hullo. okay I said I'd explain and I will now. It will be short and succinct.
I met someone while working during the hols. We'll call that someone mr it. He's old [in his 40s I think], and has a rather formal manner. Well after I left, mr it started messaging me. I think he got my number from the loan records [I'd borrowed an item while working]. And then he started emailing. I gave him my nus address because I was supposed to send a photo we took on my last day. There was nothing perverse in his emails, but they were inappropriate because of their intensity. Then somehow he found my hotmail account.
I don't know how he did that [you guys reading this ought to know that my email is next-to-impossible to figure out not least because of the spelling] but the fact that he had was a shock. If he can find my personal email address, he can find other stuff. And he did. The last straw came when he found la-mnemosyne.
The idea of this man reading my thoughts and feelings was definitely too much for me. I found out about it because there was this anonymous reader and with all this going on, I was getting paranoid so I deleted a post he commented on. I went numb when later that night he emailed me with the title "forgive me" and in it he talked about how sorry he was but he couldn't help reading my posts because that was the only way he could find out more about me.
I hadn't expected the anonymous person to be him; I just thought I was thinking too much.
I don't know if the guys will understand how vulnerable a girl feels when she finds herself threatened. During this entire period the vast majority, I'd say almost no guy could empathise. Most simply dismissed all the going-ons or implicity told me I was over-reacting. And that really hurt because I was going through quite a bit [there were other things going on too this past week] and if there was anything I needed from my guy friends was assurance that they were there for me. I mean, yes, the most common offer I got was to beat mr it up. But it's easy to tell when they're offering because they think it's funny. The thing was, none of this was funny to me and only one or two were there to listen to me. The rest were too busy; either too busy to stop and stay or too busy attempting to solve the problem.
So girlfriends 1, boyfriends 0. hah.
And that'd be the deal with my choked-upness. I suspect a direct co-relation between how I write and the events of my life. The last time I really had fun writing was back in mid-july and it's been more than a month half. Since then I've been forcing out posts and, losing one's groove for writing sucks like crap. Undignified words, but true.
I'm also sorry that getting here is such a chore now. =/
well. Now that that's out of my system, maybe things'll look up and I'll be light in heart again.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
intimidated
I'm sorry I left in such a haste. I will explain why soon. I guess, in a very real way,
I got scared.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Sunday, August 26, 2007
a suddensaddness
I've realised that
loneliness happens when the phone book is mentally thought through, the names running off the list and there is really, no one who can be contacted.
maybe it's because calls aren't picked up, messages sent aren't read and a therefore will be reached. My therefore would be that there is no one. Or sometimes it's because we have all changed and interpersonal relationships are different. And I have realised too, that there are very, very few attached people I am comfortable with. It started from a few years back I think. A bad incident, so that now I am inclined to back far far away when a significant other is stuck to your hip.
I remember a certain night a year ago when I received a call and my friend was sobbing sobbing into the phone because there was a suddensense of overwhelming loneliness and there was no one to call no one picked up her phone.
That feeling isn't very nice.
loneliness happens when the phone book is mentally thought through, the names running off the list and there is really, no one who can be contacted.
maybe it's because calls aren't picked up, messages sent aren't read and a therefore will be reached. My therefore would be that there is no one. Or sometimes it's because we have all changed and interpersonal relationships are different. And I have realised too, that there are very, very few attached people I am comfortable with. It started from a few years back I think. A bad incident, so that now I am inclined to back far far away when a significant other is stuck to your hip.
I remember a certain night a year ago when I received a call and my friend was sobbing sobbing into the phone because there was a suddensense of overwhelming loneliness and there was no one to call no one picked up her phone.
That feeling isn't very nice.
Friday, August 24, 2007
the rare breed,pedigree they say. it only exists in small numbers and guises itself in simplicity.it brings euphoria in abundance,ceasing only in its absence.when finally,he stumbles upon one.he admires its simple beautythat stretches beyond form,in awe that he's actually found it.his short abbreviated interactions:he takes comfort in them.it is like the breeze in hot sun,gentle and unfalteringit never fails to enliven the tired soul.his existence intertwines with its,but just barely.they call it an acquaintanceship,shallow, merry motivesbut not the least bit inclined towards malice.if chance allows it,time plays a partin the further entwinement of two,into complex bonds of knowledge and inter-comprehension.the ensuing blissful affinityusually flourishes into something sublime.he cannot be more amazed by the deep feelingsthat engulf his soul, towards it:now a part of him, one in mode.however, the anchorof which he set out to build everything uponis deceivingly fragile.that affinity shared between him, and it,may be short-lived.so short, sometimes.though he tries so hard to stop it,the foundation of braidslike complex nervous systemsis torn apart, quickly and painfully.the rare breedwill never be the same.once two strongly weaved soul vines,now seperatedscarcely touching.the awe,the bliss fritters into oddglances and awkward stances.the same tired soul lives,with nostalgia and regret.wondering to himself,when will chance permithim to find another,just like this.this time however,venturing with caution, andpraying unceasingly for a different end.finding out later:some things are better left untouched,maybe he should not have tried.
I don't know where this came from, but I took it from john. I like this poem very much.
I don't know where this came from, but I took it from john. I like this poem very much.
the rare breed,
pedigree they say.
it only exists in small numbers and guises itself in simplicity.
it brings euphoria in abundance,
ceasing only in its absence.
when finally,
he stumbles upon one.
he admires its simple beauty
that stretches beyond form,
in awe that he's actually found it.
his short abbreviated interactions:
he takes comfort in them.
it is like the breeze in hot sun,
gentle and unfaltering
it never fails to enliven the tired soul.
his existence intertwines with its,
but just barely.
they call it an acquaintanceship,
shallow, merry motives
but not the least bit inclined towards malice.
if chance allows it,
time plays a part
in the further entwinement of two,
into complex bonds of knowledge and inter-comprehension.
the ensuing blissful affinity
usually flourishes into something sublime.
he cannot be more amazed by the deep feelings
that engulf his soul, towards it:
now a part of him, one in mode.
however, the anchor
of which he set out to build everything upon
is deceivingly fragile.
that affinity shared between him, and it,
may be short-lived.
so short, sometimes.
though he tries so hard to stop it,
the foundation of braids
like complex nervous systems
is torn apart, quickly and painfully.
the rare breed
will never be the same.
once two strongly weaved soul vines,
now seperated
scarcely touching.
the awe,
the bliss fritters into odd
glances and awkward stances.
the same tired soul lives,
with nostalgia and regret.
wondering to himself,
when will chance permit
him to find another,
just like this.
this time however,
venturing with caution, and
praying unceasingly for a different end.
finding out later:
some things are better left untouched,
maybe he should not have tried.
pedigree they say.
it only exists in small numbers and guises itself in simplicity.
it brings euphoria in abundance,
ceasing only in its absence.
when finally,
he stumbles upon one.
he admires its simple beauty
that stretches beyond form,
in awe that he's actually found it.
his short abbreviated interactions:
he takes comfort in them.
it is like the breeze in hot sun,
gentle and unfaltering
it never fails to enliven the tired soul.
his existence intertwines with its,
but just barely.
they call it an acquaintanceship,
shallow, merry motives
but not the least bit inclined towards malice.
if chance allows it,
time plays a part
in the further entwinement of two,
into complex bonds of knowledge and inter-comprehension.
the ensuing blissful affinity
usually flourishes into something sublime.
he cannot be more amazed by the deep feelings
that engulf his soul, towards it:
now a part of him, one in mode.
however, the anchor
of which he set out to build everything upon
is deceivingly fragile.
that affinity shared between him, and it,
may be short-lived.
so short, sometimes.
though he tries so hard to stop it,
the foundation of braids
like complex nervous systems
is torn apart, quickly and painfully.
the rare breed
will never be the same.
once two strongly weaved soul vines,
now seperated
scarcely touching.
the awe,
the bliss fritters into odd
glances and awkward stances.
the same tired soul lives,
with nostalgia and regret.
wondering to himself,
when will chance permit
him to find another,
just like this.
this time however,
venturing with caution, and
praying unceasingly for a different end.
finding out later:
some things are better left untouched,
maybe he should not have tried.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
some of my boys :D
Yay. Finally one photo. Some of the boys from 2.6; I like 2.6. :)
Credit goes to brandon who sent me this. Brandon's the one not looking at the camera. haha.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
I'm hungry but a certain pig has been sleeping since.. 4ish, off and on and it's close to seven now.
It's been pretty much of a pattern these few days. He sleeps and I wait till I get so hungry I turn cranky and then we eat a late dinner last order in five minutes when we step in the first day at sushi tei he rushed me because he thought it was funny but yesterday at crystal jade I was kind of sick so he kept it to a minimum. Hopefully we'll eat earlier today. I feel like spageddies. Anyway.
So the sun is setting and the glare of the laptop is increasing. First it was the sun now it's technology. I am doomed to glasses for the rest of my life. -peers around in granny glasses.-
However at present the reality is that I have gotten some sort of eye infection- I swear it's the bed- not mine- and my right eye feels like it's producing some kind of hard gel-ly thing that squishes itself against my cornea if I turn my head to the other side. For some reason I've always thought of these occurances as little trips down the mutant path of goldfishes.
And I would like to say that I love talking with erica she's hilarious. She's deadpan. I love deadpan people. Therefore I love erica.
I also love erica because she has two amazing things going for her. One, she's a words person. Words People, as you may not know, are a rare breed. If you understand, good. If you don't, wait for my explaination- if it ever comes. Some things are intutively understood. Like peanuts.
Secondly, she is one of the very few fellow relief teachers who has followed me on my path. :) The fact that she is a brilliant moe scholar is beside the point. [ahemfreakahem]
And she just invited me to join facebook. erica, I tell you, has a perchant for suprising people.
illigible sound-
me: would you like to wake up?
It's been pretty much of a pattern these few days. He sleeps and I wait till I get so hungry I turn cranky and then we eat a late dinner last order in five minutes when we step in the first day at sushi tei he rushed me because he thought it was funny but yesterday at crystal jade I was kind of sick so he kept it to a minimum. Hopefully we'll eat earlier today. I feel like spageddies. Anyway.
So the sun is setting and the glare of the laptop is increasing. First it was the sun now it's technology. I am doomed to glasses for the rest of my life. -peers around in granny glasses.-
However at present the reality is that I have gotten some sort of eye infection- I swear it's the bed- not mine- and my right eye feels like it's producing some kind of hard gel-ly thing that squishes itself against my cornea if I turn my head to the other side. For some reason I've always thought of these occurances as little trips down the mutant path of goldfishes.
And I would like to say that I love talking with erica she's hilarious. She's deadpan. I love deadpan people. Therefore I love erica.
I also love erica because she has two amazing things going for her. One, she's a words person. Words People, as you may not know, are a rare breed. If you understand, good. If you don't, wait for my explaination- if it ever comes. Some things are intutively understood. Like peanuts.
Secondly, she is one of the very few fellow relief teachers who has followed me on my path. :) The fact that she is a brilliant moe scholar is beside the point. [ahemfreakahem]
And she just invited me to join facebook. erica, I tell you, has a perchant for suprising people.
illigible sound-
me: would you like to wake up?
Saturday, August 11, 2007
I was just complaining to one of my girlfriends that relationships are complicated things and that I'd be better off being a modern nun.
And the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to agree with myself, like some schiz-schoizoschizophrenic except that in this case it simply goes to show that I am so right that I have to agree with myself.
And because I have all these thoughts in my head that synergise in a mean way that leaves me with much substance but no language with which to actualise them, I shall make a list.
Why I am sad:
I am missing my boys, whom I will not see so often from now on. I have spent about seven weeks of my life with them, seeing them every single day laughing scolding joking being entertained by their boyish nonsense and I will not have that anymore and for that reason I miss them enough to be teary now. I shall not see their faces everyday anymore will not be escorted by my self-proclaimed bodyguards to the staffroom because they want to miss as much of the next lesson as they can. Will not be beleaguered by them with every conceiveable request madam can we go to the sac madam can we play games madam can we buy sausages madam can I beat him up madam can we have your email handphone madam let's go out madam can we talk about eyebrows madam madam madam. They will go about their lives and so will I, only that now our lives will not be so closely intertwined.
I meant to make a list, for there are three or four reasons more, but for now this will suffice and I am glad to have verbalised and made into reality what was previously just an ache inside myself. There. I have gotten it out, somewhat. Now I shall go for yf.
And the more I think about it, the more inclined I am to agree with myself, like some schiz-schoizoschizophrenic except that in this case it simply goes to show that I am so right that I have to agree with myself.
And because I have all these thoughts in my head that synergise in a mean way that leaves me with much substance but no language with which to actualise them, I shall make a list.
Why I am sad:
I am missing my boys, whom I will not see so often from now on. I have spent about seven weeks of my life with them, seeing them every single day laughing scolding joking being entertained by their boyish nonsense and I will not have that anymore and for that reason I miss them enough to be teary now. I shall not see their faces everyday anymore will not be escorted by my self-proclaimed bodyguards to the staffroom because they want to miss as much of the next lesson as they can. Will not be beleaguered by them with every conceiveable request madam can we go to the sac madam can we play games madam can we buy sausages madam can I beat him up madam can we have your email handphone madam let's go out madam can we talk about eyebrows madam madam madam. They will go about their lives and so will I, only that now our lives will not be so closely intertwined.
I meant to make a list, for there are three or four reasons more, but for now this will suffice and I am glad to have verbalised and made into reality what was previously just an ache inside myself. There. I have gotten it out, somewhat. Now I shall go for yf.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
According to the clock on the computer time now it's 0123hrs and despite needing sleep quite badly I'm still awake begging my body to do the same because I have two things to do before going to bed. Or maybe I'm not begging because it's one of the rare nights when my will is fully in control. My stubborn side, if that's what you want to call it.
The seventh week ends tomorrow- in spite of it being wednesday- and I would like as thorough a break as possible. May all evidence of every single thing I've done be removed such that it'll look like nothing ever existed. For in truth I fear I bring naught but bother to people.
I've found out that I ought to be avoided because I know nothing but to take. All things considering, I think the origin at my upbringing because my father and mother have taken every available step to ensure I want for nothing. My mother blithely tells me that guys exist to take care of her princess. I'm saying this with all detachment at this hour because I say in truth- what I know to be anyhow. Do not for one moment think of judging my parents or I will think you with contempt.
The only significance this point has right now at 0137hrs is that I think people should consequently avoid me. It's for their own good. I'm told I'm willful and petulant. Who on earth would want to be with someone who is demanding and careless.
The five weeks in the philippines has served to show how impossible I am at anything. I'm inefficient, scatter-brained, easily distracted, unfocused, talent-less and hopelessly dependent. I suppose I live in a bubble of my own. A shiny pretty happy bubble but a bubble nonetheless. And like most shiny pretty happy bubbles it's a delicate one that needs constant care if it is to remain a reality. And if it bursts it returns to nothing more than a composition of water and chemicals that soon evaporate- meaning, non-existent and nothing is left behind to show that I was ever there.
Again, please do not misunderstand me. I am not berating myself. I merely state what I believe to be facts. I am neither depressed nor upset. I am evaluating myself. How I choose to feel about this will not, I think, happen tonight. It will also be interesting to come back to this particular post after some time and read it with a logical mind. I am lucid tonight, only that it is the clarity that the faerie have- or the drunks.
But I have not touched the drink for months now.
So anyway. I suppose I should start my process of leaving.
The seventh week ends tomorrow- in spite of it being wednesday- and I would like as thorough a break as possible. May all evidence of every single thing I've done be removed such that it'll look like nothing ever existed. For in truth I fear I bring naught but bother to people.
I've found out that I ought to be avoided because I know nothing but to take. All things considering, I think the origin at my upbringing because my father and mother have taken every available step to ensure I want for nothing. My mother blithely tells me that guys exist to take care of her princess. I'm saying this with all detachment at this hour because I say in truth- what I know to be anyhow. Do not for one moment think of judging my parents or I will think you with contempt.
The only significance this point has right now at 0137hrs is that I think people should consequently avoid me. It's for their own good. I'm told I'm willful and petulant. Who on earth would want to be with someone who is demanding and careless.
The five weeks in the philippines has served to show how impossible I am at anything. I'm inefficient, scatter-brained, easily distracted, unfocused, talent-less and hopelessly dependent. I suppose I live in a bubble of my own. A shiny pretty happy bubble but a bubble nonetheless. And like most shiny pretty happy bubbles it's a delicate one that needs constant care if it is to remain a reality. And if it bursts it returns to nothing more than a composition of water and chemicals that soon evaporate- meaning, non-existent and nothing is left behind to show that I was ever there.
Again, please do not misunderstand me. I am not berating myself. I merely state what I believe to be facts. I am neither depressed nor upset. I am evaluating myself. How I choose to feel about this will not, I think, happen tonight. It will also be interesting to come back to this particular post after some time and read it with a logical mind. I am lucid tonight, only that it is the clarity that the faerie have- or the drunks.
But I have not touched the drink for months now.
So anyway. I suppose I should start my process of leaving.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Saturday, August 04, 2007
i know i haven't written for awhile.
monday; I talked to you.
You ended it on tuesday by announcing that I had to go think about what you mean to me, and then to tell you. So in spite of my deep aversion to conflicts, I've been making myself think. I've been doing my homework, doing what you told me to do, with a force in your voice I've never heard before.
But for all my thinking, I return to the same conclusion. And it's the same one I wrote out loud on a certain monday in april this year. it's the same it's the same. You can go read it if you want. I wouldn't have changed anything, especially the last paragraph of my soliliquy.
Will you finally accept my conclusion? Because the thesuraus has run out of words too.
Now will you let me move on in my life?
Because I have so much to say I've been wanting to talk about my boys and the things we've been getting up to together but the memory of our last conversation you made it into a cork and stuffed it into the oesophagus of my throat didn't you. Because I can't verbalise the thoughts I have in my head, I can't form them into virtual concrete. Ignore the oxymoron because it makes sense. Fried ice cream exists and virtual reality does too.
Look you said it too. That we're going around in circles. Wouldn't that automatically mean that the sensible choice would be to stop retarding ourselves. Regressing. All that.
I'm going to stop explaining myself to me.
You ended it on tuesday by announcing that I had to go think about what you mean to me, and then to tell you. So in spite of my deep aversion to conflicts, I've been making myself think. I've been doing my homework, doing what you told me to do, with a force in your voice I've never heard before.
But for all my thinking, I return to the same conclusion. And it's the same one I wrote out loud on a certain monday in april this year. it's the same it's the same. You can go read it if you want. I wouldn't have changed anything, especially the last paragraph of my soliliquy.
Will you finally accept my conclusion? Because the thesuraus has run out of words too.
Now will you let me move on in my life?
Because I have so much to say I've been wanting to talk about my boys and the things we've been getting up to together but the memory of our last conversation you made it into a cork and stuffed it into the oesophagus of my throat didn't you. Because I can't verbalise the thoughts I have in my head, I can't form them into virtual concrete. Ignore the oxymoron because it makes sense. Fried ice cream exists and virtual reality does too.
Look you said it too. That we're going around in circles. Wouldn't that automatically mean that the sensible choice would be to stop retarding ourselves. Regressing. All that.
I'm going to stop explaining myself to me.
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