Some changes to my life just so you don't need to wonder what I have been up to:
Batam gig is temporarily RIP because they have financial problems keeping me. I would be focusing on my completing my TESOL course till the end of the year while still keeping in view my opportunities there.
Which means, I have more time to play World of Warcraft: Wrath of the Lich King expansion which was just in last Friday. J and I talk little else but about WoW now, unless we are not talking much, which is when we are playing side-by-side in my room. My room is now not a bedroom with computers but a LAN shop with a bed for occasional resting and a bathroom for occasional washing up.
I had a nice 29th birthday dinner today with my parents and J.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
headache
Like a semi-permanent hair dye, only it doesn't cover grey but rather makes my face turn a tad greyer. I have a headache almost everyday for a week now, it follows me on and off during and in between my daily activities. I vaguely remember GPs like to call some headaches 'tension-headaches'; I also get headaches as a symptom of my gastric problems. For whatever reason, Panadol is the current available, and affordable, answer.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
right
It is a recurring problem. Most people's efforts at trying to cheer up people suffering from depression, usually either not work, or make things worse. So, please stop. Until you understand what depression is about, really and truly. It is a medical condition which exists biologically in the brain, marked by chemical imbalances. It is not a moment of sadness when you fail your test / break up with your lover / your dog dies.
Telling us we are 'depressing' is not helping.
Asking us to do the usual cheery things - and firmly believing these will correct the brain dysfunction, sadly untrue - such as getting a pet, growing a garden, having reunions with friends, taking up a new hobby.
Your suggestions at cheery-uppiness may not be what makes sickness better.
You have failed. Try again.
Any wonder now why I keep some friends in close contact range and avoid others?
Then again, apart from flawed suggestions that make things worse, socialising does not make me happy. It in fact is an activity of great stress for me. Thinking of going to any place with a lot of people can generate a panic attack. (Last Saturday I had a major panic attack before going to church, to the point where I kept puking non-stop thereafter, and couldn't even get up to go have dinner with J's family). Ditto most other huge events. Being with the people I love the most in my life are already draining energy out of me like crazy, even though I love being with them. Having to oblige to spend time with people who I don't love as much will entirely exhaust and break me down.
This is also why I keep contact with only an intimate circle of friends I love. My lover, my closest friends, my parents, my gaming friends.
What will work: just accept that I will be like this for a while. If I could help it, I wouldn't choose to be sick now, would I? And if you care enough, please read up on the disease.
Telling us we are 'depressing' is not helping.
Asking us to do the usual cheery things - and firmly believing these will correct the brain dysfunction, sadly untrue - such as getting a pet, growing a garden, having reunions with friends, taking up a new hobby.
Your suggestions at cheery-uppiness may not be what makes sickness better.
You have failed. Try again.
Any wonder now why I keep some friends in close contact range and avoid others?
Then again, apart from flawed suggestions that make things worse, socialising does not make me happy. It in fact is an activity of great stress for me. Thinking of going to any place with a lot of people can generate a panic attack. (Last Saturday I had a major panic attack before going to church, to the point where I kept puking non-stop thereafter, and couldn't even get up to go have dinner with J's family). Ditto most other huge events. Being with the people I love the most in my life are already draining energy out of me like crazy, even though I love being with them. Having to oblige to spend time with people who I don't love as much will entirely exhaust and break me down.
This is also why I keep contact with only an intimate circle of friends I love. My lover, my closest friends, my parents, my gaming friends.
What will work: just accept that I will be like this for a while. If I could help it, I wouldn't choose to be sick now, would I? And if you care enough, please read up on the disease.
Monday, November 10, 2008
memories with strangers
"It's funny how you spend so much of your life with one person, and after a breakup the person becomes like a total stranger to you." This said by my favourite Jap boy Kamenashi Kazuya, on their band's talk show.
I totally agree with what he said. Sometimes it still feels strange that the special ones I connected with so deeply and exclusively once, giving my all, my love, are all now complete strangers. Be just months, or precious years. Sometimes I still have residual imaginary conversations with C, or L, or even H. Things I should have said, or conversations that might have taken place if it was still us. I remember what was endearing to me about them, and as memories, they still are. Their names are still silently on my lips. All the memories, in a permanent repository until finally forgotten.
It breaks my heart just imagining if J ever became a total stranger to me in the future. All the shared tears and laughter, tenderness and comfort, made with him, suddenly disconnected. I know it is not likely to happen, but visualising its possibility wears me down. So I shan't think it.
That's the problem with falling in love voraciously like I do. Too many memories with too many different people. I am not a big enough repository for all of them. I regret everything I ever did to hurt the men in my past, and I carry this guilt with me still and ever.
I totally agree with what he said. Sometimes it still feels strange that the special ones I connected with so deeply and exclusively once, giving my all, my love, are all now complete strangers. Be just months, or precious years. Sometimes I still have residual imaginary conversations with C, or L, or even H. Things I should have said, or conversations that might have taken place if it was still us. I remember what was endearing to me about them, and as memories, they still are. Their names are still silently on my lips. All the memories, in a permanent repository until finally forgotten.
It breaks my heart just imagining if J ever became a total stranger to me in the future. All the shared tears and laughter, tenderness and comfort, made with him, suddenly disconnected. I know it is not likely to happen, but visualising its possibility wears me down. So I shan't think it.
That's the problem with falling in love voraciously like I do. Too many memories with too many different people. I am not a big enough repository for all of them. I regret everything I ever did to hurt the men in my past, and I carry this guilt with me still and ever.
I hate birthdays. To me, they are cliched, pathetic attempts at being happy, but none of it is real. I thought about throwing my own 'Last of the Twenties' birthday party, seeing that I will only be turning twenty-nine once. But somehow the reverie that ought to come with celebrating seems to dissipate. I don't need an excuse to spend time with people I like to spend time with.
2 a.m.
Not sleeping yet.
Not that I am not tired - I am always tired - but that little pocket of time between lying down on the bed and actually falling asleep, is a tad scary. Scary because I am alone, unactivated, and it becomes awfully quiet. Suddenly I have to face my ever-present horrifying fears and pains, which I successfully keep at bay until this pocket of time occurs, by then which I have no choice. And so I look at falling asleep at night, with disdain.
Last week I had a panic attack during this pocket of time. Because I had no choice but to feel, a culmination of my lifetime's emotions came into one explosive grip of panic. I froze, my heart pounding, my hands and feet clenched, and barely breathing, I couldn't move. Which meant I couldn't get myself my medication. J was already long asleep next to me. But it was in the middle of the night, and he had to work the next day. If it was C, waking him would cause more anger and pain than any comfort or help elicited. But I had to remember this was even-tempered J, who told me time and again to call him for help whenever.
After what seemed like a whole rotation of thoughts on whether to wake J for help, I decided to, but I couldn't make a sound, nor move. I summoned up all my energy to speak; it came in a few laboured whispers which finally woke him.
"I am having a panic attack..."
Jolted by the emergency, he got up and said, "I'll get you your medicine." I swallowed my tablets whole, just on my saliva alone. Shushing me to sleep and soaking up my tears in his arms, I felt better eventually, and yes, I suppose I finally managed to fall asleep.
It's 2 a.m. now. Let's see how tonight goes.
Not that I am not tired - I am always tired - but that little pocket of time between lying down on the bed and actually falling asleep, is a tad scary. Scary because I am alone, unactivated, and it becomes awfully quiet. Suddenly I have to face my ever-present horrifying fears and pains, which I successfully keep at bay until this pocket of time occurs, by then which I have no choice. And so I look at falling asleep at night, with disdain.
Last week I had a panic attack during this pocket of time. Because I had no choice but to feel, a culmination of my lifetime's emotions came into one explosive grip of panic. I froze, my heart pounding, my hands and feet clenched, and barely breathing, I couldn't move. Which meant I couldn't get myself my medication. J was already long asleep next to me. But it was in the middle of the night, and he had to work the next day. If it was C, waking him would cause more anger and pain than any comfort or help elicited. But I had to remember this was even-tempered J, who told me time and again to call him for help whenever.
After what seemed like a whole rotation of thoughts on whether to wake J for help, I decided to, but I couldn't make a sound, nor move. I summoned up all my energy to speak; it came in a few laboured whispers which finally woke him.
"I am having a panic attack..."
Jolted by the emergency, he got up and said, "I'll get you your medicine." I swallowed my tablets whole, just on my saliva alone. Shushing me to sleep and soaking up my tears in his arms, I felt better eventually, and yes, I suppose I finally managed to fall asleep.
It's 2 a.m. now. Let's see how tonight goes.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
bathrooms
Bathrooms are interesting places. Intimate, even, when you inspect a close one's bathroom to see what it's like. To know their habits: loo roll placed over or under the tube? What kind of toothpaste? Toothbrush overly worn and used, or an electric snazzy type? Does she shave or epilate or tweeze or wax or use hair-removal creams? Is she really into her hair (some bathrooms have a whole shelf rack of product meant only for hair)? Does he wash his face with a cleanser proper? And, when you open a bottle of shampoo that your lover uses, you realise, 'So this is why she smells so good.'
A guy I once knew noted that I was 'hygienic' (or similar word, cannot remember because it is years ago) because he noted my bottle of Vagisil. Feminine cleanser is interesting to talk about. Not every girl uses it (why?!) and those who do, seem to intrigue men, that we take care of our bits so delicately. I was amazed that, one day when J was clearing out my loot from my shopping bags that day, and automatically placed the newly-bought bottle of Vagisil in the bathroom where the old one used to be. 'How did you know this belongs here!' I gasped at him, shocked. He's a man! He is supposed to not know details! Men shower with a bar of soap, even for their bits! But, he knew. He said he knew that was what I used to wash myself. This guy amazes me with his attention to details about me.
I feel happy when I see a small collection of cleansers, soaps, shower gels, shampoos, dental care products, on my bathroom shelves. It feels so pampering to use Estee Lauder or similar to wash your face with. I am usually too lazy to condition my hair nowadays, but when I do, digging into my mini-tub of Pantene's hair mask feels luxurious when rubbed into my hair.
The presence of an extra toothbrush and shaver and a manly facial cleanser (Loreal) on the shelves also reminds me that I have a lover who spends a wonderful lot of time at my place. Looking at these things when I use the bathroom makes me think of him, whatever he may be doing outside the bathroom at the moment - gaming, sleeping, or et cetera manly activities.
Reading Prince Irwin's blog post on his bathroom made me pleasantly visualise what his bathroom is like. The products he uses, whether the toilet bowl is splattered with dried pee on the sides or whether it is spick-spankingly clean. (Sorry Irwin! Just wondering).
Most boys' bathrooms that I have visited are usually rather unsavoury, you see. Usually shared bathrooms, so the personality of the boy under inspection is really quite hard to tell from the bathroom. Shared bathrooms usually mean that the products used inside are often bought and replenished by the non-male users of the bathroom.
Do you also realise that everybody has different peeing rituals? A man friend of mine pees so softly, I wonder how he does it (sitting down?), even though I am right outside in the kitchen while he's in the bathroom. Some people wash their hands with the hand soap, others claim that a mere second spent under the tap means your hand (singular) is washed. I like to flush the loo with the seat cover down. I scrunch up my loo roll and use lots of it. And I buy three-ply embossed loo roll, nothing less will do.
And oh, reading material. C's bathroom had loads of in-loo reading material (mostly the sister's) and they ranged from Time to Reader's Digest. I love those loos with Archie's Comics! Ara has those in hers.
I trained J to conform to my bathroom-usage rules in my house. He already has some savoury habits, such as lifting up the seat before peeing. Actually that was his only good habit when he came. I have collected all the theorycraft of male toilet-usage rules and imbibed him with them. Wiping mis-cues off the bowl, wiping self so I don't have to wash pee-remnants off his boxers when I do the laundry, washing hands with soap etc. Sounds gross, but boys are hugely gross! They think they are clean when they actually aren't, most of the time!
Digressing from bathrooms there, apologies. But boys are really dirty, I sometimes wish I could date girls instead.
Shared girls' bathrooms are lovely. When I go on holiday with my best girlfriends Enid and Shuyi, we have a whole host of lovely cleansers, masks, perfumes, lotions, make-up etc etc that line our bathroom interior. It is just lovely lovely lovely. I feel so close to them when I know their favourite products.
Funny how I could actually write a whole post on just bathrooms. Inspired by Prince Irwin, really. And yes, I also scrimp on the toothpaste till I have no choice but to get a new one. Ditto the toilet paper.
A guy I once knew noted that I was 'hygienic' (or similar word, cannot remember because it is years ago) because he noted my bottle of Vagisil. Feminine cleanser is interesting to talk about. Not every girl uses it (why?!) and those who do, seem to intrigue men, that we take care of our bits so delicately. I was amazed that, one day when J was clearing out my loot from my shopping bags that day, and automatically placed the newly-bought bottle of Vagisil in the bathroom where the old one used to be. 'How did you know this belongs here!' I gasped at him, shocked. He's a man! He is supposed to not know details! Men shower with a bar of soap, even for their bits! But, he knew. He said he knew that was what I used to wash myself. This guy amazes me with his attention to details about me.
I feel happy when I see a small collection of cleansers, soaps, shower gels, shampoos, dental care products, on my bathroom shelves. It feels so pampering to use Estee Lauder or similar to wash your face with. I am usually too lazy to condition my hair nowadays, but when I do, digging into my mini-tub of Pantene's hair mask feels luxurious when rubbed into my hair.
The presence of an extra toothbrush and shaver and a manly facial cleanser (Loreal) on the shelves also reminds me that I have a lover who spends a wonderful lot of time at my place. Looking at these things when I use the bathroom makes me think of him, whatever he may be doing outside the bathroom at the moment - gaming, sleeping, or et cetera manly activities.
Reading Prince Irwin's blog post on his bathroom made me pleasantly visualise what his bathroom is like. The products he uses, whether the toilet bowl is splattered with dried pee on the sides or whether it is spick-spankingly clean. (Sorry Irwin! Just wondering).
Most boys' bathrooms that I have visited are usually rather unsavoury, you see. Usually shared bathrooms, so the personality of the boy under inspection is really quite hard to tell from the bathroom. Shared bathrooms usually mean that the products used inside are often bought and replenished by the non-male users of the bathroom.
Do you also realise that everybody has different peeing rituals? A man friend of mine pees so softly, I wonder how he does it (sitting down?), even though I am right outside in the kitchen while he's in the bathroom. Some people wash their hands with the hand soap, others claim that a mere second spent under the tap means your hand (singular) is washed. I like to flush the loo with the seat cover down. I scrunch up my loo roll and use lots of it. And I buy three-ply embossed loo roll, nothing less will do.
And oh, reading material. C's bathroom had loads of in-loo reading material (mostly the sister's) and they ranged from Time to Reader's Digest. I love those loos with Archie's Comics! Ara has those in hers.
I trained J to conform to my bathroom-usage rules in my house. He already has some savoury habits, such as lifting up the seat before peeing. Actually that was his only good habit when he came. I have collected all the theorycraft of male toilet-usage rules and imbibed him with them. Wiping mis-cues off the bowl, wiping self so I don't have to wash pee-remnants off his boxers when I do the laundry, washing hands with soap etc. Sounds gross, but boys are hugely gross! They think they are clean when they actually aren't, most of the time!
Digressing from bathrooms there, apologies. But boys are really dirty, I sometimes wish I could date girls instead.
Shared girls' bathrooms are lovely. When I go on holiday with my best girlfriends Enid and Shuyi, we have a whole host of lovely cleansers, masks, perfumes, lotions, make-up etc etc that line our bathroom interior. It is just lovely lovely lovely. I feel so close to them when I know their favourite products.
Funny how I could actually write a whole post on just bathrooms. Inspired by Prince Irwin, really. And yes, I also scrimp on the toothpaste till I have no choice but to get a new one. Ditto the toilet paper.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
What Your Cute Monster Says About You |
 You are a vibrant, vivacious person. When you live, you live as wildly and loudly as possible. You are very bold. You are willing to stand up and be a leader. Your inner demon is intensity. You have a tendency to let your passions take over. People think you're cute because you're fiery. When you get worked up, it's charming. |
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