just enough spanish

2011.

2011-01-29T22:17:00.003+08:00

it continues being a great start to the year. i spent 11 days with my beautiful parents, and had the best Xmas and New Year's ever. they were so welcoming of my green iguana, it touched me to my core. and then i came home to wonderful clients.

back again up North, on the 3rd. and i am so looking forward to it. i hope 2011 and the upcoming year of the rabbit is a happy, ang-filled one, with lots of individual and group prosperity, excellent health, and many loving moments.

God Bless, one and all. and i welcome love into my life this year. i am ready.

so when one hopes?

2011-01-11T20:21:00.002+08:00

does it ever come true? the one i dream of... did he exist, even then? and will he never appear again? or is it of a future unrealistic state that i envisioned?

it used to be that i wished upon God and all the stars for a man that would be just mine. brave and strong. loving and dependable. like the Heathcliff of old, passionate and enduring.

and now, i wish for hot days, and pure sunshine, for my green friend :)

memoirs...

2011-01-11T19:58:00.004+08:00

so, is it insane to write one's memoirs at half one's age expectancy. when you have only lived half of what you have been destined to live?

i know that i have learnt a lifetime of lessons by now, and probably a healthy chunk of what is to come, at only 42. i can testify to this.

but if i had my life to life over, i would never repeat the mistake of hoping for a brother. born of the same womb, yet never to be the one to support or help me, i would have realized earlier, the nature of his beast, and hence never been hurt or disappointed. the first man (boy) i ever loved, my brother helped be unfaithful to me. and i confronted him, after an agonizing night of discovery. only to be told that he had done me a favor to help prove the love of my life as merely useless.

it only diminished, our relationship, (at best) after that.

the first enduring love i ever had, i drove into a wall. it was an accident, and until today, i wish it had been me who had been the one to sustain those injuries. i lost the love of my life, and my best friend. and to date, i meander the moors of what could be, with every fresh relationship. i try, and i endeavour, and all to no end.

how does one embrace the masculine when the majority of real time living examples, my brother, be? a disappointing, unfaithful, insincere, self interested, capitalist? that doesn't believe in any sort of a clean living?

unfair to blame? yes.

the reality is that i have my father and my favorite uncles. that have proven decade after decade, loyalty and trust, and broad shoulders, they do exist.

i am glad though, that i am childless, as my children, will not have the role models that i grew up with. rather they will have the useless men (of my generation) that i am stuck with, that will outlive me. who still live in denial, and shiok sendiri...

my unborn children, will never know the heroes that i have known.

crossroads...

2010-11-24T21:27:00.002+08:00

just when i am on a roll, i am back here, wondering about my career all over again. although this time it is relatively drama free, as in "i" decide, still to have to make a decision again so soon.

side-bar: so i found all the letters that "Khalil Gibran" wrote to me when i was sequestered at Uni. volumes worth, they were racy, sweet, poignant, witty and most of all, highly welcomed. we didn't even so much as kiss, yet the sudden invocation of that 1mysterious summer... worth a bottle of your finest malt.

i just want the universe to know, demon free, i have lost my edginess, and hence my fetish for writing about the dark. gimme a niche already??

lelia awakened...

2010-10-24T19:05:00.006+08:00

she had been asleep for hundreds of years. and then finally she had been awakened. to her surprise a mortal man had come for her. he was tall and lean, and hard in his muscle tone, yet she sensed a great vulnerability in his approach towards her. his mere touch awakened the yearnings that had lived deep within her belly. she remembered what it was like to be a mortal woman.

she shook her head gently, confused and trying to remember. her deep slumber had been induced by her new father, Ismay. when she had been unable to assimilate the yearnings that the night brought on, and her conscience did nothing to dissipate her kills, as it had naturally happened in her makers and their brethren. instead she had felt the guilt of taking a life almost as immediately as the gratification of feeding on the mortal.

she had tried to keep to the untouchables. the ones that even the priests would not bless. those that swept the streets, and lived in the shadows, the ones suffered the poverty of having no status in a cruel society, the ones that embraced death, as it would start their kharmatic cycles yet again, and hopefully to a better place. yet with each fresh feed, with each mortal she exterminated, that last heartbeat caught deep within her throat chocking her, and it resonated in her soul, and she found herself wandering for days at end after carrying the burden of their deaths, inviting the final death for herself as she grew slowly insane.

that is how her new father had found her, sitting in the streets of Calcutta, awaiting the morning sun, ready to embrace her final death, and he had to use every ounce of his inhuman strength to subdue her and to house her secretly in the labyrinths he knew would be untouched for the next centuries to come.

her new father visited her often, ensuring her capture was inescapable. he kept her well fed, and eventually he gave in to her howling demands of feeding on animals only. she slipped peacefully into a routine of survival then, salving her mind with the justifications that they were not human kills, and that men were safe from her.

and now this man, he stood before her in the great moon. he was magnificent. his chiseled features, his warm torso. he rolled her out of her chains without flinching, and at last she was free from her silver shackles. she stood up slowly, savouring the feel of being on her feet. she stretched luxuriously, feeling every bone in her back, and then Lelia blinked carefully into the soft glow of the candle light.

"what brings to you here, and to awaken me..." Lelia drawled, fascinated.

~a fictional piece by amreeth~

paid my bills...

2010-10-22T21:51:00.003+08:00

in a short 30 minutes this morning, and loving it! i actually am breaking "even" and God knows how i have waited for this moment.
hence the struggle to keep away from that credit card binge i can feel in the pit of my stomach, every time i think of that pink Brietling.

onto other matters... i am soo looking forward to tomorrow morning and to starting my day and to heading out to visit my dear dear friends. i know that we are truly the cluster of souls that God put together, with careful consideration, and i look forward to the continued healing.

and to jump again... i am thinking of that novel, the one that has lurked just behind my membrane, all these decades, just waiting to be discovered and to be fleshed out. to be introduced to the endless minds and imaginations of like souls. imagine what it would be like. to finally get published.

i think though, the one constant genre that i could really produce, would have to be under a strict pseudonym if i stick to it... imagine the familia reading my erotica? hmmmm!!! but then again, maybe i have lost that slant altogether and may have to reinvent myself.

exciting, the possibilities...

one sided...

2010-10-15T20:54:00.002+08:00

it is amazing how i have carried around a one-sided love affair for well over a decade now. my backbone of who he will be, the one, has completely washed out of any future life choices i may make now.

i have carried around this image of love, and of his face, and have chapters dedicated to how my soul mate will find me and how i will find him right back. and now, it has all come down to romantic love being just a fantasy.

my Dad was right. in life, you can't just wait for the fireworks to light up your sky to know for sure, and to get the move on. maybe there just aren't the fireworks to begin with, and that Bollywood has killed the real life opportunities that i have dismissed, waiting for these unrealistic signs. i know that Dad probably meant the magic will be in your heart, but if you get too busy looking up at the sky for the brilliance, you may miss the murmurs of their exploding deep within.

i think that one can hope with all one's heart and soul, and kiss all the frogs in the world, and yet the prince you imagined would be holding your hand at 42, he still sits in the romantic comedies you DVD, always a tissue box away.

real life heroes, they just don't dance like Shahrukh Khan, or flash their pearly whites like Matthew Mcconaughey, or flex their rain soaked muscles like John Abraham...

an acceptance of new beginnings...

2010-10-15T20:48:00.002+08:00

the simplest of ways to say it. where i am right now. yet the repercussions these crossroads encourage, are tantamount to ripping myself out of me, and becoming some stranger i don't completely believe i am built to be.

it all boils down to this request to the universe, my request, and it has lead finally to my moonstone, and then to the niggling start of gentle and pushy conversations around arranged marriages. i am not ready, and i doubt i will ever be ready mentally, and so i am happily embracing my state of denial.

salam.

on wearing black and being a beatnik...

2010-09-17T21:25:00.004+08:00

so walking along in my head,
snapping my fingers to my own rhythm,
i contemplate wearing black (which i always do),
and to chanting a poem, succinctly, i am cool.

i think i am sometimes just too way ahead,
and the crowd wants me to just confine,
to grow to the natural speed of a 4th gear,
i choose instead to ease back into 2nd.

it allows me to just be,
apart from the greed,
a part of the powers that be,
and i feel myself healing at my own pace.

so i say to you, boldly and with conviction,
snapping my fingers, cruising along,
accept me, do, i am merely me,
but i am so here to stay, ME.

my 100th...

2010-09-17T21:11:00.003+08:00

my 100th posting :) so truth be told i logged on tonight, merely to gripe and to artfully whinge. but seeing that i was at 99 posts and this was my 100th(!), a smile crept onto my face, tugging at the corners of my soul. i reluctantly and then quite cheerfully conceded that to gripe at this historical "post" would be a sacrilege.

so i will park my feelings that i am not always good enough for someone or another, albeit they only have my best interests at heart. i would rather just appeal to the powers that be, to guide me into tolerance, and a sense of calm. i am living my life, and i am happy this way, so accept me. if i am not growing fast enough, maybe it is because i am not watching your time lines my critics and those that love me so you just want me to do better.

i am gently meandering on my own path to life. karma cleansing, celebrating a balanced lifestyle, almost going backwards at times i know, but always with the fresh wonderment that i am here, in my own skin, with only my own voice inside my head. i would almost dare to whisper that i apologize i cannot be the person you see me to have the potential to be. but i dare to shout, from the rafters, i am merely ME, and i am exactly where i need to be at this stage in my life.

so i remember to breathe, and i am holding my head up, pride emanating, and resonating in my secret plans...

memories.

2010-08-20T20:50:00.006+08:00

my grandma passed away on the 3rd of August. she was 96. and had spent the last 9+ years in a home. the last year or so of which she was bedridden and uncommunicative.
everyone that came to pay their last respects to grandma had an individual stylized mental snapshot of her, a personal story that warmed their hearts, a sliver of who she had been. before the senile dementia, even before the paranoia had begun.

i believe that now finally, my grandma is free, and that she has spent her decade of hell-on-earth-years eradicating any lingering karma she may have had to carry forward, and that finally she is safely in heaven. the memories that hit me 2.5 weeks later made me smile, laugh, shake my head, and even cry. i think if one parks any negative vibes, and holds on to only the good, then everyone has "the" memory that they can hold on to with the deepest love, and respect.

Mr. Twit surprised me. i collapsed at my grandma's final prayers (14th of August), i think as a result of an overwhelming couple of weeks, and having experienced a low sugar level, i fell in the final moments of the final prayers. Mr. Twit came to sit right by me, and talk to me, and stayed with me until i was all better. he broke the boundaries of us not talking for a year, of coming to sit amongst the women, just to sit gently on the floor with me. maybe grandma wanted us to be closer, or at the very least act civil in public.

Mrs. Twit was the usual class-act-bitch that she was born to be. the memories i keep with me about Mrs. Twit, even when i discard the mean times, and all the negativity with her?? hmmm... i have the same silly sense of "why???" "whyyyy or whyyyyy am i in the same family with her?" i think so that i can never make the mistake of being her friend :) thank you grandma, for showing me this even in your last moments, what really matters the most. and that being finally estranged from Mrs. Twit is not a bad thing at all.

God Speed Mahji xx

my Lord Ganesha

2010-03-15T19:11:00.002+08:00

He shields and protects me.
He removes my fears, my doubts and all my obstacles.
He loves me for who I am.
He keeps me future focused.
He is my constant companion.

change is so...

2010-03-15T19:07:00.002+08:00

invigorating.
scary.
uncertain.
tentative.
immediate.

need to stay...
focused.
positive.
strategic.
diplomatic.
driven.

want to at times...
scream + shout.
hit someone.
tell the world how frightening this all is for me.
tell the world how excited i am at this door opening.
to where? who knows!
but from what? HELL.

it's a short week...

2010-02-22T12:11:00.003+08:00

with Friday being a public holiday and all. bliss :) i am heading home to the Island to celebrate my Mom's 70th birthday this week-end. so double reason for blissfulness :)

i am even beyond meeting Mr & Mrs. Twit over Mom's birthday dinner. i am that happy, just to be going home (to have a home), to see Mom & Dad, to be a little girl all over again.

i think there is a lot to be said for jade, lavender, green and otherwise...

comings and goings

2010-02-17T15:35:00.001+08:00

often you meet someone that starts to exist, only in your mind. and you don't even realize this. and then it's just too late. i mean he is real. for all intents and purposes. other people see him. your friends know him. he even comes and goes. eats. craps. fucks. works at a job. is on facebook. but you accidentally start creating fantasy bits of him in your mind. the little things that you fluff over. to compensate. and that makes him unreal. because the person that lives in your mind, that you communicate with through the lenses of your own self-created deception, he ain't the walking flesh that covers the backbone that he was born with. he is less. he is ill-fitting against the mental prowess you afforded him. your mind is a fertile landscape that paints over all the cracks and rotting behaviors. and then you wake up. and find you were standing up, already wide awake(!). and you can't even say you were heartbroken. because he is mostly made up.

~1st post by Ariel. dedicated to The Count. written Wednesday, August 5, 2009. 10 days before cleansing~

goodbye Ariel :)

2010-02-17T15:02:00.000+08:00

there is a light inside each and every one of us, but the darkness of reality often gets in our way. without the dark, there can be no light, and without a way to balance the both there can be no humanity. may the light succeed.

~Ariel's profile~

so maybe today i am giving up to the dark?

2010-02-17T14:44:00.003+08:00

i am sure we all have days like this. days where you just feel tired of being good. days where you just want to sit with your half bottle of Chivas and drink it in "glugs" on the rocks. days where you want to stay on your couch, un-showered staring at a (hopefully working) TV, watching images of actor playing parts of your life, pulsing and flashing as your brain thankfully sinks into the clouds of being border-line drunk.
days where you want to rant and rave and say what you really feel. days where you want to shout out and scream and shake your wrathful fists at the people that have hurt you, that have let you down, that have made you taste the bitterness that many a time, has become your life's memories.
but instead, i woke up, lit the candles on my altar, burned some incense, said my prayers with an open heart, showered, got dressed, came into work, smiled at everyone i met, listened actively and reciprocated positively in each and every conversation i had with a work colleague.
the balance i had to reach today was that life is what i make of it. that the reality of those bitter memories have not become my life's worth. that i can only keep moving forward, and that i am exactly where i am meant to be.
its just that i need to make a conscious and daily choice of whether i step up into the light today, or stay cowered in the dark.

~written by Ariel; 1st published Friday, August 7, 2009. 8 days prior to cleansing~

clouds of white

2010-02-17T14:40:00.000+08:00

i often look to them,
these meandering clouds of white,
vigilant from my bedroom window.

i look hard,
and i look soft,
and sometimes i see.

those shapes of angels,
and demons,
of elephants and such.

and i smile to myself,
knowing that angels,
they sit out there still.

they watch us,
and watch over us,
as we pray and worry.

they walk beside us,
their feathered wings spread wide and free,
as we survive yet another dose of reality.

some say they have no real choices,
that they only have their wings tipped in blood,
summoned to stay the balance.

some say they are merely silent ghosts,
macabre in their observations of us,
unable to defend or enlighten as their powers have waned.

but i know from deep within my core, my resonating soul,
they do whisper gently to us in guidance,
they work incessantly to ease our furrowed brows.

they pick their battles, and when to step in,
bordering sometimes on interference within their world of rules,
but they fight hard and constantly to keep us from falling.

~written by Ariel; 1st published Wednesday, September 9, 2009

personal demon

2010-02-17T14:32:00.003+08:00

okay, truth be told? to find out that for 7 long years i have indeed had a bona fide personal demon residing inside of me, living in the base of my spine, in the pit of my stomach, free roaming behind my eye-lids, all courtesy of a bastard-ex? yes, this has been shocking!

and the many subtle and sometimes obvious interventions that have got me here, to this exact place in the space and time continuum, where i am blessed to receive these confirmation messages that said to me "yes, these voices inside your head, the ones that have clamored so loudly, negating so brutally every positive iota that your soul has ever tried to put out and for so long, they are real." yes, they were indeed real. and now IT is gone. just like that... snap your fingers, count to three!

bliss! suddenly to have a this feeling of utter contentment permeating my awakening soul. to experience such a raw silence so deep inside my brain. to meander slowly towards regaining this feeling that i am finally me again. confident that i am alone now, in my own skin... that there really is no one else inside here with me watching and waiting, constantly second guessing me, making my personal worth shrivel and decay. this has truly been a miraculously and liberating intervention by God Himself.

and this bastard-ex... to have hated me so. to have wanted to spite me so and so maliciously. yes, it was shocking when i first learnt about what he had done to me and about how long it had lingered. but it was not surprising to me. it felt instead like all the pieces of what i have been absorbing on my spiritual journey, all that i have ever instinctively known, they all fell so instantly into cuttingly jagged shards to form this panoramic blueprint of the AS IS. and all its then associated infinite repercussions of what was and what could have been and what i needed to get done.

in the end, it merely smacked of his spineless mettle. it merely resonated of his MO of constant back-stabbing and then cowardly hiding within the long shadows of evil, slinking back into the false images of being a perfect husband, father and brother. but i see YOU now with pure naked eyes. i see you for what you truly are. and you are nothing without your lies and embellishments.

and so the deep cleansing has begun. 41 days to a better me... a more complete me. the real me even.

stepping back: i sometimes wonder how many of my life's decisions did i make under the influence of a false conscience? how many harsh words have i spoken through flashes of anger that didn't belong solely to me?
i will never know. but strangely to that sentiment (of not knowing), i feel no sense of any real loss. only a slightly sore realization that my past 7 years have not been healing ones. that i have not really been walking outside in the sun. instead i have been influenced to draw the parameters of my life, my reality, smaller and closer to me. to the point that i regularly choose to stay in my bed, under my blankets, feeling overwhelmed and hopeless.

bring it!

~written by Ariel; 1st published Monday, August 24, 2009. 9 days post cleansing~

grrrrrr...

2010-02-17T11:12:00.004+08:00

so, our reunion dinner was a little bizarre. Mrs. Twit avoided me all night. no skin off my ass. except that she ignored my Father and Mother too, who is her Father&Mother-In-Law. so.. once again, it boils down to bad manners, low classedness, and plain ole assedness. (yeah, so i created the words in her honor!)

otherwise, i had a fabulous start to the Year of The Tiger. in fact, the Mrs. Twit incident was a little like the icing on the cake. cos it wasn't ME that finally let the side down. in addition, i visited 5 dear and long time members of my familial past, all in the 3 lightening swift days on the Island. our ex-gardener and my adopted grandfather, who turned 100 years old. my actual Grandmother who will be 96 this year (sadly however, she was the only "physical" visit we had as her mind is quite elsewhere). my Dad's ex-boss, who will be 91 in May. my 2 long standing "Aunt's" and soul-sisters to my Mom. 1 is active, alert, and still looks in her 50s, despite being in her late 70's and having lost her husband and daughter, and is still working as a counsellor. the other is also in her late 70's, has the most beautiful-happy smile despite her very bad knees, and failing short-term-recollection. she reminded me how special it is to be genuinely loved by a parent, as she spoke of her 3 kids (and 5 gran kiddies). my Mom and i swirled whiskies in our glasses as our eyes met repeatedly, every time Aunt forgot it was a question she has just asked. and we cheered often in silent awe for how fragile life is, and for how special we all are, individually and collectively.

i look to them each, for my deepest inspiration, and for the lessons i will need for my on-going future. i know that this will be a Year that will have its ups and downs. but i also know that i will focus on the ups this time around... as the Tiger roars into this Monkey's ear :)

lavender jade :)

2010-02-11T15:45:00.004+08:00

on topics that make me smile :) jewellery. Jade!!!
and the range of colors.

so after hours of googling, in summary Jade promotes:
practicality, wisdom, mental peace and tolerance of others.
it rejuvenates you under periods of stress, reduces fears and banishes negative thoughts.
it's a balancing stone. harmonizer. lucky stone. offers (promotes) good health, wealth (prosperity) and love. helps you realize your full potential and attain purposeful goals.
Jade helps lift you out of stuffed-down emotional issues and bring them to light for resolution. dream enhancer. emotional healer. reduces tension. protection from enemies and during long journeys.

increases one's capacity to giving and receiving love.
it brings/gives:
CLARITY. COURAGE. JUSTICE. WISDOM. MODESTY.

Lavender Jade:
puts you in touch with your emotions. beneficial to people who have been hurt by love or need to discover the gentleness within themselves. helps one learn restraint and subtlety in matters of emotional importance. for repairing a broken heart.

White: problem solving.

Brown: for those entering a new phase of life, connects to earth, settles matters at home.

Green: for the management of passionate feelings (anger management); very calming.

don't even get me started on Opals!!!

psssst? so CNY at home with the freaking twits??
BRING IT BABY! BRING IT!

i am surrounded...

2010-02-11T15:30:00.004+08:00

i am surrounded by ass-holes. and trying to get away from them is a hard thing to achieve, when you have common parents.
so there. i have said it!
and now, i am looking forward to a looong week-end of fake Colgate smiles and quiet thoughts of murder... as i face 4 days of egotistical twits that think they rock and i am anal. blah. blah. blah. i think even lavender jade ain't going to fix this one.

the one

2009-12-11T17:14:00.001+08:00

"I knew that he was the one for whose sake she denied the whole world and violated all earthly laws and customs."

Kahlil Gibran~Spirits Rebellious

time to look forward peeps...

2009-12-10T16:13:00.005+08:00

i love this time of year.

no matter what situation my life is at, at any given year, at any given heart break, at any given job and arse-hole boss, at any given family crisis, when December rolls on up and then starts to speed on by, i feel it.
the promise of Christmas. the magic of possibilities. of dreams come true and all the world at peace.

the time to just stop and be with those you cherish. the ability to take a break as everyone should be on holidays. the excitement of travel for pure pleasure. the presents you can buy with such careful consideration and flamboyant recklessness. the trimming and wrapping that disguise your surprises.

but mostly it is the soft whispering that this could be it. that the magic of this season followed by the fresh start of a spanking new year might just bring with it the faerie-winged change that you have been waiting for with an unconscious bated breath of reckoning.

i wish for all, friend and enemy alike, the possibility of taking back the one truly evil deed that you have done and the blessing of being able to just put things right.

i pray that you get the chance to "pay it forward". to pass on an act of complete random kindness with no agenda and no expected payback, to a perfect stranger in dire need. and with it i pray you receive the power of realization as your kind act continues to ripple and flourish and we collectively break down barriers and spread pure joy with our human hearts and hands touching those that really needed the help. i wish you the positive karma to be able to pull back just one soul from the edge of nothingness.

i yearn for 2010 to be the year we put our backs to violence. globally. individually. as a community. i yearn for peace in my heart.
i pray for all the animals, big and small, pets and otherwise, to be treated humanely and with the deepest love and respect come January 1st, 2010, for as long as the last human shall live.
i wish for the end of sickness, and of famine, of financial crises and of bad leaders.
and most of all, i wish for my one true love. the enduring kind that doesn't dissipate with the last drops of the perfume bottle one gets at the start of an ill-fated romance. amen.

All we are saying is give peace a chance...

2009-06-18T21:08:00.006+08:00

watched "US vs. John Lennon" on the tube the other day. made my poor father endure as well *grin*
talk about revisiting one of the greatest minds vicariously, through original black and white clips filmed in 1968/9! and just suddenly developing my own personal clarity into the exact sentiments under layering each song and the 'why-s' Lennon wrote each of his revolutionary period songs the way that he did. if anything, i am even more convinced personal stance and contributions make that incremental (and sometimes monumental) difference. and talk about that collective wave of incrementals... and the pure power it yields over governments.
so i would like you to pause in your journey through cyber space, here. and consider where we would be right now, if more of us had stood up in our individual countries in the late 70s. and so okay, whilst past is past and i was being born then... even more relevantly, today.

"Two, One Two Three Four

Ev'rybody's talking about
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, that-ism
Isn't it the most
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance

Ev'rybody's talking about
Ministers, Sinisters, Banisters and canisters,
Bishops and Fishops and Rabbis and Pop eyes,
And bye bye, bye byes.
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance

Let me tell you now
Ev'rybody's talking about
Revolution, Evolution, Mastication, Flagelolation, Regulations.
Integrations, Meditations, United Nations, Congratulations
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance

Oh Let's stick to it
Ev'rybody's talking about
John and Yoko, Timmy Leary, Rosemary, Tommy smothers, Bob Dylan,
Tommy Cooper, Derek Tayor, Norman Mailer, Alan Ginsberg, Hare Krishna,
Hare Krishna
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance"

Live Peace In Toronto, 1969 Album.

so... next steps anyone? anyone? anyone?

2009-05-12T18:21:00.005+08:00

had an excellent conversation with my sweet cousin this afternoon. he is the only one i know that checks up on me regularly. i mean really checks up on me.
how i am doing as a person, as a woman struggling through my life and a career and finding myself. not the way the rest do. my familia - always meaning well - but never stopping to think i could be vulnerable. that i am not as strong as i seem.

but this cousin. he is awesome that way :) so this little shout-out is to YOU, the curly wigged FB friend of mine. you know who you are.

so on this MSN convo (as in all our MSN convos) i find i tell him more than i intend as my guard is down. and that helps me stop and think, what i am doing really? the relevant question of have i moved on? how does one move on from something that never really started. from something that is so intrinsic to the very fabric of my soul, it continues on even when i don't feed it. it has a life of its own today. this intangible yet core element of whom i have become, the choices i make consciously and otherwise, all grow rooted from this core. yet it never technically started.

what does that make me? the stronger one? the one that is destined to feel that epic love story of angst and unfulfillment, karma and Shakespeare? i sit quietly at my desk, contemplating the beauty of a few simple words on an MSN convo.

testing my password... rotflmao...

2009-03-16T20:39:00.003+08:00

so. has it really been since august that i wrote last?
that i felt the need to put my thoughts on a cyber page, my blog.
how my life has changed. where do i begin?
maybe like Mama V suggested to me from the start. write in code. and let God and the others pick up what they can, but more importantly, a word, a nuance, can so trigger a well of emotions, flecks of one's soul, just from that "trigger".
so here i go, attempting:
nadi. leaves. past. present. marriage.
Gujerati. sins. celebrate the feminine.
embrace the unknown. light the fire.
praise and worship. dedication and being vegan.
balance. alcohol free. thursdays.
fridays. saturdays. sindoor. and the sacred milk.
the feeling that soon, i will be complete...

one year today. my sweet friend. RIP.

2008-08-19T10:24:00.008+08:00

one year already, and i still shake my head thinking "really? she is really gone?"
and i was just miles away from being a day-to-day part of her life. i think about her hearts, those that lived with her second by second, that loved her to her core and beyond. i think especially of Simon and wonder how he's doing. i think about Mrs. and Mr. Cameron. of Wendy.

i woke up thinking 'there is a day to live and there is a day to die' and i think today is a day to live YOUR life to the MAX my friends. to celebrate being alive. even to celebrate being in love and getting dumped, cos you get that 2nd chance. you get to walk bare foot and have long showers in good health feeling your entire life still ahead of you and you get to feel the sunshine on your face.

driving to work today, i saw a man sleeping on a bench. it was across the courts at the traffic lights between Jalan Raja and Jalan Parlimen. he had his legs crossed and was sleeping on his side, and had one arm stretched out. he looked like he had had a rough night with one too many bottles of toddy, and i watched at him with such a total array of emotions. first in deep shock (as it was like 9am! it was the heart of Kuala Lumpur and he was still blissfully unawares, and hello, wasn't he going to be late for work?!).

and then in concern (was he even alive?? what if he was lying there dead? and then he coughed and coughed again). and then in utter disgust (wtf was he in such a state of total un-control that he needed to stay the entire night out sleeping on a bench?). and then i smiled. sigh... cos i suddenly remembered all over again. the blazing nights of walking home so drunk we needed a "designated walker". stumbling and laughing and singing and crying... we used to (regularly) find some of our mates passed out drunk on the sides of the main road back to Deakin Uni from the local pub. and i laughed cos this guy, like us then, gets to wake up, shake himself, go home and have a shower, and think wtf? BUT he gets to just get on with life.

and its all ABOUT choices. get that? i did. watching him in slumber, i did. Camo lived her life, right to her last breaths... and beyond.

my angel.. he sent me a message today:

2008-07-18T16:40:00.001+08:00

"Do not search for us...we will find you.
Do not wait for us...we are here already.
Do not whisper your name...we know it well.
We have loved you forever, time will tell...
We are your Guardian Angels."
~Author Unknown~

2 weeks since i am 40 now...

2008-07-01T16:14:00.004+08:00

...and i realize that this is the best place for me to be at right now.

that Socks was totally right in hoping i am exactly where i needed to be and that i am completely conscious of this fact.

i have also finally taken off from my internal/mental pedestal my hero from my isle of birth. well over a decade later, and he has finally fallen into showing me that he is not merely just a mortal man but also one that has his dick very much in his wife's hand to the point that he is sneaking around behind her back to resume being "dear" friends with me.

tsk tsk. and so here's spit in your face XXXXX. you used to be the man and now? i realize that i was looking at you pretty much through hallucinogenic retinas of old. where i only saw a gentle and true being, one that upheld friendships and hence stood up for his fraternity as such.

only in the end.. my sex stood against me, and i was no longer just a mate but rather someone who had moved firmly into becoming a real threat to his insecure wife that is yet to meet me for the record. warped, bizarre, and very much true.

my 40th welcomed me into infinite possibilities and also into waking up and seeing the fallen, exactly for what he is.

an ode to Mz. Larawannabe

2008-07-01T16:03:00.003+08:00

think.think.think.

of edddward. so that you will cease your daily trifling.

and you may flit away from tedium and general boredom.

float away. like a little butterfly, quick upon the clouds of want and longing.

to being home again and lying down to the hard pages of his story.

you arch your neck to the sensuous possibilities of being bitten.

and it continues...

2008-06-20T18:02:00.000+08:00

Larawannabe: men shud read all these books we go gaga with
Larawannabe: then they'll know what we expect
Larawannabe: u shud read 'me & mr darcy'
Larawannabe: so funny too. this writer guy (the hero) trying to unearth the mystery of why women swoon over mr darcy
Iggy Singh: hmmmm. this is the year i will get swept of my feet
Iggy Singh: and not land on my ass :))
Iggy Singh: now pack up and GO HOME

MSN convo with my BFF: TGIF peeps!

2008-06-20T17:44:00.003+08:00

Larawannabe: im fidgeting. cant wait to balik
Larawannabe: u know haaa
Larawannabe: men when they're sick, they r so grumpy
Larawannabe: why is that??
Iggy Singh: who says they are men?
Iggy Singh: they are ALWAYS babies
Iggy Singh: or boys
Iggy Singh: they just get wrinkles, go bald, and grow their bellies
Iggy Singh: ohhhh.. like going backwards in time to when they were babies
Iggy Singh: hence our fascination with vampires
Larawannabe: wat? vamps are more mature?
Iggy Singh: as in they stay beautiful
Iggy Singh: no balding
Iggy Singh: no bellies
Iggy Singh: :))
Iggy Singh: at least they deadly babies with eternally good looks
Larawannabe: hear hear!

birthdays and then some...

2008-06-20T11:18:00.008+08:00

3 folk share a birthday today: Veena Kanda, Edward Cullen and Nicole Kidman.

happy birthday my sista Veen :) i wish you all that is pure and happy, with lots of sex thrown into the mix! amen!!!
Edward was born in 1901, is a vampire and unknown to him, my BFF Mz. LWB is smitten and then some. le sigh! how this has kept us going these last 2 weeks.
Nicole is on the other hand, human like Veen, is 41, and just one year older than muah, and as the radio DJs put it this a.m.... UNLINED! yes, her porcelain skin is remarkable.

i have had the best week ever. my client and dear friend Su bought me a birthday lunch yesterday at Centro, and MADAM here had nasi lemak. the verry 1st time since i was diagnosed to be glucose intolerant, and mannnn, was it worth every morsel (of course 1/3 the rice!)
my oldest and dearest friend Socks bought me a Moroccan dinner at One Bangsar last night, and we had the best time ever. i got the best "present" - a picture of a land iguana taken on their recent holiday to the Galapagos Islands. he was wild and happy and just about to eat a cactus. and coincidentally in the very same card, my favvorite Bon Jovi song written out in full - Welcome to Wherever You Are. and of course the best of the best thing really was the time we got to spend together, the happiness at just hanging out, the bitter sharing of life's twisted and unwanted lessons, and the realization that we are that "friend" to each other that has been constant :) you know? just like in that song.

todayyy, my office is taking me out to the KLCC for Tim Sum and i am again felling truly blessed. oh, and peeps?? it is FRIDAY!

successfully 40 :)

2008-06-18T14:30:00.003+08:00

and truly loved.
that is how i feel.
the love, attention, and individual time
that i received from those closest to me,
sigh, irreplaceable.
not to mention the material stuff
(that is linked to birthdays).

my parents came all the way and stayed throughout.
and gave me such a beautiful gift for life
(thanks for the stunning bracelet).
i received the most exquisite presents
posted all the way from La Coruna
(thanks Mama Victoria for the stunning painting
and my familia for the fine black Spanish lace shawl).

to my aunties that gave me their memories
(auntie Jas through the many dinners,
auntie Sharon that sang to me over the phone)
and their "contributions" to my shopping,
a heartfelt thank you.

to ACK and my lovely SIL,
who hosted the cake cutting,
bought me the cake, and the excellent
BATMAN T. for my nieces and nephew that
got the hand-held bouquet.
to SIL especially that picked the
'orange' theme.. THANK YOU all.

to LWB, for your presence with M.
for the beautiful pictures and
your blog to host them...
thank you and here's to going green...
this Friday yu.

and to the 1st phone-call on my special day.
uncle Handsome and auntie Judy, all the way
from the land down under.
i love you so. and to the many many calls, emails,
text messages thereafter, mucho besos.

word.

tattoos and then some...

2008-06-10T15:44:00.004+08:00

i got pictures of my best friend's latest tatt yesterday. a maori tribal shark, it is perfect. the placement, the detail, the way it has healed. le sigh.
i am itching to grow my dragon now. i think she is seriously talking to me. she keeps saying she needs wings, and she needs them fast. i can almost feel her uncoiling, getting ready to spring back off her hind-legs. past my shoulder blade, out into the universe.

speaking of mythical creatures and their human friends (and hence my feng-shui allies.. no, haven't been smoking the ganja mon), my parents arrive tomorrow. pure bliss. they arrive to facilitate my week of happiness and my special birth year. for which i am truly grateful :)

now, if only the great white hunter would arrive. i miss his honey colored eyes.

hey :) this is my last Monday as a 30-something...

2008-06-09T15:57:00.003+08:00

and although this strikes me as a revolutionary stepping up to my brilliant future, the real focus for the day has been: would you really become a vampire if you were given a choice, and who is cooler? the vampire or the loup-garou?

hmm, so Larawannabe and me are having this on-going chat right now, on which creature of the night is better. interestingly enough, i have firmly shifted to the loup-garou after catching Blood and Chocolate on ASTRO just recently.

so now, we are on opposite sides of the after world. a short crisis and then i suggest we could BOTH be rulers together, bringing the age-old war between the vampire and beautiful wolf creature to an end, and therefore recreate the laws of what is acceptable and who our allies are.

also, my 1st ruling would be that all creatures of the night have to start wearing pink, and G-strings... bring it on!

in memory of the blues...

2008-06-05T11:15:00.005+08:00

so 11 days to go, and i am 40. today is my SIL's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY KIRAN).
and i realize just how away i have been on iguana news. i have been extremely stuck on FaceBook and my new Fluff Friend, and only yesterday decided to read my sifu's Lizards-In-Scarves Blog.

the shock and pure hatred i felt. first at reading about the seven blue iguanas that were brutally murdered in their cages at the botanical park in the Cayman Islands in May! and then when i googled to find their pictures, and read over and over again how brutalized they really were, and that NO ONE has been found guilty as yet... i saw red. every time i closed my eyes, i could feel this hot red wave wash over me and i came that close to flying to the Cayman Islands, buying a gun, and lashing out at any potential suspects.

needless to say, i went home, had a stiff whiskey, spoke to my mother, fell asleep and woke up this morning, still numb, still in mourning and reeling at what those blues must have felt in their last moments. and then i woke IggySingh up, and she uncurled her tail, and stretched out, giving me a quick kiss, and i poured all my positive vibes into her, and then back out at the world. i also took my very smart mother's advise and said a prayer for the souls of the 7 blues, lighting some candles for them this morning.

the seal hunt is about to start. and so on we go with more human violence against defenceless creatures of God's creation that look to us as their guardians. and you wonder why i hide out on FaceBook where nothing is real.

the countdown begins :)

2008-06-04T15:26:00.002+08:00

June. my favvvorite month. we have my birthday on the 16th and Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary on the 30th. and so the countdown begins :)
starting with... (drum roll) 12 more days to my 40th.

hindsight. stock take. am i exactly where i need to be at 40? well, at 35, looking at 40, i certainly had different plans. i was to be retired. working with animals. self sustained. living in sin or otherwise with Brad Pitt, John Abraham or my one true love.

so, it didn't work out like that, in any shape or form. but i am happy. i have leveraged off being "glucose intolerant" and dropped 6.5 (7?) KGs. my 2 favv people in the world are coming down to KL to have dinner with me on my 40th (my beautiful parents of course).

i have IggySingh back. she is now "healed" and is now putting on body mass. bliss. my heart swells on THIS one fact... that IggySingh is home!

my one true love thinks i am his hero (although he still hasn't fallen madly in love with me nor is he coming to Malaysia for my birthday to sweep me off my feet). and i actually love my job, and enjoy my colleagues at work. i actually have a life that i am proud of, and one that i like now.

living in my tattooed skin is good.. so stay tuned. amreeth is back!

Gong Xi Fa Chai.

2008-02-13T16:09:00.006+08:00

and so today is the 7th day of the Chinese New Year.
a lot has happened just between the start of the Western New Year and that of this Chinese New Year.

i found out that my best friend was really dating someone when he put his Facebook status into "in a relationship" yet chose not to tell me, even when i asked him. no biggie i suppose, just hurtful. and so to the Blog Stalker i have now picked up through our common friend in La Coruna, delete delete delete!

i found out that i am glucose intolerant. no biggie i know, just have had to give up my truck-driver-portions of rice at lunch and dinner, my McDs and all those french fries in-between, and my religious nightly beer. my body though loves this new change and has dropped 4 KGs over a week plus i am feeling soo energized without my insulin having to work overtime to cope with the carbs, i might as well be on prozac. plus it made me buy a treadmill (so at 40 i am finally going to eat well and walk to sweat!). le sigh.

i reaffirmed again why i love IggySingh soooooooooo, and why she loves me right back. she was just so manja towards me over the long CNY break, and amongst lots of ways of showing me her companionship and her affiliation... (now this is a biggie!) for the 1st time ever, she also climbed into my lap just so she could then climb up onto my shoulder, all on her very own. where she proceeded to sit and kiss the back of my neck repeatedly, hugging my neck, until she had had her fill, and then down she came all on her very own. free will! ya gotta love it!

oh and i found my 40th birthday present... so Poh Kong MV, here i come again and again :)

and to all my dearest friends and members of my familia (that i talk to), i would like to take this opportunity to wish each of YOU a Happy and Prosperous Chinese New Year. May the Year of The Rat bring to you lots of love, prosperity, good health and escalating wealth.

Chak De!

embracing 2008 :)

2008-01-03T17:50:00.001+08:00

my 40th year is here.
and so i am waiting for the angels to hark in heaven, and for ALL my dreams to come true in this one swirling Bollywood-dream-dance-climax-theme-sequence. in which i will have my man fall passionately in love with me and i will fall readily into his waltzing embrace, and we will eagerly do our own dard-ke-disco in the special-effects-fog that mysteriously seeps around our ankles.

yes... so, i have to find THE man first but other than that?

i want for this year to be a truly happy one.

to have us achieve world peace.

to see the end of ALL terrorism.

i want the abused animals to find homes with people that love their gentle souls, and who show our loyal friends that life is really all about receiving love and not about the human horrors they have had to put up with in silent anguish. i want the abusers to repent and carry their crosses up the South American rain forests or get locked up in tiny cages and take the abuse they meted out in lieu of atonement.

i want to see abused wives stand up for themselves and ALL crime against children fade into just another horror from our poor decrepit uncivilized past.

i want to see couples genuinely in happy marriages/relationships and the art of faithfulness becoming all the rage.

i want to see all cures be created miraculously, and to have cancer to be the first to be eradicated. i want us to be a world with no sickness, with no disease, and of pure pink health from birth to peaceful blissful death.

i want to have lunch with Bono, and salute to all religions coming together towards the one true God, the Father that has created us all, in our glorious diversity.

i want most of all, to be able to sleep through the nights :) and to wake up in the knowledge that i am truly loved.

i wish you a verry happy new year and give you my sincerest wishes for a Year of The Rat that is filled with pink health, eternal love, internal, environmental and global peace and cha-chink.... prosperity baby. Chak De!

like a record machine, right round baby.

2007-12-17T15:58:00.000+08:00

i am spinning.
around and right around again.
big smile stretching my lips.
my eyes are wide open. and i shut them in bliss.
i throw my arms out.
my fingers quiver as they embrace life.

the firm press of your palm,
cupping the small of my back.
you are laughing and your brown eyes are liquid.
you are helping me to spin.
and we are alive in each other.
i wonder when i woke up?

my head is throbbing.
my throat is brittle with pain.
i ache for some water.
i feel the weight of him press down on me.
i know now without a doubt,
that i am choking.

the shallow grave opens up behind me.
the cold clammy rocks, dig.
i hurt and i am tired.
i watch him grunt, and feel his foul smell.
how long will this take?
i am ready now and i shudder.

the pale blue sky is just beyond.

~a fictional piece by amreeth~

Justice and the Count

2007-11-22T09:38:00.000+08:00

Tarot: the Justice card

"Justice represents the balance in life between right and wrong. It is a reminder that you are accountable for your actions and you must be prepared to accept the consequences of any misdeeds. You have been given the strength to fight injustice in everyday life, so bring balance back into the world around you."

i told my best friend my worst secret yesterday, after years of wondering how he would react. and he responded perfectly. supportive, appropriately angry, passionate, and the perfect friend.

thank you my Count.

the unity band

2007-11-05T16:04:00.000+08:00

say what?
why do i need to wear a stupid red rubber band around my wrist to prove i am Malaysian?
i am Malaysian! i am not a politician, thus i do not sit in a Malay, Chinese or Indian party. i do not talk about my kris in Parliament and about my culture of yam-seng and such and then say "i am Malaysian, but only talking about my own culture lah/leh".
i do not think of myself as Punjabi or Indian. i have always said i am Malaysian first.
but now, the conceptualization and creation of this cheap ugly red rubber band is an insult to me, as a Malaysian, and i am in addition forced to watch these awfully cheesy adverts on Astro that brainwash: eh - all of us liking roti-canai lah so we same-same.Malaysian and someone calling someone else "brother" in another language is a fucking honor.
don't our damn politicians get it??! every time YOU acknowledge we are different, YOU are perpetuating the myth that we are different. and telling us that wearing this skanky crappy red rubber band around our wrists makes us more Malaysian, merely proves that we are still such different souls struggling to conform, 50 long painful years on.
get a grip my Malaysian politicians, and do not work at separating us whilst articulating Kongsi-Raya.

two...

2007-10-25T20:27:00.000+08:00

only TWO more working days until my life hits a purrrfect balance of harmony again.
Iggy and I will get our beloved Kak P back, and she will be back to being Iggy's second mother and Iggy will feel less lonely, and me, I will have BACK-UP.
waheguru.

blink

2007-10-23T00:17:00.000+08:00

i sit often now, with my eyes frozen open.
my unshed tears spring habitually to the back of my eyes, and i am afraid.
afraid that should i blink, i will allow the warm hurtful liquid an easy access to my broad cheeks, and the world will then see how my soul really mourns.
mourns this new coming of age, this new lesson learnt, this new ending.
for when you said good-bye, the finality of things so hopeless weighed too heavily upon these small shoulders, and i stopped breathing.
i could have taken any punishment, but not good-bye.

the little things i am blessed with

2007-10-16T19:14:00.001+08:00

7:30am: the way Iggy's tail uncurls as the sleep leaves her eyes.
the way she cocks her head to the side, and bats her eyelids at me, snuggling closer into my hand for more manjas. the way her leg comes right back to kick my hand away as HRH has had enough petting for the morning and is ready for her morning routine now.
the love of my life = my green iguana!

8:00am: the luxury of standing under a hot shower, sponging to Marks+Spencer's' China Blue bath cream. the feel of my short hair as i condition. my toes curling up as i tell myself again that every minute after this is going to make me late! the rushing around my bedroom like a headless chook cos i can, and loving the drama of the rush... will i be late??!

12:30pm: lunch and the hot humid walk to the KLCC Suria for lunch at the Foodcourt, yet again. the familiarity of the chap-fan, and the need to eat my soft tofu, yet again... the conversation with my colleagues. the work dramas of the morning revealed and debated. the signing off mentally, as my mind creeps to what he is doing, and the secret smiles as i realize he is probably still fast asleep, and the sadness as i think he is so not dreaming about me.

5:00pm-5:30pm: just for the duration of this project, is pack up and go home time. the wonderment as i step into my apartment, all my work stressors parked at my front door as Iggy voicelessly acknowledges that i am home. her angry head-bobs if her friend senor sun has been absent for the day. her happy gentle hello head-bobbing if the sky is blue, and lined with those fluffy white clouds she just loves to watch. the wonderment i feel, that she may actually think i control the weather. the pujuk to eat her sawi time, followed fast with a hot shower and her entire pm routine.

6:30pm: Iggy's bedtime. the joy of knowing she is home with me, again, and here to stay stay stay. and that she is safely curled up under her cushions, and that in 13 hours.. it will be time to wake her up and start all over again. the fervent prayers in mind for a sunny day tomorrow and for Iggy to lick her bowl clean by devouring all her green veggies.

FACEBOOK TIME: the joy of being able to satisfy my insane obsession with my Zombie who is now at 1005 points! followed by my Vampire, Werewolf and Slayer! in between sterilizing Iggy's food bowls, bathroom, kitchen sink, and wiping down her cage. i bond with domesticity and the Internet! i wonder if i am dressed enough to walk over for a visit and dinner with aunty Jas.

8:00pm+: maybe i would have watched Saloni and then Bani twist painfully in their individual lives on the Zee serials. maybe i would have just flaked out catching the cyber waves and think i should just bond with Max and all the tiresome episodes over the week-end instead, in one mind-numbing fest. walking over to aunty Jas' i am feeling happy and content. tired and ready to hear about her day.

MY DAILY PHONE CALL: with Mom :) lifts me up to no end.

9:00pm+: heading home to flake on my couch. to sleep. or to watch some TV. 6:15am will be time to wake up and start the chants, soak the veggies, prepare HRH's daily feast all over again. so i typically opt to zzz and to away to dreams where i only get 11 chances and i win some, and i definitely lose some. subconsciously pondering my karma? hmmm... more like i am living my Facebook choices! in between dreaming about him, that is awake and not thinking about me at all.

hopeless...

2007-10-15T10:22:00.000+08:00

i never thought i would ever associate myself with that word... "hopeless".
but what else can it be? this feeling of being stuck. of wanting to stay in bed, under the covers. of wanting to bond with Facebook and with my Max. of not wanting to breathe too deeply.
despite knowing the drill (and God knows i have been down this road one too many times, standing exactly at this realization) it is suffocating to move even an inch sideways. let alone forward.
it is easy for you to say move on, and that i will be better off. but have you ever spent even one minute in my tattooed skin? have you ever felt the smile that lifts my soul when i hear your voice. even when it is telling me to move on?

the rain

2007-10-09T21:29:00.000+08:00

the rain drops they fell. light on her face at first, mingling easily with her tears.
she barely felt the pebbles dig into her bare feet. her heart was broken, and then the skies fell open. it was as if the very heavens above grieved with her. she felt the whipping rain stinging her forearms.
she kept on walking. desolate and confused. she was determined to finish the long mile still.
she kept her face open to the skies, her head held high and she blinked often to clear her fixated eyes.
she was close, so very close and she could feel the end just there, ahead of her.
she wondered then who would miss her? who would miss her crooked smile and loud giggles? who would come to look for her, after?
she was depressed in the discovery of the stark answers. no one.
there would be no one that would reach out for her, and she rolled her shoulders back, sobbing openly.
it was time and she was ready. she paused in anticipation and then in a heartbeat she stepped forward, out into the nothingness of space.

~fictional piece by amreeth~

shards of my life

2007-10-09T13:34:00.000+08:00

i have so many broken relationships to contend with and i'm only half way to death.
friends and lovers, mostly forgotten, some occasionally surfacing when that song hits the drive-time airways.
some relationships are in the midst of being broken and i just watch, a visitor to my own feelings, ambivalent.

each break equates a shard that slithers through my sacred and very conscious heart.
each shard, merely a step in this long universal ladder, that is my karma.
i tip toe at times, stepping over my memories, hoping to achieve a better next try... perhaps if i lift myself above my mistakes and learn from them?

but no. it is a fact i recognize now, that i am quite looking forward to starting my next broken relationship.
as it may then finally mean that i am done with this one.
i try not to sigh too deeply where i sit... these shards they tend to grate against each other.

happy birthday John... here's to the miracle that is YOU!

2007-10-09T09:33:00.000+08:00

John Winston Ono Lennon, MBE (9 October 1940 – 8 December 1980), was an English songwriter, singer, musician, graphic artist, author and peace activist who gained worldwide fame as one of the founders of The Beatles.
(the above = courtesy of Wikipedia).

Copyrighted to John.. here is THE song:

"Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one."

i am but a broken flower.

2007-09-18T15:35:00.000+08:00

i am but a broken flower,
tossing about in this wind,
where or where will i land eventually, and in what sort of a condition?

i am just flitting and flying at the mercy of these base elements.
i am scared and extremely fearful of being up here so high.
will i ever ever stop and where will i eventually land?

the rain is battering down pellets, big and hard.
my petals are bruised and quite quite broken.
i can feel nothing now except for my constant pain, it is racing down my core.

i saw my mother ahead in this flurry, she was calling and calling out to me.
and then this blustering force blew her away and again, i am all alone.
what will become of me, and where oh where will i be?

i am falling down down down, and as i hit the ground, i am dizzy.
the storm has passed, and i feel the gentle stirrings from the sun.
and i lie here in my sad state, and just wait.

i am but a broken flower.

author's note: thinking like a school girl ~ amreeth

camo is a shining star...

2007-09-17T14:35:00.000+08:00

author's note: thanks to my very sweet friend David Nic i received camo's CD today. camo even wrote little notes after every song (title) that she had hand-picked/ compiled into this CD, intended to speak to us after she was gone to heaven.

so please do allow for me to present to you:

Songs Of My Life - Narelle Cameron

Turn! Turn! Turn! - The Byrds
This has always been a song that I wanted played at my funeral. "There is a time to live a time to die". Now is the time to celebrate my life.

Do You Realize - The Flaming Lips
Like the above, it's time to realize that life is short and should be celebrated. If you have this CD, it means you are special to me and I want you appreciate what life has to offer.

Breathless - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
This song reminds me of my love for Simon

Common People - Pulp
It was a difficult decision to make as to which Pulp song to include. This reminds me of England where we rented a flat above a shop and cut our hair and got a job! And of course did a lot of dancing to this song.

Wonderwall - Oasis
A classic Oasis song that couldn't be passed.

Bitter Sweet Symphony - The Verve
This song reminds me of my time in England. This was a time I spent with many people I loved, including my mum, who called this the drinking song. A song with a lot of memories.

Elephant Stone - The Stone Roses
Another difficult decision to make - so many Stone Roses songs to choose from. The only reason I chose this song was that it went well after The Verve, and it reminded me of dancing at Rave. Good enough reasons to me!

Vapour Trail - Ride
A lot of meaning behind this song and this band. One of the starts of my independent music 'phase' that continues.

Soon Is Now? - The Smiths
The Smiths is a band that I have long loved and danced to, especially during my uni days. Although most of the songs are 'down', they always made me feel 'up'. Don't read too much into the lyrics of this song, just the tune!

The Ballad of Tom Jones - Space & Cerys Matthews
This is a fun song that reminds me of a time at Karaoke with Wendy doing a duet, another fun night out with the gang.

Girls & Boys - Blur
What memories this song has!! A hard decision to make as to which Blur song to include, but this song won with the memory of going Bridgewater with Wendy sky diving and we changed all the words to the song. Fun!

I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor - Artic Monkeys
A newer song that I would find myself dancing to if I was able to dance again.

And you know I always look good on the dance floor!

Fell In Love With A Girl - the White Stripes
Which song to chose? Since I'm in love with the world, this seemed appropriate.

Gold Lion - Yeah Yeah Yeah's
Another newie that would see me on the dance floor.

Metal Mickey - Suede
Who couldn't help but dance to this tune at Rave? I was always on the dance floor with my beautiful friends

Young Folks - Peter, Bjorn And John
A new song but one that is infectious with it's whistling and would have me dancing for sure!

Alright - Supergrass
"We are young, we run green", with lots of memories of dancing as well. You know, I always though the lyrics were "we are young. we are free"!! Alas!

Days - The Kinks
I thought an appropriate way to end the CD.

Thank you all for the days you gave me. I won't forget a single day - believe me!

Dell to the rescue

2007-09-17T13:52:00.000+08:00

so i have done the unthinkable for me. ordered a basic PC on line. and boy, that was complicated to the max, as unlike World of Feng Shui (where you just click and drag stuff into your shopping cart) i had to do the steps the grown-up way. but all done and submitted successfully Friday night.

so step 1 is done. this Friday, i am going to buka (puasa) with LWB at MV and after our usual (i am guessing) fare of BK BK and more BK, she is going to take me on a speedy and focused shopping spree of buying the various adaptors (for power surge control lah; to allow for my wireless to be user-friendly to my PC.. or whatever) to a computer table, to my WEB CAMS.

so then come Saturday, i am guessing Dell will show up to set-up and wallah, i will have all the ingredients ready to a safe and secure household :) Dell called me as i was walking to the KLCC so i couldn't really hear the lady, but she will call back at 2:30 (i tetap lah the time) so i will push for week-end delivery, and then my SME - Mizz LWB - will set up the various devices. and i will be surfing on line to check-on that crazy-bitch-pukau-wannabe-of-508! brrrr... lucky for that insane woman i am not into "santeria" eh?

my nasty neighbors

2007-09-14T11:45:00.001+08:00

too many years to count now, i have the misfortune of living next door to apartment 508. full family, includes 1 fat nasty father, 1 semi-fat nasty mother, 1 paranoid white-haired mother in-law, 3 fat nasty gangster sons, and 1 obese mutt that never gets walked and who's pee you can smell right in my living room, should i not be burning incense (which 'encourages' them to keep their window next to me closed!)

now, all the descriptors on their over-weight situation is not at all why i think they are nasty. i think they are horrendously nasty because of these next reasons... they never close a door. they slam. shoe cupboards, front doors, garbage area doors. sometimes the slam rattles my mirrors, my front door and makes IggySingh sit up alarmed. so if all 6 fat humans decide to go out for dinner, you can safely expect 3-5 repeated slams of the front door, and then 3-5 slams of their shoe cabinet as they are unable to figure this next bit out: that the next fat human is just on their way out too, so ALL can just walk-out together-gether, pick up/put on shoes, and save xx amount of slams (and wear and tear) of their front door and shoe cabinet. eureka! oh, not to mention the throwing of their shoes out of their apartment to slam hard on the corridor outside my front door, after which they shuffle out (side-to-side) to put them on.

the women of the household, so the wife and her mother-in-law are great believers in weekly visits to their family bomoh. so in addition to the slams, and smelly dog, i get the privilege of coming home after work to see what they have left outside my front door for the week. everything from: sand/gravel/small stones; to limau (lime. either whole, or sliced and diced, or even to just finding the seeds); to feathers (chicken mostly); to hair. lately, i have even had the joy of ringing bells, and the women praying over my car in the wee hours of the morning. so i walk happily to the car park to start my drive into work, and from the first door of the common car park i smell the strong smells of kemenyan (special incense) that gets stronger and stronger, to almost overwhelming when you reach my car and pause at my engine. i have even now started finding feathers on the floor of my car park.

so, all the usual reactions? been there, done that. tell the guards? what? that i find feathers and ash here and there. where's the proof it was deliberate? and not something our big winds flew in? i am thinking seriously about buying a web-cam and setting this up both outside my front door, and in my car. comments? the good news is that this has been on-going for too many years to count now, so i think my neighbors are beginning to think i am a witch myself, as my daily Ganesha prayers, full blown with the conch shells and the daily burning incense within my home, have kept me safely and exactly where i am. and i have laid (as usual) my life at His feet for His protection. so they a little scared of me.

the bad news is because they are scared, the weekly 'gifts' i find have been escalating. to think all this started as my other neighbor, 502, wrote to the building committee who then wrote to the MPPJ (our local municipal council) to have their smelly dog removed, and 508 thought it was ME! at that point of time i didn't even realize they had a dog! i was too focused on partying and my ex-boyfriend. so the sand/gravel started initially. supposed to quicken my departure by creating a sense of unease at home. and miss-clueless here just continued in my daily worship and loving my life, and now it has all culminated to the point of kemenyan in the car park. now... ahem, if i did practice Wicca... hmm... i wonder what Peggy will look like as a 2-legged fat adult Pig? fancy a pink tail there madam neighbor??!

but this was my ultimate BREAK UP song...

2007-09-11T17:16:00.000+08:00

...and i would like to dedicate this to all the married pricks out there, who continue to be unfaithful. "here's to you fcktards". muahhhahaha... and i am happy to report that i do not flinch anymore! (personal liberating pat on my back) ~ amreeth

ALANIS MORISSETTE LYRICS for the song "FLINCH"

What's it been over a decade?
It still smarts like it was four minutes ago
We only influenced each other totally
We only bruised each other even more so

What are you my blood? You touch me like you are my blood
What are you my dad? You affect me like you are my dad

How long can a girl be shackled to you
How long before my dignity is reclaimed
How long can a girl stay haunted by you
Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name
Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name

Where've you been? I heard you moved to my city
My brother saw you somewhere downtown
I'd be paralyzed if I ran into you
My tongue would seize up if we were to meet again

What are you my god? You touch me like you are my god
What are you my twin? You affect me like you are my twin

How long can a girl be tortured by you?
How long before my dignity is reclaimed
And how long can a girl be haunted by you
Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name
Soon I'll grow up and I won't even flinch at your name

So here I am one room away from where I know you're standing
A well-intentioned man told me you just walked in
This man knows not of how this information has affected me
But he knows the colour of the car I just drove away in

What are you my kin? You touch me like you are my kin
What are you my air? You affect me like you are my air

how this song ruled my every fiber... sigh, i give YOU "Purple Rain"

2007-09-11T17:07:00.000+08:00

i was barely 16, and thought that Prince kiss (in the movie, to this song) was the ultimate thing ~ amreeth

©1984 Controversy Music - ASCAP
"Purple Rain" Album Lyrics

I never meant 2 cause u any sorrow
I never meant 2 cause u any pain
I only wanted 2 one time see u laughing
I only wanted 2 see u laughing in the purple rain

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain

I only wanted 2 see u bathing in the purple rain

I never wanted 2 be your weekend lover
I only wanted 2 be some kind of friend
Baby I could never steal u from another
It's such a shame our friendship had 2 end

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain

I only wanted 2 see u underneath the purple rain

Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing
It's time we all reach out 4 something new
That means u 2
U say u want a leader
But u can't seem 2 make up your mind
I think u better close it
And let me guide u 2 the purple rain

Purple rain, purple rain
Purple rain, purple rain

If you know what I'm singing about up here
C'mon raise your hand

Purple rain, purple rain

I only want 2 see u, only want 2 see u
In the purple rain

this one is dedicated to the Count, who is MIA at the moment...

2007-09-11T16:55:00.000+08:00

...do you remember this smash hit by the Fugees my Count??! i heard it on the radio the other day, and immediately thought about you (especially that bit on how she felt he had found her letters and was just reading each one aloud. sigh.) so now i think YOU, every time i hear this playing in my mind! ~ amreeth

KILLING ME SOFTLY - 08/06/1996
5 weeks at #1 - 20 weeks on chart
Copyrighted to the Fugees

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him and listen for a while
And there he was this young boy, a stranger to my eyes

Strumming my pain with his fingers
(One time, one time)
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters and read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish but he just kept right on

Strumming my pain with his fingers
(One time, one time)
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

Strumming my pain with his fingers
(Yes he was)
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

and so we have 50

2007-09-10T15:36:00.000+08:00

50 posts that is. on my amreeth Blog.

i remember so vividly starting this Blog, my anxiety at the creation and the theme, and then i remember how i felt after my 1st two posts. and then again after my 1st short story. and then my 1st dark poem, and suddenly, i was alive again :)

i think the power of words, tumbling out into cyberspace, influencing and shaping, sharing and exposing, must be the biggest adrenalin rush there is really!

forget the F1 baby! these words that spring unbidden into my inner mind, swirling and metamorphosing, pulsing through my fingers out onto my keyboard, pushing to be published, has been my greatest self-discovery this year.

and so, onwards and upwards to my next 50.

p.s. i haven't felt like writing a short fictional since camo died, but i am hoping it will all come back soon.

monday = lunes

2007-09-10T14:21:00.000+08:00

all dreams start with a mental articulation ~ amreeth

the uncle Sarge dream

2007-09-05T15:36:00.000+08:00

flowers, surrounded us. hues of brilliant pinks, reds, blues and a sprinkling of lavender and yellow. and i had finally found him. the flowers made a perfect happy circle around us and we sat flourishing exactly in the middle, just him and i.

time outside the circle marched on. i could see the greys and the various shades of nightfall's black so clearly. and then the light baby blues of day-skies breaking gently. i saw the sun rise and set gloriously and numerous times either way. it even rained and then stopped abruptly.

butterflies, and birds, they flew and they chirped. a nurse waited for him outside our circle, in her severely starched white hat and uniform. it was a clean, organized English lawn we were sitting on. and he was alive and cheery, and he changed repeatedly as we spoke. from being his black-and-white self in a pin-striped suit with short thick curly black hair and his thick black round frames from days long past. to himself at 60 something and in vivid color, just as he was before his stroke, the year before he passed on.

we never moved from where sat, the two of us together, in the all encompassing circle of flowers. we were blissfully still, and only our mouths stirred. the words were there, being exchanged, rapidly at times between us. i could see that we were talking endlessly, and we were belabouring points. we were laughing at times, and then i was crying and then we were laughing all over again. he was ever calm, paternal, and loving throughout.

i felt warm and genuinely fuzzy, and i had a real sense of support and belonging. he was sharing with me finally, the universe's biggest kept secret of what happens to you when you die. the journey beyond. the process of becoming dead. the rules of afterlife and beyond. the answers to if you ever come back, and the when and why it sometimes doesn't happen. the answers to: do you get to watch your loved ones move on within their karmatic circles of life on Earth? do you get to guide them and reach out to them in dreams and whispers?

he was keeping his promise of coming back and telling me this ultimate truth. and i was with him again, sitting there just absorbing greedily. only i couldn't hear the sound of those words, from where i suddenly was, standing outside that circle watching myself within. it was like God himself had turned off the volume and moved my conscious soul into an observing silence, least He sacrifice the age old debate of life-after-death in allowing the words to filter through. yes, uncle Sarge did keep his promise of coming back to me in a dream, after he was gone from us, to finally reveal it all.

deep down, i am sure i know now, what to expect, even if i can't tell you in our man-made words. i am at peace and i know it is sitting somewhere within my subconscious, these answers to all our long debates. i know too that he is in utter bliss and that he went back to the UK. that he is walking upon his gentle green lawns, and that he dresses like a right gentleman. and that he frequents the pubs still, and everyone knows him by name.

last night...

2007-09-05T15:13:00.000+08:00

...i was flying. i was a super hero. i had merged with my green iguana and had her strengths and abilities, plus some super kick-ass human ones, plus an additional one of being able to fly (taken from my vampire fascination i think).

usually when i am dreaming of flying, and i get too high, i start panicking and start flailing my arms and i just fall down. last night, i was consciously flying and kept flying. i had the starting moments of panic and then i was like whatever, i better get this flying right.

and i looked below me... looked behind me to ascertain the leg movements, and just straightened out. i moved my arm forward and rearranged my hands like an ballerina in poetic motion, and wallah, i was flying. i then started focusing on flying faster and at blur speed.

i was suddenly anxious in my super hero skin. i was trying to chase something down. i was looking and seeking and finally i was in the same house. and then i was the victim. i was playing the victim, concealing my super hero prowess until i knew without a shadow of a doubt this man was the hunter we were seeking.

he thought i was weak, and then his smell changed and he stood up stronger and his eyes flashed power and hatred and he tried to subdue me. i flexed my super hero powers and ka-pow, whacked him unconscious, just as his knife came down onto my skin.

this is what happens when i wake up at 5am to pee, and then go back to "mr. sandman land" until my alarm rings at 6:15...

married men, are quite puke-y

2007-09-03T17:14:00.000+08:00

i mean, married men of our generation, just to clarify. what a far cry from the times of my Dad and my beloved Uncle Sarge. of Uncle Handsome in Adelaide. and uncle Socka. when these original gentlemen were in the game. quietly romantic, faithful to a fault, never offensive to women. in addition... think romance, think Autumn Leaves. think respect for spouse. think discreet. sigh.

i mean married men today. what is up with that ring? that ring is usually just a neon beacon for "talk to me. i am vulnerable. and i am trapped. and i need a special friend. and i like you". and boy-o-boy. i have many such "friends" - i.e.: cousins removed; friends of friends; husbands of friends; acquaintances; ex-work colleagues; and even my own sibling. so it is not that i am sitting on my ass making all this up. the drama i have witnessed vicariously and have personally experienced.. starting with the text messaging. then the thinking and speaking out loud of all the 4th-gear insinuations that "we" should go with the flow. that "we" should not have boundaries. that "we" should not be afraid.

well, i say: grow-up.

it is SO not a "we" thing. it's a YOU + YOUR WIFE THING. life when you are married equates boundaries. you walked those "saat phere" so you only get freedom when you are doing it with your wife. other than that, you should be very afraid. that one wrong card falling out of place is your entire life gone down the toilet. especially when you have children. (and especially when one of them kiddies is a girl. think karma dude!) and that MOST single women almost 40 today? we choose to be single, and are not suckers for this "live life dangerously and see where it all ends up cos you have been missing out" crap. that we lose just a little more respect for you, and we shake our heads, and say: poor wife-y man! what an arse to be married too. thank God he is "just a friend".

what makes a ghost??!

2007-09-03T11:25:00.000+08:00

have you ever thought about it, i mean like as in really pondered the question? versus just going by the typical Hollywood interpretations.

in Hindi, a ghost is called a Bhoot, and so doesn't really sound very scary to me, ahem, being a non-native Hindi speaker myself. i wonder what the scariest word we have in Bahasa Malaysia would be? "hantu"? "pocong" (this contributed by LWB; but she thinks it is a corpse, covered in a white sheet!). anyway i seriously digress.

i just wanted to say that i think i know the answer!!!

you see, i was lying in bed, napping one afternoon over our long Merdeka week-end, and with my very heavy black-outs, one can almost think it is genuine night-time, such bliss. when i suddenly thought of camo. this in itself is not unusual, as i sleep every chance i get on any given week-end AND i have been thinking of camo daily since she passed on.

i was already waking up so it wasn't purely a dream. neither was it a completely conscious thought. i was waking up, thinking of camo and then suddenly i heard this whisper. it was more a breathing into my inner ear, and then suddenly there were words inside my head. and in my subconscious, i immediately knew it was her, or my need to connect with her.
it was like she was "standing" just inside my bedroom, whispering to me through my mirror, and i got a deep immediate sense that she was blissfully happy. and she was whispering a question to me... "what makes a ghost?"

we had a rapid back and forth flow of words. no other way to describe it really. there were no real sentences. just an exchange of feelings, and mutual thoughts all tumbled together, and flashing images. and i "heard" through this channel of communication that ghosts often exist only thanks to the living. to those of us that are "left behind" that feel a loss so immensely, we start to fill that vacuum with our hopes that the dead are still here with us. lingering and participating and our conversations with them are ever on-going. we still have this unfinished business we need to off-load. and this is how a ghost is created.

do i think i am being haunted??! NO! for i know without a doubt that she is in heaven now. plus you are so not listening to how we create this connection in our minds.
do i believe in ghosts the Parapsychology way?? YES! i wanted to study the subject as my first degree (a story for another time!)
but this whispered conversation, i think this was merely a self-creation because i got an email from David Nic last week and he asked for my mailing address as camo left behind something he thinks she would like for me to have. and i have been carrying all these unfinished conversations in my mind. and it makes for a saner way to eradicate the whisper don't ya think?

almost the pre-eve of Merdeka...

2007-08-29T09:52:00.000+08:00

...and i heard on the radio this morning that pretty soon, we will be hosting a human rights convention right here in Kuala Lumpur. wowie (and please sing this next line out - makes me want to shout.. stamp my feet now and shout)! ahem, BUT, i am of the firm opinion that we should be hosting a t.r.a.f.f.i.c. convention instead. forget the bloody human rights living in this city man! i mean what is really "THE" priority here? 50 years of independence and we close down all the major roads leading into the city for a full week of dress rehearsals??! come on mr. prime minister. what about our traffic rights?

yes, yes, to check myself first... i am loyal. faithful. i even get goose bumps when i hear Negara Ku being played and oooi, when i see the jalur stand on foreign land, i get that special spine tingling thing-y happening, big time. but i am sooooo tired from just crawling and inching my way to work all week this week (and it's only Wednesday people!). i sincerely doubt i am going to be singing and celebrating come Friday. i will instead, be sitting zombified, nursing a double shot of my favorite single malt, on the rocks, watching my Max and all the pre-recorded flicks, and so NOT the national parade. so i can completely put out of my mind and my soul, all the stress of having an almost developed nation, put its rakyat through hours of torturous struggling through snail paced traffic, just so we can do dress rehearsals for a week from 6:30 am - 1:30 pm and then again from 6:30 pm to 1:30 am!!! and why freaking close the SMART tunnel to "alleviate" traffic congestion for Christsake?? how does that make any sense? (are you sure you didn't mean "elevate"??) you already have the hundreds of cars in queue waiting to enter the tunnel, backed up for miles, with no bloody way of U-Turning or deviating from their inner lanes. and you get this radio chick coolly telling you to "be patient out there. this is expected to last at least the next 2 hours or so."

(author's note to self: breathe!) okay, why don't we just do a China and declare the whole flipping week off (i think they do this for labor week?? whatever) and maturely recognize that productivity is already shite this week, as loyal citizens are getting to work either extra smelly from the overly packed LRTs and are just sitting there in their cramped cubicles thinking all day about clock-out time, and counting down the hours to when they can finally hurry on home to shower all over again... and the rest of us i.e these car-wrought-stress-wreaks that have just shakily made our ways into our offices, we are just wanting to sit on down now, take these phones of their hooks, and try to forget the 2 h.o.u.r.s. we have just spent, making like a tortoise... and oh yarrrr! what ever happened to Putrajaya??! aren't we like supposed to be hosting ALL national governmental functions out there? oh oh oh. idea: or can't we just rehearse out there?? and let the rakyat go about earning their daily wages, status quo, until it is THE public holiday and you get to have all the streets all to yourselves, and thus can just parade on in peace?

the romance of just being...

2007-08-24T13:45:00.000+08:00

Rinones, por favor = Some kidneys, please.

the romance of just being alive and in love.
or at least in love with the idea of being in love.
or at least with the sound belief that you are indeed in love.

complicated? welcome to the true essence of love.
made absolute sense? in addition, one finds simplicity in the most convoluted.
the array of rainbow emotions, plus the million nuances you actually get in black. aye, lassie, that is love.

one day you're flitting and flying and smiling at all the irritated road ragers on the way to work and back. you're smiling "tolerance", "patience", and "it's great to be stuck in this traffic jam cos you get to reflect on how special relationships really are". you see the baby blue in the sky. you wonder at the birds singing even though the rains are coming. you could be snow-fucking-white, for the amount of humming you're doing around the household chores.

the next, you're a road rager yourself. and the blackest of moods permeate your weaving through every single daily chore and ritual. you scare the selangor red bus driver into giving you way, with the curse that is apparent in your angry aura. you cringe when you see that lovey-dovey couple holding hands and sharing their pukey special kodak moment together, and you fight the urge to kick some sense into her head and him, well just in his nuts for general good-will.

the next day? you love yourself. you love e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. you stand for. you even love that your knees are so round and that you inherited them from your grandmother through your madre. you love waking up mornings and rewinding over and over all the happy dreams you had throughout the night, where you heard his voice endlessly. he was just talking to you. just calling out your name. you love traipsing into work to find 3 emails waiting for you from him. especially the one liner-one paragraph ones that show that he thought about you throughout his busy day.

then you're back to the black day. and you hate yourself for being so stupid. for believing that love will show him the way and that karma intends for you to be together. you hate the flipping love songs they keep playing, back-to-back that croon out themes of having no choice but to wait as the damned singers are so stuck on the one person, they just can't move on (ahem, don't know how to move on, konon). well you know what, get lives people!!! and then you remember that you too struggle pathetically with just trying to move half a baby-step forward with the sickening realization that THIS man is not going to be "the one" either, sista.

sigh. well, love is a rainbow and then some. and unfortunately, the blackness of all things, stick. they really do. and the real challenge is to keep your soul from disintegrating too badly this time round, when this ends too. and you are back to wearing that same label inside out for all the world to see: unrequited love walking here. you know what? i do believe that this time, i am going to get some cute little neon t-shirts printed with that very same tag-line, and sell them. would you buy one??! USD15 a pop, and you get to send amreeth to the Iguazu Falls...

thursday nite's going to be awright

2007-08-23T17:31:00.000+08:00

23rd August and we all counting down to Merdeka still.
xx whatever days to go, we are all gearing up proudly and unitedly to celebrate together.
hmmm, psst psst, must make note to self and each other, we not allowed to celebrate on own, or in our small groups.
no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no. must be in Dataran(?) with PM.
make note to find out where the celebrations are? okie, got that!

now moving along nicely to: we are proud to be... punjabi (indian or lain lain?), woman, single, professional, oversea educated, hmm, what ah first? oh yar, M.a.l.a.y.s.i.a.n.
the point? yar, yar, we are all equal and democratic lah. we are proud of our equal opportunities. we are proud to be Malaysians.
rehearsing the national anthem? if you stand straight up and sing at the very top of your lungs (wait, back up a little now and let's use my favorite term for this decade okay?) if we all sing with the full forces of our hearts, did you know that the hair on the very back of your neck actually stands up at that part, right up front, "Tanah Tumpahnya Darah Ku"??? if you are... hmm... okie, let's just forget the pre-fixes, and skip straight to "Malaysian", if you are Malaysian, just try it!

i swear, i kid you not! i am serious. it happens to me.

so was that good for you? didn't work??! what lah? okay, try again only this time, close your eyes, breath in deeply and repeatedly, until you feel your mind opening up and you start to feel the connection you should have with this nation that bore you and then, listen to the winds of 50 years ago, when Bapak raised his hand, and shouted "Merdeka! Merdeka! Merdeka!" and he meant it for each one of us, every single Malaysian, in every shape, color and permutation and imagine then standing up straight, proud and starting again at the very top... God Bless Us All.

bursting to pee, dedicated to natasha hudson

2007-08-23T16:36:00.000+08:00

bursting to pee,
but like a bumble bee
i flit and i fly
instead of go jamban,
so i can see
how long i can tahan still.

if i were model
i could write fodder (hmm, almost rhymes with fodel, i.e. model, but no such word)
and still get published like i good.
i can pose with pearls,
and mascara pekat like Bolly heroine
for semua the in between pages.

or i could just do words:
stay
sit
stand
jump
jalur
50 years?
equality
secular
malay
chinese
indian
what malaysian?
oh, lain lain

and i would be a star.
for only under RM30 yar.
and my friends wanting to be co-rock stars
would buy my book
despite how much i can't cook.
or the mat rempits will buy it for a halal
play boy adventure.

the inevitable

2007-08-22T16:34:00.000+08:00

La cuenta, por favor = The check, please.

well, long have i heard it, and repeatedly in a variety of ways, that the only thing man is sure of the minute he is born is that he will be one day closer to death.
yet, you never really think about what you would do if you knew unequivocally that you only have 1 year to live. most "normal" people think it's a macabre topic and so that's just that... (and we all know how i detest the concept of normal!)
i am guessing that a lot of what you would do next, would in the most part depend on how healthy you are at this exact point, when you receive "the" news, and how long you will stay healthy after.

all a moot debate i suppose, as one never knows how one will react per se. but i now have the ultimate role model. and i will struggle to stay as cheerful, as upbeat, as optimistic and as loving as my dear friend Narelle Cameron was right until the very end. and i will try to embrace each day to its fullest. (aside - Camo married her prince and has gone to heaven knowing how very loved she is. and every single loved one she has left behind, knows too, without any doubt, how very much she loves them.)

and so i started to think, why the heck wait for news like that??! i am almost 40, and have spent the bulk of my life thinking some Bollywood movie is just going to happen to me. but i should know better... and so i made this list of the top 5 things i want to do by this time next year (22 August 2007) regardless of if i live "forever". the list is intended to make my own Bollywood movie, to carve a little of my own karma. and so maybe this list is a little fictional at points, and even maybe a little blue sky thinking given my current life-style and state-of-mind, but as my mates in adidas used to chant - "impossible is nothing".

so here we go-go:

1. i want to be at my own wedding, and as THE bride, i want to be looking into the eyes of MY MAN, who is marrying me as he loves me with the full force of his heart, and i want to see and feel that love without a doubt. oh, and i want to be wearing that exact same lengha that Rani Mukherjee wore when she met Shahrukh Khan for the very first time, in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna. so that my hero, my Dad, can dance the Shava Shava song like he promised (he will be 72 next year). maybe i can rope in my crowd-phobic cha-cha-ji and my very suave disco-dancing thayah-ji into the Bollywood sequence. hmmm...

2. i want to have saved up so much money that i can just not work for a year and stay at home and write my best selling... novel? collection of short stories? vampire tales? hmm, how about my suicidal dark depressing unrequited love poems?? whatever! i want to write full time! and still pay all my lifestyle bills. moving along here...

3. i want to start a small center/shelter for education and rescue in honor of my best friend, the green iguana. word IggySingh :) for all the times you have rescued me right back and helped me become a decent human being.

4. i want to meet a vampire. and persuade him that i do deserve eternal life, and that he should bite me. where are you?? what? you don't believe in vampires??!

5. i want to stand at the Iguazu falls and feel the dreams of my childhood... and reflect on how we are all connected, every single one of us, even before we realize it.

so meet back here in August 2008 people, and remember, live every minute.

the end: Narelle is being buried tomorrow at the Springvale Botanical Cemetery, 3pm at the Boyd Chapel, Melbourne, Australia. and she has "organized" the idea of drinks for her friends. to drink to her full life at a pub in North Fitzroy. i salute you Camo. and until we meet again in our next lives, Chak De Sista!

Door number 7

2007-08-21T17:04:00.000+08:00

Mi futuro es tan brillante que tendre que ponerme gafas = My future's so bright I got to get some shades.

walking through life blind. i think that is pretty much what karma is all about.

you think you have laid out all YOUR choices, there they are all lined up, out there on the table now, and you have studied each permutation of each possible variable. ready to deal now with what you chose.

and then ka-pow. one letter is dropped into your lap, giving you under 10 minutes to decide to take what's behind Door number 7. it's non-negotiable.

and Door number 7 is inevitable now, it didn't exist 10 minutes ago. it has just shimmered into existence, simply because YOU didn't do what you needed to do by now, on your road map of life. you haven't learnt all you needed to learn, or settled all that you needed to by the time you got to this exact life marker. clock is ticking and to stay in the game, you need to suffer a little. time for some pay back to the universe.

so what to do? you have no choice. you open Door number 7. sometimes with a breaking heart, and very shaky knees. but you do it anyways. sometimes you open that symbolic Door with your eyes wide open, like an animal caught in somebody's headlights. sometimes you're squinting. but most times you blink rapidly, forcing yourself to remember to breathe, and not to start crying.

in hind-sight, Door number 7 was the God-most-awful decision anyone could have made, and it takes YOU as many years (as in an equivalent number) of keeping your head down, and your actions honest, to be able to take out that dark stain on your life's history of choices. before the whispers finally stop and your family and friends can look you in your eye and smile again. before you wake up smiling.

but then you start all over and are back to laying out all those options, on the table, again. and then you get this next letter dropped into your lap. and although every iota of e.v.e.r.y. cell in your body is telling you that you are in love, and your friends are telling you that you are glowing and they have never seen you happier, that letter, it says clearly your "man" he ain't never going to love you the way you love him, sista. and guess what? he will also start to extricate himself from your life as one big sacrifice to his friendship, so his conscience is clear and he feels this will make you move on and so he imagines that very soon YOU will get to feel all white-fluffy-cloud-feeling + pink-heart-romance all over again. with someone else.

and no matter how many times you feel like you need to scrape your guts off that kitchen floor, to be able to open up that next Door. and your soul, she dies just a little bit more, all over again, and with moist eyes, and innards twisted in anguish, with a hardened heart and a malicious sway, you away...

The Beauty Of Death, to Camo, may you RIP

2007-08-19T17:43:00.000+08:00

In memory of Narelle Cameron.
May she rest with God and in peace.
11 January 1971 - 19 August 2007.

I would like to reflect on this poem by my favorite writer Gibran Khalil Gibran: The Beauty of Death

Part One - The Calling

Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights;
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body;
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume,
And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead.

Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired;
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit;
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.

Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for
It's magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.

Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers
Raise their crowns to greet the dawn.
Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light
Between my bed and the infinite;
Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of
Her white wings.

Come close and bid me farewell; touch my eyes with smiling lips.
Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers;
Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me;
Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes,
And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath.

Part Two - The Ascending

I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the
Firmament of complete and unbound freedom;
I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are
Hiding the hills from my eyes.
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the
Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses;
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter
That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight
And red as the twilight.

The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams
Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence;
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity
In exact harmony with the spirit's desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness;
I am in comfort; I am in peace.

Part Three - The Remains

Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me
With leaves of jasmine and lilies;
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest
Upon pillows of orange blossoms.
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy;
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress;
Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your
Finger the symbol of Love and Joy.
Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems,
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life;
Mourn me not with apparel of black,
But dress in color and rejoice with me;
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close
Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore.

Place me upon clusters of leaves and
Carry my upon your friendly shoulders and
Walk slowly to the deserted forest.
Take me not to the crowded burying ground lest my slumber
Be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls.
Carry me to the cypress woods and dig my grave where violets
And poppies grow not in the other's shadow;
Let my grave be deep so that the flood will not
Carry my bones to the open valley;
Let my grace be wide, so that the twilight shadows
Will come and sit by me.

Take from me all earthly raiment and place me deep in my
Mother Earth; and place me with care upon my mother's breast.
Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed
With seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle; and when they
Grow above me, and thrive on my body's element they will
Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space;
And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace;
And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer.

Leave me then, friends - leave me and depart on mute feet,
As the silence walks in the deserted valley;
Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly, as the almond
And apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of Nisan's breeze.
Go back to the joy of your dwellings and you will find there
That which Death cannot remove from you and me.
Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning
From the earthly world. Leave me.

Khalil Gibran; born Gibran Khalil Gibran, Arabic: جبران خليل جبران, Syriac: ܓ̰ܒܪܢ ܚܠܝܠ ܓ̰ܒܪܢ (January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931) was a Lebanese American artist, poet and writer. He was born in Lebanon and spent much of his productive life in the United States.

reflections of my friend, Narelle

2007-08-17T15:51:00.001+08:00

she is just lying there now, her body crumbling from the inside out,
and she is losing her battle to death-by-cancer, in fast-forward.
closing my eyes here at my desk in Kuala Lumpur, i am a lifetime away and i can only imagine her there, wedged deep within her blinding anguish. it is surreal.

i wonder constantly where her soul is now? is it still trapped inside of her, feeling each fresh pulse of pain, each fresh battle lost, as the cancer continues on savagely to consume methodically and to decay some more? i can almost see it moving on in sheer precision to the next untouched spot, to devour and to corrupt. or is her soul thankfully embracing the heavy doses of medication, meted out to numb her into oblivion and bridge the journey she must now undertake alone?

is she already floating above? watching her new-12 day husband and eternal soul-mate, her sad father and her strong mother, her loving friends, as they rally around her stagnant, emaciated frame? watching each one of them helplessly, unable to come back? or maybe she has already said her good-byes to them, and leaving them sitting there still, has simply flown out of the window, and up into the clear blue Melbourne skies above?

i remember vividly the very first time we met, Camo and i. and how i was absolutely awed by her red hair, and sparkling bright eyes, her heavy doc martins. and now in a blink, 17 long years on, i remember the very last time we met, pre-Chinese New Year 2007. all bones, naked skin-head, she was struggling to hold herself steady on her steel crutches, smiling contagiously as she opened the door for me. noticing my Double Happiness pendant and calling it by name (which is no small feat), she was convinced i should start dating on-line, and how i may just meet my prince there (as she did herself all those years ago now).

she had this thing about her toes back in university. she would never ever walk barefoot least someone accidentally touched her feet, and she was petrified of the shivers it would then start deep inside of her. i think of that often when i walk barefoot now, and i wonder when God will finally take her?
or is she gone from us already, and her comatose body merely a symbol for us that hold on to her still?

the ant

2007-08-17T15:35:00.000+08:00

Un arenque, por favor = One herring, please.

i almost walked onto an ant in the elevator, the other day.
tiny and black, crawling quickly in small crop circles,
its movement immediately obvious to me on the cold marble floor.

i lifted my boot, and let it hover over the little creature, wondering what it was doing in the elevator and all alone.
it was oblivious to my shadow, and kept to its sacred mission in life, faithfully and without deviation.
i lowered my foot away from it then, a little shameful to have even considered, sending it back to its maker.

it continued on, in equal frantic circles, making its way dizzily onto the blacker marble slabs, slowly disappearing into the darker design.
i wondered then how God decides which one of us should be "taken" from our daily rituals of life. which one of us will be next?
and i shook my head clear, stepping out to start the afternoon.

to the Count... a monologue of love

2007-08-13T14:38:00.000+08:00

Dia de la Asuncion = Assumption Day (August 15)

"why do i love you? why do i love you? i would need a lifetime my Count, to be able to share all the reasons i have come to embrace and celebrate thus far," Kate spoke with quiet confidence, trapped in a magical mist of just being. "what readily comes to my lips now, sir... i will gladly share..."

"i love you for your smile - so teasing and gentle at times. so devastatingly paralyzing, when you aim to seduce. the way your lips curl at the corners so sweetly when you are enquiring after me. and so bold and wicked when you think of all in this world that is so disturbing to you. a thin cruel line when you avenge yourself on your enemies..."

"i love you for your honey colored eyes. the way they sparkle when you throw your head back and laugh uninhibited, or when you are so animated in the very stories that you act out for me and you laugh contagiously at your own escapades, soliciting my own spontaneous laughter. i love the way your eyes shift dangerously to a darker nuance when you are trying to control the flash of sudden anger that surfaces when you encounter people that irk."

"i love you for the dark passionate streak that runs wild within the very core of your Christian soul. battling your own personal demons, you crave the unthinkable, and are never satisfied with the mere trappings of everyday toils and troubles. you look to the skies for your answers, seeing only the grey clouds that gather there at times, and you struggle always to see the silver lining. you stay so honest and true to your self-imposed boundaries, trying always to come back to doing the right things, and fulfilling your duty. i love the fact that you live on the edge always, and that today could be even darker for you, than yesterday was. yet you are always still present tomorrow, aiming to stay in the light."

"i love you for the way you have always stood by me, even when you have failed to recognize that you do so. for your enduring friendship and your mission to make every moment together come alive, even in the smallest of ways. the careful consideration of the wine, the feasting, the achingly honest welcome into your home and into your life, the many days we have spent just talking about out beliefs, our commonalities, how different we are. i love the pleasures of the flesh that you have branded under my skin and how i touch the very heavens above when you move within me."

"i love you for all that you are. the darkness and the nightmares. the insomniac wandering that you do within your own life, always waiting in bated anticipation for life's next great adventure. for the happy flashes that surface when you are with me, and you are alive and passionate and always striving for the next personal enlightenment. most of all, my sweet Count, i love you most of all for the way i feel when i am with you. the whisper of a life that could just be between us if you let it be, it sears through my very being and my every nerve ending tingles with the sweet hopes of feeling your skin against mine, for all eternity. i am more alive standing next to you, even should it be for a fleeting moment, than living alone in my own skin all these long years apart."

"yes, i see that you lower your eyes, and know that you doubt the emotive allegations that i make here this early morn," Kate smiled sadly. "i remember the reality of what stands between us, sir. and i will not make any claims to a life shared. for that you have no fear." she stood up and started walking towards the door. she stopped to look over her shoulder at him, one last time in yet again another period of separation, her heart brimming with her love for him, "i will always feel this way but remember this my Count, life is a long journey for us to yet to bear and we will meet again and soon."

"should you always wait for that absolute sign within the heavens to strike you in your heart like a cold bullet of recognition, you will forget to touch this being that is standing here, in plain view of your doubtful eyes, and you will finally succeed in letting me slip through your life... and i will never..." she could not bring herself to finish her cheerless sentence, and started instead to walk quietly out of the tavern and into the rising sun.

King Khan is back.. and he rules my heart still...

2007-08-13T09:36:00.000+08:00

Chak De India! Chak De India! Chak De India!

A brilliant film to turn the Khan's image yet again from his usual romantic hero character of Rahul to Kajol's Anjali, into the fine character actor that he really is.. and I sit wondering how the Indian public will take him in this role! I mean there is absolutely no romance. No dancing (shock and horror). No flashbacks. Only the most brilliant story telling by the YashRaj crew, yet again. A play on one united nation (India) versus all the various states the hockey players hail from. A play on how hockey is as respectable a game as cricket. That women can play, and should play, and should be supported to play.

All the nuances of being a woman and how women stand in an Indian society is explored through the core thread of Coach Kabir shaping these 16 girls into a team to take on the World Cup title. Themes that are very reminiscent of where women really stand, that one can still draw these parallels to many societies outside of India - demanding boyfriends, difficult husbands that all want "his woman" to sit at home and cook and clean, or at the very least not to have a more successful career than them. That one woman can really end up being the other one's worst enemy. That when sisters should be banding together to protect each other in a male dominated world, that they often let each other down.

Shahrukh Khan. Hmmm. Are you sitting down? Bearded, Ray-Bans, playing the Muslim coach - Kabir Khan. One that has been ousted by Indians everywhere. Branded a traitor for a simple acceptance of a helping hand off his knees, that turned into a handshake and then into a comforting hug by an opposing Pakistani hockey player, on the field of an India/Pakistan game, minutes after Pakistan beat India, and Kabir single-handedly lost that penalty goal. Ugly accusations of him being Pakistani under the skin, of him taking a bribe to fold on his penalty shot. 7 long years of solitude only to come back again, determined to break what it was that made his team lose in the first place, that allowed for his fellow countrymen, neighbors and friends alike to burn effigies of him, the great Indian Hockey Captain that allegedly folded to Pakistan.

Me, who has no desire or even a basic like for sports in any shape or form, watched breathlessly and anxiously, kneading my hands and pulling at my fingers as game after game mounted and the tactical aspects of making 16 girls come together to want to play cohesively with each other (versus "against") and "sirf" for India (not their individual states), and to beat everything from "man to man marking" to their own personal egos on the field, all unfolded in brilliant Yash Chopra style. My favorite scenes... and ooi there were so many... I think my first one was when Shahrukh resigned from coaching the ladies, and took them all to McD's for a farewell lunch. Only to sit back and let his team beat the shit out of the men that were harassing them. He stepped in only when he needed to cut this one man off (who was sneaking in from behind with a cricket bat to whack the ladies) and he looked on throughout with sheer pride as these completely individualistic women, when push came to shove, stepped up to be a team and ka-pow... they got each other's "back" (covered) big time.

Another fav scene... When the Indian men's team stood a little shocked and confused at the fact that the women almost beat them. In a game (the women's first) to prove that they did deserve to be sent out to represent India and that the politics of keeping some kick-backs and re-routing the sponsorship to only the men's team was unacceptable. So a realization all round that to simply drop the women's team was no longer as under-the-carpet as one committee deciding. And then when the men's coach clapped that very first clap. And the men hockey players raised their hockey sticks, one by one as a salute to the women. Total awe, respect and goodwill. When the girls realized slowly that they were worth something as a team, that people did take them seriously, and they raised their hockey sticks back, bemused. Brrrr... all my hair stood up on the back of my neck and I was left fumbling for my Kleenex. When they lost 7-Nil to Australia and the Australian coach laughed at Khan and asked him - how on earth did they even make it to the World Cup in the first place... I could go on. And on. Sigh. All the Wold Cup "games" were filmed at the Melbourne Hockey Stadium. And the girls met the teams from London, to Spain, to South Africa, to Argentina, to Korea. And then back to the Aussies all over again.

Needless to say, I would happily stay home, barefoot and pregnant for Mr. Khan. I am even thinking about naming my first son Kabir (not after any bloody cricket player.. but after the hockey coach that is Shahrukh). And now, back to the reality that our Malaysian athletes should sit up and think, we live this everyday! I mean forget the women in sports. Forget the Bollywood tugging at our heart strings. But don't lose the lesson. Any Malaysian athlete at the moment (less Nicol David - you go girl! you are making us proud!) gets the same reaction every time we lose 20-Nil. HOW DID WE GET TO THE GAME IN THE 1ST PLACE?? A high-school kiddies team in Ozland could beat us Malaysians probably... in any sport (except squash!)...

the bank manager

2007-08-10T14:42:00.000+08:00

Inmaculada Concepion = Immaculate Conception Day (December 8)

tripping along, singing our song, side by side...

the mushed up words kept bouncing around inside her head, and they were driving her crazy. partly an old song her Mom used to listen to on those non-stop TV reruns with the same old advertisements, and partly her own words thrown in there. she shifted uncomfortably in her new pink suit, feeling the skirt rise up her thighs. not a color she would wear by choice, but it matched the blond wig she had just put on. pulling on her sunglasses, she surveyed her image critically from head to toe. she smiled ruefully at what she saw but it would have to do for today, and hopefully the security officer at the bank wouldn't recognize her this time. she really needed to get past him into the manager's office today and she just couldn't take another failed attempt.

she patted her sickly pink hand-bag pushing aside the tassels to ensure the magnum was still in there. she had only picked it up yesterday from the Italian behind the mechanic's shop, and she had learnt very quickly how to load it and how to remove the safety so it would be good to go. she picked up her brown cat and gave him a quick squeeze, incurring a slow lazy meow. she dropped him on her bed and she recognized then that she may never come home again, and was grateful she had dropped a note in her Mom's post-box to say that Leticia (she had only found out recently that her cat was a 'he', after many years.. and it was too complicated an explanation to think about right now) needed to be fed. Mom would take the fat cat home, already thinking that she was a lousy cat-owner and looking for any excuse to take him over.

she was soon stepping out into the afternoon sun, and was mighty glad for the big black shades pushed up against the bridge of her nose. she hurried past the construction workers that wolf-whistled at her. they wouldn't look at her ordinarily in her own mousy brown hair and thick reading glasses, but blond and dressed in pink, they practically stopped traffic to call out after her. she struggled hard to keep her balance now in her 4 inch stilettos, and had to fight the urge to walk on barefoot, as she hurried on past the men. she counted the cracks in the pavement as she waited for the traffic lights to change. only another two blocks and she would be standing outside the main branch. she took a deep breath and mentally rehearsed her lines all over again. she had to remember to whisper enticingly as that would disguise her own natural voice and encourage the guard to think she really was a harmless bimbo wanting to open a savings account of her own, now that she had got her "very first job". she just had to sound convincing.

minutes later, she was giggling the excuse of why she needed to get a manager at the prestigious bank to help her out. the wig and the outfit must have worked miracles as minutes later she was being ushered into the big green-carpeted office and the manager's mousy new secretary was running off to ensure her coffee was made exactly to order. she stood quietly in the corner of the leather-upholstered room, and waited patiently. he would soon be in, excited at the prospect of a young blond spanking new customer wanting his professional services. she imagined him straightening up his tie, and checking his teeth to make sure they were just as shiny, eye-balling himself in the mirror he always kept in his upper right hand pocket. the door burst open behind her, and the manager walked in, full of beans and wearing a light blue-grey suit. he strode over to her and shook her hand firmly. he ushered her soothingly into the green single seater near the large bay window and bounced over to his desk to pull out the official forms she needed to fill out. she waited patiently for his secretary to come back in with her coffee and to leave again. she knew then that they would be completely alone. that he would have given her the same strict instructions she herself had heard many a time, not to be disturbed at any cost.

she stood up then, and walked over to him. he was seated at this desk, looking through some open drawers, trying to figure out where the necessary papers were. he looked up with an agreeable customer friendly line just bursting to be said, when she took of her sunglasses slowly. his words caught in his throat, and he recoiled visibly. "Anna", he swallowed loudly, "My goodness, Anna. Is that you girl?" She unzipped her bag and slowly took out the magnum. He balked at the sight of the gun, and started to stammer nervously now, visibly upset (he stuttered when he was scared, and only 2 women in the whole wide world knew that, his mother and her), "What.. ah.. what.. ah.. what are you...ah... doing here... ah girl?" "I'm pregnant", she retorted flatly, "and all you can do is avoid me?" She walked over to him and pushed the gun right into the side of his face. He started to break out into a cold sweat that heightened visibly when she unlocked the safety. "I have been trying to speak to you for weeks now Harold, and I even had to go out and buy this ugly old wig to get past your security dog. Now, why ever don't you return any of my calls hon?"

Harold spluttered through some excuses, and Anna listened to him with growing disgust. This was the man that had seduced her, and that had successfully taken her virginity away from her at the ripe old age of 18, when all she had ever done was work diligently as his secretary for the last 6 years, only to find out that he got married to a girl last month. a girl his mother had picked for him, and that she had only been the 6-8 o'clock pass time (she learnt this last bit at the office water cooler when Brett from Purchasing was telling Mark from Finance all about Anna, the boss' office squeeze). she shut her eyes hard, remembering the dedicated hours they had spent sweating on each other right there on that ugly green carpet and how many times she had had to treat herself after for her carpet burnt knees and elbows. she opened her eyes to see him shaking now, and she knew then that he was never going to leave his wife. "Stand up Harold," she said flatly, "I can't shoot a man that is sitting down now, can I, hmm?". She watched him stand shakily and she could feel the gun slide down across his cheekbone as he was sweating like a right old pig now. "I want to to take your pants off.. Go on.. do it now. That's a good boy. And now, I want you to drop your boxers too.. Go on now. No need to be shy. I have done quite a bit more than just look at little Harold there. Come on now. Good boy."

She shot him 4 times in his chest and once in his face as he lay bleeding and dying on that ugly old green carpet. and she pumped the last bullet of hers into the back of her throat, and fell to the ground thinking at least her cat would get fed tonight...

~a fictional piece by amreeth~

a poem by Sylvia Plath...

2007-08-10T10:22:00.000+08:00

The Arrival of the Bee Box

I ordered this, clean wood box
Square as a chair and almost too heavy to lift.
I would say it was the coffin of a midget
Or a square baby
Were there not such a din in it.

The box is locked, it is dangerous.
I have to live with it overnight
And I can't keep away from it.
There are no windows, so I can't see what is in there.
There is only a little grid, no exit.

I put my eye to the grid.
It is dark, dark,
With the swarmy feeling of African hands
Minute and shrunk for export,
Black on black, angrily clambering.

How can I let them out?
It is the noise that appalls me most of all,
The unintelligible syllables.
It is like a Roman mob,
Small, taken one by one, but my god, together!

I lay my ear to furious Latin.
I am not a Caesar.
I have simply ordered a box of maniacs.
They can be sent back.
They can die, I need feed them nothing, I am the owner.

I wonder how hungry they are.
I wonder if they would forget me
If I just undid the locks and stood back and turned into a tree.
There is the laburnum, its blond colonnades,
And the petticoats of the cherry.

They might ignore me immediately
In my moon suit and funeral veil.
I am no source of honey
So why should they turn on me?
Tomorrow I will be sweet God, I will set them free.

The box is only temporary.

~a poem by Sylvia Plath (1932 - 1963)~

where or where is my SRK??!

2007-08-10T09:54:00.000+08:00

Quiero algo para el mareo = I'd like something for travel sickness.

according to my older brother - TSB - my "Shahrukh Khan" sits in Kanaada (Canada for the illiterate).
hmmm... seems quite plausible actually, as Vancouver does house the largest Sikh population outside of the Punjab. and maybe even loads of Punjabi Hindus.

so, i am seriously going to put Mom + aunty Jas on this quest for my DH when they travel onwards for cousin Sunita's wedding in September. after all, what luck have I had finding my own Dear Husband all on my own. it is my karma to always be the "best friend" yar, and never the bride. and the number of times i have heard "i love you i really do do.. but i am not in love with you".. if i had taken just ONE USD every time, i would be pretty rich by now wei... muaahahhhahhaahaa.

okay so maybe not that rich, but seriously, the BEST green iguana vets sit in North America, and i will be closer to my mentor - Melissa Kaplan... what do you think? (light bulb moment! eureka!)

and so Thomas wrote -

2007-08-09T18:00:00.000+08:00

"I Said to Love"

I said to Love,
"It is not now as in old days
When men adored thee and thy ways
All else above;
Named thee the Boy, the Bright, the One
Who spread a heaven beneath the sun,"
I said to Love.

I said to him,
"We now know more of thee than then;
We were but weak in judgment when,
With hearts abrim,
We clamoured thee that thou would'st please
Inflict on us thine agonies,"
I said to him.

I said to Love,
"Thou art not young, thou art not fair,
No faery darts, no cherub air,
Nor swan, nor dove
Are thine; but features pitiless,
And iron daggers of distress,"
I said to Love.

"Depart then, Love! . . .
- Man's race shall end, dost threaten thou?
The age to come the man of now
Know nothing of? -
We fear not such a threat from thee;
We are too old in apathy!
Mankind shall cease.--So let it be,"
I said to Love.

by Thomas Hardy (1840 - 1928)

~inspired to be found by LWB. amreeth~

snow prints

2007-08-09T16:12:00.000+08:00

nieve = snow

fluffy white. or is it slush grey?
invigorating chill on your skin. or just wet and miserable?
thick and soft. and sinkable deep.
ice thin slate. slippery and hard.
memories of contentment. and lots of family Christmases. togetherness and peace and happiness. the most depressing time of the year universally, and many a suicide calls a hot-line. desperate. alone.
angel wings, and a time for Jesus' birth to be remembered. the symbolism revered. the power of the season celebrated even by us non-Christians.
homeless dying in the streets in the so called "developed" west, and the elevation of crime as the needy steal, and the careless rich travel.
either school of thought... snow lets one leave snow prints and make angel wings and allows the real savoring of a rich hot chocolate with 5 whole marshmallows. even when alone.
and then you get to watch the snow fall down to make our world a level playing field all over again. leaving behind a clean, white, pure and even world. all over again.
i think peace, harmony and a meeting of minds. and you think destruction, differences, one way.
but can we both just think snow prints? and the opportunity for fresh beginnings? of pure childlike magic and just forget the religious and political mayhem?
idealistic? or just a shift of your paradigm?

~dedicated to finding the common ground. amreeth~

genius

2007-08-09T15:34:00.000+08:00

claro = bright
(used in "slang" to punctuate a conversation meaning - "precisely" or "exactly" or "it's crystal clear"

and what is that really (genius)? that score on the MENSA assessment? the ability to write in French and paint like a Renaissance master? the ability to write your first piano symphony at 5?
hmmm, yes, that i can buy.

but what is "normal"? i personally hate that word - "normal" btw. it immediately denotes the insinuation of there being a NOT normal. of being out-of-the-box as a problem and i.e. as not normal. as being corny, or wacky, or strange, or (oh.oh.oh. this one) idiosyncratic as being not normal. labels and categories. they constrict and stereotype and make me always accept that i live on the fringes of "normalcy". i do. why? just...

that i love tattoos, and crave "a" next one (no Mom, don't start panicking).
that i love anything Spanish irrationally. Antonio baby, anytime, any day, Block A, 5-0-5...
that i believe vampires exist (huh! so i said it on my Blog, out here in cyberspace. does that mean i will become the next RPK?)
and i think the damn scientologists are barmy. aliens my ass! (eee.. how politically incorrect!)
that i stop breathing every time Shahrukh Khan fills the silver screen. oh, and i cry every time he does (sometimes even before he does, when he is just starting to twitch that eye-brow of his! i am cair.)
that i believe in omens. and definitely in dreams
that i wear opal to "sense". and gold to "block"
that i never touch someone even accidentally, unless i think you have a good aura
that i completely supported every point Malik Imtiaz Sarwar made on Riz Khan last night over that buduh Tuan Haji (that was talking through his ass). YOU ROCK MIS!
notice how i didn't add - that i live my life completely around my 4.5 foot green lizard - ahem. that i think is non-negotiable!

Jasbir is 70.. hark the angels, they do sing-sing...

2007-08-08T15:00:00.000+08:00

Seis rodajas de bacalao = Six slices of cod.

heavy head. droopy eye-lids. i'm stifling broad yawns.
severely obsessive internal focus to just s.n.e.a.k. in that one fast snooze.
and it has been this way since my alarm rang itself silly this a.m.

blissful outcomes of a wonderful 4 day family get-together :) starting Friday night.
all of us here to usher in Jasbir's 70th birthday. to stand with her. to celebrate her existence.
each one of us blessed to know her in our special way, and to be so loved in return.

poignant. sweet. the absence of Uncle Sarge even more noticeable.
energetic. ecstatic. memory making moments that our cameras didn't manage to document in its full entirety.
a sense of real binding connection... a forging of deeper stalwart bonds.

and let's acknowledge the food. the vast planning. the menu setting. the careful hosting.
the pre-execution to the bigger bash on the 26th. the pounds of consumables digested and then some.
the malts and red wines. the Tigers and all the driving around in between.

happy birthday my darling Aunty Jasbir. and here's to 70 more!
i hope the quiet reflections as you stood silent watching the candles on your cake burn...
that they all come true. God Bless and Keep YOU. always always always.

your niece, amreeth.

bleak terrain

2007-08-03T11:32:00.000+08:00

Que tiene de caza? = What do you have in the way of game?

it was really wet outside and her long skirts clung onto her legs making it near impossible for her to walk with any real dignity. coupled with her shackled ankles, she moved as quickly as she could, motivated by the sharp constant jarring of his shot-gun into the small of her back. Kate knew now without a doubt that it was all over for her. the Count had left her there to die. his sweet promises at dawn, whispered into the hollow of her aroused neck, as he hastened his fast exit out of her life was a lesson well learnt in hind-sight. he had taken all the gold with him, and had left her there for the marshals to find. if they had not been in a hurry to move on to their next bounty, she might also have faced the unspeakable horrors of forced sexual encounters with the 3 filthy men that had burst into her hotel room to find her naked and sound asleep.

she had been forced instead to dress hurriedly and in broad view of their lecherous stares, and one had even followed her into the outhouse as she tried to get on with her delicate toilette. she had kept her teeth firmly gritted together and tried hard to ignore his foul presence. two of them were now mounted on tired horses, and the third was on the ground with her, ushering her forcefully in to the woods just outside of town. they had also woken up the town photographer and forced him to ride his carriage alongside them, with all the equipment necessary to take the photographs of her dead body swinging from the tallest tree. before they would cut her down and take more stills of her lying dead, and in various stages of undress on the soggy ground. these photographs were sorely needed as evidence for their bounty collection, and many more would be kept and sold individually as souvenirs. she had long since given up smoking but wished fervently for a cigarette now, desperate to counteract the bile in the back of her throat.

they finally stopped walking her at what seemed to be the most enormous oak she had ever seen. the man on his feet, walking with her hit her hard in her lower back with the butt of his shotgun, forcing her to fall down onto her knees. he spat out his tobacco unapologetic as the small cry of pain escaped through her clenched jaw. they started stringing up a broad branch with the thick rope they had quietly unpacked. one man held a gun firmly to her right temple as she sat in obvious pain, hunched down on her knees. mr. shotgun went over to help the visibly shaky photographer set up his equipment under a black umbrella in the pouring rain and she took a deep breath and tried to remember the prayer her father had taught her as a little girl. she forced herself to say the broken but comforting sentences in her head, over and over again. she was by now shaking herself, and balled her hands into tight fists, digging her fingernails into her palms to steady herself. she looked up at the noose that was ready for her, and felt the men start to drag her forward.

mr. shotgun asked her if she had any last words, and she chocked back the curse she had ready for him. instead, she shook her head, forcing back the unshed tears, and focused on keeping her mind blank. she was numb from the recognition that these were her last moments on God's green earth, and looked around ruefully to see that she was indeed all alone. the Count must have been on his fast journey to retirement down south in Mexico, and she closed her mind to his sweet breath against her open, hungry lips. she stumbled to the oak, and mr. shotgun pulled a small black cloth bag firmly over her head. she felt them struggle to get her up onto the horse, and she was indeed dead weight to them. they struggled too for a long while, to keep her steady and standing in the saddle, as she remained motionless and completely unhelpful. she then felt them pull the heavy noose down around her neck, and balked at how final it all felt. it was a fairly thick rope but she doubted sincerely that it was proportionate enough to her weight to be able to snap her neck instantly. she knew then that she would stay alive for anything from 5 to 15 minutes after they pushed her off the horse, and she didn't know what terrified her more. the certainty of a death out here in this bleak terrain and the ensuing burial in an unmarked grave. or the long last painful minutes of hanging from the rope, waiting for her soul to leave her, chocking to death in degrees, just as her poor father had.

she heard them slap the horse into a run, and felt her legs fall away from their steady footing on the saddle. she was falling into open space now, and felt her neck catch on the noose. she bounced twice and then was swinging from side to side. she could feel herself losing the air from her lungs and she started to feel her world blacking-out. the sudden gun shot startled her into urinating into her underskirts and she could feel the warm liquid trickle down her inner thighs. she started to struggle in earnest now thinking they had shot her to speed up their assignment. she felt the rope above her give and she was falling down into the wet, soggy ground below. lying in a heap, she was dazed and confused, still shackled and blinded by the tight bag around her head. she heard the subsequent shots. there were 4 in quick succession, and then the silence was deafening. she heard his sure steady footsteps approach her quickly, and she waited in silent anticipation, frozen. he whispered to her soothingly as he pulled her across his strong lap, tearing the bag off her face. she was panting at the sudden fresh air, gulping it down greedily as she was twisting upwards to look into his worried face and his honey colored eyes flashed their concern at her. the large rain-drops fell into her brown eyes, and ran into her nostrils causing her to splutter and to turn away coughing.

she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head and accept the fact that she had just escaped the sentence of 'death by hanging' and a sure decapitation after, as the marshals would have taken her head back to Captain Isaac for his trophy case. the Count picked her up and rocked her gently, and she passed out into a much needed state of oblivion. sure only of the fact that he had come back for her, and that she wasn't alone after all.

~a fictional piece by amreeth~

blood and gore

2007-08-03T10:23:00.000+08:00

encarcelacion = imprisonment

the room at the back of the house, that she always discovered by accident was consistently dark, damp, and smelt bad. the bathroom was covered in fungi and the toilet was chocked up with excrement that always made her step backwards, struggling to control her fast rising bile.
the bed was covered in filthy sheets and the sunshine fought hard to come through the dark heavy curtains.

she would then either wake up in horror with the realization that she would have to take a shower standing barefoot in that vile filth. or she would continue tossing and turning through her discovery of the dismembered foot in the back of her closet. the foot would then take on two possibilities. either it would be covered in a white sack, and preserved in this grotesqueness for her to find, or it would be alive and vibrating with the hundred of maggots that were fast eating through the decaying flesh.

happy laughter

2007-08-03T10:08:00.000+08:00

peyote = hallucinogenic cactus

happy laughter filled her heart, and she remembered running through fields of vibrant colors. mustard and red seemed to be the two dominant shades that floated to her consciousness. she was alone and it felt good. she could feel the gentle breeze upon her cheeks, and she lifted her face up to the gentle rays of the sun.
she remembered the feeling of peace, of utter contentment, and she smiled slowly savouring the recognition that she was just happy. that all her dark anxious worries had dissipated in the soothing warmth of her happy dream...

a special birthday letter...

2007-08-01T17:52:00.000+08:00

mediados de agosto = the middle of August

to my count,

happy august is here again. a truly special month where your anniversary of birth is remembered fondly and celebrated with great love by your family. and this will be the year. the year where all your dreams, all your hopes and each individual wish will fall perfectly into place and all you ever wanted will materialize as true.
if we lived in a universe that i controlled, i would pluck out only the brightest stars from the heavens above to lay down at your feet, to help guide you with Godspeed towards your one true love.

that special creature whom you have been waiting for. the one that will take your breath away.
her timeless beauty and her amazing wit and passion, her grace and her warm welcoming smile will leave you wondering why it took you so long to finally meet her. that one soul-mate that will make you feel that all your worries and all your frowns have finally faded into a deep mellow past. and you will no longer wake-up every morning, wondering what your future holds.
you will never be alone again mi amigo, and this mystical woman will carry you always in her heart, with love. respect. and dignity.

you will realize instantly that you love her with the full force of your heart, and the islands of paradise will come alive with your week-long wedding procession. explosive colors and amazing musical notes will imprint those vast beaches forever, with your eternal testimony of true mutual love towards each other. even the Gods of ancient times will come out to watch over you and sigh at the beauty of what is so right.

my daily prayers and my most positive feelings of love, respect and admiration are with you. hurry up lah so i can dance at your terribly romantic wedding. (i even have the purrfect outfit!)

mucho besos, amreeth.

the beginning...

2007-08-01T14:01:00.001+08:00

agosto = August

Lelia remembered when the men had come for her father. she had stood motionless, a wisp of a girl, barely 11, and her long black curls had bounced dangerously from under her white cotton night cap almost attracting unwanted attention to herself. she had stood straight up in between the tall vases from China that father had just unpacked from his latest voyage, and her curls cast telling shadows that danced on the walls behind her. her father walked with dignity, despite the beating that they had given him. he flashed her a secret smile and winked at her and she nodded solemnly. she was prepared. they had discussed this too often, and father had drilled into her the rigour of what she needed to do next.

she had waited a full 3 hours after the men had gone. she stood soundless, unmoving, listening to their grandfather clock chime each quarter of an hour. she continued to stand still, up to her own count of 100, even after the third hour had sounded, just for good measure. she then moved cautiously across the drawing room, staying very close to the heavy black silk drapes, dragging her little brown teddy bear along with her. she tip-toed into the cellar, to find the hidden chest of clothes that father always kept there. she unpacked hurriedly, pulling on the little boy's clothes that fit her perfectly. she pulled on the heavy woollen socks and boots, lacing them up tightly. she then knocked off her night cap and pulled her heavy tresses into a loose ponytail, tucking all her hair up into the boy's hat she put on. she pulled out the boot polish her father had left in the trunk for her, and rubbed some over her pale cheeks and the back of her hands. it took away the obvious glow of her light brown skin in the moonlight. she took out the travel sack that father had made for her. she pushed her teddy bear into the sack but did not look inside, confident that the cured meat, water pouch, and paring knife would have been resting on top of a dry change of clothes, paper bonds, gold nuggets and the wooden stakes he would have also packed.

she made her way quietly to the cellar door, standing in the darkness for a full 15 minutes, listening to the wind outside. she stood there to make sure that the men had really gone. she forced herself to remember her next instruction. and she kept repeating in her mind, the words she needed to finally say. she moved then to the cellar staircase, and walked half-way up the solid steps. in a wooden panel to the right of the staircase was a hidden passage that she easily opened and slipped silently into. she crouched down on the floor, feeling for the letter her father would have left for her. it would be her introduction to the dark master's castle across the lake. shivering now from the realization that her father was probably dead, murdered by those men that had taken him, she forced herself to pick up the letter and to slip it into her travel sack. she took her first tentative step, and then her next, and then she was running. the sound of her boots were muffled by the dark wood panelling that covered the outside of the secret passage.

she must have been running for an hour now, and finally the passage started to ascend. she knew then that she was beyond the walls of her father's castle, and that she would soon be in the woods, at the edge of the lake. she was scared and focused on the words again. finding the quiet confidence she needed, she made her way out of the passage and through the great Woods of Aspirations. she kept walking quickly, careful to walk lightly as father had taught her so she would not snap a fallen branch or draw any particular attention to herself. dressed completely in black, she became one with the long moving shadows of the woods. she finally got to the edge of the lake, and hesitated for a moment. it would now become very difficult and she was prepared. she strapped the travel sack across her shoulder and stood firmly on the ground. digging her heels into the soft ground, she opened up her arms and held them away from herself. she looked across the lake and the words spilt out of her, unbidden, and she repeated them over and over with force.

"i call upon you Ismay the keeper of the great shadows of the north, and i command you to reminisce the refuge you took in the house of Lord De la Fuente. i command you now to reciprocate this refuge to Lelia De la Fuente, the only child of the great Lord and hence his only living advocate."
Lelia could barely keep count of how many times she had repeated the same words. she was shouting them out into the shadows, competing with the howling winds that were whipping through the woods and tearing the hat from head and her hair from her pony-tail. she kept her eyes half-closed, and her arms were held up now across her face, protecting her from the debris the winds were huffing violently into her face. she felt the ground start to shake and watched the dead leaves swirl in a united frenzy all around her. as the leaves spun maniacally through the air, slapping hard against her, they started pushing her forward into the lake. Lelia dug her heels deeper into the wet ground and shouted the words out loud yet again. she heard her father's lessons echoing in the back of her mind, and she suddenly remembered the promise that she would have to make to draw Ismay forward, should he fail to recognize the refuge she sought.

"i pledge Ismay to defend the woods and all of the lake, all the creatures big and small, air and water bound, of the ground itself, with my own soul. i pledge to keep them and to defend them and to take on the guise of the mistress to the dark master. and i command you now to reciprocate the refuge to Lelia De la Fuente, the only child of the..." she was knocked off her feet by a heavy log to the back of knees, and twisted sideways to look into the eyes of a savage wolf. she froze where she was on the ground, holding her breath. she was shaking and quickly averted her eyes, dropping her head forward. the beast was enormous and as black as the silken night itself, except for a white flash of fur running down his neck and under its belly. its teeth gnashed and it snarled warningly, barely inches from the side of her face. the beast stood there over Lelia for what seemed to be an eternity to her. she could almost make out its silver eyes flashing under its thick black unkempt fur, but kept her eyes carefully averted. she then heard the wolf lie down beside her and felt its warm raggedy breaths on her inner thighs. before she could decide what she needed to do next she felt a strong hold on her upper arm, dragging her up to her feet, and she was spun unceremoniously around to face the legendary Ismay himself.

well over 7 feet, he was pure muscle. with the skin like the Moors, black as night, he flashed his grey eyes at her. she took in the long white scar that ran down the length of his vast neck and she took two steps backwards to suddenly realize that the wolf was gone. "could it be...?" she spoke aloud without realizing, and immediately put her hand childishly over her mouth. Ismay threw his head back and shouted his raw laughter across the woods. "come now child. for one so brave to have met Ismay in his true form, to now stand there like a helpless girl caught speaking when she should be silent? tell me Lelia De la Fuente... you share the bloodline of the great Lord of the fountains? why then did he send you alone..." he trailed his sentence off, watching the little girl struggle with her unshed tears. "and so the great Lord has ceased to exist.." he shook himself, feeling the sadness in the back of his throat.
"you took an oath child. was that in fear or would you take it still?" Lelia slowly pulled herself up to her feet with as much dignity as she could muster, she was still shaking and covered in damp leaves. her hair stood up in long strands, blown wild in the winds, but her voice was unshaken and she said firmly, "i stand by my oath Ismay and i command you to.." "yes, yes. i heard you the first 99 times." he looked her over very carefully, and watched her blush innocently at his raw scrutiny. "this oath child will mean that you turn at the age of your 21st year of birth. and it will mean that you walk these woods and across the lake and the skies above for all eternity. and so are you prepared?"

Lelia did not even think about hesitating. her father was murdered now, and she would be next. she had sworn to keep their bloodline pure and now the prophecy had already been set into motion. her destiny ahead was widely written about in the many books that lined her father's library. books that documented her dark turning.
"i stand by my oath Ismay, and i will embrace the dark master willingly as promised, at the dawn of my 21st year of birth..."

~a fictional piece by amreeth~

the vampires, they walk on water...

2007-07-30T17:17:00.001+08:00

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~

ghosts do not use umbrellas...

2007-07-30T10:16:00.000+08:00

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~

public transport...

2007-07-27T22:24:00.000+08:00

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!!!

what to do??

2007-07-27T16:33:00.000+08:00

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!!!

abba

2007-07-26T17:19:00.000+08:00

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!

vomit blood ;p

2007-07-26T13:34:00.000+08:00

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?

feliz cumpleaños señor presidente = happy birthday mr. president

2007-07-25T12:23:00.000+08:00

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.

miercoles = wednesday

2007-07-25T12:02:00.000+08:00

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.

an ode to whom i have become

2007-07-24T20:30:00.000+08:00

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~

a story for children - iggy looks for the sun part 2

2007-07-23T17:39:00.000+08:00

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...

a story for children - iggy looks for the sun part 1

2007-07-23T12:15:00.000+08:00

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...

my heart got broke...

2007-07-20T17:29:00.000+08:00

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...

foiled again in my quest for BK...

2007-07-19T11:57:00.000+08:00

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...