Self Preservation

I wish...

I had a greater capacity to hold anger... that way I won't add on to the already existing "I feel like an idiot!!" feeling.

I had more guts to yell, rant and scream... that way I won't carry more frown lines and wrinkles on this already old face.

I had more courage to say "enough IS enough!"... that way I can rid myself of this addiction.

I was more independent... that way I wouldn't feel such angst when affection and loyalty goes astray.

But since I can't seem to achieve any of the above.. I think I best start making myself all squishy and tuck me into a lil matchbox. Perhaps, I should even put that matchbox inside the drawer so that I can't be squashed abouts no more...

Trying to Pull

Like I said earlier.. this is a bad foreign relations week / month / era... 

Bang bang down on the piano 'til I smash the keys
Listening alone with the melodies
Everything's gone and I don't know where

Lately when I get lost there's this thing I know
Even the dogs have somewhere to go
Everything comes if you just it be

Work, work, brighten the corners that will never see
Untangle the thoughts that you know what they mean
I hope that the answer doesn't come to late

And the rule of thumb don't apply on me
'Cause the table are turning

Trying to pull myself away
I'm caught in a pattern and I can't escape

Continue to live your life as if everyone and everything will always be there and one fine day you're gonna wake up and realise you've only been lying to yourself. You should know better - having been, done that and all.

If you don't start sitting up and realising that in it all, you've got more to lose than I do - then I'd have to say "I'm sorry - I can't help you. You're on your own."

I am always the last in line and I'm sick of it. I can't be pulled anymore...

No one can lose anyone,
because no one owns anyone.

Paulo Coelho

Fare the Well Charlie Boy!

Every time I think of Charlie, Robbie William's song comes to mind...

 So unimpressed but so in awe
Such a saint but such a whore
So self aware, so full of shit
So indecisive, so adamant
I'm contemplating, thinking about thinking
It's so frustrating, just get another drink in

Watch me come undone

After many furtive attempts to rid myself of this one introduction from years ago, I have finally succeeded today. HOORAY!

Perhaps, I had hoped it didn't have to come down to a whole load of recriminations. Alas, Charlie is never without any drama. Oxford-Harvard-education and Goldman-experience and all that jazz.

So rock and roll, so corporate suit
So damn ugly, so damn cute
So well trained, so animal
So need your love, so fuck you all
I'm not scared of dying I just don't want to
If I stopped lying I'd just disappoint you
I come undone

So an era of Charlie has come to an end (and it's pretty definite this I'm very sure off) and so it must be commemorated. For Charlie did indeed provide quite a number of laughs, shits and giggles - especially between Balls, WhiteBoy and I. Their man of envy - Ballz used to say "You've gotta hook me up with Charlie Barbs - he never runs out of lines!" and of course, with weed under the coffee table and coke on the dining table, he was also the man Whites wanted to meet.

But that's all washed and done with. Charlie's gotta carry his own cross and I want nothing of it. Nothing what-so-ever, not even front row tickets to watch.

Fare the well sweet boy. There's hope in you yet! Go do your growing up and we hope you don't fizz out your remaining braincells in the process! 

Learning

Ah the weekend has come and gone. Gratefully, this silly thing I call my body decided only to start defying orders to "Don't fall sick now" only on Sunday evening - which meant that I had a grand weekend with Lydia and Luke.

I'm trying to get them to move away from picture books to word-based books. It's an up-hill climb I tell ya but if it works then Yeay and Hooray for me! As I cuddled up with my latest book, Bone China on the carpet, Luke had his new set of Winnie-The-Pooh books (bought for only RM 24.90 from Bookxcess!!) and Lydia her High School Musical series.

As it was 9/11 weekend, the telly was also full of documentaries and war-type movies. We caught the commemoration ceremony on CNN on Friday, following it with Black Hawk Down.

But yesterday, we took it a step further. For there was a documentary on the History Channel entitled: 102 minutes that changed America. It of course came with a viewer discretion warning which I in-turn relayed it on to Lydia and Luke. Lydia decided it would give her nightmares. So did Luke actually, but he was too intrigued by what he saw on Friday night, he decided to risk it.

Now, it may not have been have graphic as the movie World Trace Centre and of course, 8 years on, we have seen the slamming and dust-cloud images too many times to experience an acute sense of despair and pain. But to a 6 year old, who was trying to remember where he was when it happened (most likely in heaven as an angel still was his answer) - it was quite a gripping afternoon.

Okay - I may be chastised for allowing Luke to see something such as this. I had doubts myself. But knowing him, he would be bugged not knowing the whos, the whys, the hows, etc so it was a risk worth taking.

Did he actually understand any of the 102 minutes? I'm pretty sure he did. Will he remember it? I'm also pretty sure he would. Simply because at the end of the show, as the 2nd tower fell, he snuggled up to me on the couch and said "Mummy, I'm feeling sad. Sad because a bad man did all this and killed so many people. And because of that, so many people are fighting wars now."

I hope that he remembers that documentary, that moment and that feeling. Because if he does, I know my son would never then be able to find it in him to do damage - to the world around him.

And I hope I remember that documentary, that moment and those words. Because if I do, I know I would always fight to be child-like in my thinking.

On Her Way

A lot of my friends have been telling me that I should not underestimate just how much Lydia understand about the way things are around her. I guess it's not so much that I did not believe them, but rather, I was more concerned that if she did understand her family structure, it would tell me more than I am able to handle right now.

Me and a couple of my closest persons have been very worried and distraught each time she has one of her meltdowns. Her latest told me that it wasn't so much the departure of person(s) in her life that is high on her list - but rather the fact of not having 'one' when all her friends do.

I've been speaking on mail with a colleague who is a retired psychologist with grown children of his own. His wife and him have very kindly been sharing their time with me on comforting emails, filled with gems of their experiences - professional and personal, in a grandparently manner. And their advise was simply this: 

1. It was alright to talk it out. It was NOT alright to sweep it under the carpet.
2. It was alright to not know what to say at times as a parent. It was NOT alright to pretend I knew everything and fib about it just to make the story flow.

So that's what I've been doing. Not pretending that her crying didn't upset me. Not pretending that she was in a normal family structure. Not pretending that her concerns were not real. And it appears to be working.

This weekend, Lydia brought a form home from Sunday School - it's the same form that I've been completing for her the past 3 years since she started. Today, the form was different - the was a 'dash' in the space marked "Father's Details." As she gave it to me with the instructions to fill up the rest, she casually added what she had done, following it with "because he's not coming back."

As simple as that. No fuss. No hysterics. No mama-dramas of any sort.

And yesterday, she asked if her dad and I had "broken up." Caught off-guard with a head full of shampoo, I uttered a miserably soft "yes" with a much louder "Where did you learn that phrase from?!" She decided not to answer me but instead tell me that it was alright - people get over it and meet over people. Ah life according to Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers and High School Musical. 

Once upon a time, I did not think that my girl and I would reach a point where we could brooch this subject in this slightly non-chalant manner. But we're there.

I guess, the hopes of Gilmore Girls can still be hung on to. After all, as Mandy says - Rory and Lorelai always comes back stronger than before.

Organised Thoughts & Further Ed

BFF Mandy told me about some weeks ago that I should organise my thoughts, and as such, my blog. She said that since I was reading much more books, and actually writing about them - perhaps I would consider moving them into a separate site altogether.

Which is why we now have BE's Book Closet ~ a site dedicated to the books that I read - on my own, or assigned. 

As to why assigned? I've decided that instead of moaning on the fact that money's never enough, I might as well try and turn a hobby (and expensive one at that!) into a money making machine - i.e. by writing reviews on books. And note - it's review and not critiques ~ I'll tell you what I thought of the book, in good ole fashion Barb manner.

I would like to invite all of ChemShooter's reader to pop by there once in a way. And if you're there - be a nice soul and click on the NuffNang box at the bottom. You'd be supporting a good cause in the process.

And just what is this good cause? Why it's none other than contributing towards Barb being able to afford either 1) doing an English degree (oh Dad is so going to jump when he see this one!!) or 2) joining a summer school on writing.

So go on - don't be shy now! Click-click away!

Calling Mr President

Where are you when I need you?

So I can tell you that my telly broke down. Then you can tell me that it's only a telly and how I can use the useless hours I have wasted in front of it, watching re-runs of Grey's Anatomy and whatever else it is I watch, to better use - like writing my book or reading more.

So I can tell you that that for 3 nights in a row I keep dreaming of dead people. Then you can tell me that it was only dreams and remind me again how death is a natural part of life, and walk me through yet again how I must always anticipate death as part of my reality.

I am feeling well and truly lost right now. To the point that even if I hear from you, I'd probably leave the message un-read and thus un-answered, the phone to ring until it goes to voice mail.

So I can tell you I've had a fight with my best buddy. Then you can tell me that you've always thought him to be a fair-weathered friend and have said so a thousand times to me. So I can find reason in me to defend him to you yet again, and in that process be reminded of all the goodness in him. 

Days like these, I wish you spent more time reading this page. And I'm asking you cos you're the only one who bothers finding out what's happened to me when you don't hear from me, or when messages and calls goes unanswered. You're the only one who doesn't assume that I've gone underground yet again, or if you do, you deign to find out there and then what's caused me to shut myself off from the world I know and love.

I'm asking you so you can remind me, that by defending those who you think do not deserve it, there is goodness in me too.