The Path

Your Birth Day number is 27

You are a born leader, an efficient manager, capable of organizing and inspiring others. You are especially talented in the areas of politics, religion, art, and law. You are highly creative and have an excellent understanding of people.

You are broadminded and should be educated in several different fields, particularly the arts. Many great artists are found under this number. You tend to be a late bloomer and must be willing to take your time before choosing a profession. You need experience and exposure to many different types of people before you find the one area in which you will specialize.

You can relate to people in all walks of life. You will do quite a bit of traveling and go through many changes. At bottom, you have a great dream for humanity. You want to improve the conditions of people, whether they are in your community, state, country, or the world at large. This is where your deepest satisfaction lies - with performing some task that will benefit others.

You are able to express your feelings well, though a bit dramatically at times. You have a calm and even aristocratic appearance. However, beneath it there is a sense of frustration with not having received your due in life - either from parents, co-workers, or your community.

Your challenge is to learn acceptance and forgiveness. There is an element of sacrifice in your life. You need to let go of all negative attachments. Any thoughts of revenge will backfire badly against you. You need to employ your spiritual and philosophical outlook in all matters in which the balance seems to have been struck against you. You attract money from all work that is service oriented. The more you do for others, the more you receive - - spiritually and materially - in return.


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Too many distractions and lack of sleep - I slipped.

And I took some of the rope that someone had taken for herself. I know this and They - who have been waiting as I have - know this too.

As I sat beside her and listened to the long pause before her careful response to a not-so-hypothetical situation that They asked, I could only sit in silence as she realised how close she had been to taking all the rope for herself, and she then claimed more circumspection than was due.

I - I have no excuses. And They know this too.

Later on - having been asked to step out of the room - I would hear loud voices, accusations, angry shouting, fists landing heavily on the table, and angry sobs of the recalcitrant.

The execution was less than flawless and hasty. But it had to be done, rope or no rope. They had already gathered enough past incidences against her and it was only a matter of time. Though They made a decision to shield me as best as they could - I was not spared when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Monday is going to be HELL for me.


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I must not stray from the path again.

And I have much, much more to learn.

Because (1)

I have spent too much of my life being a follower.

Until even those who mean me well have become accustomed that I will share their opinions, and their wishes will always be mine, whether from the outset or by various manners of persuasion.

I am afraid to say what I really think.

A said this well - just because someone is able to articulate or express an opinion fluently and frequently and loudly enough does not mean that he/she is therefore 'right'.

I am afraid of disapproval and being judged.

As much as I feed on approval, every frown and slightest sign of displeasure is just as hungrily watched.

I do not want to be the only one standing apart from the group.

Even if said group is only one other person.


Because (2)

I need only to know what I have to do - for reasons that may or may not be 'right' (or seem 'right' to another person) - and just do it.

It is about trusting yourself enough.

And then, you live with your choice.

Is it not strange that the one we find hardest to trust is not another person, but ourselves?


Left or right?

It has been a strange, strange start to the week.

The flood of phone messages and emails; anticipated and the unexpected; intentions and expectations - both spoken and unspoken.

A Monday that felt more like a Friday night. It was almost apt that the night was spent drinking into the early hours of the next morning (and dinner became a very late supper after drinks). It was a toast to the week ahead; to whatever laid ahead.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Just give me what you want to; what you think is 'right'. It's up to you."

My mother has this extremely infuriating habit of leaving it to me to make the call, especially when it concerns money matters like sharing household expenses. This is in spite of her already having a figure in mind. I hate it when she plays these guessing games with me; setting me up for her sometimes eventual disappointment, or to her sometimes 'pleasant surprise' - especially when she gets more than what she had expected; which I am beginning to suspect has always been her intention, and not so much some warped satisfaction from having me guess her mind correctly.

I do not like being tested; being set up; being emotionally blackmailed.

People should just tell me what they want. It makes things so much simpler, no?


A little mouse ...

... told someone that I have not been well.

One too many little animals are taking an interest in my life.

Something orange

A gift.

Sometimes, I just get so tired of running or side-stepping the whole thing. (Because some people react to direct confrontation with denial and hysteria.)

And then, I start to get "creative".

So it was not very nice to bring along two lamp posts - charming and entertaining as they were tonight - without prior notice. When the waitress came over to ask whether we would like to order first or wait for the other two to arrive, he managed to recover quickly - but not fast enough. He chose not to ask me about the other two; and I did not volunteer an explanation either. Nonetheless, he was a rather good sport throughout dinner, though he was subdued and looked a little lost sometimes.

How much more does it take?

What happens when two friends cannot be "friends only" anymore?

Running with Wolves

"...you will become increasingly aware that all the truly important events in your life occur without your conscious intervention. This will help you to act with more calm and composure in those areas where you had difficulties in the past or found it hard to make any headway. You should now find it easier to deal with things in a relaxed manner, not brooding so morosely over your own failings and inadequacies. This will also help you to be more understanding when others make mistakes, making you more forgiving."

It does not feel so much as being buried - which would imply paralysis - in work and all that other stuff that life is made of.

It feels more like I am running... and running... the irony of which does not escape me since I doubt I would even last 200m in real life.

Through a forest. Towering trees. Old. Very old. No - ageless. Trees. Everywhere. I look up - the trees are patterned intricacies of greens and browns against the undifferentiated blue. So many, many different paths; going everywhere and nowhere at the same time; and yet, not so different after all. (Sometimes, it is only months, or even years later, that you realise that there was NO CHOICE to be made. You only have to understand why things were; and why things are. And then, you move on.) Where does it all begin? (November? The good-looking stranger with the beautiful brown eyes; whose photo now adorns my workspace; and at least two other besotted women? Heh. Heh. Heh. June 2002? Or even earlier? Before Time?) Where does it all end? (Will it end? Will I fall?) I cannot see where I am going - not because it is dark. I can see - but I only know that it is not dark where I am. Running. With the wind. Amongst unseen... things. Pacing me. In my head. "Keep up. Don't stop. Keep running. Just a little further."

But these are not their words.

There are no words.

Only mine.


Left. Right. Centre.

Monday.

Another attempt to meet up (I guess I cannot run forever - but he may wish he had run sooner...) and two offers of coffee - all within a day. Raise eyebrow. They say three is a magic number. Well. Nothing "magical" here. Hardly.

And then, the short thing followed me around the classroom, which was not as unnerving as him getting in my face - literally - because he was always so close; his face talking to mine, while we were all just standing around, leaning over the counter, sitting at the coffee table; sometimes, he would come over and... just look. If I were not as mentally numbed as I was from sleep deprivation and a long work day, I would have snapped off his head. (Hint: Women do not like to have their faces scrutinised at close quarters, especially when they are having a massive outbreak.) The homicidal part of me wants to push him overboard on the boat ride to Pulau Dayang. It will be almost pitch dark - we board past midnight - save for the silent stars. The engines will be loud, reverberating through the entire boat. Everyone will be fast asleep in various corners - getting as much rest as we can in preparation for the hellish weekend of rescue drills (and near-drowning) in open sea. No one will notice... until it is to late...


Tales from the Crypt

"You ok with the colour of orange? Hints of orange in colour."

?????

So sleepy... so tired...

The days are too short.

I have been sleeping like the dead the past few nights...

The nights are not long enough. (I do not want the night to end - because then, you have to leave.)

Each moment passes by too quickly; before I even realise what has just happened. There is simply not enough physical time to behold the entire significance of each little action and utterance - sometimes so small as to be almost imperceptible, and hence, so easily missed; and only realised later; too late - crystallised into these fleeting moments; these millions and millions of moments that make the whole of life; that make our lives complete.

I can only re-live the memories of these moments in my head; each time a little differently; each time unfolding a little more; each time seeing more in its entirety. Thought. Emotion. Doubt. Fear. Desire. Hope. The Past. The Present - of the moment. The Future. All come together in this little action and utterance. Perfection.

And then, there is the rest of life. Waiting to be experienced.

It is beginning to feel as if this one life is not enough.


Don't ask

I write for myself.

I write to be read.

But I don't write for you.

The whole truth and nothing but the truth

"Free tonight?"

"No. Actually on way home now. Just conducted interview, need to write article by tomorrow. Not sleeping tonight."

(radio silence)

Not even the usual grouchy tongue-in-cheek comeback or an acknowledging grunt, which would have made it so much less awkward for two adults (especially himself, I should think) who clearly knew what just went on, no?

Had I been too effusive about work? Which is true, by the way. Cross my heart. Too much information, I suppose.

And you would think older men have less fragile egos, especially since he has been around a fair bit - much more than I have (which is not even much), anyway.

Sometimes, it just does not make sense. How does someone like that manage to keep trying? Or is he just masochistic?


What goes up...

She said that something must have changed last year.

As I took a physical and mental breather at the train station, while waiting for my sister to go for dinner, I thought about the hectic start to the week, and how my days seem to be filling up with work and other stuff, much faster than what I have been used to. I do not think it is even due to any conscious will on my part, mostly.

But, whatever it was that had changed, it feels like I have gotten on the G-Max and have not stopped flying.

And then, as you stop screaming and learn to appreciate the unusual scenery, you begin to wonder what happens when the bungee cord reaches its end. In that defining moment when the cord strains against itself to reach for the skies, frozen in a longing that would never be fulfilled, you wonder what will happen on the free fall back down...