Breaking Point

Yesterday. I felt like it could have been my breaking point. I have had episodes like that with him, but now looking back, it feels like it was more intense, more unwarranted, more of a shock to my system, and a confirmation... That I'm alone, and unloved. I never needed attention, validation or proof of love, but it felt like something inside me died yesterday, after all that. Maybe I had killed myself. Somehow, in some little way. Maybe I had already put a knife through my own heart. With all the things happening around me, all the lack of support, and all the poisonous words coming out of our mouths, I can no longer live like this. And I know something has to change.

I was just reading about how a mother killed 3 of her children. And of course, it sounded so evil at the time. But after reading a bit more about it, doing a little research, it seems she was drowning, emotionally, psychologically, after moving to a new city and being left alone with the children. And she asked for help, she reached out, she told people, but nobody stepped up to help her. Of course, I still won't condone what she's done and to the children, the poor innocent creatures who didn't deserve this. But I can definitely understand her angle and her struggle. 

I know I would never do that to my children. I love them very much. And I want them to have a good happy future. I don't want them to remember anything that happened yesterday when I was screaming at Papa, and Papa was rude to me. And Oma came in and started blaming me as well. No one can see that I was trying my best. It's always my fault. And he says, he always says he isn't blaming me. 

But the words he used, the words he always uses, "But you're the mother. You are the mother, you decide." And this reminds me of the very annoying thing that Oma used to do, judge me and tell me what I should or shouldn't do with the children when they were just babies.And then when we went for a pram ride, she'd ask where I want to go and I'd think, oh, you're so opinionated, you think you know everything better than I ever will. "Why don't you decide? You tell me where you think we should go for a pram ride." And she'd chuckle and go, "No, no, you decide, you're the mother." And my thoughts were, what the hell? Why would you leave a menial, trivial, stupid decision to me because I'm the mother and when it comes to everything else to do with their nutrition, sugar, cakes, water, sleep... suddenly I'm not the mother?

I am only existing, surviving, and am emotionally drained. I am relieved that I do get a lot of love from the boys, yet that feels erased when Papa suddenly blindsides me with something hurtful. Maybe because I left everything I knew and built over the years to move across the world. It was for him but it was my choice. I have trapped myself.

There are still little points of light. Such as when one of the boys suddenly hug me, look into my eyes and tell me, "I really really love you so much." I guess that keeps me going.

Pockets of Peace

I miss Bhutan. I felt peace there. It was a slightly complicated time in my life but definitely not as worrisome as my current state of mind.

I find peace in pockets nowadays. Imagine that. Little pockets of peace being hawked on the streets. A little bag to keep safe in your jacket, your bag, or your... well, pocket. And when the world gets too much, you just have to pull that bag out and take a whiff. And all is calm.

Damn, that sounds like drugs.

Well, you can't be addicted to peace itself. You appreciate this peace and you know it's how you choose to react to the world. Your response and your understanding of the larger picture. Your choice to step back and make time for peace. Or is it? It is, in fact, the opposite of an addictive substance which can apparently solve your problems via your state of mind within minutes. However, it does not last forever and the repercussions can be tragic.

I think peace can be learnt, lost, re-learnt, and shared. Oh but what do I know? I am but a human soul trapped within this physical prison of a body in this realm for now. Perhaps that is why I long for peace. And I will try to make time for it. And take it. In the little pockets I find.

I Like

So I was thinking about what makes me smile or excites me. I usually don't give in to them so it is quite necessary for me to list, and remind myself, what I like...

• Slowly allowing the skin, and sometimes fat, of meats, to coat my anticipating tastebuds and the inside of my mouth.

• Savouring sweet, light, crunchy macaroons.

• Taking long yet comfortable plane rides by a window, with the yummy compact inflight meals and a little movie screen.

• Tasting the velvety warmth of dark chocolate melting in my mouth.

• Chomping lots of thin crispy potato chips all day long.

• Devouring grilled and glistening chicken or pork satay with rich, oily, hearty peanut sauce.

• Messily gorging on oyster omelette, without any oysters, fried with sweet chilli paste.

• Drinking good laksa. Yes, drink.

• Drinking my aunt's curry, then licking the bowl clean. Yes, lick.

• Mouthwatering dim sum, especially Xiao long pao! Need I say more?

• Stuffing entire servings of kueh pie tee and popiah into my mouth so I can experience the full glory of the dish. I look like a hamster during these feats.

• The occassional kaya toast with cold butter.

• Anything with avocado.

• Relishing in the smooth, rich, healthful goodness of a delectable sesame tahini cake from Cedele.

• Going nuts over macadamia nuts, pine nuts and pistachio... nuts.

• Waking up just to cuddle with my sweetheart on a rainy morning when we don't have to go out.

So there. I realise I do not try to make these things happen. Instead, I gladly accept them when they come my way. Also, I am excellent at staving or procrastinating the fulfillment of my desires. Might be why I clean up everything on my plate, beginning with my least favourite flavours and wrapping up with my favourites.

Hmm... Almost everything is food! Now I am hungry.

Meee ow

I draw a few silly things from time to time. Here is one.

Cats are interesting creatures. Sometimes they strike me as selfishly defiant. Me-ow, emphasis on "me". Sometimes adorably attentive. Big round eyes following your every move. Such close scrutiny. Either you are sooo loved, or sooo dead.

What You Want, Can, Believe

I was riding the train one evening when I overheard the docile conversation between two women, probably in their late 40's or early 50's. One of them stated, matter-of-factly, "At our age, we gotta do what we want, buy what we like. As long as I can fit in that dress, I will get it. Don't think so much. Gotta make yourself happy. Don't take jobs where you gotta stay at work so late. Nowadays everyone wants to tie you down."

It was an interesting moment that I was allowed into their world for a minute or two to hear that.

Another evening, I was reading about astral projection, something I have been trying to do for a while now. I found a blog by someone who did it, and met a teacher of some sort who told her something to this effect, "A belief in these abilities is not essential - it is more important to remain open and willing so that the beliefs that you hold do not stop you from realizing your abilities."

Now that seems applicable to anything and everything, I think. Which means there is so much more I do not know, such as whether or not any of this is indeed applicable elsewhere, though believing it is means that....

Return of the unblogging blogger

Private. Secret. Lazy. All applies to me as a blogger.

I cannot fall asleep so this quiet blog is now rather useful. Like a quiet abandoned toolshed in the woods that I bought ages ago but have selfishly kept from everyone else... I can find a little peace here with me, myself and I. With a new app (yes, since the last time I wrote, or typed, here, I have sort of "upgraded" to a new phone), I can now easily update my future self of how my present, or past as it shall be seen from the future, life is going.

I am going to try, yet again, another round of astral projection. Wish me luck, me!

Keeping Mum

My mom is hilarious.

Since living with her, I've noticed how adorable she can be, albeit demanding.

She says I'm playing computer games when I am checking email.

Since she started a facebook account, she wants me to add every TV personality she likes.

She absentmindedly keeps her home cordless phone in her handbag, then accuses all or one of us of taking it.

She cannot have a quiet day, so has to go out or have friends over. Then complains she is too busy.

She initiates so many meetings and calls, yet complains that she has too many phonecalls.

She exaggerates EVERYTHING.

Hmm, did I exaggerate that too? Heheh.

Be A Friend

So she was going on and on about her friends. Or her ex friends.

She was so lost in her own complaints, that I tried to get her to step outside herself for just a few seconds so she can see that the people she was ranting about were probably sleeping or having a peaceful night while here she was, unhappy and unable to sleep because of her unpleasant feelings about them. I asked softly, "Do you see you're doing this to yourself love?" She claims she is so angry and is done with them. I told her perhaps she wasn't and just has frustration and concern for them now. Frustration since she is trying to figure out why they act the way they do (and why they can't behave the way she thinks they SHOULD). And concern or else she wouldn't even bother about them.

She thinks she wants to teach them things since she feels they are immature in their thoughts and behaviour. And she was also expecting to absorb some useful learning from them. She always has expectations of everyone and I remind her that maturity and wisdom are often developed, not by age but by experiences (my humble opinion). And that we are always learning and becoming wiser and more mature as we live.

At 16 everyone thinks they are grown up and at 21 you realise you were such a young punk 5 years before and you think you're really an adult now. But at 35 you look back and wonder how you ever deluded yourself into thinking such self-righteous, self-praising thoughts at 21 and that yes, now you're really mature and can pass on that knowledge. But at around 50 you're going to mellow and see how you were still learning and not mature enough to give completely wise advice (especially to those who didn't ask for it). And perhaps by then you'll understand that you're always a student and life all around teaches you, if you are open to receive. Maybe only then will a deeper (or higher) level of maturity and wisdom (and perhaps awareness) truly develop with no end point. By then you're probably just mature and wise enough to not claim you are.

I was telling her I think she should try not to be their teacher. Instead, be a friend. A teacher puts pressure on herself and the students. A friend accepts and supports. She says she will not sugarcoat or cushion her words when trying to help her friends, though I think cushioning is kind and gentle, yet still sincere and honest. I also feel advice shouldn't be dispensed unless it has been asked for, which shows one doesn't assume so quickly, and shows one's respect for a person's space for privacy and growth as well. So instead of observing, judging and controlling, it may be better to listen and respond. In all relationships, listening is important and I think sometimes it is easy for one to forget that.

When I have mischievious kids in acting classes who can sometimes be restless, disruptive, negative, rude or naughty, I try to help them step back and see what they are doing. As gently as I can. They most likely do not see any wrong in their actions so a strict or punishing tone will only fortify their defenses. I bend down, touch them and ask them why they'd hit another child. If they'd do that to their best friend, to their mom, or if they'd like it if it were done to them. I simply try to instil empathy. If they can only try to see things from another's point of view then they might start being the kind-hearted kids they naturally are. And I just have them pinky promise me that they will try, just try. That promise isn't exactly to me, but to themselves. So they take responsibility for their actions.

Perhaps that is what life is about. Seeing things from someone else's point of view. I think that is what acting is about. I play a villain's sidekick in a French TV series and when people on set exclaim, "Wow you're so evil!", I simply reply, "She really has her reasons and believes in her boss's work for the greater good. Can you really blame her?" Of course the character takes it too far without seeing things from her victim's point of view. A choice, subconscious or not, by the character.

I think we all have choices. And we can choose to care more about the people around us. The ones we call friends. The ones we criticise. We can choose to see things from their points of view. Not only will we be less frustrated with their "unexplainable immature actions", but we may understand them and their plights a little more, as well as learn more about life and ourselves.

She is finally asleep now. Boy oh boy, life doesn't need to be so difficult. We just want to be happy, don't we? Then we can choose that! Choose positivity. Choose to give and not expect. Choose to smile and forgive. If we choose to listen and be receptive (I'm trying!), we can all discover that we have the capacity to love, to care, to learn. So choose that.

Well, all this is only what I think and feel. And I, myself... still has a lot to learn.

Food & Work. Peace & Kindness.

You need work to get you food. Symbiotic in a way. Cause and effect, like Kamma (Thanks to my dear friend for the booklet! You know who you are...). 

So even before birth, as soon as life begins, you start eating. And when you're growing up, you eat more as someone else works to feed you. Soon it's up to you to physically take care of yourself. When your food is all finished, you work so you can get more food. Then work tires you out and you need food for energy. So you can work again. To get food again. To stay alive. The story of survival.

The last few days were tiring. Not enough sleep. At least two or three jobs a day (not a complaint; I love my work). And I overate at lunch cos I didn't like to waste food. (I remember starving once cos I had no money to buy any food and I had to pay rent. Yes those were my foolish days. I do hope I'm wiser. Haha, I suppose I'm not wise enought to KNOW if I am. Yet just wise enough to recognise that fact. Anyway...) I felt so full, heavy, sleepy and sick after that, that throwing up was the only way to feel better but I refused to let that precious food go. So I drank a little tea, water, wine... and after 7 hours, I finally felt normal again. But then again, what's normal anyhow? Have I ever been? Is there such a thing or is "normal" man-made, man-decided?

So I feel that work is similar to food. Good in moderation, too much at once is overwhelming. None and you're starving. And both are time sensitive. Is that why so many like money? Cos you can save it for a rainy day?

I think I've been saving other things. Like good times and good food (if you know me, you know what I mean). I put money aside for my necessities which mainly are my family and home. I try to save for my future but it is too uncertain to count on. If I ever have kids then I definitely will. I don't even know when the end of the world is. I feel that nothing lasts forever and you, or rather I (in case God's reading this, hi God!), cannot control anything in life or the world except for two things. How I feel and how I behave.

I don't need a lot to be happy. Just a sense of peace and kindness from within and around me. But around me is a big space. I feel sad for strangers if I see something unpleasant happening to them. I want to do something to help, sometimes I try, sometimes I wish. And I feel unhappy about injustices around the world, like Aung San Suu Kyi's plight (she DIDN'T breach her house arrest, she didn't swim away from her house!!), honour killings, war, tobacco companies, pharmaceuticals whose main aim is making money; and that's not all. Yes I cannot control any of that but I hope to be able to contribute towards a better, more just future. Somehow. *scratches head*

So yes, I just would love peace and kindness in the whole world. Since I live in this world, how can I ignore it? For now, at least I can achieve something within myself. But it's an interesting relationship too. There's somehow always enough peace within me even if I feel unsettled. There is never enough kindness within no matter how much I feel I've given or done (someone said it's Catholic guilt, haha. God, are you still reading?). I don't calculate so I go by a feeling. I'm too lazy to calculate and I feel calculating won't be sincere anyway. Ok fine. I'm lazy!

But what I love about these two is simply that each radiates and builds upon itself. It's just the intensity and direction that are different each time. A gecko feeling peace reminds me of my own intrinsic peace within. A kind person I meet reminds me of the intrinsic kindness I am capable of, whether or not I am kind. I think everyone is kind but sometimes other qualities, conditions and desires muffle their kindness, but it's still there. They just have to listen to it. And they can choose how they feel and behave.

And I like to think these two contribute greatly to love. Perhaps these two are results of love as well. Or they are love by other names. What do you think? I feel that people don't last forever, as food and work don't, but kindness, peace and love will last beyond their human presence and physical existence.

I guess I was thinking of body (food, work, survival), mind (feel, behave, choose) and soul (peace, kindness, love). Now my tummy growls... I'm hungry again. I have to find lunch.

Keyboard Francais

I never did continue that did I? The last blog entry I started. It was a wakeup call to be careful, to take my health a little more seriously. And it also reminded me that my mom loves me.

Today I am typing on an inherited computer. Very grateful for it... It has a French keyboard and as an untrained, unruly, unrefined typist, I would always look at the keyboard and refer to every key's name. Boy that is very troublesome and more so when I somehow do recall what the standard English keyboard is like.

So I put a challenge out to myself. A safe simple one. I chose to change the keyboard input to English. So now on a French keyboard I am forbidding myself to look at the keyboard as I type. Or else I would get completely lost and not know where "a" is. I must say I am surprising myself. Quite proud of myself.

Now I know I have a piece of gourmet chocolate somewhere in my bag. I think I shall start a search for it which I hope will end in the lovely devouring of it in my greedy mouth. Muahahahaha...

My Chinese New Year

There is nothing sweeter, and funnier, than receiving a personalised gift with your name spelt wrong. I got a calendar in the mail from the guys I sing at weddings for. It arrived in time for Chinese New Year. Every month featured an inspiring quote (probably; I haven't read each one) and a fancy picture with my supposed name. That's on every page. It's all still very sweet and appreciated. But funny. :-)

I just had an interesting experience. I had a little blood on Friday (now it could've been Thursday), and then an ache on Saturday night (I remember it was after filming that scene I was so stressed out about) and then I felt a little feverish and weak on Sunday (I was at the barbeque, after the reunion dinner). Then finally on Monday, I awoke to a high fever and I would shiver, my teeth would chatter and cold air or water would sting my skin. More like pelt it. Or even prick it, like a thousand needles boring their way in, moving up and down at different paces and frequencies.

Naturally, being the passive optimistic I am, I decided to just bear with it as long as I could until I had to go out for visiting, which was when I took a painkiller to alleviate the fever and the ache in my left. I had no appetite but shoved a few pear slices down my unwelcoming throat. My stomach was friendlier to them though I couldn't really see that far down. While watching Catch Me If You Can on TV, I started to break out into uncontrollable perspiration. Damn it. Yuck. Eeeyew. What's wrong with me?

I walked out in the sun and felt fine and the train was cool. When I arrived at my host's beautiful newly renovated home, I was nicely balanced and not feeling ill at all. That night when I was home, my fever began again and I started to shiver. Wrapped up in my newest prettiest top that showed off my shoulders, and a full khaki jacket, I descended to ask for paracetamol through chattering teeth. I drank so much that night. I estimated it to be more than my entire life (which isn't much if you know me at all). I kept waking to unload and refilled each time. I was constantly thirsty and my mouth was perpetually dry and pasty.

I cannot remember a thing about Tuesday. Except that I had the same shivers.

Wednesday saw me calling my mom and asking her about doctors my dad knew. I didn't trust any other doctors after having seen a random one for a bad knee. I had meds at home and simply asked for a letter so I can get my own X-ray. He promptly instructed me to take a bunch of pills, saying an X-ray was unnecessary, and to come back if my knee gave way. How? Hop?

She rang me back soon after with panic in her voice, "A model died recently from a urine infection that went into her bloodstream and killed her."

"Oh dear. Is it that serious?"

"Yes, they cut off her hands and legs and she still died. Cannot play. Cannot wait. Since Friday already. That's too long. You could die!"

So I started to worry and jumped into a cab. Racing home, I didn't speak to the taxi driver, which is unusual for me. Instead I felt like I saw the sunlight for the first time. The trees never looked more light, breezy, friendly, beautiful. We passed a church. I felt a tear. I didn't know why exactly. But I guess I was not ready to die. I was never afraid to die. But it was a little too sudden and I was, am, not prepared. Which is now funny, and extremely unfair, to think. Whoever would be?

I'll continue this another day.

12 days, 12 months.

Someone told me about a old tradition which suggests that for 12 days after christmas you will get ideas and inspirations that relate to the next 12 months. So one day for January, and the next for Feb and so on. But I don't know if it begins on 25th or 26th. I do believe I heard her saying it starts the day after Christmas but I cannot confirm this through any research of my own.

Then I was thinking, maybe it has to do with Christmastide, the Epiphany. Or also known as the 12 days of Christmas. And further research revealed this: http://www.tldm.org/Christmas/12days.htm

But who knows what it really means? Let's just wait and see. :-)

Dream A Little Dream Of Me

I had the strangest dreams again.

The night before I dreamt I was hired to emcee at a party for kids. But as the night went on, the scene turned into a school classroom and I was almost just a drama teacher. There was a teacher who walked in to discipline a student. Hmm, not a party anymore, is it? Perhaps it was a reminder of my upcoming classes. Or maybe it was there to help me realise how similar teaching a drama class and conducting games as an emcee at a children's party can be. Or, how different they really are.

Then last night, I dreamt I was a guy who needed the loo... Why do I always, ok... frequently, have loo dreams?

What's Happening Tomorrow?

So I spent a considerable amount of time trying to find out what Nostradamus said about our current world. A little crazy perhaps and so many people can say he was possessed by demons or that he was going insane.

But what if he is a kind caring sincere seer who just wants to share his gift with the world? The gift of the future, of warnings. From what I gather (I might very well be wrong), he believes he is able to see only because of what God has allowed him to. So I am sure he wouldn't be seeing the unnecessary events.

Like when the ipod would be invented. Or when the movie Titanic would be released. Not that all those aren't news today, but it really doesn't affect humankind (I'd say). Or does it?

Could this be the slowest computer experience?

When I click on a tab, a window, whatever it may be, it doesn't appear until I type all this from the start of this post to.... right here. That's why I am even writing this. Haha. I don't like to use the Lord's name in vain but boy, does this make me want to...

And it's just so painful and frustrating to try and do anything. I can get off the chair and turn on the tap for a glass of water, and maybe even turn the stove on, or even write this blog post. I wouldn't want to type an email online cos that would mean me writing blindly and the words appear only 2 minutes later.

Now: Just tried to change my tab (I only have 3 open in firefox) so am typing. Clicking on anything, even turning the computer on, is simply asking for trouble with a slow CPU. Ok looks like it's up. No it's not registering although the page is visually present. Like how I am when I'm very very very (yes three very's or I'll still be jumping about) sleepy and drunk. Let me try again... Ok.

Ergh. Why do I bother I do seriously wonder. Someday I will get a new computer. Or a laptop. Or something like it. But I don't like my life to be run by, or stored in, a cold skeletal case of a machine.

Happy new year!

I overate tonight. Eck, feeling too full. But it's good to get my appetite back.

So it's already 2009. I have a lot to look forward to and yet not much at the same time. A lot of teaching and a bit of hosting. Every Monday, Tuesday, Thursdays and a few weekends. I also want to go to my archery classes on Sundays. These are sort of set in stone so that takes away any room for change or excitement. But it also gives me a clear idea what free days I have, as wella s some financial security (even if it's only a tiny bit). I'm not complaining or revelling. I just see the good on both sides.

I ended 2008 with a nice countdown party at the British Club, which I almost didn't experience.
- Almost two months ago, I was booked to host (or emcee at) their Verandah's Hats and Caps New Year's Eve Party.
- Then on December 29th, which is 2 days before the party, they cancelled saying they only sold 17 tickets so it didn't warrant a big party as they had planned. They were very kind to offer a 50% cancellation fee.
- Then on Wednesday, December 31st, 2 hours before the party was to begin, they called saying they had now sold 70 tickets and want me back.

Like so many of my jazz performances, I improvised and got my butt out there in 2 hours, ready with 40 games I can play. I had lots of sincere fun and I trust that the kids did too. I do like working with children, and I think it might even be my forte. For now. Who knows what tomorrow brings...

Simplify

Life isn't meant to be so complicated.

Ask a few questions. Get a few answers. Express a little interest. And then... you're misread or obligated in some way.

Why is that so? What happened to understanding and the freedom to be oneself?

Not the same

Here's what I think:

God and religion are two different things.

Just as living and existing are not the same.

And talking to someone and chatting with them online are two different things again.

And working job after job is not a career.

Defending should not be confused with attacking.

Being defensive and protective are separate.

How often have man wanted to conquer the world and smite planet Earth?

Dream: Stage, Loo, huh?

I dreamt I was in another staging of "Ex-ceptance" and we are all performing in a place where there was no loo. That was quite a problem because one would have to run out through the back gate of the theatre compound and get on the main street and run though town to get to a loo in the mall. That would take about 5 minutes in my estimated dream time.

And the worst part was after having gone to the loo and returned to the theatre, I needed to go again! I guess I really had to in real life. I also dreamt that one of my plays became a monologue and I had to alter the scene on my own which wasn't so hard, but sure was a sudden unexpected change. Somehow I wasn't all that surprised. Was I already half expecting it? Or was I just ready for any kinda change at all? Hmm. Or perhaps it's just that I can adapt or improvise. After all, I sing jazz and love improv theatre. Oh well, how interesting. Or I might just be reading too much into my dreams.

My internet is bad again. And I know why. The USB ports are so old they don't recognise what they have to do anymore. Be back soon.

I'm Not A Blogger

Hahaha, my first entry. And I have... nothing to say.

Just that I'm tired. I am not a blogger. Really.

So I doubt I can keep this alive. But I've decided I will try. Maybe I should try and make an entry every week? Or should I not bother with such rules. Or perhaps just write when I feel like it. Then that will turn out like my old blog which basically has nothing regular or even sensible. One post is as different from the next as squirrels are from fried tofu.

Later.