Musings…

Well, well, well. Whaddaya know. Bad run continues, drama-like. Sigh. It kind of begs the question: What’s next?

                        What’s next???

                                    What’s NEXT???

            That question echoes in my mind somewhat, taunting, haunting.

            Last night, I got locked inside my own home. A stroke of God’s ingenuity isn’t it? “Let’s put some more obstacles forth for this wretched little monkey,” he thought. “That ought to tickle her out of her misery.”

            And lo and behold, the door knob screwed up big time on me that even opening it with a key from the outside couldn’t do the trick.

            I almost couldn’t believe my luck. Twisted the door knob once. Hmmh, I thought, scratching my head. What is happening? Was it that my hand was too slippery? Or was I imagining things because I’m over exhausted? Maybe it felt like I was twisting the knob but I actually wasn’t…hallucination??

            Second trial – eyeballs rolled upwards for a few seconds, a snicker or two escaped but still it wasn’t sinking in.

            Third trial – tongue began curling with curses, followed by a frantic series of door knob wracking and bashing.

            Subsequent trials – stared heavenward in mock irony for a while before picking up the phone and to call Pluto.

            Ahhh…drama at its best, isn’t it?

            “Hellpp.. the metal thing is stuck in the hole and wouldn’t come out…” I started to explain when my favorite Plutoan got to the front door. “Try opening with the key.” I detached the key from the bunch and slipped it under the door.

            No luck. Pluto started fiddling with the lock with his business card. That destroyed it completely. I went into the study and picked up the strongest looking ruler I had in my collection and poked the living daylights out of that ‘metal thing’. Arse luck magnified.

            The only lucky thing I remember about the night was me being an observant keh-poh-chi. I recall seeing the number for the locksmith in the lift of the condo, recalled how I made a mental note during that time that I should take down the number in case shit happens one day and I’m in need of a locksmith. Alas, being a procrastinating jackass sitting in the comfort zone, I didn’t take down the number. So shit avalanched down and sank me under.

            Thank god for Pluto, who went on and got the number for me. Oh…and I did vow to pick up Cantonese somewhere along the way last night. Because the locksmith and I were talking like chicken and duck before I switched none too expertly into my rusty Penang Hokkien. Despite that, he and his assistant went to the wrong apartment and only turned up 45 minutes later.

             They had to knock down the knob before I was ‘released’ from my cell into the big world out there. Rahh! What was it I said about money flowing out again? Damn damn damn. I know just exactly what Mommy would say: “Thank God that there wasn’t a fire and you’re not a roasted pig…” or something to that flavor. When I met with that accident, she had said something similar. Oh, as if it would infuse positivity in something that was so clearly…negative. I guess the best gift in life is the ability to laugh at yourself, console yourself and be gentle to yourself when shit drops its load on you.

             Anyway, so when the men were fixing the door, bad luck number two chose to rear its ugly head. The fluorescent light at the balcony couldn’t have selected a better moment to go berserk right at that point of time, flashing shamelessly as though it was the main feature in Scream or Psycho. Pluto dutifully prodded around, like the mechanical engineer he is, and tried to change the starter. A few minutes later, he confirmed that the light would soon die on me. Good gripes.

            As if that wasn’t enough, this morning, I made some pooh-poohs that would make any self respecting person blush brick red. I had a morning appointment…an urgent one in Shah Alam. Since I didn’t have a car, and I was driving Pluto’s, I had to fetch him to work before going forth with my day. The appointment was at 930. So, I thought since I had some free time in my hands, I would work on my new writing project. Good plan, wasn’t it? I pride myself for being a productive and efficient person ‘at times’, when my brain doesn’t fail me.

            And so, I reached this mamak where the roti canais came highly recommended. I reached out for my laptop bag, sat down and ordered. The Chinese man beside me looked up and smiled courteously. I gave a stoned half-smile in return, reluctant to make any contact with strangers. He continued to look at me; maybe my laptop bag was out of the ordinary in a mamak…I don’t know.

            Throwing him half a dirty look because I didn’t want to be too obvious, I unzipped the bag and WALLA! Nothing but beads from the broken sachet of absorbent/preservative. NO LAPTOP.

            From the corner of my eye, I caught the man stifling what sounded like half a snicker and half laughter. Slowly, I felt the blood rise to my face. Trying to act as though nothing happened, I said a thankful prayer when the roti canai arrived.

            The man would not be ignored.

            “Bring bag but no laptop, eh?” the smart jackass said.

            I looked at him, flashed him a Bugs-bunny toothy grin and dug into my food as though it was the tastiest thing in the world. 

            I couldn’t wait to leave. And then, in the car, I burst out laughing so hard tears started forming at the tip of my eyes. It was madness, I was going along the lines of Mommy’s thinking. It could have been worse. I could have done that in front of the customers AND my principal. Oh, what a big dork, I thought in misery all my way back to the office after the meeting.

            Sigh.

            Patience, I tell myself. Half a day is gone. But the man up there seems as though he wasn’t ready to give up his game on his lab rat. Supposingly, I was meant to be the clown of the day. As I walked into my office, I heard the sound of laughter…we had customers over, so it happens. I had to pass the conference room to reach my own, so trying to look professional, I walked on and nodded at the people in the room.

            Just for half a second because the next thing I knew, I felt my feet skidding, cartoon-like in the air, in bicycle peddling motion. Clumsily, I grabbed onto the partition and that shook it so badly the whole building seemed to quiver.

            What made it worse was the fact that the customers jumped off their seat, almost in alarm, as though they could spring to where I was and catch me should I fall.

            “Careful,” they told me, sounding as though they were trying very hard not to laugh.

            I didn’t trust my voice to laugh or say anything in return. Man, just strike me dead, why don’t you? I chastised Him silently.

            “Better wear lower heels,” one man offered.

            I gave a totally unprofessional giggle and went on to my room. And slipped once again before I got to the table.

            Like…what the *&%^&^%&* is happening?? I was pissing myself off big time. Such unsophistication was intolerable in the life of Eunice!!! Sigh. Not believing that I could be such a dork, I did some detective work. The floor looked mysteriously shinier than normal. Hmmhh…weirdness at its peak.

            In the end, I found out that our driver spilled some liquid C15-C25 onto the floor earlier that morning, and had used the mop to mop up the lubricant/ emollient…the same mop that the cleaners then used to mop the floor. AWGGHHHHHHHH!!! Can you believe the workings of fate? That was like a booby trap set waiting for me to walk right into it.

            Sigh, so Chapter 2 of Arse Luck run continues unchallenged.

            Run along, why ever not? Run along.

Note: Did I really just call myself a wretched little monkey???

            It’s been a maddening week for me, this third week of April. On top of that, a very, VERY unlucky week. I cannot emphasize on that enough. As if unbeknown to me, a black cat had walked past me or the other way around some time or another…sigh…it is testing really, and I find myself grappling with all that has happened, trying my level best to catch my breath and take it all in my stride.

            Two days back, I was involved in an automobile accident on my way back from work. I’ll be quick to add that I’m not injured in any way, so you can all breathe easy. At most, probably my heart went into palpitation a couple of times during the incident, but other than that, I’m quite fine. My poor little car wasn’t quite so fortunate however. There’s a huge dent on the left passenger seat that would require a lot of fixing (equals a lot of headache for me and my insurance men).

            It wasn’t as simple as I made it sound though – fix the dent and we’re good to go. Suffice to say, the day was a nightmare. The motorcyclist who knocked into me…well, he didn’t fare that well either. I guess good outcomes never happen to those who speed on two wheeled vehicles in a thunder storm…alas.

            He was a young Malay boy…probably twenty plus, at most, twenty eight. That was all I could tell from his bloodied and swollen face. Goddamn, I wish I could describe everything that had happened without feeling nauseated the way I am right now. All I could remember was the motorcycle doing a nose dive and crashing after the impact. And then, it was a blur of actions. I almost broke my neck turning here and there, trying to figure out where the motorcyclist had landed. At that kind of explosive collision, I suppose he’d be landing quite a distance away. All that was on my mind then was – is he dead? And if he was, where’s the body?

            There wasn’t even time to think or feel scared, or to panic at what I would find. I tore open the door and ran out into the pouring rain, and was almost relieved to see that the motorcyclist was just at the back of the car. He didn’t fly anywhere at all. It was as if he just landed right there…but he wasn’t a sight for sore eyes, I tell you. He was bleeding all over the face, and he couldn’t stand up straight. I didn’t think at all…I couldn’t…just rushed forth and helped him off the road onto the side so cars passing by wouldn’t run over him. I remember him crying, “Mak aku, mak aku…” and it was weird, I felt goose bumps all over me…maybe it was the fragile way he said it. My full concentration was on the blood dripping onto the puddles of water on the hard asphalt road. Come to think of it, now I should pat myself on the back because it didn’t make me swoon and faint dead and away. (I have a tendency to pass out at the sight of blood heh)

            Ahhh…damn it. There was a bit of commotion but I couldn’t hear or see anything except for the Malay man who had stopped to assist us. Then, I picked up my shoes and ran to the nursery nearby, hair wet and hands flailing.

            “Help! Help!” I shouted till my throat felt raw, waving like a mad woman, wanting to run but feeling almost paralyzed. The people in the shop were busy laughing and talking. They looked at me as though nothing at all registered in their heads. Maybe the rain had drowned out everything I was saying. I must have been quite a picture. I persisted and continued waving madly.

            “Accident! Accident!” I screamed till my voice broke.

            And finally, by God, they understood. There was a flurry of activity as they rushed towards us and we decided what to do. In the end, I sent the boy to a clinic nearby. As the doctor checked him, I fiddled with the phone, fingers shivering and wondered who to call, what to do. It was as if it was just slowly sinking in…what a mess, mess, mess. My fingers were so cold and bloodless they felt numb and my lower lip couldn’t stop shivering. I dialed a number, and despite myself, managed to sound calm and collected.

            The doctor came out and shook her head…how melodramatic I thought. And how reassuring…NOT. I was almost mad at her.

            “How’s he?” I asked twice before she answered me.

            She looked at me with those dreary eyes and said:

            “I think he’s got a concussion. Doesn’t look good. Doesn’t remember his name. He’s confused. Was he conscious all the while?”

            To which I said “Yes. I was with him all the while.”

            She gave me a nasty look, as if I would lie.

            “He had to be unconscious at some point of time to be so confused. You better send him to

University

Hospital

. And quick. He might not make it.”

            And she charged me twenty five ringgit for fiddling over nothing! She did not even really touch him or wipe away the blood. Cursing her under my breath I tried to draw a mental map on how to get to

University

Hospital

from Subang 2, kicking myself for being such a direction dummy. The thought that this boy could probably die…right there, next to me in my car drove me quite bonkers.

            And once again I picked up my phone. It was like a scene from a movie. This Malay guy suddenly regained all energy and started to talk…half the time I wasn’t sure what he was saying. And after that, he told me that his phone did not have any credit. And started using my phone to make call after call. So much for having concussion when he could remember the numbers from the top of his head. I began to question whether the doctor was a quack.

            In my brain deadness we got a little lost on the NKVE. More phone calls were made, this time by me and I thought I was going quite crazy. The phone seemed to ring non-stop after that. His manager called, and then his mother, and then god-knows-who else. In addition to that, Ryan, who was assisting me on how to get to the hospital. When we finally made it there, I was so numb there was no more feeling in any of my limbs. Which probably was a blessing in disguise. I picked up the phone again, wiped away the blood (from the boy’s face when he borrowed the phone earlier), and feeling totally dejected, I called the man I felt most secure with…Daddy.

            Hearing Daddy’s voice was so reassuring. It stopped me short from breaking down. Just as I was speaking, Ryan arrived. Another reassurance. I breathed a sigh of relief and said a prayer for having people around me when I needed them most. I really could borrow some energy at that moment, and was more than happy to lean on him as to what to do from that point onwards.

            We went on to the police station in PJ, where we found out it wasn’t enough to just make a report there. We would have to go to Sungai Buloh Police station (G A S P!!) before midnight to secure another report, isn’t that so ridiculous? Already, the situation is bad enough and we have to fly from one end in another just to make yet another one. Sigh. Like couldn’t all these be done online? It IS the 21^st century after all!!

            To make matters worse, we forgot to take down the boy’s IC number, particulars and even his plate number. So, we made a few phone calls and guess what…? The little bugger wouldn’t give us his plate number because he was scared that we would frame him…it really made me feel like pulling out a clump of hair…whoever’s…in the end, the police man told us we could leave that part out first and see how later…so Malaysian style.

            By that time, I was so exhausted both eyeballs felt like popping out. I had migraine and my skin was still tingling from the chill and dampness of the rain. And I felt so filthy and sticky and…bloodied that my skin was crawling. We stopped by at Mc Dees to catch a bite and I scrubbed my hands, hoping it would make me feel better. All I wanted to do was to lie down and close my eyes and sleep. Ryan took over, bless the dear guy, and drove.

            During the whole journey I was thinking about silly things like how I haven’t got my taxes done. And how money would keep flowing out. And how I just want to drop dead and not wake up again. Ryan and I got to talking about the way I handled the situation. Maybe inside I was in turmoil, but outwardly, I was quite in control. Ahh, I guess that’s at least something to be proud of. I always thought I’d be the kind to drop dead at the sight of blood and have jelly for feet. Ryan thinks that I’m just spoilt in a sense that I’ve had people take care of me all my life. And when I found myself alone and there’s no one there to depend on, I just took it into my own hands and handled it the best I could. Food for thought, eh? I learnt something about myself today after all.

            We passed the accident scene. The motorbike was still there. Ryan whipped out his camera and started playing detective. The motorbike looked surprisingly undamaged considering the huge dent created on my car door. Only the mirrors and mudguard was missing.

            There was a certain eeriness in the air as I relived what happened earlier in the day. The road was so quiet then, and so dark. Arggh, I could almost hear the sound of the collision ringing in my ears once again. …what a place to be in at this ungodly hour! We reached Sg Buloh police station a little past eleven. The place itself was so secluded that I doubt I could have found it on my own.

            What I clearly remember from the meeting with the sergeant was this…he took a look at the dent and exclaimed loudly:

            “Langgar lori ka? Motorsikal? Tentu sudah mati la orang itu.”

            Sigh. He just had to say that, didn’t he? Oh, how reassuring indeed!

            Conclusion of the day: I hate police stations and I hate hospitals. I hope I never have to visit these two places again anytime soon.

            Finally, at around midnight, it was all over and we could go home. And I’m roughly RM 300 poorer.  :,(

            Damn damn damn.

            Would like to take the opportunity to thank Ryan for standing by me throughout the ordeal and for helping me send my poor bug to the workshop. You’ve made hell seem more bearable hehehe. And you are definitely without a doubt my favorite Pluto-an from now on. :p

What a hectic, hectic day today. Hardly any time to breathe or blink at all. I’m finally back in the office after running here, there and everywhere, completing all the tasks I have on hand. That was what I did today. I’ve written down action items in my little black book, and absolutely refused to let myself be overwhelmed by everything that is left to do. Also, I’m ticking them off rather viciously from the list after attacking them and seeing them through to completion. I’m saying WHEW now and patting myself on the back because today, I’m behind the wheels and life’s circumstances isn’t driving me around. I’m in control. At last. And I’m coming out of my stupor finally thank god, and the whiteness is beginning to develop into wondrous bursts of colors again…much akin to a garden full of flowers in springtime.

            Ahhh, fresh air. Ahh, rainbows. Ahhh…life. I breathe it, I savor it, and I taste it – be it bitter, sweet or sour.

            Having said that, I guess I owe a lot of people an apology for being such a grumpy, moody, jittery and unresponsive ogre the past days. The truth is that I have been unwell - physically unwell, so to speak. I’m battling with this hideous cough that threatens to uproot me and bury me six feet under. I’ve had coughing fits that last up to half an hour non stop and at times, it gets so hard to breathe that I have to struggle and wheeze just to get some air into these lungs. No doubt, the irritation is driving me quite bonkers and I’ve been fraught with lethargy and fatigue for most part of the days, and trying to keep my eyes open against the drowsiness caused by the medication that I’ve been given. One hell of a series of medication, I tell you…they make the most delicious foods taste like paper and I still get so agitated sometimes that I am not able to control my fingers from shaking when I write or type. Not to mention the bloody cold sweat that makes one sticky and uncomfortable and jumpy. Ahh, damn the bug that’s been going around and biting every other person around the vicinity in the arse. If you sight it anywhere within reach, fart on it please. Then, proceed to squish it into pulp. Sigh. I only wish that mental strength can go to such extreme heights as to be able to cure sicknesses and diseases. Then, the world would be a much better place.

            Anyway, bugs and illnesses aside, thanks for all the concern shown and also for checking up my blog despite me being completely parched of anything to write of late. You don’t know how much it means to me as a writer, as a friend and as a person, that my thoughts and words are worth reading and worth following. Especially to Vince for your moving words…thanks for reminding me of my place in this life…you’ve solved my identity crisis haha, in the most beautiful way, too. You have such a wonderful way with words – they serve to energize and rejuvenate the part of me that have somehow wilted during one of the storms in life way back when.

            Sometimes, when the going gets too chaotic, I guess we tend to forget who we really are, and the essence of what makes us, us in the first place. I remember now my niche, and the roles that I have played, am playing and will continue to play. Yes, at some point, it did become quite unbearable, running a household on my own and making each and every decision, as well as footing every misstep by myself. It’s like running for a marathon that never seems to end. Nobody else could fill in your shoes and run for you though they try. Each step then becomes a conscious effort not to stumble and fall into oblivion. And you’ve got to learn quickly never to focus on the lethargy in your muscles or even the sound of your tortured breath as you push yourself forward, lest you should succumb to them and give up. It is a test of sheer courage, mental strength and will power, this life. Which is why I’m so thankful for all the beautiful people around me who runs with me, cheers for me, hands water to my parched lips, and ensures that when I reach the finish line, I remember that the run had been worth every tear, every sweat and every drop of blood shed along the way.

            So to those who have been down, and are still struggling in their personal marathons, have faith please. God never promised for life to be a bed of roses. At the end of the day, it is up to each and every one of us to strive in pursuit of our own happiness. The only action that could make or break us would be our own.

It is Tuesday. Four days into a blistering April that promises to be hectic yet, and I’m already feeling slightly more than jaded. There’s so much work to do, so much to be accomplished, and still, I cannot seem to beat the inertia and get going. At that, I’m nursing a writer’s block…a serious one. I’ve been sitting in front of my laptop, meaning to complete that new project I’ve started some months back, but all that I’ve arrived to is this long stretch of whiteness that is frightening and soothing all at once…frightening because at the back of my head I know that my to-do list is fast accumulating up to a point where I would no longer be able to catch up but yet, soothing in a sense that the numbness of feeling naught at all saves me the constant pain that life brings.

It is blissfully comforting though I feel a little misplaced in life. As though suddenly, I find myself questioning: WHO AM I? Who am I really? And what is my purpose here? In my disorientation, I feel as though I’m not me…just another person looking into the windows of my world and seeing the things that are happening to me from another person’s point of view.

Who is that girl sitting by the daybed in the dead of the night, looking out the window to the flickering lights at the horizon as though they could provide her an answer to all the questions running in her head? She couldn’t sleep at night, this girl, after being awakened by that midnight call. It had to be somebody who had the key to her past, for after that she had been tossing and turning on her bed and now she’s just sitting there, her expression mirroring the blankness in her head. Who is that girl? And how did she arrive here to this place and time?