Winds of change

I really need to change. Went through the whole nine yards of compiling a list of new year resolutions in December 2003. Most glaring being "I must change for the better in God's eyes, family and friends' eyes and all other living things with eyes' eyes". I must admit though, I was cutting myself some slack back there coming up with the resolution. Already mentally preparing myself an escape route in case something goes wrong. Why? It's too darn general! So, it's almost 9 months into the new year (heck, I could've been a mom by now) and I'm still hopelessly at Square One. Still aimless. Still fat. Still screwing up relationships (romantic and non). What does being better mean? How do I know if I've passed the test? Quantitative or qualitative? How do I please everyone? And if I simply can't, how do I piss off the least amount of people and still be myself? Is being myself better? Or succumbing to the social norm of goodness and feel suffocated and stereotyped? Whoa. Stuck in the bath tub whirlpool thingy again. And this time I can't see Lucky Ducky whirling with me.

Anyway, for starters (oh the irony), I must change two easily-identified and measured habits for the betterment of me:

(1) I shall refrain from transforming all my belongings into shades of blue, however fiercely I love the colour. My clothes are mostly blue. So is my future car and house. I'm going to dye my hair blue (if my boss doesn't froth at the mouth). Today Elliot said that I didn't change my sweaty shirt from my morning jog at Titiwangsa. I did too. But both were blue. 'Twas mucho embarassing, but it's still okay because he's 12. If I project this image to the older, more significant general public then it's bad. Harga saham plummeting even lower in an already bad state of bear market. And my gramma is worrying aloud that I'm gonna be the last granddaughter in the family to be married. Grrrr... Pressure, pressure.

(2) I shall try harder not to be late. Okay, it's too ambitious a statement. I shall try not to be late more than 5 minutes. I am late ALL the time and I simply cannot understand how I maintain that startling record. Whenever someone mentions "everybody try not to be late" all eyes would be on me. I cower. I wince. But it's true. I deserve every glare, every snicker, every nudge. Gaah. All my watches are tuned 10 minutes ahead and my alarm clock 30 minutes ahead (I used to have it 45 minutes ahead but it freaks the living daylights out of my guests who stay over - time virtually flies in Jessey's room, haha). I even tried turning the knob ahead randomly not knowing what the actual time is, so I won't mentally deduct the minutes off and still be late, but lo and behold, I am still glamorously late all the time! Is it a disease? Is it a warped sense of patriotism (living up to the Malaysian time standards) of some sort?

post script: Sarah asked us not to be late tomorrow without establishing eye-contact but I could feel her specifically addressing me. Daniel glared and snickered. It could well be my guilty imagination (not Daniel's glare though) but still... I must change. To like some other colours besides blue. To have a more socially accepted time awareness habit. And to find means (other than stuffing my socks into them mouths) to stop anxious gossiping (oh I'm sure they mean well) of them relatives.