Archives for category: Imperfect Everything

“I’m going to vacuum the bathtub.”

Apparently, one mojito was one mojito too many.

ps. To be honest, I had only half a mojito, and I was looking at the bathtub when I said bathtub. I’d meant the bathroom floor, which needed a good vacuuming even though I wasn’t all present. That’s domesticated for ya.

And you thought this was bad. Pfff…

Well this is new.

Lian of Mama’s Bag of Tricks actually thinks I’m nice.

Nice? Don’t you know I raise bad-mannered children and watch creepy videos and diss fat people?


Anytime is a good time for a compliment but I’d really needed one right now, so I really appreciate this, Lian. Thanks, lady.

Okay, time to pass it on. Who do I think qualifies as “nice people, good blog friends, and those that inspire good feelings and inspiration! Those that care about others, that are there to lend support, or those that are just a positive influence in our blogging world!”?

Gee. Hmm. Here goes:

1. Jan Lemen: She’s not a ‘friend’ friend, just someone I’d met at Blogher07 but I’m very inspired by her beauty – her inner beauty. Read just one post and you can see why she’s such a rare spirit. She reminds me of one of my favourite smells: fresh cut grass after a tropical rainy morning. It’s a childhood memory I’d forgotten and then remembered. Jan (and her blog) is full of these little extraordinary ordinary things.

2.  Jennette aka PastaQueen definitely qualifies. Just read her About page and you’ll know why (nice photos btw, girl!). I also met Jennette at Blogher and we stayed at the same hostel, so we hung out a bit. Jennette’s book, Half of Me, is out April 2008 (there it is again, Jennette – see, it’s not hard!).

3. Melina from Ellinetha! Here’s one to you, babe. Beautiful, bold and brave, Melina is a cancer survivor and like many others I’ve met, she is full of life and love. Her blog is funny, entertaining but does not really do the real Melina justice because she’s so much more fun. I’m so glad we met!

4. I have to nominate Sweetisu once more because she’s another cancer survivor (who really should blog more). Strong, wise, unfazed by what life dishes out (and it has dished her quite a few lemons), I always imagine a Jenn 20 years from now as one of those petite little old Asian women with a head full of white hair in an upbeat pony tail, taking brisk morning walks and speaking at cancer support events around the country, proving to the world that sheer grit can take you a long way, anywhere. Good luck with the new toy store, girl!

5. My precious friend Hazel back home in Malaysia, who just gave birth to baby Caitlyn. Hazel is the nicest person you’ll ever know. Until you feed her a few JD Cokes. Then she’s REALLY nice :). Ahh, good old booze days.

6. For all the digiscrapping freebies she’s clued to millions of people, Ikea Goddess deserves this truly. You’re a saint, lady.

7. The CounterVA. Two nasties make a nice.

All this niceness is very unsettling. Now I need to go kick a cat.

Sometimes, ten minutes are all you need to know a person.

From the way they spread out their smiles, as though the show of teeth and the flexing of muscles are too precious a commodity to be given away too freely. There is a famous Cantonese saying that literally translates into “selling a smile”, referring to social escorts who are paid for their company by businessmen partial to having beautiful women draped over their shoulders and laps when talking shop. As such, the phrase is often used derogatorily when you meet someone who smiles too much, because nobody should ever smile that much unless paid to.

From the things they say, and choose not to say. If we all voiced whatever it was in our minds, I think the world would be a better place. In fact, if evolution ever throws telepathy our way, that would just be awesome. No more lies, no more having to be nice when you don’t want to be nice, no more…pretense.

I sometimes think that I have a sixth sense when it comes to sizing people up. In fact, it is a hobby of mine. If I’d been born in the US, I would be a behaviourial scientist working for the FBI or something, studying serial killers, sex offenders and hackers (is there such a job?). Human behaviour fascinates me in that although each of us is unique, there is so much of us that’s the same, that if there was a computer with a large enough brain to catalog all our little idiosyncrasies from the day we’re born to the day we die, I am pretty sure we will be able to sort out just what kind of lives we will all lead, no matter where we’re born, how we’re raised and what religion we follow.

Yes, it is a scary, unsavoury thought, isn’t it? And yet, fascinating.

I know this all sounds awfully judgmental, but isn’t that judgmental in itself, the summary that what I’ve written here is…judgmental? Can you tell yourself successfully that I must be talking about something that’s entirely out of your understanding, that I must be given the benefit of the doubt, that I must know something you don’t?

I don’t. I think some people are so nasty and picky and fussy and ridiculous that they can’t hold it in, and that to think of them as nasty and picky and fussy and ridiculous is just…what it is: the truth. And it’s okay, because it’s not like you hate them. I don’t hate people who think asking a child to call an adult Ms. Whatever is disrespectful to the child. I just think they’re idiots. They probably think I’m archaic and third world for wanting my child to address someone older with a title. I don’t think they hate me.

Do you?

Therefore, the first ten minutes you get to spend with someone you’ve just met, is crucial.

I say make it count.

Loneliness is a mini stroke.

You may be walking along a street, with nary a care in the world, when suddenly, something grabs you from within and you cease breathing. It is at once cold and searing, this white heat that washes over you fast and angry, a spurned lover returned to claim lost virtue. Your center is numb.

And just as suddenly, it releases and you gasp as though emerging from water, your eyes welling up with tears, your knees very nearly buckling. The pain leaves a puncture, and energy seaps out like air from a flat tire. It’s all you can do to remain standing.

And yet, stumbling a little, you continue to walk, because somewhere, somehow, your brain is trying to tell you you’re losing it. But you know better.

You know, that this is what it is. This is your reality. This is Your Life.

When I was living in Singapore many years ago, I remember it as the happiest and yet the loneliest time of my life. I was far away from home, something I’d wanted to be for a long time, partying it up with my friends. And yet, I yearned for love. I longed for intimacy and for tenderness.

It was in Singapore that I’d felt my most unattractive, my ugliest. The women were (and most probably still are) slender while I was pudgy. They were classy and polished, while I smoked and therefore reeked. They were always sharply dressed in the finest brands while I wore a dowdy bank uniform most days and barely had the money to keep up with even pasar malam couture.

I was 60lbs lighter, my skin clearer, nothing sagged. And yet, not in a million years would I’ve been able to find anyone to love me on that little island.

And this is why when I watch something like this, I am deeply saddened, not out of pity but out of experience and empathy because loneliness…well, let’s just say attractive people will never know the true meaning of REAL loneliness. You can talk about the inability to connect with the billions of people already in your life ’til the cows come home but this. This is what real loneliness is.

When you can’t find anyone because nobody is in your life. When you’ve tried and tried, looked long and hard, and yet, nobody looks back. When you look in the mirror and just know that you will never be able to make the connection because there is no Point B. There is no other hand. No one to tango with. No shore. And you start to hate yourself for needing it so much.

This bias for symmetry and aesthetics is so ingrained into the human psyche that it is practically woven into our genetic code; will it ever evolve? And if it does, which will be weaned?

It's hereeeee

1. Busy setting up the preschool.

2. Got new freelance gig writing articles for the XBOX 360.

3. Gearing up for BioShock. And Halo 3.

4. Making video reviews of casual games.

It’s 11.33am and I’m awake, wracked with guilt for not having written a blog post in, what, three days?

Do normal people get like this? I don’t even know anymore. I’m so tired.

Still, I owe a tag. I’ve been double-tagged by Trinity and Dawn and they both are unhealthily curious about Ten Things that Happened to me. So even as I pitch my eyelids up with toothpicks, I have to ‘fess up’. Although I first wanted to use the words ‘put out’ instead of ‘fess up’, although here in America, that particular piece of slang means ‘to have sex’. Can one of you kindly explain the etymology? In Malaysia, we say ‘put out’ the dog, to mean let the dog out or ‘put out’ your shoes, as in leave your shoes outside. The English is horribly broken but it makes more sense than accidentally saying you want to have sex with the dog. Or your shoes. You never know with these Americans, do you? They’re constantly innovating. Very creative people.

Anyway, so ten things that happened to me:

1. I discovered I had Hep B when I was pregnant with Raeven. Turns out I contracted it from my mom, and so did my sis. I cried and thought I was going to die the very next day, and that I’d ruined my unborn child forever. And then decided to live the hell out of my life ‘coz we Tais are very sturdy stock, diseased or not. Thankfully, neither of the girls have Hep b. The neutralisers worked. Good stuff.

2. I can play the piano. I like sonatas, detest Richard Clayderman, loathe scales. The moment my mother stopped forcing me to take those blasted lessons (I quit at the beginning of Grade 7), I began to enjoy the instrument. I remember telling my sis, when I was about ten and she seven, to start crying the moment she was at our piano teacher’s house. She did. I heard her, since my piano teacher was also my next door neighbour. Did not work. Turned out my sister was a better pianist than I ever was.

3. I recently found an old friend online, whom I will nickname the Stoned Doctor. We had not communicated in about 13 years, at least. We had some good times – very instructive for me, for lack of a better word. He was the first of TWO people who lit up a doobie in front of me, doobies he made with MY cigarettes. Broke bastard. It is a miracle I’d never touched them. Sincerely thought I would turn into Gollum if I did. On the other hand, the weight loss would’ve been fantastic.

4. I am still looking for two other old buddies but have been unsuccessful: my old room mate and classmate from law school at KDU circa 1992, 93, a Farah (I have forgotten her last name, how horrible) from Singapore, and Rizal Farris, from pre-law at Kobeaurium Institute of Law. Sound familiar? Email me if you do know these people!

5. I am trying to write an erotic novel set in the early 20th century. I’m hoping the end result will make women wiggle uncomfortably in the subway, wondering if the book will be turned into a movie soon, starring perhaps Channing Tatum, wearing only a tea cup.

6. I recently wished for lots of money so I could go back to school, become a Doctor of English, spend the rest of my life decrypting fancy new American phrases For Make Benefit of Great Nation of The Rest of the World.

7. I also wished for lots of money so I can buy a new DSLR with all the fanciest accoutrements. The Canon 5D is particularly yummy.

8. I convinced my beloved to go camping. He did very well. We are going again soon.

9. I also recently expounded with my beloved the whole concept of time and the space time continuum and the intricacies of warp drive technology and string theory and how people who think space can be folded like a piece of paper are absolute loons.

10. I am going to bed.

Hoffstadt Bridge over Spirit Lake (HDR shot)

My HDR shot of Hoffstadt Bridge on the Spirit Lake Memorial highway, on the way to Mount St Helens.

Mount St Helens (HDR)

On the way to Mount St Helens (HDR)

At one of the bluffs overlooking the valley during the climb up. This is blast radius surrounding the mountain. You can’t see the mountain itself because of the low-lying clouds as we were at 3,200 elevation.

Click on the photos for more at my Flickr page. Pics of our trip to Portland to come.