Heffalump

I awoke today to a posting on my Facebook wall saying "Bill wants to know what Barb is thinking... Her thoughts are scattered all over:)"

Now Bill is an old old old friend who I have lost touch with for a number of years. It brought a big smile to my face yesterday when he 'found' me on Facebook and I cannot wait to get some time and start filling in the gaps with him since the last time we met some 10 years ago at La Bodega.

It's funny how with some folks, time and space does not erase anything. I reckon he'd probably spent about 10 minutes going through my profile page to come to that conclusion as he did. But he was spot on cos my thoughts are indeed scattered all over the place.

I am trying to spend today, re-charging myself emotionally, physically and mentally. It has been a crazy month and the 2 days of vacation leave I took last weekend didn't really amount to very much. The body can recover over time spent under the smelly blanket but the mind doesn't work the same way. The mind needs quiet. The mind needs fuel. The mind needs peace before the soul can get back to where it was.

Nothing extraordinary has happened. Just a whole load of things going on, all small and almost negligible but begging to have attention paid. And I want to make the time to give that attention cos some of those episodes I do not want repeated again.

One of which would be my almost insane self-meltdown in my car, driving from my office to the hotel for a reception. It was utterly insane just because I was bringing a boy to a function and I was afraid he would do a no-show. It was utterly insane cos he worked his arse off for the whole week to make sure his back was covered at work sufficiently for him to split his own scene, and show up at mine for 2 hours before going back to work. It was utterly insane cos for what it is worth, I didn't give him the benefit of doubt when I would give him anything else that he can possibly ask for, dished up on a silver-platter to boot! It was not a pleasant place to be at and I can slap myself for thinking the non-existent elephant was going to fall from the sky. And because of that, I missed out on a whole lot of things that I cannot go back, reclaim and savour.

Another would be actually waking up soon from this sense of surrealism. The new future is already here. It is no longer in the distant horizon - it has arrived. Yet, I cannot bring myself to believe it in. I may say the words and all that jazz but each night, I go home and I cannot reconcile the present. Once, again, my lil imaginary elephant friend swings his trunk and lets out an imaginary tweet.

Pardon me if this posting does not make any sense. And it likely wouldn't until I have a little chat with my heffalump.

Wish me luck now!

Darn - It's Just a Box!

I often marvel at the many things in my life that I take for granted. And today, the one thing I shall contemplate upon is this wonderful box, that comes in various sizes, called the television.

Since it exploded on the scene back in the 1930s, the tv or telly as some calls it, has become a must-have in almost every home, with some homes having more than 1 or 1 in every room of the house ~ I should know cos that was what we had when we moved from JB to KL over a decade ago - a telly for the each of the 4 persons living under the same roof.

Over the last month or so, I have been wondering why the picture didn't seem to fit the screen of my LG anymore. For starters, I had the thought that the kids have been fiddling with the remote and zoom settings. Yet, the 'N' in AXN never did seem to wanna be seen no matter how I adjusted the darn thing.

Needless to say, because I went to an all-girls school, we did not have the lesson that all guys seem to have where the mechanics of electrical and mechanical items are explained in detail. So it didn't occur to me that my trusty set of 9 years was on the verge of blinking out of me. And blimey it did with a lil soft *poof* to boot!

So yeah, the goggle box in the house has died and my dilemma is that no one seems to wanna repair it. Sure, I can get a brand new one for about RM 250 more than what I would pay for the repair. But that doesn't mean that I should go do it just because! I did pay over a grand for my 29 incher and hell, no way am I gonna throw it out just like that!

But all said and done, and after one evening alone at home, my conviction and my stubbornness is failing me ~ the sound of the cars from the highway just on the yonder is not going to sustain my sanity.

Try as I might to tell myself I am not missing Monday night lame-o reruns on all the Astro channels, I am missing the ritual of tucking my feet under me and channel surfing while eating my dinner. I am missing the noise of different voices coming from it even though it's outside in the living room while I tap away on the computer. I am missing the silly remarks and witticism that some hosts spew out, giving me legitimate reason to talk to myself or laugh out loud alone.

Darn it that it's just a freaking box! But it sure has left a gapping hole in my day, and no amount of Facebook games or reading is gonna make up for it.

Barbsie without her telly is just making for trouble.

G&G

Hap-e-bird-day to ME

Hap-e-bird-day to ME

Hap-e-bird-day dear Barbsie

Hap-e-bird-day to ME

It's been a great year Barbsie - Now let's make it a grand life, ya?

Too Soon

It has just occurred to me that there is some wisdom in the phrase "Speaking too soon." And to reiterate my thought, here are two fine examples of such:

1) A month ago, I wrote of how life returns to normal after all the travels, wedding and such. And how the diary looks empty for the year ahead. Then *bam* mum falls down, the kids fall ill and Lord knows what else is in store with another 10 days to go for the month.

2) I told my brother and sister in law on Sunday how they are not to fall ill in this time of crisis. And that if either of them, or even dad were to fall ill, I'd go kneel in front of the altar and recite the Novena for 9 hours straight.

As the Irish would say in situations as such "How was I meant to be inspired?!"

I guess I was.. in a quirk, Barbsie way!

As She Drags...

As she drags her fag at half-past one, she ponders on the book cover she had just closed. 

The story was one that was disturbing. Firstly, it was hard to reconcile it with the book she had finished prior to this one. Two tales of African American Men, going thru the hard life, trying to make it. Cos they have been charged to make it. They cannot fail. 

While one is an autobiography of what is now Earth's most celebrated man, leader in power and the other fiction, one cannot help but ponder how easily the imagined could have been transposed into reality. Then really, it would have been then reading one story, in two books.

And so, I have finished the 100-odd pages yet I still cannot find a reason to justify the earlier out-pouring of pure deadly sin musings. I'm still toying if instead of the traditional printer letter ala Bush Sr, I should instead print off the post, stick it in an envelope and say "Here's another laugh - on the house!"

Why am I in a despondent mode? And why am I having to try so hard to muster even a drop of enthusiasm? It almost feels as if I'm spoiling for a fight. But for what cause? What reason? And best of all - on what grounds?

She lights another, even though the first had burnt itself out while her fingers went tipper-tap across this fading keyboard. She really shouldn't - these shots of nicotine at this hour is only gonna have her awake still at 3 later.

Maybe it's the book. The many pages of situations, desperations, anxieties, attempts to make things right ~ it was all too familiar and hit too close to home. THEY WERE CHARGED NOT TO FAIL. But it all ended well, didn't it? In the end, the character saw thru what he had to do, somehow managed to do it and all is on the road to being well again. Again - hitting too close to home.

Maybe I'm just tired. Tired of the same scenes, the same dialogues, the same emotions and motions, the same dreams and inspirations that have not yet bore fruit. Something's gotta give just like how a conveyor belt would eventually break down at some point and all actions come to a standstill.

Maybe this book doesn't make me feel extraordinary anymore. For a man living in Manhattan to be able to take almost all of life's experiences in the last decade and turn it into a literary piece that could potentially win him EUR 100,000 in 2 weeks. 

But then I'd have to stop and ask - did I feel extraordinary in the first instance? 

She puts the 2nd fag out. Hey - at least she smoked 2/3s of it. And she looks around and wonders if she should jump straight on into the next book that lays waiting on the dining room table.

I really shouldn't think so much anymore for today. 3 postings in 12 hours *shivers* that almost always spells trouble. And trouble is not what we're looking for this weekend. Cos we're not a fictional character in a book. So we're choosing not to be like the Man Gone Down.

Nah... she'll just go to bed and like magic, sleep will engulf her and soon it'll be morning.

Is That ME?

I thought you might find this funny... I sure as hell did:

Language: 

You enjoy enjoy saying, hearing, and seeing words. You like telling stories. You are motivated by books, records, dramas, opportunities for writing. 

Logic/math:
You enjoy exploring how things are related, and you like to understand how things work. You like mathematical concepts, puzzles and manipulative games. You are good at critical thinking.

Self (Intra-personal):

You have a very good sense of self. You like to spend time by yourself and think things over. You will often take in information from another person, mull it over by yourself, and come back to that person later to discuss it. You like working on projects on your own. You often prefer to learn by trial and error. 

These are my top 3 intelligences, out of a possible 7.

Wowzers ~ is that really ME?

Urge Overkill

There's this line from a short article by Jeremy Clarkson (from his book called The World According to Clarkson) that says: Music has become something in the background, playing while we're doing something else.

While music forms a big part of my world (I am currently spending about 2 minutes getting my music set up for the drive into work and back!), I can't help but agree with Clarkson. Which is why I think it's hilarious to get this instant message this morning: "Hmm....was reminded of you when I heard Overkill by Men at Work "

Upon googling the lyrics (cos honestly, this is why a 7-year age gap makes a whole lot of difference), it's struck me that even if music is sometimes in the background, it can skip to the front of the line when something in it strikes ya! 

I can't get to sleep

I think about the implications

Of diving in too deep

And possibly the complications

Especially at night

I worry over situations

I know will be alright

Perhaps it's just my imagination

Day after day it reappears

Night after night my heartbeat, shows the fear

Ghosts appear and fade away

Alone between the sheets

Only brings exasperation

It's time to walk the streets

Smell the desperation

At least there's pretty lights

And though there's little variation

It nullifies the night

From overkill

For the record ~ I am NOT all THAT bad kays? AND I am trying to do things without so much of a fuss :o)

The Art of Stretching

"Hey that's the plan ~ just like playing the lottery. If we win, it's a bonus. Otherwise, we have got hope. Nothing to lose."

I read that line while rushing about the MPEX after missing my alarm this morning. And the first thought that came to mind was: He doesn't know me very well, does he?!

The bottomline is this: My ego is just way to big to take a loss. I.HATE.LOSING. 

Yes, yes - such a contradiction I know. Especially when I get myself into all sorts of loss-making situations. But the above is actually the sad, sorry, sordid truth - I do not like to lose. My pride cannot withstand such a beating, especially when it comes to my professional skill-sets.

Unfortunately, as LB and I have come to conclude: It's a shame I am not more nice to my own self. 

So off we go - just one more thing to add to my already-groaning-under-the-weight-of-stress-plate.

Dog-Fights

re·luc·tant 

1. Unwilling; disinclined
   
2. Exhibiting or marked by unwillingness
   
3. Offering resistance; opposing.
   

I have a long list of things that I need to either 1) complete or 2) implement. The list started out small but it is growing as we speak. And it's not to say that I do not know how to do them. I'm just putting them down on paper, then folding them in half, and again in half, until it can fit snugly in a corner of my desk.

"I don't understand why you're so reluctant. You're like a fighter-pilot who has got the target locked in. Push the red button!"

It can be exasperating I know. Even I get exasperated with myself just thinking about it. And subconsciously, it is giving me a lot of grief (translate to read: STRESS). My sleeping pattern is again all out of whack, my eczema is flaring up, and half the time I am walking around with my head / mind / consciousness being somewhere else. 

It's really not a lot of things to complete - half of them fall under category (2). But this firecracker just doesn't seem to wanna be lit for some strange reason. And that is what I need to determine, in order to be like a cow and moo-on.

"If I were the chap in Mission Control - I would be yelling my head off at you to bloody push the red button ALREADY. But I'm not, so I am just going sit here and wait for you to come to your senses on your own. But please - you're already locked on. Just press it?"

I'll think about it - that much I can promise you.

Invisible Text

If only someone could invent some form of contraption or microchip that could project words or sayings that serves as a reminder....

If that be true, mine would have to say:

You are free to choose,

But the choices you make today

Will determine what you will

Have, Be and Do

In the tomorrows of your life

Who In Heaven's Name

I have a new reader for the Shooter. And for some strange reason, this person finds February's postings to be a fascinating!

I have always had a strange curiosity in wanting to know who reads the Shooter, and if they return - Why? What is it about this wee lil soul, tipperty-tapperty awaying at her desk, in her lil hole in the sky, that fascinates you?

So whoever this reader is (and a whole host of some others that I have yet to be able to identify) - do be nice and introduce yourself here in the comment box. 

And btw, don't you know that you really shouldn't be using IE to browse?! Go Chrome!

To What Lengths?

"To what lengths would you go to achieve this fast-forward thingy?" asked someone earlier this morning. And I had no answer. 4 hours later, I still don't.

I have been silently cursing and swearing at today's Gosple meditation link. Are our conscience sand daily living united to this Truth or do we prefer to continue to be blinded and live in a falsehood that brings pain? But as the email title says: Face the Truth.

Some people do more good as atonement, and some people just veer off the course altogether. As I told Charlie, for a good 300 days a year, I live my life like a saint, calculating all my decisions and being thoroughly risk-adverse. But the remaining 65 days or so, I could throw absolute caution to the wind and say "Fuck All" for all I care.

Today is one of those 65 days. So much so, I have an itch to pack a bag, take the day off, drive home in my road-unworthy car. In any case, it definitely warrants flying shoe. Heck - make that flying shoes. (And trust me Bear - it's gotta be the entire warehouse load full cos even Whites is not pleased with me!)

I sat by the corner of my front door for a good long time. It's past 4 in the morning, I should really be in bed, sound asleep. I'm not and I doubt I should... a whole bottle of vodka and red wine ain't gonna guarantee I will wake up on time. And today, of all days, I really do not want to invite any more bad-ju-ju than those that I successfully accomplish myself.

Alcohol, weed, coke, absolute segregation of mind from body and soul ~ heck let's try it all and see what happens. Or rather how 'fast' we can fast-track this thingy. Cos we already know sitting by the door didn't do jack. And frankly, so did none of the above.

The only thing that the last few hours has taught me is this:

I just want my friend back, and there are no lengths too far or wide for me to get to that.

Timing

So it's 3 days to Christmas, and 6 days to the start of the Big Move.

The house is a right mess, and despite having spring-cleaned less than a year ago, I am still up to my 2nd Extra-Large thrash bag, and given away about 10 bundles of stuff - clothes, toys, crockery, etc.

It's an odd feeling - to be consciously packing up and gearing up to moving. Yes - all of 33, and I have never really been here, save the time when I had to leave Surrey and come home. And mind you, I'm the Mistress of Moves: OG Heights is gonna be my 6th home in 7 years. 

In the beginning, when I decided on the date, I didn't give much thought that it would coincide with Christmas. Either I 1) wasn't thinking right or 2) wasn't thinking I'd be wanting to celebrate Christmas. But now, as the carols ring louder, the timing of it all is kinda getting to me.

I wanna be able to lie under my tree and try to drink my wine on Christmas Eve night, without having to open box after box looking for the glass or the wine-opener. I wanna throw my usual Christmas luncheon and get my friends horribly sloshed as we always do, without having to look for more newspaper to re-wrap all the dishes afterwards. I wanna pick my church clothes out of the cupboard, without having to ruffle thru my suitcase, looking for something that's not horribly creased!

So yes - timing of it - couldn't be worse. And it's pushing me towards the edge of going Bah-Hum-Bug!

Maybe I should take up LegalBeagle's offer of a plane ticket to JB and back as my pressie. But I'd probably land myself in the hospital at the end of it all from the lack of rest.

Well, if you're wondering what to get me still for Christmas - let's make life easy for you - offer me something to do on Christmas - just so I maintain my sanity!

Donkey Blues

Yups - it's one of them days where...

I've got the donkey blues..
Quicky throw me some booze..
So that all the yuckiness that ooze,
Can be washed away with a snooze.

I'm tired. Exhausted. Spent.

"Why am I feeling so empty?" Eeyore would wonder aloud, if Eeyore could speak!

What Would You Do?

A few years ago, an acquaintance of mine gave me a never-ending calendar as a Pick-Me-Up pressie. And tomorrow it cites a Zig Ziglar quote:

The measure of a man's real character is what he would do if he knew he would never be found out.

So indulge me ... what would you do if you knew you would never be found out?

Me? I'll just be my happy self, talking to my bears and letting all hell break loose in flatulence city.

Happy Tuesday y'all!

A Picture of Thousand Ills?

This is a picture of Malaysia's Health Minister Datuk Liow Tiong Lai at the press conference of my country's latest effort to reduce the number of smokers. (Click on pic for article)

I have bought ciggarettes from different countries (thank god for global branding!) and yes, in places like Vietnam, Thailand, Singapore - one has to make do with ghastly looking lungs everytime one reaches for that box of fags.

Fact remains - are these pictures going to deter us smokers from lighting up? It might encourage us once in a while. But *psst* here's a secret: half the time, we're not even looking at the box as muscle memory takes over in the pick-open-pull-stick.fag.in.mouth action.

Now what might really work would be to have a lil imp implanted in the box. An imp trained to quip the words "Are you sure you really smoke that ciggarette?" complete with raised eye-brow and waving small pics of the smokers' loved ones.

Yups - I think that might increase the reduction of smokers a whole lot better than pictures of throat lesions and wrinklly lungs.

Anyone out there with connections to Discworld so we can get our hands on some imps?

Mahogony

Ben once told me an average human being only has about 15% of his entire life to do the things he likes to do, i.e. time for him or herself. A vast majority of his life would be spent working. The remaining time would be spent between time in the bathroom, time sleeping and time traveling.

Now, assuming a person lives to age 70, which would be a grand total of 613,200 hours. 15% of that would be 91,980 hours to yourself. At that time when he shared this “discovery” of his, he seemed quite contented to have only about ninety-thousand hours of his entire lifetime, doing the things he liked to do which was play ball and hang out with his mates.

Yet, the last few months has just been so crazy, ninety-thousand hours don’t seem to be enough for him anymore. And this was a position I didn’t ever think I would see him arrive at.

I once wrote that there are “so many definitions and so many interpretations of 4 lil alphabets. Seen the same way via the calendar and the many variations of time-keeping equipment, yet different in each person’s mind’s eye.”

I have friends who envy me for having so much time on my hands these days. They wished they were in my shoes – working the requisite 9-to-5 and having the full weekend off. I in turn, listen to their stories of “chaos” and “crisis” at their workplaces with droll running down my lips. Go Figure! It’s not to say that I do not appreciate having a more laidback life these days. I do. I have time to spend with my kids. I have time to read and still sleep. But I didn’t get here by accident.

I have done my time – 5 years of it – and so I count it that I am now reaping the fruits of my labour. I have been at the beck-and-call of my bosses. I have dashed out the door on important dates and not looked back in that instant, but regret it till kingdom come later on. I have decided that was not a life and I am done with it.

Al once said that “Time management isn't about time or management. It's about knowing what's important in life.” It is not merely the physical consciousness of the moving of hands on the face of the clock. It’s about being there In.The.Moment with another.

While I miss my 16-hour days, 4 pm lunches at the desk and 10 pm dinners eaten like a zombie, I know that all that I achieved in those hours, cannot make up for hearing my kids squeal with glee as I walk thru my parent’s front door. The energy I give up in dealing with customers and staff, cannot equate to the pleasure I derive from wiping down the house with L&L on a Saturday morning or being the tow-truck in the pool on a Sunday afternoon.

I quite like seeing things clearly, as one does when one is not harried. I quite like having my mind uncluttered so that when people speak, I am truly listening and not making a mental list of what needs to be boxed off the next day at work. And I suppose that is what Ben (and perhaps maybe even the Bear) has come to realized.

But if a change is to be taken, no one can force their hand to it. It is something that each of them must consciously decide to take up and do. Cos people like us – we’re not built like the cashier or the dvd seller. And thus the effort to free up more time for ourselves, to tip the scale towards a simple life, is much harder to achieve.

You have to decide that watching the sun go down outside of your office space is something you wanna do – on an almost daily basis. It’s kinda like quitting smoking – if you ain’t got the will-power, you’re only gonna end up stressing yourself out and smoking even more. And then you’d be left with solo papayas that dry up and become prunes.

So here's my question for the day: Is this just stemming from the frustrations you're feeling from being caught in the eye of the tornado, or have you reached a pivotal moment where you will change the way your life is, for the better?

Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life's been showing you?
Where are you going to?
Do you know?

Is the trade-off going to be good enough for you? Cos if it ain't - I'd suggest you leave it as be then.

Theme from Mahogony
Diana Ross

What have I been up to?

... Well, here's a run-down:

Fiddling with the remote on Astro @ Play

Yups folks - hit Channel 882 on your Astro remote control and enter in an addictive world of TV-games.

Watching the world churn on Bloomberg

Need I say more?

Pigging Out All By Myself

If you've watched Sex in the City (the Movie), you'll know where I'm heading - down the Samantha road!

Good grief - I seriously have to stop this one! I will not end up being as fat as Samantha (the character) is!

Sporadic Kicks

And when I do manage to pry myself off the couch, away from the food and the remote, I try to make up for the extreme binging with another bout of binging!

Is it working? Not really - not when one goes only when one feels the extreme need to release a whole load of pent-up pressure!

The BJJ Project

Last but not least, I'm working on a small project - affectionately called the BJJ-Be-Gone in a box.

Nothing much else has been happening.. I'm still alive... and occassionally kicking... And no.. the thumbsies have not gotten pissed with the increased in activity and walked off my palms yet!

Try and have a good day now y'all!

When A Big Boy Falls

Tonight, over 20,000 families would not rest easy. They probably haven't been. That is the harsh reality of the fall of the big brother Lehman.

We can be like ostriches and say it's got nothing to do with us. But from a employee to another, it COULD happen to us some day too. Upon graduation a decade ago I wanted nothing more than to work for them (or Goldman Sachs or JP Morgan for that matter). In hindsight, I'm lucky to not have been good enough for them.

At least I can sleep easy tonight, knowing I have my job tomorrow.

Of Statues and Sanity

in•fal•li•ble ~ adj.

1. Incapable of erring
2. Incapable of failing; certain

I have been agonizing since Wednesday night over a situation. A situation which has made me feel very much alone cos 1. It’s not my place to discuss it with my buddies and 2. The person, who’s brought me into it, has chosen to just not talk about it.

Them, who know me, would know that I am not the sort who can sit still and do nothing. I cannot be thrusted into a situation and be expected not go into “rescue”-mode. So this is a freaking round-hole-square-peg situation.

Let’s face it. They say that one should never put another on a pedestal ~ them idols tend to be made of cement or some sort of plaster and can almost never survive the fall. But I have been thinking – did I really put this person on a pedestal? Did I think so highly of him, that I thought he was infallible ~ when he’s done his fair share of failing!!!

*Sigh* I suppose at the end of the day, it’s not really my problem and there’s nothing I can do about it if said person chooses to not involve me. And because there is no other option – the best that I can do is to turn him and his challenge over to the Higher Authority and pray that he’ll come out of this without a scratch.

And that I don’t lose even more of my own sanity over this! One broken statue on the ground is enough to clutter. We don't need another.