me feel like a real woman. and i end up laughing until i cry really, every time we speak. it's a feeling of pure lightheartedness that is completely without boundaries.
well Tony was on holiday recently, and he ended up staying in a very small European country town, that by funny coincidence stocked Budweiser's.
of course being on holiday, Tony was actively scouting around for the hard-core liters to consume, when he suddenly saw the 1st can of Bud's.
it brought a slow happy smile to his face and his heart felt a little tug and suddenly Tony was reminiscing his "good-old" university days.
hence versus the whiskies that he had gone for originally, Tony ended up instead asking the store clerk for all the Bud's they had in stock for the day.
the ensuing conversation actually took a couple of repeated attempts, grunts, loud shouting and then some out-right blatant sailor-swearing-type rudeness on Tony's part to end successfully :) as in he managed to secure all existing 40 cans of Bud's and drove back to his holiday resort to just basically consume them all.
(why the drama??! no one really consumes Bud's in this part of Europe and the store clerk was worried that Tony would realize later that he was buying low-class beer. ho hum.)
Tony's aim after reaching his bedroom was then to see if one could technically suicide-by-beer; or if one would wake up after 40 beers in the one night.
well, he got through 30 cans over many hours amidst the other activities of walking, sitting on the toilet, playing with his loaded hand guns and calling me.
and then he collapsed. only to wake to an extremely runny stomach and 10 more Bud's. which Tony promptly finished for tea the next day.
Tony is still sleeping i think...
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