Musings…

I’m feeling really weird today. So, so, so, so blue I’m almost black. And heck, it’s only Wednesday. I beat myself silly trying to figure out what is wrong with me but I cannot come to any conclusion at all. It’s like some strange premonition – you know the kind whereby you feel that something is going seriously wrong for a person you love or care for somewhere in the world, but you just can’t tell who or why or when? It makes me restless somehow and I sit here, scrolling through the contacts on my phone wondering if the stinking heat got to my head and screwed it up badly.

            Sigh. I’ve just completed a whole three pages of quotation to one of the new clients I have met earlier this week. Half a day of checking price increases and bizarre names like Quercus infectoria, Chelidonium majus, Equisetum arvense, Cinchona succirubra, Malvaceae phhttttthhppptthhhpppppootpootpooot …you just drop dead on the floor hoping that you really are dead and you never wake up to find yourself in the office, saliva dripping from the side of your mouth and lips twitching from over exertion. After a while of trying to pronounce the words for starters, your brains get twisted and you wonder, why can’t all species be equal? And who the heck named these species the way they are named? (Oh, I know who. I hope Linus Pauling doesn’t turn in his grave) Poothooi! At least people won’t hyperventilate trying to say it out loud. I mean, would you like to be named Hamamelis virginiana, for instance?

            “Hamamelis, dinner is ready! Hamamelis, your toes are swollen! Calling for Hamamelis, this is an emergency! Hamamelis’s car is wrecked!…” and etcetera etcetera.

            Hell, just because they are plants that cannot retaliate doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings! Right? Good gripes, I’m really losing a nut in the head. And I have all these numbers running in the space of my mind, like streams and streams of black smoke, smothering, smothering. Pahh! How nice if there’s a nice DELETE button that I can press to erase all these chaos inside.

            So, my dear old friend, Yee Wei, who was so kind as to drop me that nice testimonial supposedly in return of a blog entry especially for her, haw haw haw, I can’t write anything coherent enough to save my life today. Sorry, sista, as soon as I shrug phootphootphoot off my head, I will put it to good use and remember all our crazy schooldays back in

Port

Dickson

High School

, okay? I know somewhere at the back of my mind we did have a blast. (Oh, thank you so much for bringing forth that I ‘spent 30 minutes arguing with teacher to get 1 extra mark’. Blueekkk! By the way, one of our teachers, I think it was our History teacher, gave me nine marks for a question where only six was designated, not once, but a few times, too. So it was a 30-minutes worth spent. But like, SSSSHHHHH!!!, you’re ruining my demure exterior! Dangerous gal this one. Should mark her with a toxic sign muahahahaha.)

            Anyway, before I cause more damage, I better sign off. I hope though that I won’t receive a poison mail from anyone named Hamamelis anytime soon. *Eunice crosses fingers and toes*

Yippety dippety dooooo! I’ve just finished one final report for the month after procrastinating for quite a bit (the report had been due the first week of March). Okay…not procrastinating per se – just smothered beneath the avalanche of workload. It’s been a crazy, crazy month, this March. Running under the rain from buildings to cars and cars to buildings, squinting under the insane glare and heat of the sun, getting chased by rabied dogs and chasing rabied dogs in return with my umbrella flailing, flying, falling, under-sleeping, over-sleeping, under saving, over spending, doing reports, being reported against, etc… sigh…it’s madness for the body, mind and soul, I tell you. And more than a little taxing too. But that’s life, isn’t it? Ahhh, Eunice and her bizarre life. Sigh.

            Still, I’m feeling weirdly jolly today. On a sugar high probably. Courtesy of nice imported chocolates, yum yum. Nothing like candies after a day’s hard work. I’m sitting here in my office, enjoying the ending of a hectic day, and the fact that I’ve accomplished quite a lot today despite it being a Monday (Woohoo! Three cheers to that!). Oh, and I’m listening to that hypnotic song by Nelly and

Paul

Mall

…for the gazillionth time now. I have a super weird tendency of listening a song to the ground…and still never get sick of it. What do I say? I’m a freak of nature haha.

            So today, it’s Grills, Grills, Grills. Oh no, not of the edible kind. This song is hmmhh…kinda spectacular in a sense that it captures one’s attention so well. At least when I first heard it on the radio, it did make me turn up the volume a little and focus. Now, I have the song in my laptop and I’m playing it over and over and over again. Long after I switch off my pc, I’m sure it would be repeating still in my head.

            Which makes it even more appalling when I finally grasped what the whole song is all about (gasp!). I’m overly fascinated by a black man with bejeweled teeth singing about his braces as though they’re the coolest thing on the planet. Like holy shit, weren’t there days when my old pre-pubescent friends would try to speak with their hands over their mouths so that the people they spoke to didn’t have to wear sunglasses? Ching! Ching! To add that I know of a girl who would cover her metal tooth with her lips when she talked. Wewwy, wewwy memowwable, I’d say. Oh, and not to mention how one would be able to tell the entire menu of what Mr Grills had eaten after a meal… ahahahah… okay, I’m being mean. Maybe because of people like me, Nelly has come up with a retaliation of some sort…hence, the super hit.

            Thirty down at the bottom, thirty more at the top, he sings, in addition to robbing the jewelry store to make them grills (USD 60 k in his orifice that would keep a family alive decently for a year). Like…what the…? Interesting stuff. And he’s creating an epidemic by doing that, too. Undoubtedly laughing himself silly to the bank as well.

            Sigh. Isn’t it weird where humans draw their inspiration from sometimes? Damn it, there are people like me who would ponder one whole day, trying to draw out a plot interesting enough to be made into a novel, and there are people like Nelly, who makes millions by ranting about…*drum rolls* … tooth-support!

            Life is so totally unfair! Sniff sniff. Ah, well, maybe I ought to see the brighter side of things and learn from the best. I’m packing up and going home to write a song on my push-up bras.

Every once so often, as we walk along the path of life, we come across momentous occasions that serve as a milestone in our journeys. I have a habit of accentuating moments such as these so that they remain in the gallery of memory somehow, in hope that when we’re old and gray some day, we would be able to look back and remember those milestones exactly the way they happened and how they have shaped our lives to be what they are.

            Today, my dearest best friend and his partners have achieved such a milestone. It is the 19^th of March 2006…a date that would be synonymous to the opening of the Clutch-gamers café (is that what it’s called?), particularly to those who are involved. It is a memorable occasion indeed, one that marked the hours and hours of planning, fine tuning the idea and making it a reality somehow. Not to mention the facing and overcoming of obstacles along the way (I knew there were many), as well as the late nights of setting up the place so that it is ready for business the way one would see it today.

            This cyber cafe is a nice little shop lot with whitewashed walls and cool lights, nestled in the bustling business center of SS2. I myself have chanced to watch its transformation from scratch to the clean elegance that it now portrays. Even though it is not my own, I feel the rush of excitement watching it ‘grow’ somehow, like a baby that is nurtured into something magnificent. Ahh, if I could feel a sense of pride having been involved along the way, what more for the people who were responsible for making it happen in the first place? (Okay, so I was more of an observer most of the time, but I did help carry some of the PCs up one flight of stairs huffing and puffing all the way huhuhu, and I played the role of a stress reliever, making dumb comments during our countless drinking sessions to de-stone our directors haha. Oh, not forgetting, us gals helped label the tiny padlocks with their teeny weenie keys – can you imagine how small the stickers were? Really only a little bigger than someone’s nose shit hahahaha. If the guys were to do it, they would take forever!). Anyway…

            The heartiest congratulations to Ryan, Kevin and Bert for the launch of their very first café. Despite the hair-pulling frustrations, headaches and claims of high fever, you’ve all survived and made it to this point. (Trust me, there was a point of time when there wasn’t a single sentence they uttered that wasn’t peppered with some sort of foul word. That was the extent of their frustration!) Anyway, hope that all the obstacles have enriched your lives in terms of experiences that would be useful in the future. May there be many, many more openings like this along the way. Oh, and remember to spare me a Queen’s seat and mark it with my name. I want my seat to be covered in nice soft fur, not longer than an inch, but not shorter than half an inch. :p

            Having said that, let’s seal it all with a dainty sip of rose champagne, courtesy of yours truly. Three cheers to a successful voyage ahead!

Note: Yes, Master Ryan (you soooooo wish), I’m still looking for the money plant that supposedly would bring you guys hordes of $$$$$$$$!

It’s early on a Friday morning. I’m at the airport, sitting in one of the bustling halls, waiting for my turn to board the flight that would take me to

Singapore

for a business meeting.

            Ahhh…airports hold such a sense of adventure and mystery doesn’t it? Each and every time I find myself in an airport, or on a plane, this rush of excitement surrounds me somehow. I can’t quite explain it. It makes me the child once again, as I look out the window in wonderment and watch as these huge mechanical birds swoop up and down the runway, carrying its passengers to wonderful, wonderful places all over the world.

            In an airport, the world seems smaller all of a sudden. There are throngs of people around me, getting on with their own agendas, some in formal business suits with black leather suitcases, and others in their holiday attires looking all casual and relaxed. I find myself wondering…where are they from? What kind of lives do they live back where they came from? I’m envious somehow at the thought that some of these people were probably from the other side of the world, having their little tropical island vacation away from their frenzied life back home. Oh, if only I’d be allowed to be part of that dream! The idea of visiting different places in the world and experiencing different cultures and people of different races and beliefs thrills me to no end.

            All of a sudden, I remember once again my plans to roam and taste the world that have been abandoned somehow due to my hectic schedule of working and writing and balancing everything that seems to be going on in my life at this moment. I find myself dreaming about walking down the streets of

Paris

with the

Eiffel

Tower

at the background, looking dazzling against the night sky…or marveling at the existence of the Egyptian pyramids with the backdrop of the desert…or sniffing the very air in the

Hanging

Gardens

of

Babylon

. Places that I have read about ever since I was a school girl in pigtails but have never chanced to visit. It is easy when you’re sitting in an airport, and all you have is a vivid imagination that takes you wherever you want to go.

            No wonder people are advised to take a vacation every single time life gets too depressing or overpowering. This feeling of being able to escape the monotony of life and fly off to that distant place in time is indeed potent. It is rejuvenating somehow. It makes you realize the enormity of life beyond your own…the sheer size of everything that is going on from a global perspective. Suddenly, you feel that your own problems are not so big after all. And you ask yourself “Why did I feel as though I was suffocating and drowning all those times before? My problem is just dust compared to the problems in the world as a whole.” All at once, you see things from the bigger picture with crystal clarity and find the strength from within to move forward at full speed.

            Sigh. The wonders of airports and airplanes. See how they get me to forget somehow that my destination is just Kiasu land an hour’s flight away? Damn that distressingly perfect voice of the lady announcing that we are to board the plane to

Singapore

now. The perfect picture of Parisian skies vanished up in a smoke and I heave a sigh, bidding the beautiful reverie adieu till next time.

            I do hope though, that I would never get old or cynical enough to feel the rush of excitement and the vibrancy of life the way I feel it now when I step into an airport in anticipation of the trip I would make. Hopefully, that inner child in me will survive despite the number of times I will find myself waiting in these halls years and years down the road. Sometimes, the simple little joys of imagination and hope are those that make life so much more worth living.

Somber Thursday. It is six in the evening and I’m sitting in my office pondering on the idiosyncrasies in life. I’m wedged in my philosophical world once again, trying to figure out why life turns out the way it does sometimes – like the guessing game it really is. You can only so much as guess what’s going to happen in the future, but at the end of the day, it is Fate that does the talking and calls the shots. Despite doing all that you could do to make life as predictable as possible, at least so that you could prevent disasters from occurring, there’s no way you could ever prepare enough. No way that you could cheat fate somehow and emerge victorious all the time regardless of all the effort that you put in, for it is a multi-faceted world and the human brain could only see things from so few a perspective.

            I wasn’t one who believed in predestination when I was still young enough to be naïve about life. I always thought that as long as you took control of the circumstances in your life, you would reap what you sow. Easy as that. You build a well, you get nice clean water. You plant a garden full of vegetables, and you have food. And so forth. Very cavemen thinking, but you get my drift.

            Then, slowly but surely, the years piled experience on me, some bitter, some sweet, some of which I have seen through the eyes of the people around me. It brought forth certain acquiescence somehow that there are many, many things that are really totally beyond your control. Then, in analogy of my earlier thoughts, building a well to get water or planting a garden full of vegetables to get food cease to be so direct and simple. The equation just gets more and more complicated if you focused long enough on it. Because life simply is complicated.

            Why am I being so philosophical when it is time to go home and shake away the stress of my daily routine and rejuvenate? Sigh. It is indeed a gloomy, gloomy day. There’s this hypnotic patter of rain on the tin roof that adds to the depressing mood. It hasn’t stopped raining since a couple of hours back. On top of that, there’s a thought that has been sitting on my shoulders all day long. It’s becoming quite a burden that follows me around, so I guess as always, my method of lessening the burden would to vent the only way I know how.

            I’ve been put in a very weird position today, to put it simply. Today, I played the role of the bearer of grim news. In my line of work, I guess it’s inevitable at times to handle delicate situations that arise every now and then. This time, it was handing a legal letter to one of the debtors of my company. I was to negotiate and draw up a schedule for him to pay up what he owed us, one that is favorable for both parties of course. And it would have been an easy task but for the circumstances involved.

             The man was old, with not a single strand of white hair left on his head. When I walked in the room, I could feel somehow the obscurity that seemed to hang in the air. Okay, a bit melodramatic maybe, but I had expected the tough, sarcastic man I had always dealt with. However, the sarcasm and bravado was missing this morning. Behind the desk, he sat hunched as he waited for me to enter…a hunch I interpreted as dispiritedness.

            I suppose I came to that conclusion based on what I heard about the man. He had just lost his wife to cancer. After years of battling the disease and spending a hefty amount on her medical bills, she passed away some time around Chinese New Year this year and left him destitute. It was easy to draw conclusion that he had held her close to his heart from the grapevines of our industry, and I was certain that that much was true as I sat there and heard his side of the story. He mentioned her more than a handful of times during our conversation and turned misty each time he did. Such raw emotions in his eyes shook me a little, as well as my resolve to appear professional in every sense. There I had a grown man, probably older than my father, who was laying his heart on the line, and asking me to understand somehow the circumstances that he was in.

            Aside from talking about his deceased wife, he did explain too why his business was suffering. Everything was going wrong simultaneously, he told me. Despite all that he did to prevent his business from going down the drain, despite following every single rule written on the book, shit just…happened. It was fate.

            There. That word that sums it all. It was fate, he said. While things were going wrong at home, fate has chosen to pile on him problems at the work front…mysteriously, too. While the industry had been steadily growing, he had been losing customers who had been loyal to him for the past twenty years. It was as if fate was playing a cruel trick on him that out of all the players in the industry, it had to be his customers that suffered big setbacks at the same time too. It wasn’t what he had hoped for or planned, he stressed. And now that he was in this situation, it wasn’t anymore a question of wanting to pay us. It was a question of whether he could afford to pay us. Already he had sold off his land and in order to save on resources, he had gone back to riding a motorcycle. When his wife passed away, he had lost all hope to move on, he added. But somehow, someway, he saw light again, and managed to gather enough faith to finally move on and revive his business that he had single handedly built through the years. Please understand, please understand, he asked of me. If I had handed him the legal letter and if our company stuck by it, it would be the end of him.

            I understood perfectly well…and some part of me felt very, very sorry for what he had gone through. Still, business is business and money is money. For some time, my sense of conscience struggled with getting the job done. I suppose many would tell me that these were the sob stories that I should prepare myself to hear when collecting a debt. I can’t tell what it was about him that tugged on my heartstrings, though. Was it his devotion to his wife? Was it the way he was seemingly stripped of the arrogance and pride I always saw in him to arrive to this hunched, gray old man sitting behind the desk, looking at me with old, weary eyes? Was it the way he fidgeted on the jade-gold wedding ring he had on his finger as he spoke? Hell, in a very strange way, the ring reminded me of my own father (he wears an almost identical one), and the fact that this old man has come from the same era as Daddy had. Okay, I’m screwing up the connection a little here…but somehow, during that period of time, all I could think of was…it could happen to anyone, my beloved Daddy included.

            Sigh. See why sometimes I think I’m too fainthearted for the job? It’s my melodramatic nature. In the end, I could only wish him well, and reiterate that please forgive me, I’m just doing my job. Hold on to the letter first, I said, and try your best to work things out. On my side, I will try to talk to my directors regarding it and see what we could come out with.

             As I drove back to the office, I could feel this frown that was practically bunching up my forehead. To this moment, I could still feel the weight of his words. And human to human, I sympathize and wish that somehow there was something I could do to make things better. Too much suffering in the world. Too much. Sigh.

            Still, it isn’t all grim. Who was it who liked to highlight that despite all the sham and drudgery in the world it is still a beautiful place? I guess it was me. Maybe if anything, it just proves that the human spirit is indomitable somehow. The man had risen above his grief and failures, with enough hope to help him move on. I suppose that means something.

            Outside the rain had ceased. When I walk out of this place and drive back home, I’m sure I would see the beauty of the raindrops that glimmer on the flowers and leaves in the garden outside my home under the pale moonlight. And the air would be cool and fresh, with a whiff of the rain. Beauty, beauty everywhere, even in darkness, after every storm.

            I only hope that all those grieving hearts out there would hold on to the conviction that despite being tried and tested by fate, life, in all its splendor and eccentricity, inevitably goes on.

            It is still Saturday…I’m getting bored because my only agenda in the morning is to clean up my freakish wardrobe; freakish because every time I take a dive into the pile of clothes that seem to gravitate towards random disarray every few days, I find something that I forgot existed in the first place. My poor wardrobe has taken quite a beating…a few weeks ago, one of the drawers came undone under the stupendous weight of my party clothes. It’s filling to the brim – every single drawer and hanging space no doubt (and that’s not even taking into account those in the laundry room) and I’d probably have to get another chest of drawers to fit in my ever growing collection.

            Oh, which reminds me. I have a psycho problem – now before you jump to the wrong conclusion and send me to Tanjung Rambutan in a straitjacket, I’m no serial murderess or schizo. Every now and then, life’s circumstances get too overbearing and I lose my head so completely that I go on binges, no, not on food, but on material stuff I don’t really need but would die to have. Some call it my retail therapy. The harder I’m hit by my daily frustrations or its buildup through time, the more I burn a hole in the pocket at the end of my shopping sprees. Read: HOPELESS SERIAL SHOPPAHOLIC.             

            These few days, that was exactly what happened. It is a psycho problem now, isn’t it? For how can a sane, down-to-earth person like me lose all rationale and go into the BUY BUY BUY mode without thinking of the consequences until the binging session is over?

            It’s like…

            Eunice: This aquamarine bikini is so absolutely gorgeous. But so is the white floral one. And the blue and lilac one. Hmmmhhh…

            Angelic inner self: Holy cow! Look at the price of each! Which one looks nicer on you? Try it once and try it again till you can make up your mind. Or you’ll be stocking up on cup noodles named Maggie till your next paycheck.

            Devilish inner self: The aquamarine one flatters your body oh-so-much. And it is your favorite color of all time! The white and floral one looks so absolutely cute on you. It brings back a taste of innocence somewhat, apart from being your favorite color of all time as well. The blue and lilac one is just the killer. The ribbon at the front makes it so girlish and sweet. Oh, and it is also your favorite color of all time!

            Angelic inner self: Resist! Resist! Resist!

            Devilish inner self: Indulge! Indulge! Indulge!

            Eunice: Wreangwangwangwangwangwangwangwang…(gibberish and undecided)

            Angelic inner self: Think of Maggie and the amount of mono-sodium glutamate that would go into your system the next few days.

            Devilish inner self: MSG or no MSG, it is only so often that you come across clothing that you love so much. Blink once and they’d be off the shelf. Besides, you have too much hair and MSG would save you iron perm and layering costs.

            Eunice: Shakalakhashakalakha ding ding!

            Then, before you know it: Kaching! Kaching! And cash flows out like river into the sea. All three bikinis are in a fancy paper bag and you’re walking out of the shop wondering what hit you. And the more you hear the Kaching! Kaching! The more you get transfixed somehow. So you jump from one shop to another like a honeybee from one flower to another, forgetting time, forgetting your first name and forgetting the fact that money doesn’t grow on trees. And the scenario above repeats with different sets of work shirts, or micro skirts, or mini dresses or tube tops. Until the credit card goes bust and your purse is void of cash.

            Sigh. And then you come out of your psychotic binge and look at all the wrapped packages all around you and you go: What the toot! What was I thinking? What’s gotten into me? Guilt envelopes you so fully you feel choked somehow and you start sitting behind your desk and taking out your old faithful calculator that never lies. Your eyes bulge a bit at the total and pop out completely once the figure sinks in. As sweat courses down your forehead, you wish somehow that like food binges, you could induce vomit to your shopping indulgence.

            Alas, the damage has been done and all you can do is to call your closest mates and complain to them why they never shot you or karate-chopped you into oblivion when you stated you wanted to go shopping.

            Ahh, well. Guess I’ll go back to salivating over my new bikinis I might not have the chance to wear until I save enough cash for an island retreat haha. Isn’t that just so ironic? Life and its incongruity. Sigh.

It is Saturday…finally! Woohoo! Three cheers for the hot hoochie mama day of the week! I’m lounging here in my sunny living room pondering over The Pink Panther movie that I had chanced to watch last night. It was quivering on a thin line of being a complete farce and a complete success. See what movies tell about the human nature? Humans are perverse in a sense that while they strive their hardest to be far from stupid, stupidity in others amuses them silly so much so that they pay the equivalent of a Chocolate Ice Blend in Starbucks to crowd in a darkened room full of people and laugh their heads off over a Hitler-look alike being unable to pronounce the word ‘hamburger’, not once, but a few gazillion times. Okay, so I was one of those who laughed the loudest…haw haw haw. Who am I kidding? I loved the movie, farce and all. Pink Panther rocks!

            Anyway, since there is nothing else to do but to loiter around and ponder more on the little mockeries in life (and thank god for that), here’s a tribute to the days of days, in Eunice philosophy.

            Black Mondays – the day of the week when your engines just so completely feel like malfunctioning. Ever seen how an old car fails to start after a while of not being driven? That’s Mondays for me. I simply kill myself trying to ignite my sparkplugs on this day. Sometimes, I even need to be jumpstarted. Wreakkkkk.

            Gray Tuesdays – the day of the week when you’re getting somewhere with your work…getting there, getting there, but still, not quite. Thus, you sit in the gray box of being neither here nor there.

            Wednesday blues – the day of the week when you’re stuck between anticipation for the weekend and apprehension for the week that had just begun. At one hand, especially if you’re having a bad week, you know at the back of your head that, my goodness, lord have mercy, you’re just half way through. Gee whiz. On the other hand, you could also choose to tell yourself, you have made it halfway through, so what’s the remainder of the journey? Wednesdays are so blue and lukewarm. Sigh.

            Green Thursdays – you get into the mood for work somehow, someway and after kicking yourself in the arse for wasting half the week in useless contemplation, you pull up your socks and dive headlong into the pile of work and bite each action item by the neck one by one. Arrgghhhhrow..

            Friday…what color is Friday now? Friday is … pink…for almost being there for three quarters of the day, but not quite until the very last minute… On Fridays, you suffer the anticipation in waiting for the weekend to come, itching, itching and counting every milliseconds of work until the hands of the clock read 5.30 and you can rush on home to boogie the night away. Haha. Okay, I’m exaggerating. Told you I am every inch the drama queen.

            Saturdays are definitely red hot. Saturdays are by far the best days in the week, don’t you think? Saturdays…ahhh…bliss. Despite getting insomnia after a late night out, Saturdays are just wonderful, as you bask in the beauty of nothingness and give yourself that much needed break after a week of hard work. It is the only day of the week your brain can malfunction without risking you a heart attack when it comes to damage control. It is also the day when you have absolutely nothing to do and you sit in front of your laptop and come up with hare-brained ideas like this entry.

            Sundays… sigh…on Sundays you just die at the thought of having to drag yourself up the next morning and on to work again. Or if you’re optimistic enough, you clear your page of life and start afresh with a new beginning, revitalized. So Sundays, I suppose would have to be white, in preparation to be colored in the days that would follow.

            I should shoot myself for making me sound like such a stereotypical pessimist. (If my boss doesn’t get there first.) ;p

It is long past the witching hour and the minutes continue to tick on by as I lie here, physically drained, yet mentally, unable to shut off. There had been something swimming in my mind ever since this evening, something that kept coming up to the surface every now and then although I try not to let it bother me. In an attempt to that, I’ve gone shopping after work today and blasted quite a bit of cash too, hoping that by the time I reach home, I’d be so exhausted I would just fall like a pancake on my bed and be dead asleep. Alas, that was not to be.

So as the cold night air creeps up at me from my window, I sit here by my daybed and try my very best to confront my thoughts…sobering nonetheless, and slowly, that dull ache that I’m so familiar with rises from the pit of my stomach into my heart. There’s a name that is sitting there, right at the tip of my tongue, a name that I fear to mention lest it brings back those tragic memories that threaten to uproot me, and I’m quite sure, the people around me who held him close to their hearts.

          Joshua.

Guess my trip back to my gallery of memories earlier brought back the inevitable. Joshua and the great misfortune that had befallen him sometime around September last year. A misfortune he never survived to tell. I feel compelled somewhat to give him that voice though, for with his death, there is a lesson to be passed on. A very, very important lesson that I hope none of us will ever forget, nor take for granted, ever.

Joshua was the victim of an automobile accident caused by a drunk driver. And as fate would have it, it happened in the wee hours of the morning of his birthday. It was a date I would never forget. For his birthday was three days after mine. I never had the chance to wish him a blessed day. All that I could do was to hang on to the phone till my fingers were cold and bloodless as I listen to the cries of my close friends as they wept for the friend they have known so well. I will never for the life of me forget that feeling of utter helplessness, of neither being here nor there, of weightlessness and hoping against all hope that somehow, someway there was a chance for me to vent all that I felt inside. It was a suffering to have it all pent up with no outlet to release the tension. I couldn’t shed a single tear although the heaviness weighed on me like a tonne of bricks.

First of all, the accident had happened in

London

. I was far away enough that the whole incident had seemed surreal somehow. And I knew for a fact that Vince and the rest had filtered out most of the details of the accident to protect my fragile emotions, since I’m famous for being unable to stomach tragedies like this one. I remember shaking my head when I heard the news, unable to put a name to the emotions that I felt churning inside, and all I could think about was that this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t have happened this way, so tragically, and seemingly Hollywood-style. Not Joshua, sweet Joshua, who would never hurt a single soul and would think twice about using a foul word on anyone.

It is my regret to never have gotten to know him better those days so long ago. I knew him well enough, of course. Joshua was part of the group that I hung around with during my university years. Despite going for trips together and spending time with each other during those outings we had way back when, I realized stupidly during the first few hours of receiving the news, that I never knew his favorite color, or his favorite book, or the things that he liked to do in his free time. I knew he played a lot of computer games. And that he loved R&B music, just like me. And I knew that he liked to eat lasagna from countless dinners with him during those days, but that was about it. I never got to know him at a personal level because Joshua was a shy, quiet person – the kind who would not put himself in the limelight, but sit back and watch as the rest go hog wild.

I guess, in a way we weren’t given a chance. Because not long after we met, I was neck deep into my own problems, and some time after that, Joshua went on to

England

to further his studies. We kept in touch despite that. Joshua would write short, short emails to ask how I was faring every now and then. I met him a couple of times in between. There were enough memories and impact to leave a permanent footprint alongside mine in my journey of life, no doubt. But compared to the rest of our close friends who had moved on to

England

with him and lived together with him, we were not exactly close.

That was probably the reason why the pain came in dull thuds for me and unlike the rest, I couldn’t bawl my heart out though I felt I should. I still feel bad for that, I do. Of course, there were these hysterical moments when I had wanted to scream and lash out at someone, something, or cry or do whatever. After all, a life is lost forever, his flame snuffed out before he had a chance to glow. Considering the circumstances, I was furious too. There were moments when I wished the drunk driver would pay double or triple what he had caused. I’ve never met or known him but I hated him nonetheless from the bottom of my heart. I wished that he would burn in hell for being so reckless and disrespectful to another being’s life. And there were moments that I wished I was there with the rest of our close friends. At least then I could break down and alleviate myself of that helpless pain that seemed never ending.

In reality though, I could do none of the above. I never did scream, or lash out or cry. And I couldn’t be there, not to pay my last respects nor to attend his funeral. I just sat there all day in my apartment and stared into nothingness, holding the diamond cross necklace that Vince and Joshua shared as a gift for my birthday some days back. It was his last gift to anyone. And like a drowning person, I hung on to it as though it would save me from losing grip. It did. I’d like to think that it was faith that had pulled me through. Faith that Joshua, wherever he was, would want us to take his death as calmly as we should and not grieve for him or send him off in tears of sadness. That was his trademark character – he was as selfless as a person could possibly be.

Now, as I sit here and recollect the figments of my memory with Joshua, I try to reconcile somewhat with that dismal thing in life called death. Maybe not. It terrifies me if I be painfully honest; it still does, because at this age it seems so obscene. So vulgar, that I want to censor it somehow and go into denial. Yet, I know for certain that death is as real as life. And that everyone will have to leave one day. Joshua’s passing has brought a very grave reminder that we should all appreciate every little thing in life – most of all, appreciate the people closest to us and whom we share our lives.

I do hope that those reading this right now would close their eyes for a moment in silent prayer for this solemn occasion, at least before we resume the effervescence of life, to remember the beautiful person Joshua was during his lifetime.

You’re with God now, Joshua, but the wonderful footprints you have left during your journey on Earth will forever remain fresh in our hearts and the hearts of those whom you have touched during your sojourn here. In loving memory, may you rest in peace. @}————

It’s another wine colored evening here in Puchong. I’m sitting in front of my laptop but seeing nothing at all, staring beyond into space, and trying to maneuver past the most severe case of brain deadness I’ve ever experienced… okay; I get these mental blocks every now and then so… what do I do? Working life is like that, isn’t it? – It’s a dog’s life after all, in a dog-eat-dog world at that. Cannibalism at its worst.

Sigh, I don’t even want to elaborate on that. After listening to customers griping all day one after another, they all melt into one long series of random cartoonized noise…imagine Donald Duck telling you that there are moulds and yeasts growing in his Vitamin K active ingredient…or Pinky and the Brain telling you that the stocks are needed LIKE YESTERDAY in the warehouse, their mouse tails erect with rage. “When is the delivery?! Why isn’t it here yet? We need it NOW! NOW! NOW!” they chant and the more murderous they get, the more adorable they become… sigh. I’m hallucinating to save myself from insanity, poor me. It so seems I’m just a step away from hitting the bottle and hopping into my dancing shoes to ease the bumps on my forehead…yes, there are bumps right now, not just lines.

Oh, this reminds me in a very timely manner, too, that I owe a bunch of darlings a promised shout out. To my dearest friends during the ‘PinkRose’ era (yes, Vince, how could I forget my weird nick when you call me that a few hundred times a day? Where did it originate from again..?), who have pulled me back from the brink of insanity one too many times. Three loud cheers to our wonderful, wonderful friendship! It was coming! It was, I swear, so I hope nobody else turns ‘livid with rage’ and cause my eyes to twitch uncontrollably while I work (that happens when someone speaks about you behind your back, doesn’t it, Jess?). 

The ‘PinkRose’ era, as I would like to term it, is another unforgettable experience by itself…it was the era of boldness, the era of self-discovery, the era of….hmmh…impetuousness… I guess that’s the right word for it. Gosh, we were all so loud and brash and impulsive back then, weren’t we? Just a few moments’ notice, and we could pack ourselves up and end up in some island under the sun, holidaying with our bikinis and sunglasses and drinking ourselves silly. Needless to say, in our drunken state, we’ve done too many crazy things and have been in too many unexpected situations that it is almost impossible to mention them all here (or rather, too zany that we’d all be in danger of being branded as mad-hatters if I publish it here). Goodness, those days of cutting classes and playing hookie (I sure hope my parents are not reading this).

I would never forget the our crazy times at the pool – our underwater dares, with Jess making clownfish faces and trying hard to make me laugh just so that I lose whatever air I have in my lungs and resurface, thus losing the dare. I also remember Vince, Josh and Kev reenacting scenes from The Terminator underwater…as well as our Charade sessions underwater. Holy shit. Just because I was a swimmer they thought they could bully me into admitting my lung capacity is lesser than theirs. Oh, that and salsa-ing in the pool. Haha, that was so, so hilarious. If only we had that on video, we could recapture our moments of madness that characterize our lives back then. And pass it on as a legacy to our descendants in the future…probably not haha.

And I’d never forget our wild pool parties, with nary a dry seat in the house at the end of the day, literally and otherwise. And our other parties…we seem to have so many back then! Sigh. No wonder memories with you guys seem so picture perfect and all, with all the wine, roses, balloons, perfumed hearts and the likes. Those times were one of the happiest in my 26 years of life, even if it was only a brief time before…I was wired into this big mess that I’m still trying my level best to come out of till today.

Alas.

Which brings me to another thing. A reminder that our friendship has survived so many tests and doldrums throughout the years. I’ve since been in and out of problems, some too horrendous to even mention without tearing off some old scab of wound. I’ve never really thanked all of you for standing by me, lending me the shoulder to cry on when it was needed, and whipping me back into shape when I thought that I was ready to give everything up, even life. Thanks for being my guardian angels, my confidante, my allies in crime, my shining hope when everything else seems hopeless, my punching bag when I need to blow off steam, and of course, for making me your punching bag when I’m going way off limits. Thanks also for not giving up on me when I was being such a rat’s ass – your devotion and care really is priceless. Not to mention all those long distance calls across the ocean just to make sure I was doing okay. Boy, I’m getting mistier and mistier. See, that’s how much you guys move me. Sniff, sniff.

Bottom line, I’m blessed to have met and known people like you during my lifetime. I really mean that, from the bottom of my heart. Love you guys so much. Muaccks muacckks muaacckkkss.

Please send my kisses to everybody there in

UK

. If Fate is kind to me, maybe I will chance to visit all of you one day and recreate our daydreams of yore. Lastly, thanks for dragging me out of that brain deadness that seemed to have melted away in mere thoughts of all of you. God bless.

Note:

Actually, since I’m at the highest level of my gratitude towards the people who have made my life so meaningful and sweet, I might as well make another shout out to my current darlings…

–         Puiyee & Pheebs who each make up one third of our Charlie’s Angels trio (these two girls are fantastic, believe me, you).

–         My Party Kakis and Allies in Crime – Emily,

Bryan

, Rodney, Ryan, etc

–         My Old Mates from PD – Meemee, Joanne, Yee Wei & Sean (though I haven’t seen this guy since forever)

–         My best-est friend in the world (who just some time back told me in no uncertain terms that I never did thank him properly for what he did for me throughout our friendship. Here are two words for you: THANK YOU) – need no intro, you know who you are.

Have you ever met with a bunch of people who just blends so well into your life that it almost seems as if they’ve been there all along? Throughout my lifetime, I’ve been blessed to have come across groups of people who have so enriched my journey just by being who they are.

          Last Sunday, I had the privilege to meet up with some of my old college mates once again after a god-knows-how-long hiatus. Boy, reminiscence at its best, I’d say. We all go a longggggg way back. How long has it been since I was in college? Nine years come the end of this year. That was how long we have all known each other. Nine long years, in which we lost touch a couple of times and found each other yet again.

Sunway

College

back in 1998 rocked big time, didn’t it? At least the people whom I have met back then made it that way. College time was just…madness…there aren’t any other words to describe those late nights of loitering around college grounds like the bunch of scoundrels that we were and feeling as though we had the world at our fingertips. The sheer ecstasy of being in a noisy, lively, fear-nothing, try-everything gang is just indescribable. I dare say the experiences that we have gone through during those times made every difference in making each and every one of us who we are today.

          Back then, with all of us being seventeen at least, and nineteen at most, we did seem invincible, the whole lot of us. Talk about gang power! It still puts a smile on my face remembering how we all crammed into one of the guy’s MPV (Damien I hope you’re reading this) and cruised around when there was absolutely nothing to do at night but count mosquitoes. Painted the whole town red we did, bright, glaring RED. Just the other day, we were laughing in amazement at how the lot of us could fit into the MPV (there were at least fifteen of us), and we came to the conclusion that many of us were slimmer and lighter back then. Which holds true, really. I shall bug everyone for a group photo during our next reunion and post it here so you can see for yourselves how we have morphed throughout the years.

          We’d share our crazy stories that meant nothing to the world but everything to us. Oh, not forgetting that little bump on the slip road from Summit leading to Sunway College that serves as our rollercoaster track (how could we ever forget that bump, bless it!)… We’d speed through the bump and scream in glee at the flying sensation we felt burning at the top of our stomachs (as if nothing else could make us happier). It was silly, but damn, doesn’t the memory of those simple joys reminds us of how carefree life had been during those days when we had nothing to worry about but what to wear for class the next day?

          Oh, then, there were all those hilarious coming of age stories…most of us being decent, over-protected innocents back then meant that there were a lot of discoveries to be made outside the family home. There was once when some of us tried smoking in the college hostel. I will not divulge names here lest I be murdered in my sleep during the next few days. That image of Calvin trying to light a cigarette in his hostel room will forever remain in my head till my dying day (oops! I did mention a name, didn’t I? HAHAHA!). Fanned it he did, after trying to light it and since that didn’t work, the poor chap thought to put his science mind into good use by holding the cigarette under the bed where the fan could not get it! It was so funny we all developed a bloated tummy laughing over it.

          Oh, how I miss the college foyer where we hung out, did our homework and discovered ourselves…and the cafe, where we would spend countless breaks complaining about schoolwork, lecturers and anything that we could complain on. I could even remember what our favorite foods were at that time. Me, with my tuna sandwich and bottle of fresh milk, Nick and Damien with their yoghurt … or was it? Maybe not. Hehe.

          Not to mention our forays into drinking (and I don’t mean tea) and the city night scene. Chivas, at that time was as alien as a Martian on the next planet. We’d order our single bottle of beer and watch the rest of the world get drunk and go into oblivion before following suit in the next few years. At times after our crazy nights out, we would loiter around Sunway Pyramid long after all the shops have closed for the day. Sometimes some of us would climb onto those shopping trolleys while the rest pushed and we would have a mad race along the dark walkways…until one day when the guards came onto us with ferocious dogs. I swear when I walk along the same paths these days, if I concentrated hard enough, I could still hear the echo of our laughter from those days long gone.

          Sigh. Those blithe days of no worries have left us forever, no doubt. Last Sunday, the faces that I saw were familiar, but there were lines that told of stories we never had the chance to share in between meeting up with each other. Each and every one of us has come a long way since then – whether it was toiling to build our careers or to maintain/ build a relationship, etc. And then unquestionably, there are those endless responsibilities and roles we have to play as adults, bills to pay on our own and big decisions to make; so much that screaming in excitement while speeding over a bump seems a distant memory of the past.

          It is bitter sweet isn’t it? To be reminded of the youth we have somehow lost along the way…until reunions like these bring those memories back to the surface once again. Already, we have planned for our next reunion, one of the agendas being revisiting our old college and having lunch in the café, no matter how the food sucked. Maybe if we tried hard enough, we could embrace those lighthearted days once again. And maybe if we tried even harder, the burden of the years would vanish somehow, and we would all be seventeen once again. Fat chance huh? But goddamnit, it would be worth every single attempt along the way.