digress & obsess [v2]

I suffer from goldfish memory seriously. Now that’s not a good thing when you only do that when you forget to collect your expensive bcbg dress from the dry cleaners (sorry david) or when you leave 200 RM in your jeans pocket numerous times till you don’t have money to buy a pack of cigarettes. Yea.  I just have to be that kind of goldfish.

However I don’t seem to suffer from amnesia when it comes to my past relationships. Its bad enough when you get the audio-visual lowdown on your mom yelling at you across the hallway while ironing your soaking wet 100 RM dollar notes.

But when it comes to the Ex-files ( no pun intended).

Now. That’s bad.

Its new years eve. 

O rly?

Ya rly.

Its an end to a tumultuous stringent string of unhealthy pastimes of sex, sex, sex, and more sex. And men that weren’t even half worth my time.  You know who you are. And the best line I can come up with right now is “fuck you”.

Not.

Literally of course.

Its new years eve!

Yea I know.

And guess wot im doing at this very moment in time. Im down with a bad flu and fever from swimming for 2.5 hours straight in the rain yesterday. And if covering 7 km wasn’t enough to drown my anxiety about my parents rampant disapproval of my friends and my loved bed buddy I don’t know wot else would have.

Well. It wasn’t.

Nor was the alcohol and 2 packs of cigarettes admidst some amp blowing house music I managed to cover in a few hours.

I was one nervous wreck away from turning into a neurotic wreck.

i was fretting about my father meeting them. And I was so adamant on taking my mind off things I ended up fretting about much hated breasts being too big in a tube top.  Oh fuck you. Don’t let me get started on my ass sticking out of my

levis

.

I sat there consuming one fag after another while he sat there watching me intently, holding my hand trying to console me, but not as much as he was trying to keep up at the rate of nicotine I was ingesting.

Well, im actually not too worried about that.

Drinks at la bodega went pretty well. With daddy and sher.  The male specimens sat there ingesting my father go on and on about friendship and how he valued his daughter. I knew exactly wot was on his mind that night.

And basically he was trying to get through to them, past the alcohol that if they were to fuck w me, they were to fuck w him. And well, digging their own graves would be a priviledge.

But lets just say all went well.

And daddy was pretty cool w them boys.

On the way home with a ominous uncle William attending to the wheel he came up with this.

“sam is smart boy.  Hes white but hes smart boy”. Ok fair enough.

“emre, hes cute boy. I like him.  Hes nice guy”

“zain.  That boy looks like me when I was younger, skinny with long hair, when I still smoked a lot of hard grass”.

I had to smoke in the car. Just to calm myself down. Sher had one too. Yea. I wonder wot that meant.

I woke up this morning with this throbbing pain in the back of my throat.

And my head was spinning. 

its still spinning.

Maybe because I had a weird vision just after opening my sore eyes.

And that vision got me scared out of my panties, even though I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

There I was naked lying undersome sheets, that felt and smelled like his room, 403.

I could have sworn them to be red, yea.  The ones with stripes, the red pillows, and his “pupu” cartoon graffiti pillow.

But the moment I sat up I was back in my room in shauns house.  The one i chose for the, heavy wooden bed, Balinese cupboard and dark green synthetic sheets.

I got up in such a mess, pulled my clothes on without even remembering my bra, and drove off w a confused shaun standing in the doorway. 

The only thing I had left to say that day was “ I need cigarettes. Thank you. Bye bye”.

It’s the new year.

And im stuck at home sick and smoking way too much while watching sex and the city reruns and playing “god is a gurl” at the same time.

But that’s not the problem.

My fear is the problem.

If god really was a girl, i wonder if shed give us the upper hand in any relationship we got into?

Would pls sound better?

Pls?

Would she have made us biologically/mentally/emotionally able to withstand the pain and trauma of intimate relations with the opposite sex?

Would she have made it easier for me to walk out on men for once without even feeling a cinch.  And not having been broken up over nothing.  Would she have made me strong enough to walk away from an already dead end relationship that was going to end only because the guy was going to cheat again anyways?

Or at least would she have given me the confidence just enough to execute plan b?

Just to accept myself for who I was, never mind the jugular ass. 

I know for a fact shes not a girl. 

Cos god doesn’t know wot we go through when we learn painfull lesson after lesson as we stive for even more lessons to lessen the pain.  And we jump from confused to confusion.

I know for a fact shes not a girl because shes just not.

And I have gone through enough to prove just that.

Shes just not. God is god. And ive figured while smoking and drinking way too much whisky that god is there as hope.  Hope we use as a rope while climbing out of the many holes we fall into and continue to fall into while refusing to take another route. 

It’s the hope that stays within us as we grow as human beings and we live w a prevailing intuition of an infinite finitude. 

Ok. Its new years eve.

And right now im content to just make love to whisky and DVD reruns of my favourite soap all night long.

Fuck the fire works and fuck the kiss (es) I wanted to give and receive once countdown rolled around the corner.

Cos right now, I need to figure out wot the hell I want for myself in this coming year or so.

Cos ive just promised myself that by next new years, im going to still be happy. Oh fuck that. Delirious, in love, beautiful, and earning a living.

And before I accomplish all that I would have already smoked the shisha at fatoush, in

London

. (as well as the awful shit from

Camden

).  And I would have already made peace with alid as well as screwed him over face to face for being such a bastard, in the middle of china town. Hopefully with james and alan spectating in their pat poh glory. Then id go back to the cozy Italian bar and reclaim my free vodka lime from the cute waiter that promised me it.

I want to go back to hydepark and sit there in the sun, eating that sno-cone on the grass.

I want to go back to the

London

aquarium and say “hello stranger” to the men in white coats that walked by.

I want to finally get on the

London

eye, and play a gung ho tourist scared of heights.

I want to walk by warren street, eating pop tarts to rememeber james flat where I made the biggest mistake of my life. Not james.  But by moving out of his flat that very day and following alid home.

I want to walk to carnaby street and go to Selfridges to pierce my belly again.

Il drop by tishens just to have chicken rice w his family, and ben and jerrys after, while trying the beat his dogs from tearing my skirt to shreds.

I want to walk down the streets of

London

and smell the awful traffic, hear the honking buses and rude white people with their cockney accents.

And not feel lost. And not think about times when I thought I was in love but wasn’t.

I will walk down the streets with this sense of gumption and pride. That I was back here for a reason, no.  not to beg lse to take me in so I can stay and waste more money.

But for a good one. 

And that would be the realization that

London

wasn’t the place for me.  And that

London

was going to be my holiday escape and shopping paradise. And just that. 

So, that is my new years resolution.

To put my past behind me. And look forward to a life of much uncertainty and possibility.

I also want a hot body and long black hair. And a b cup breasts and legs that will make jolie blush.

But not as much as I want to score right with love this time.

I want to score right. And I want this love to work. And I never want him to stop loving me the way he does now.

I just called him to wish him happy new years..  Yea. So wot?  Hes kms away probably not thinking about me. Of maybe he is.  But so wot? Hes not here. 

But I know that il need to work at it. just as much as I need to work out and get those amrs and legs to stand out a mile away without clenching too much. 

Cos I don’t want to get hurt again,  at least not in the near future and having to run back to my shrink and tell her “ lady, give me that fucking prozac before I fuck you over, cos ive just been fucked over. Thank you. Have a nice day. “.

That said I have a huge, busy week next week.

Charity work, work, meeting xin xin and a weed smoking grandma in klang.

I also plan to pillage zouk for a second and hopefully more fun mambo jambo.

I wanna eat the chocolate volcano at tsb.

I wanna go swimming alone and cover 30 km next week.

Yea. And I want to still be in love next week. If not more than I already am.

Happy new years y’all.

May this forthcoming year bring all the joy, love, and accomplishment you hoped for.

Ive been thinking a lot.

And its times like these, I hate. Cos I tend to think myself silly. And then il get heeby jeebies.  And by the time the thinking fest is over, il be both exhausted and depressed.

Its funny how things have turned out and its funny how things are going.

I don’t know who to blame and im way past that anyways.

Who am I kidding?!

Im still feeling the utmost of a smothered feeling in my chest.

My parents seem to have extended their paranoia, and guess wot?! It’s the first time in 3 francing years that ive got a curfew.

It thucks asthhhhh !!!!!

Now I wonder if pen-ing my thoughts online would be of any help, cos ive heard that they actually make u more depressed.

I don’t know anymore.

Wot I do know, is that, although I have more or less come clean w my parents, there still remains this something embedded in my chest. Something im not willing to let go of, and perhaps its causing me more worry and more discontent than I should deserve.  Many a time, I have created lies in myself and more to make that very lie stay alive. Till the point, I don’t know anymore, if the lie even was a lie?! Or not?!  And no one is answerable to that question except me.

Its just that I don’t feel ready to answer that question despite the fact its been bugging me all summer long.

At times I wonder if I really am to lucky for my own good.

Cos I tend to abuse priveledges beyond its well-lived means. And hence I suffer repercussions big time.

Im itchy, im aching, im restless, listless, im flu-ish and fucking confused all in one.

So how now?!  Frankly im confused out of my fucking mind and the last thing I want to do is tell someone and have them come all over me like a therapist. Thank you very much but I already have one. 

If u hadn’t guessed already, im in one of those bitchy moods.

Only because I feel as vulnerable as a thin sheet of paper.

At times like these, and at the risk of sounding akin to your regular damsel in distress I really wonder if my judgements really fail me. And is there anybody in the world I can even begin to trust. How so?  If I don’t even trust myself. 

The feeling im experiencing now is like standing on the edge of a tall building ready to jump, just that there is no safety net to catch me.

So where the hell has the safety net disappeared to, im desperate to have it back there so I can fall and not get hurt.

Summer this year has honestly been a life changing one.

Why do I say so?

Cos I have never ever, ever felt more depressed or lost in my entire fucking life. Never ever in my life, have I comtemplated suicide, sex, drinks, marijuana, cigarettes as strongly as I had this summer. And I have never had my heart broken this badly before. Why I say badly?  Cos its still in the process of healing. Meaning, 5 months and counting.

And I guess this pain has made me scared to the point of never wanting to experience it again.

At times I wonder, would things have been better if I had remained in

London

and not come back?

Maybe so, im not too sure.

This year’s fall has been more of an eye opener and a detox than anything else.

Though right now, im not feeling any fucking effect wotsoever, I know this fall, ive gotten to know myself much more than I ever did, throughout my 18 years of life.

And if summer wasn’t enough, im experiencing a somewot tamed down version of

Pain,

Melancholy,

Distrust,

Anger,

Hatred,

Confusion,

Listless-ness,

Suffocation,

And isolation.

Sunday is never my favourite day and well today just sure as fuck reinforces that.  

Pain? Maybe its cos I have a fucking flu.

But the rest just reinforces the fact I have more work to do than I thought.

And you know wot?

Im not the kind of girl that a regular guy wants to touch w a ten feet pole.

I think you’ve figured out by now.

Someone in his late 20’s has given it a shot. And man he must be havin the time of his life. I think the only thing that keeps us going is the fact that he isn’t regular.

Im already 19 and way behind schedule seeing that it is already nearing the fucking new year. I wonder wot next year will bring? A new pair of shiny, tanned, skinny legs?

And a brain that separates hard fact from emotion. 

But right now im not too keen.

and love isnt on the agenda.  inhibition is.

Im down w an awful flu, from swimming all day in the rain yesterday. 

Shit.  I feel like shit.  I look like shit and still, not willing to let go of the ciggie in my hand.  Never mind im coughing and wheezing like a 90 year old. 

That said.  I feel smothered.  Really.  Fucking smothered. 

My weekend was pretty much a decent one, seeing forth my week was pretty much jam packed. 

That’s prolly why I haven’t had time to bitch online about a certain boy and how he can be such a fucking sap.  Seriously full grown men.  Decent looking acting like 12 year old in 6^th grade.  Not only is it demeaning to the manly claim of “ me is not afraid of anything”, it makes us females look bad to have had any form of affiliations wotsoever  these men.  Ah fuck! Scratch that.  He is a boy.  W no real balls. 

Anyways.

Like I was saying,

Friday night was spent trying to teach a drowning sher to swim in a 5 ft pool.  Then heading off to telawi to join a delectable table of men friends we know as emre sam and zain.  Too bad I looked like a salmon.  I wont go there.

Yea.  But that wasn’t before my father was up our arses about the attire we were swimming in.  yea.  You heard me.  Our attire.  Wotthefuck man?!

Im legal to smoke and drink and he knows I smoke.  Im fucking 19 and ive done more things that would make even him blush.  Mr. oh-dae su. Yes you.

Sher is fucking 28.

But we aren’t ALLOWED TO DON A BIKINI. 

And we women aren’t supposed to be running around in bikinis.  Or as my dad blatantly put it. “two pieces” ai! Shoot me.  Thank god he hasn’t seen my poko pano g string one. 

Why is that?

Many reasons really. 

You see, women these days are increasingly falling prey or even exploiting the supposedly coveted role of the “FCP”.  (female chauvinistic pig if u are wondering).

Yet, it is very different from our resident male (fucking) chauvinistic pig.  In fact, it reinforces the fact that male chauvinists exist.  Ahem.  Daddy?   You there? 

Sad really.

Since about wot? 3 decades ago the liberation of women, has been slammed, and applauded alike.  They have fought for equal rights in the work place, government, family, relationship, etc….  But there is one thing these cynics can agree on, in that women today are more liberal than they were. EVER. 

NOW. Wot do these new hybrid of women do? 

(as with every new relationship their in. when men still are itching to jump their bones, and would give them anything to get those panties off).

Yes warren you guessed it.

They abuse it.

And they do the job so fucking well, they overdo it just as Britney would w make-up. (or anything for that matter).

From fighting for womens rights,

They turn into wot we call the FCP.

Oh sorry.  I forgot to define FCP.

FCP: women that have been to tuned in to their role as a feminist in society that they begin to abuse it. 

Famous ott fcps: 

paris

Hilton, Britney spears, Christina Aguilera, etc…..

Let me expand. 

Wot were we on about.

Women yes?

Er. Not really.

Sex objects is more like it.

You see, women of today have celebrated the liberalistions of their own kind by doing the very thing that would create the hoo-haa, and controversies of todays tabloids. 

Women have always been regarded as the fairer or weaker sex. 

Its not point trying to run away. 

And yes, we have fought back over decades and decades to accrue wot we have now.

Which is……

giving FCP a whole new branding and by allowing men to regard us as sex objects. 

We misinterpret this new liberalization as an opportunity to flash more flesh than we ever did since, cavemen times, (but that doenst count cos they didn’t have clothes at all!)

You get wot it mean.

Look at the amount of women these days strutting their ahem, stuff on the streets, in butt floss for underwear, peeking out through their already borderline, pubic hair revealing hip jeans.  Cleavage is no longer a “hush-hush”, it’s a fucking nescessity.

Look at the queen of attention whoring Jessica simpson in her daisy duke porno alter ego, jiggling her soap suddy breasts as the camera,  and waggling her arse in a bar filled w more men than alcohol. 

And if she isn’t the epitome enough of todays sex object, then I dunno wot else.

Its ok if she wants to whore herself in front of the camera.

It is a different issue altogether if that footage is then sent all over the world to force feed us women into doing the same thing.

And sure enough, we have resident 14 year olds standing by the streets of bangsar w skirts as short as belts, and tops that wouldn’t be worth wearing anyway.  Look at them girls.  and they are only 14.  young, impressionable and w figures able to pull off even a sack. 

We are doing wot we claimed we hated about men the most. 

We are allowing them to get the wrong idea. 

Men, as much as id hate to,

I stand fucking tall in your defence.  Men are audio-VISUAL creatures.  And wot the fuck do you expect a Normal, red blooded, straight man to do if a girl dressed up to make Jordan blush, were to grind up to him and whisper in his year from time to time.

Zero in for the kill right?

You can go on till next x mas about why and how men are such mother franking assholes.

But that wont stop them from being in tune to the very fact that they have brains directly linked to their penises.  And conscience just doenst quite cut it. 

We can however, grab the dignity we have left to admit that we women do in fact like being regarded as just that.  Our intentions were to be just that.  And hence the results show just that. We cannot escape our intentions.

But wot the fuck is wrong w that?  Being revered, admired, loved, and desired by men and women alike is something that every woman has dreamed of.

So since when did being MODEST turn SELF DEMEANING come into play?

Everyone craves acceptance, women are no different.

And if strutting her stuff in a red porno micro mini is wot it takes to get a guy’s attention, heck id do it. 

Yes I have been accused of being sexually explicit beyond my years.

Im only 19.

I have a whole collection of belt like skirts hidden somewhere in my closet for a “rainy” desperation day.

I have make up to give a whole new meaning to OTT.

And tops that, well, have made many a men ogle and many women confronted me suspiciously w the line “ are those real?”.

Yes they are.

you mook ! and in my defence I didn’t say “touch them”.

Back to the bikini issue w dad.

He is a man himself and like all men they know wot they are capable off.

And being the overprotective daddy that he is, he wouldn’t want his little girl showing off her boobs in a string red bikini now would he.

It isn’t his fault (ENTIRELY). For being an anal mook.

And it isn’t us women either for craving attention, love, acceptance from men.

abusing our sexuality, and wanting attention in all the wrong ways is a different issue altogether.

Introspection is a powerful thing. Dui. Even fat joe munching on a burger can tell you that.

Its whether of not you then choose to do something about it is wot creates the results in your life.

And well im one of those people, smarter than some, dumber than many. And ive been giving myself the easy priveledge of subsisting at this mediocre level.

But im not going to any more.

That said, people the net over have been ranting about the sexually explicit content and sardonical humor of my blog.

Hence as a tribute to those people, I shall, in this entry not swear. One single time.  And that my friends is a challenge. 

Ive been having anxiety and panic attacks of the siao ting tong kind. And yea, that means pretty bad alright.  And to keep my marbles from bouncing off the walls I drove straight over to sher’s for Korean din din and one too many shots of traditional wine.  In my defence, it was “tradition”. and that korean dude that offered me it,  looked well hot.  could any girl really decline?

As you all should have known already, ive been having trouble getting over my ex boyfriends. TILL OF LATE.  AND IM SO RELIEVED. (I would have started on a hurling of profanities spree. But I wont.  Not because I want to but, because ive kept my word a select few).

I don’t know anymore. 

All these relationships and their discontents.

For me studying, understanding and coming up w solutions for globalization, disparities in the worlds wealth distribution, and looking at the marshall-lerner curve like some designer dress all comes second nature.

I don’t know anymore.

COS, when it comes to finding and solving glitches in my own relationships w men and my parents alike. Im worst than a dyslexic trying to fit into her 3^rd grade class.

I kid you not. 

Or maybe I really am of that sort. You know, i fall into the "autism" category. 

and by definition, it is a condition where one has qualities so specialized in a certain field. And only that field.  Their brain has an affliction in such a way that enables them to multi-task. Or even differentiate between right and wrong.  Hence nothing else around them matters.  Only that quality. Hence many grow up to be prodigies in math, science, art, academia, some, and so one. Many have memory bank abilities to store and pull out just like that digits, dates, names.

But as w everything in life, gifts come w prices. Whether or not you are prepared to pay. Being autistic is no easy task. For them, their greatest ability also signifies their greatest downfall. To subsist in societies’ page as a normal human being. Social conditioning ever since religions first of coming, has survived the ages w one term in its goodbooks.

“majority”.

I hate that word.

And we all know why.

+ No one was great subsisting in the majority. In fact, the majority should be replaced w the word subsistence.

+ Majority is often abused wrongly and equated to power. Who?  Look at the Nazis. And todays American political controversies.  George bush is on his way down. He is in fact a lucky and wealthy minority, along w his G7 buddies. They sit happy and smile even sweeter for the camera. While the rest of the disenfranchised majority of the world have to combat poverty. Now wot does he do?  He hoards the wealth all to his country and trade partners, and when the IMF/WTO/WB come up w gung ho proposals on trade liberalizations and combating world poverty and Oh yea  Economic development, (but lets not start there, cos I don’t want to bounce off the walls again) they tear down protectionism like some curtain drape on the developing world and yea.  You guess it keep their own.  So, yea. Abuse of power? Minority hoarding the majority of wealth? 

If you cant see it.

You are either stupid.

Retarded, blind or deaf.

Or you watch too much “the simple life”. Im telling you, those girls need grammar lessons let alone style.

+ Ah. Majority.  We are a whole load of sheep here. And I have an experiment to prove that we are in fact dumber than lab rats. But I wont. Yet.

Majority sees thinness as equated to beauty.  Come one people, who hasn’t heard or witnessed that before. U could mention that to a growing foetus in a womans stomach and it’d nod. I myself have fallen prey many times to the media. And yea, you guess it.  im seeing a psychiatrist for that.

Those are a few of the many reasons I hate the word “majority”.

Individualism is wot spurs your purpose. Your identity.  But I wont go on. Cos I wont stop.

Ok.  I digress.

Wot I am trying to say is that an individual. In all senses. 

And when it comes to relationships, I am that very individual who will refuse to go by the books.

And I will break every single rule on “men are from mars, women are from venus”.

I just am that way.

hence i fail and i fail and i havent stopped failing till now. 

why?  only cos im single.

And the fact that I swear more times in a day than m.Jackson has ever had to deny his plastic surgery stints, doesn’t help me one bit.

I hang w guys more than girls.

and my most dreaded trait. Im not thin.  I cant deny it no more. I just AM NOT THIN. I was born w no hourglass waist, chubby cheeks, boobs that don’t allow me to wear a push up bra, and an arse I want to donate to callista flockhart. I hate that.

When im in love (or believe I am) every single rule goes out the window.

I abuse my sexuality.  I exploit my sexuality.  Pre marital sex taboos for me is like a giving me a green light. I rave and rave and put my heart on a silver platter by the first date. And I can only fall deeper and deeper in love. i love and love and love.  (but i get doubly hurt). u get the picture. 

And that is why I scare more men away than I keep.

And maybe I use my brain for all the wrong reasons. Look, I study more than I ever did at

warwick

for a whole year.

And maybe men cant accept the fact i regard my brain and instincts as my most illustrious and liberal asset.

I am in no way immaculate. And I am not trying to wage a one woman war on societies ideal. Or to justify my eccentricities like I do w consumer ir/rationality.

I am merely being aware of who I have grown to be and to eventually accepting myself for that.

But for now, and I say this w as much gumption and fervour as I can muster:

"men are for the sole purpose that is ‘dessert’. never the main course. cos most of the time youl end up serious ‘heartburn’” . burp.

They just are. 

Yes I am a cynic. And maybe its cos im not well. But im pretty convinced at the moment I have yet to meet a guy that can challenge me both intellectually, emotionally and intimately.

+ Because so far, all of them people have been morons. Some cant spell.  Some cant do simple math. Some don’t even know wot a haiku is. They run and hide the moment I say switch on the BBC. And theyd rather watch porn all day than to discuss economics, and current affairs over lunch. Yea, and the moment I even remotely hint to share wot are our career aspirations, principles, or other life goals……….they wont call back. Ever.

+ The boys ive been w. metaphorically, theyre like silent rubber sex dolls. Theyre always good to eat.  But never good to keep. I know one that doenst even know the true meaning of “sensitivity”. 

They are however owners of the world’s PhDs in “emotional infidelity".

+ Intimacy is not wot id like to discuss at 19. some may argue im trying to hard to be carrie bradshaw. Or even sam jones. theyre wot?  way past their 30’s.

Say wot u like. 

Either way, all they’ve wanted to do was jump my bones is the most pornographic way you can imagine.

Intimacy? 

“Wots that hunny? Now put on that nurse outfit w a thong and suspenders and come to bed”.

Yea.  That.

Hence my uncanny ability to equate sex to love.

Love that Ive yearned since my parents divorce.

And you know wot?

my psychiatrist has asked me to remain CELIBATE for 6 months.

6 months you know.  No franking joke.

And she means both men and women.

Aiseh.

I feel like swearing now.