face off

This will be the day when it all comes apart
In another room, an important meeting is taking place
It will produce one's future and another's heart
It's a war between values, obligation and face
Priceless should be this brainchild both built
In fairness and respect should both take their fill
Why does he cheat and bully without guilt
The brainchild is going down the drain, yes it will

I hope the underdog can win
Like a feel-good movie's closing scene

aquaria klcc

Aquaria KLCC is a total rip off. My expectations were high, yes, but so was the ticket price! What's with all the empty "men at work" tanks? Sharks ate the men at work? I was also pissed because none of the fish were willing to be photographed. I smiled my sweetest superwatt-charged smile, I cooed and clucked, I waved... but them damn fishes just swam about nonchalantly and I didn't know how to set my camera and all I got from my shots were blurs of motion or hideous distorted deep sea monsters-lookalike.

This is probably the highlight of the entire two-floor Aquaria. The shark-feeding (3 times a week!) is supposed to be THE highlight, but with the measly crammed area in front of the shark tank, I gave up darting my head in between the shoulder space of people in front of me (why can't they have steps to sit on or something!) and catching whiffs of damp sweat smell and BO. *hack*

alexis

It was my first time in Alexis. I could get used to the soft jazzy music, minimalistic decor and general mood of laziness enveloping me after staring at passing traffic for 10 minutes. If the food isn't so exorbitant. But it was the first time I had jasmine tea with real honey, so... can't say it's not a good experience.

From the corner of my eye I watched a table of Mat Sallehs chatting amiably on the patio with a glass of wine each. Then their food came. The woman attempted feebly to pick up her tempura with chopsticks. She caught me looking and I smiled encouragingly before diverting my eyes (it's only polite). When I dared myself to look again, she was using her fingers. And she was staring at me.

Realisation dawned. Turnabout is fair play. I can never roll spaghetti into delicate, edible balls properly with my fork. They squirm onto the table and my clothes, they unfurl and slap me on my face, they spit on my glasses... I cannot control my Italian noodles. And I must have looked a picture of anything but elegance and poise forcing my mouth as close to the plate as possible and raking the noodles in.

Reminder to self:
No looking down at anyone's chopsticks-wielding handicap.
Fix own bumbling forking skills.

Who wants to cook spaghetti and let me practise?

band aid

I think the band's performance was accepted well on Saturday, despite very apparent instrumental fumbles and shaky vocals. Youth Believe seriously has a more supportive audience than ours. Even the 60-year-old granny came over to shake my hand and persuaded me sincerely to come back for another gig. But that's not the most bizarre event of the night. Their pastor happened to be intimately familiar with my hometown's geography. Nevermind. Then when I told him which church I attended, he recited several elders' names and talked about them like old chums. I was still struggling to accept the fact how small the world can be when he asked if I knew his good friend, a naval officer with two kids who'd migrated to Italy.

The naval officer was my next door neighbour for 10 years.

This is too freaky to be a coincident. Lately, all the events that happened to me were all too freaky to be coincidences. Gaaar, what's going on?! *yank hair*

To my own church folks and band boys, I apologise for not being there on Sunday. During my break up, certain hypocritical comments from seemingly genial church folks were brought to my attention. I think I was never supposed to know about the comments. But I do now. And I am disappointed at how things were handled. I know I am a disappointment too sometimes, and we as fallen beings are all imperfect... but I cannot help feeling angry at how the church preaches love and acceptance loudly but seldom take the effort to follow up with action.

I admit, I wasn't feeling so ill that I couldn't attend Resurrection Day service. I didn't want to be exposed to the unhealthy opportunity of being two seconds away from doing some serious atom smashing with the particles in my foot getting dangerously close to colliding with those in certain people's asses/smiling faces. My apologies to those who genuinely care. Sorry if you guys got worried. I'm fine. Really.

My mind is a mess. My life is a mess.
I'm still doing up a to-do list to fix myself.

done

It's done.
Right now I'm void of any feelings.
They'll come later.
Oh how they'll come.
I'm scared.

v for vendetta

Last night has got to be the coldest and longest night ever. Also the most effed-up since... Hmm. It's unprecedentedly effed-up. There was a lot of crying, wall-punching, stuff-packing... but we decided to give it another go. Still a lot of things I have to make up to her.

Finally! I booked my virgin online GSC tickets! Gonna catch V For Vendetta tomorrow night. I'm probably one of the last few jungle people who hasn't watched this one. *shy* There's a lot of differing comments about the show though, so vague or vogue, I shall decide. I've just realised I need to collect the tickets 45 minutes before the show. Dang. I'd have to escape from Big Boss's baleful laser-beam stare and sinister claw. Make way when you see Lisa and I doing 120 on the road!

And I cut my hair yesterday. Love it. Think I look bimboistically hunky-dory. For over 200 bucks, it'd better be. My wallet is still beating its chest and wailing in agony.

nursing home

Aren't balloons the most delightful and affordable impractical indulgence in life?

This post is supposed to be about the nursing home for elderly and disabled folks I volunteered at yesterday. But I can't help putting this nicely-angled picture of happiness as the main event picture. Am I the only one who gets tipsily high-ish around helium balloons without even inhaling the helium?

Anyways, the event was alright, even though it felt like a huge party rather than a heartfelt visit. The group I went with was better-funded than some, and we had thundering sound systems (plus a karaoke set), free t-shirts for painting, free picture frames and instant photos etc. I didn't stay for the afternoon half because I hitched my ride.

My partner Sweet-Azreen and I was focusing on this amicable (and very chatty) granny, Alice. She painted a castle/villa on her t-shirt because she really, really wants her own home rather than staying at the nursing home.

Alice then launched into a story of how she's supposed to be queen but her husband had many more wives whom he forced into prostitution so she fought with him and was sent away to this home 3 months ago. She hated this home because (1) she lost her rightful residence (2) the workers there do hit the inmates (3) some of the inmates were sent there to kill her. I don't know which parts of her story are real. But a worker did try to eavesdrop on what Alica was telling Azreen and I in hushed tones. And it could be my imagination running wild but he didn't dare meet my eyes when I stared at him as Alice pointed him out as the person her husband "sold" her to. What does "sold" mean? Is she just rambling?

What actually happens behind the scene in nursing homes, I wonder. Alice wasn't the only one complaining that the workers hit/pinch/hurt her. Are they old and lonely and tend to create stories just to get out of the nursing home, or things that shouldn't happen really happened?

joke

"I started a joke, which started the whole world crying,
but I didn't see that the joke was on me, oh no.

I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me.

I looked at the skies, running my hands over my eyes,
and I fell out of bed, hurting my head from things that I'd said.

Til I finally died, which started the whole world living,
oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me."

It was the first time I work alongside a lesbian. She was (and still is) a good boss, a great friend and wonderful mentor. As a team, we were (and still are) efficient, aggressive and the clients loved us. I got really interested in her. I sms-ed her. And we fell in love.

I was curious, selfish and irresponsible.

She was honest, trusting and faithful. And still is.

I told her I could eschew my religion, convince my loved ones and be with her for a very long time. We planned a wedding away from disapproving eyes. We named our first son. We made a 45-year plan.

Then the guilt came. And the arguments began.

Eryn said I was just a lonely soul searching for love and companionship, be it from a man or woman. So what's wrong with that? I defiantly answered. Plenty of Christians are hypocrites, unequally yoked and some just act righteous and churchey in public. I am a sinner, yes, but who isn't?

I reasoned. I justified. I tried to be more generous, benevolent and friendly to others.

But I still felt the immense pressure and nagging guilt.

Now, I'm struggling and she's suffering. I started this and I should put an end to this. Everybody knows. But it's not easy. She's done no wrong except for loving me as fiercely and unconditionally as she could. I'm the asshole who promised her the world and all I've delivered is just hurt and lies. She is the best partner for life anyone could ask for, but she has to lose out everytime because she doesn't have a penis? This is not right! This is unfair!

But I really don't know how to make it right.