vi·o·late

One of the definitions of the word violate is 'failing to respect someone's peace, privacy or rights' and that about sums up my entire sentiment over the Wink Mobile getting broken ito yesterday evening. 

In my head, I had taken every precaution - I drive a non-descript locally made vehicle, there's no flashy sound system on display, nor shiny sport rims on the tires. It was parked at allocated parking spots by the side of a major road in the neighbourhood, and to top it all off - there was a security guard no more than 50 metres away. I would be running around the tracks, with almost a hundred other folks in the early evening, with the car in plain sight.

Whilst everyone says that it was a good thing that only cash and my mobile (and my thumbdrive) was taken - to be read as my identity card, drivers' license and other cards were not taken, I cannot see it as the silver lining on this dark cloud.

Perhaps I have been brooding (and whining) over my perceived 'violation of space' with a houseguest on board the week past. Perhaps my claims have been baseless and groundless, I needed to be taught a real lesson as to what 'invasion of property' really meant.

I almost ran to my car this evening after work in a near deserted carpark - something I have never done in the 2 years of working and parking there. And I cannot bear to look at the seat next to mine cos the thought that a total stranger may have rested his bum on it without me even knowing his face, gives me goosebumps.

I have never felt this kind of fear before. And even though Ben says we've gotta evaluate my security policy (actually he said I can't be going around having come mug me painted all over), it does not address the root of my beef.

I am no longer comfortable in my own property, my own car. How on earth does having the ownership of my cards and everything else be a good thing?

In Between

The husband of a former colleague passed away today. I read about it on her Facebook tweet.

It is news that on one hand, doesn't come as a surprise - he was much older than her. And yet on another, saddens me to the depths of my soul. For theirs is a great love story and as I recall her telling me about it, I find my eyes welling up with tears.

In this world, where relationships come and go as quickly as the seasons, it almost makes me wish that he was still alive, frail as he was, just to fulfill my own selfish need, to have evidence that exceptions to the rule of our modern times, still stand.

They made that conscious decision so many decades ago and they made every single day count. In a way I'm glad she met him when she was at the tender age of 20. They had a lovely long run and while they may be relegated to the status of mere memories now, it is a testament that truly, life only has one beginning and one ending. It's the in-between that counts. And mind you - there is just one, albeit a long one.

Which is probably why we're planning for next summer, before this summer has even properly begun. Cos at the end of the day, if the ending comes before the next 11 months are through - at the very least, there was the shared anticipation, excitement and joy.

Rest in peace Jim. And thank you for having given Lini so much joy.

Choices

It's the 2nd weekend of the 7th month of the year. I'd like to think that after 2 years, I have learnt to brace myself for the silence that rings louder than 10 church bells peeling away simultaneously.

There is nothing particularly special for this said weekend of this month, except that it is the time that you steal yourself away from everyone else to go and reflect. Or rather, you call it reflection, I call it self-flagellation. All done under some tree, in some cemetery up north, looking over some small hill.

And one can't help but wonder - how long must it be, before you can actually come to this weekend, without any sense of remorse or regret? Has time not passed sufficiently for you to come to a point of realisation that no - you did not let her down, you're doing alright in her eyes and yes, she will still be proud of you and who you are today?

Many things have changed. And yet, some things remain the same.

The human life is made up of choices.
Yes or no. In or out. Up or down.
And then there are the choices that matter.
Love or hate. To be a hero or to be a coward.
To fight or to give in.
To live. Or die.
Live or die.
That's the important choice.
And it's not always in our hands.

I can tell you this in all the ways I can think of, and using all the words I know. Yet, it will come to nothing if you do not choose to let go of the regret and live in the pride of the joy you had been.

It is the 2nd weekend of the 7th month of the year. It is the weekend where you delayed returning home and hence missed saying goodbye to your mum before she left this world. I hope this year, you only had good things to tell her and that it ended with you telling you're okay and really knowing in your heart that you are.

Intervention

I often wonder, how is it that people would rather live with anger and angst than to speak out or up?

It's a bit of a silly thing to wonder, cos at times, I too am guilty of the same. But if I had any say in it, I'd rather someone put in a bit of intervention, than to let sleeping dogs lie.

Cos at the end of the day, I'd rather go to bed satisfied that a situation has been resolved, than to wake up with a cloud hanging over my head.

But then again, that's just me. And I can't really say the same for what someone else might prefer. Perhaps, there are those who do like waking up with a dark cloud following them around, just so they feel there is something going in their lives.

Plans

One of the grand plans for the time I was to spend away was to start on my book project. Yes, the same project that I've been going on about for the last millenia or so. But hey - the bright side of it was I got on the plan with a file full of notes and thoughts. Only problem I did not factor is was the lack of time ~ last year I had so much time on my hand I ran up a grand on my mobile phone bill!

I hate making plans. Okay - that may not be utterly accurate. I love making plans. I just hate having to carry them out. As it was once said of me - I make everything look so darn good on paper. And of course, I do. It's easy once you set up a grid and meticulously plonk things into them. 

I currently have one new grid running. Hell, who am I kidding?! It's more than a grid. It's pages full of information drawn from countless people, strangers. And it's more than just one file - it's grown so much in size, I had to open a folder for it. And this lil folder is named "Summer 2011" - some 11 months away. And the grand plan of it would be that a certain someone would be coming with me, on my business trip and finishing it with an outing to Paris to celebrate the big 4-0.

It is a "grand" plan simply because for starters - we have never been folks who makes plans. Not to say that we go whichever way the wind blows. He has plans in his head. I have plans in mine. They just never had the chance before to come out and say "Hi! Nice to meet you." So the fact that this one actually got that far ~ I don't need to tell you I do occasionally pinch myself to see if this is real or not.

And here's an example of why I hate executing plans; of how I will somehow get it in my stupid lil pea size brain that it will fail, or not happen at all. On the drive back home last night, I got to thinking - if this doesn't take off, if you do not show up on the appointed time at the airport, do I still go ahead with everything that's planned or do I walk away miserable as hell?!

I know 11 months is a long time, and so many things - expected and unexpected can happen, would probably happen. But for now, I shall simply revel in the fact that me going off 3 days before you, and you coming after - was not part of your plan. 

Like I said - we're not planning folks. But I guess, plans do change afterall.