
What an Easter weekend. I have no idea when did it all begin that I fear for the holidays, especially one that would put the prompt replies from my suppliers at jeopardy, and I actually look forward to weekdays when I can get things going again.
But that’s fast becoming unhealthy.
Nonetheless, a weekend which saw me working all those muscles at pole again, which caused an severe pull to the back, and even my fingers are getting stiff from the aches, is one good one.
A trip to IKEA.
Serious case of food binging. Hormones alert…..
3 laundry cycles.
House chores.
A mahjong session.
Live band session.
Repaying the sleep debt that has birthed a stubborn zit.
And holding on to what I believed in.
Hell yeah bitches, all thanks to the brilliant Arsenal who showed plenty of fight, Manchester City is now trailing behind the title race.
My sweaty armpit told a very vivid story as I held myself together till the final whistle was blown.
We are getting there.
Which reminded me of a conversation I had with a Spurs fan when I was in London. He asked if I still believe that Manchester United was still going to clinch the title after falling behind with plenty of catch up to do.
I said affirmatively, and faithfully (throw in obscene amount of conviction too, please), that I have no doubt that is going to happen.
I believe his reply was one of an unbelievable scoff, “Really?”
Yes, faith, I replied with a wry smile.
Oh gosh, the amount of stress I going to put my poor heart and soul through till May…
***
I survived the first week to my challenge.
With 2 torn pencil skirts. 50% record.
And I guess why everyone thought I couldn’t hold out for a month. Cos seriously, by then I might tear every, single piece of skirt I own (many of which hands-me-down, no less).
***
It is no secret how I tirelessly seek truths, and have this unrealistic, insatiable curiosity that annoys the living daylight out of people around me, particularly those who are closest to me.
In my irrational quest to make sense of life, oh yes, especially the pretty redundant 31-years worth of mine, I try to make sense of what the “norm” is, and perhaps could find a mold or something I could conform myself to.
Or maybe, people around me puzzle me too much. Maybe they do things that offer no logic. Okay, maybe I do draw friends who are often, a little out of the ordinary, which makes them THAT special hurhur.
Recently I have been rather reflective (read: mindfucking myself no end), which says a lot cos I am usually one who thinks too much, so when I think more… hurhur, it’s pretty much subjecting myself to the sheer torture of chasing after my own tail.
I was told I quantify too much. I was told I have a word for everything. I was told I try to carve a definition to everything to find meaning to things I can’t comprehend. I was told I am too harsh a critic towards myself that what anyone else says is deemed inconsequential, cos I can’t believe anyone anyway.
And, not everyone is like me to realise that what is important to me, cos they might not even know of its existence in the first place.
In times like this, aren’t you glad you have friends who will dish out cold, hard truths that you would rather hear?
When I cannot figure things out, my instinct tells me to.. well… sprint the hell outta here. Yes, the coward in me either slips into avoidance, or just plays the cold, hard bitch with the impenetrable fortress of frost.
To the point that when the real me slips out, it scares the shit out of the people around me, cos they wonder where did that part of me go, and it takes time for them to get used to it again.
I questioned myself if I am too ambition-less, lacking too much of a drive, or to put it bluntly the way only my mum could put it best, I’m quite utterly a good-for-nothing.
The answer I received was one that was a double-edged sword. There’s a difference between that and being contended. Contended? Ha. Really?
Materially-wise that is.
I can do without my skincare if not I was sponsored/gifted/succumbed to sheer laziness.
My compact camera has died on me for a while and I feel no real need to do anything about it.
I am curbing any shopping urges these days.
I feel that what Minibean has is much more than a lot of other kids could be blessed with, and I am thankful that she is so spoilt (sometimes, I feel it is a tad too much, and worry that she might get too comfortable!) and has so much favours and blessings in her life.
Maybe this has condemned me to a comfort zone of not wanting to venture anything further, or maybe I am just morbidly afraid to have any kind of responsibility that I will potentially screw up.
I have a destructive streak in me, if you haven’t already noticed. Paint it black. In desperate need to reach for that black crayon of mine.
Better for me to ruin it intentionally, before realising it is ruined because of me.
Alas, yet, I am not that easily contended, emotionally-wise speaking, and it posed the question of how it is something only I myself can work out, because not everyone can have that kind of emotional capacity like I do.
Maybe all these hormones in me is putting me in a position of great dissatisfaction, knowing that I could possibly never quite find what I am searching for.
***
I remember reading One Day when I was in Prague. I remember coming back and felt a great sense of loss when I got to the end of the book.
I think I even said how much I disliked it on this space.
I watched the movie and reminded myself of how much I disliked stories like these.
But I realise maybe life isn’t about fairytales and there is no happily-ever-afters, which my life reflects awesomely well.
Yet, I am still in denial. That they do exist, just not for me, cos maybe no one really thinks I deserve it.
***
***
I remember a talk with someone recently in the wake of recent events, and I was told that he once had a conversation a year ago, about what you never have, you never lose.
What if something you have, right now, is so minute that you are afraid that it would one day snowball to a greater scale that you can’t bear, nor have the freedom to let go?
That was what was on my mind when I took the plunge almost 7 years ago, and it holds true today, which probably is more apt for the latter scenario, than the former.
It sets me thinking.
The story that was shared went on to how the guy could never be there for the other party, he said. She chose to walk. She knew how during the moments of need, he wouldn’t be the one there for her.
And then I thought to myself how uncanny this was to the waiting game I used to put myself through some… so many years ago. I laughed.
But then it also made me think how sometimes it needn’t be a person you need to be by your side.
What if. Just what if. The person could never be there when you need him/her the most, even if he/she could be physically right by your side, if he/she doesn’t have that emotional capacity, how could he/she ever be there for you emotionally?
What if the em0tional connection has fizzled out? What if what I can give is no longer what I used to give. What if what I have is no longer what I want? What if I am given is not what I need. What if what I want is never there?
It is almost like, I am never here, either. Cos I can’t be here.
Because all I want, is a strong fortress, all walled up, with only I, myself residing in it.
And the only one who holds the key, is Minibean.
Cos seriously, the emo-monster in me, is better left hungry.
When the emotional gratification is lost in translation, you don’t know what will bring it back.