IN NEED OF AN ESCAPADE

So, I missed Laura Fygi yesterday.

And I missed Diana Krall last month.

I must make it a point to learn to cope with solitude so I wouldn’t feel regretful missing out the things I enjoy in life.

Come to think of it, how much stuffs have let pass in the past four years(or perhaps more), simply because there’s a serious lack of activities partners.

After 9 tensed months of single life, the parents finally picked up the traces of my solitary, and learned of my singlehood.

They have noses. I bet they can smell it.

Suggestions of getting a Caucasian boyfriend, talks of me finding someone to settle down, prompts to get me to end my singlehood.. became evident signs that they finally learned of my excruciating break up.

I kinda like it this way. I don’t have to explicitly put it across to them, which would inevitably draw endless interrogations from the old ones.

At least, I have shown them I have come to terms with it, so they could rest their worries, and not get overly panicky.

Days in Johor crawl at such exasperating pace.

I resent it.

Perhaps slowing down my pace allows aplenty room for me to dwell on things I would rather not remember.

Life is such. Sometimes you remember, sometimes you don’t.

A job well done on the denial part, don’t you think?

So yeah, having a mind occupied with nothing but boredom, it’s easy to see things a tad clearer.

I didn’t have the courage to ask about the mother’s condition.

She seems to be doing fine, and my presence triggered her momentum to fuss over me, and leaves lesser room for her paranoia to set in.

With me in her sights, she worries less, and not let her imagination runs wild of things she have no control over.

Of course, the bulk of the pressure is then batoned on to yours truly.

Dad’s condition is alright. At least the chest aches are not coming back.

But his memory is failing fast, and that’s a constant worry too.

My heart flinches whenever he shakes his head, frowns, and as if suffering a big dent to his ego, concedes he is getting old, and feels useless not able to do something properly.

As much as a kooky chatterbox some friends know me as, some closer friends are aware of the extreme I could go to.

‘As much as you claimed to be the noisy and outspoken one, sometimes you are so quiet that you scare me.’

I wonder if this is how Asian families work, everyone is reserved when it comes to their love for family members, and finds it painfully hard to express it out explicitly.

I remember the time I hugged the parents on my birthday this year. It was one and only time since my puberty years for the dad, and perhaps, one of the first times ever in my life, for the mother.

I don’t remember spitting more than 10 words for the entire day.

I do appreciate, thanks.

How are you? Is your condition getting better? What did the doctor say? What did he suggest?

Questions I knitted. I chose to bury them instead.

Why is it that I always have a more mellowed and greyish post after an eventful, flamboyant one?

Must be the news.

There’s nothing much for me to do in here, except making commitments to the dummy box.

News, dramas, CSI, variety programs, and the old, trusty radio.

I feel kinda nostalgic.

When was the last time I listened to the chinese stations?

The sugary, squeaky bubblegum pop irritates the ears.

The new songs by the local songs-stealing Jay Chou wannabe make one wonders where is justice.

Yet, it’s always a practice that I would favour the familiar mother tongue over my usual old-hits station when I am back in Malaysia.

The trusty, 8 and half years-old Acer lappy which so much reminded me of the London years, and the pals I had back then.

Life was so much more innocent, less complicated(though already pretty so), and when people were less sinister.

I realised it has been a long while since I sat myself through a full 30-minute news broadcast.

News still depress me.

There’s always so much tears welling up and I just have to concede that I am still that wishy washy marshmellow, which I so much want to deny myself to be.

How many things do you see on the news that will depress, anger, or stir you in whatsoever way?

I feel so much anguish watching news at times. There’s so much helplessness, so limited things you could do to make a difference.

I find myself asking God why.

Don’t you guys suggest to me why. You are not God, I don’t need your perspective of things.

Not at this moment, anyway.

Though you may mean well.

Okay, have to make it clear that I am not feeling depressed. Really am not.

Just in one of those moods that I will sink into the whirlpool of emotions and started questioning lotsa things, and feeling dissatisfied with whatever that’s happening around me.

Well. I feel caged. And that’s not how you should feel when you are at a place that’s supposedly to be your home.

I need to get away.

To break free.

Yah, that’s so typical of me.

Just stubbornly, irresponsibly decide to hide away, run away, to somewhere I could just avoid all these things for a moment before I am prepared to confront them face to face.

Uffa! –> Woo, using what I had just learnt!

I bet the horrid dream that bugged me last night is the cause of such bland post.

It wasn’t scary. But it set off my erratic pulse.

I dreamt someone was trying all means to assasinate me and I was trying to dodge, hide, run, escape, and I could vividly feel the fear and fluster when I woke up from the dream.

Funny how I didn’t jolt awake from it with all the bizarre happenings, and let the fear lingered and dragged until I woke up naturally.

Quaint. Can’t really express what I really feel about the whole saga.

I guess I miss my bed, that’s all.

I am counting my blessings that I have my *tiny voice* 24 year-old baby pillow with me.. *beams with pride*

Well, it’s not exactly a bad thing to be back here.

I have plenty of quiet time to myself, and to mend the relationship between me and my parents, as well as my spiritual Dad, the Almighty One above.

And muahahahahaha, I skip 200 times a day, or more, when I feel like it.

Tsk tsk, see who still dare to say I am unfit! Hmphf.

I used to be a Physical Education teacher, okay!

Oops, basking in past glory again. No good.

Home-cooked food also mean I have a more healthy diet to curb my binging.

I put on my retainers and brush my teeth early so I wouldn’t be tempted by the snacks lying around the house.

And, well, I learnt what is zero, uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque, sei, sette, otto, nove, dieci…. and some other basic phrases.

I have more time to do some reading – Jeffery Deaver’s The devil’s teardrop.

Which I had put off for the longest time.

And ironically, the intensive Italiano/Inglese reads actually prompted me to have more inspiration for some Chinese compositions.

Weird. Especially when I have lost touch with Chinese for the longest time.

I definitely am facing extreme blogging withdrawal symptoms cos I am not able to log on as often as I would like to.

Blogging is pretty tough since my lappy is really cranky, and I have to sit on the bed to type, which is giving my back some aches and stings.

Not to mention the snail-like dialup connection is making me bald from all the hair-tearing anguish.

And.. I find it hard to really to express myself well these days, and I might have an anonymous blog or a private area to throw more intimate thoughts in soon.

Now it’s a pretty good time for me to use the spare time in hand to really start the intensive recording of events.

Well, at least I am looking forward to tomorrow.

I would finally leave the house for some shopping at City Square or something.

For now, I am going to indulge in a giant bowl of bird’s nest.

Brushing teeth early doesn’t help much, does it?

But, it’s bird’s nest, ya know? *sheepish smile*