The straw that broke the camels back.

I am angry. Because the safety or your car was more important than my emotional well being. Because you will not stand up for me. Because you made me believe that you do not think my right to education is equal. Because in your head it is okay for me to give up everything I stand for and return to nothing at all, not even care and security. Because you could shift if you really cared about the proximity. Because you said you would but won't. Because I have a promise to keep to my 17 year old self. Because I owe it to my children to raise them in a place that will not teach them that their rights are less than anothers. Because I have so much to give and it shall all go to naught. Because they could have so much to give and that to would amount to nothing.

The trigger was small, the reaction disproportionate. The result of pent-up angst and a deeper frustration of the injustice of it all. I love my country, I want to go back, it doesn't want me or what I could offer. In the land of our birth, me and mine, you and yours, will all be second class citizens. Is it so wrong that I'm avoiding it for as long as possible? 

Looking ahead

2012 was probably one of the worst and also best years of my life. Looking back, it's amazing how unscathed I appear to be in the end. The realities of some of the worst things and the decisions I've made will haunt me for life and some days will always be worse than others but overall I've come out feeling more positive about most aspects of my life.
From an academics perspective, it was a pretty good year. The break begun with no pending deadlines and the performance overall decent. During the year, research and publishing opportunities arose, the latter will need to be followed up but is nonetheless heartening. Summer in Copenhagen was excellent and a rewarding experience. Grades good, work enjoyable. All in all satisfactory.
On the relationship side of things, the converse is probably true. It was a difficult, difficult year. Long distance is really the main issue and an exacerbating factor is that the time is stretching on rather than ending as quickly as anticipated. We should be near the end of the 'time apart' period but my ambitions mean that Malaysia is not the best option right now and his job means that leaving Malaysia at this juncture would be difficult. Urgh! The bickering is constant, our ideas on what to do next diverge greatly but we don't want to not be together, at least I don't... We've been through some very trying times and we're still holding it together. There are marriages that haven't survived some of what we've had to weather (apart from the distance even) and we're still doing it. Maybe it's not the right way to think but it just serves to give me more hope that things will work out in the end. Don't know lah.
Upon returning, there is always a sense of emptiness. I miss my family, the cat and dog, good and cheap food, friends etc. It is not an easy decision to leave all that I have in that part of the world to be alone on a vast island, so far from people I trust and love. What keeps me going is the need to see my dreams through to the end. In a few days, maybe weeks, things will start to feel less alien again. Plunging into work, the postgrad union activities and hall stuff will keep me from feeling the doldrums. Activity is necessary to fulfill and most of all to forget.

Bricoleur du dimanche...

probably what I am when it comes to submissions. Most of the time if almost feels like sheer terror at the procrastination and mad improvisation leads to the end form of my written pieces. A crooked tower added to the rear, a rickety stairway to nowhere, higgledy-piggledy panes and a wildly careening awning, the end purpose discovered after construction. Yet the structure appears to hold and appeals to its audience? It shames me that sitting down to work steadily and properly at something just never happens. It's been close to two decades of education and the technique continues to evade me. Good grades and praise feel undeserved though I won't pretend that these days, I work like a dog, for the few hours/ days that I actually do. Sustaining the capacity to work steadily rather than in random bursts. What will it take? Hopefully someone will let me in on that secret.

Denial

The bunny was dead.
The cat was carrying it in its mouth the way it does kittens.
Normally, I like cats.
This time, not really.
My only hopes were that the bunny had already been dead when the cat picked it up.
The only thing I could be glad about was that I didn't see it in a semi-masticated state.
It would probably make me hate cats, regardless of Patches.
The bunny was still whole and cute, just dead.
The cat was very cute too, black with a white sock on its front paw.
The only uncute thing was it had a dead bunny in its mouth as it ran across the dump site.
The single sock flashing as the dead bunny swung about.
It was the first time that I had seen a dead bunny.
They are normally alive and bounding across grass patches, nibbling on shoots and chasing one another.
I am sad.
It is not that time of the month.
It is not hormones.
It is just that dead bunnies make me sad.
Even if they feed cute cats.
Maybe it isn't even about bunnies.
Maybe it's because I can't just call you to tell you I saw a cat carrying a dead bunny in its mouth.
And that seeing the dead bunny made me sad.

Maybe the cat was taking a bunny friend that fainted to the secret animal ER which is behind the second bin to the right. 
That sounds better.
I think I'll go with that one.

Having babies

A friend of mine recently brought a baby into this world. She is stressed out, a tad cray-cray and emo from postpartum depression, and pooped out as hell from the time it takes to care for a new being. Her fucktard husband tells her that giving birth is normal, and she shouldn't "exaggerate as though she's the only one going through pain and depression" (strictly his words). How difficult is it for the jerkwad to get that she needs support and love, not to be told the equivalent of "suck it up and shut the fuck up"?!
Personal opinion obvs but past the point of spermination males need to roll with the blows. It's the price they may need to pay for skipping out on having swollen -painful- boobs, for not feeling pukey/ gassy/ bloated/ shitty, for not needing to share their body and its resources, for not getting stretch marks and back aches, for not needing to run to the loo a gazzilion times, not to mention the insane bombardment of hormones required to support another life form. You deal with the madness because you're part of the reason for it okay? Changing diapers/ feeding the bundle of joy/ bathing it once in a blue moon should not earn you brownie points because you ought to be doing some of that stuff anyway! Hug your damn wife, let her rage at you, seek professional help if it gets out of hand but neverbloodysay that she should just get over it because that is just not going to help.

A strange correlation

Every time I cry -not tearing, but full on snotty nosed bawling- my armpits perspire profusely (with deodorant use mind you).
So on top of having to deal with a leaky nose and puffy eyes, the scent of misery enfolds my being. Sadness tastes strange but not unpleasant. The metallic tang with its bitter-sweet note. A symphony of revolt from multiple sensory modalities.

Tell me again

How is it that two pretty nice people bring out the worst in one another?

Anything but

This blog has many posts on procrastination, mainly because I blog to procrastinate.

Take today, I was supposed to make presentation slides for my ADHD and gender paper, instead I've:
1) Made marinated mushrooms
2) Roasted capsicums (because olives and mushrooms aren't enough for antipasti... why do I need it?)
3) Washed my kitchen towels
4) Did laundry
5) Vacuumed
6) Watched two movies

Last few minutes of the eleventh hour.

Somewhere within the grey slush between my ears, another 3000+ words lie dormant. They need to surface and soon. The dread of not getting a HD and wrecking my beautiful average is looming. With one Credit on my transcript, it's a mercy that the other HDs were high enough to compensate and pull their weight against that abomination. Now, what will I do with anything less? It could be the one that screws up everything. It will not impact the research year since anyway it would be hard for the average to drop below the requirement but it would still be quite a blow if it dropped below the personal goal. The honours grade is based solely on the research year, so it really should not matter but considering how much I've procrastinated and the extension request, my supervisor and course convenor expect a lot of me based on previous submissions. Why was the bar set so high? I wouldn't want to disappoint them. Blowblowblow. In the mean time, must figure out how to rid mesself of this writers bloc and get back to writing already. God knows I've read hundreds of research papers, publications, books and reviews. Just a matter of making my case and doing a proper job of it. HELP!

The lengths I'd go to...

saddled with a packet of organic quinoa just because I really wanted an iced lemon-blueberry cupcake. Apparently, the only way of getting one was by getting something from the food co-op and making a gold coin donation.

Injustice

One person bearing all the consequences of two peoples actions. All long term and short term outcomes affecting the one more than the other, whatever the end decision.

Here we go again

If only I could take back the things I say and do in anger. It is no excuse, maybe it is time to get some anger management sorted out because this is not the first time I've overstepped certain boundaries. You drive me crazy, in good ways mainly but occasionally when it is in a bad way, snap. This is not a statement of it being your fault in anyway, it is about how much more vulnerable I am to you and yours, surprising considering how ambivalent I usually am about external opinion.
With you, the highs are higher and the lows are lower. It is a matter of choosing a life with not too much variability, a nice constant wave with softly rising hills and shallow valleys or the crazy roller-coaster we are on with insane happiness and intense sorrow. When things are going good, we are amazing! When they are not, we worse than suck... Those who know are telling me to step away, but they do not understand your brand of magic and the kind of optimism I cling on too. Things have been too beautiful and good for me to want to step away so easily. Nobody else has used such horrible words on me or made me feel so crappy about myself but nobody else summons rainbows. Hownowbrowncow?

Two peas in a pod?

We make one another sound like horrible people. Me in my words to you, you in what you write for the world to see.

Words words words...

I've read so many, my own have been leached.

Birds of a feather...

Periorbital puffiness, hand tremors, headaches, malaise, aching muscles, irritability... it must be sleep deprivation.

Night Owl,
I want to be there for you and to hear you out but when exhausted, these will not be the best listening ears or the most comfortable shoulder to cry on. Fatigue and irritation cause piercing words to roll of ones tongue. Exhaustion means that I cannot reason well and am too tired to respond appropriately but I do want to be there for you. However, the fatigue means that I am not being myself either and will not be at my best :((
The Morning Lark. 



On a different and rather extreme note:
"Sleep deprivation is regarded as torture under international law and is branded as such by the United Nations. Sleep deprivation may sound quite harmless in comparison to other methods of torture; however, ongoing sleep deprivation is an extraordinarily cruel form of torture which leads to a breakdown of the nervous system and to other serious physical and psychological damage."

3,2,1

The one second before a bomb blows, you never truly anticipate it. This one took the anger away but replaced it with regret and pain.
 Two seconds of an earthquake, devastation that takes months to recover from and the ground beneath your feet will not feel as solid for a while. Blink your eye and it happens but the aftermath will not spare quite so quickly.
In three seconds one can majorly fuck up the rest of their lives. This is one of the few things that I wish I had not done. The cost of acting on anger is self-loathing and the destruction of something beautiful. I will never have rainbow-first-kisses with anyone else. I died inside the moment it happened and so in fact did die before you.

Instead of the solipsistic ennui that defined my early twenties, 

I wish I'd slept on a hammock and made love on the floor below.

There is a candle in your heart, ready to be kindled.
There is a void in your soul, ready to be filled.
You feel it, don’t you?

- Rumi

All too finite

I don't want to wake up wishing I had done more. The world is too big and growing larger. I want to see, smell, hear, taste and touch more of it. Majestic heights, an aurora borealis, underwater worlds, exotic islands, deserts and tundras, cityscapes, neon lights, buzzing crowds, side-street cafes, wet markets, silky sand, yellowed snow, dirty gravel... it doesn't even have to be pristine. I want it all. To bungee-jump, to zorb, to fly a plane, to climb a mountain, to run in the rain, to fall upon the earth exhausted but fulfilled. Our bodies are functional for a finite time, some of these things can only be experienced as long as our sinew and flesh hold whole; while there is will in our spine and strength in our bones to wander, sample and explore. Could just be the wanderlust talking.

There is also all that knowledge out there. If only we could study as many things as we liked and work in multiple fields simultaneously... I wake up wanting to analyze information, to paint, to cook, to play with numbers, to grow herbs and fruits, to write, to dance, to do too many things. We are reconciled to having jobs that we love bits of and must get through the rest of. How can anything encompass everything that one wants to do? If time were not finite it may be possible. Time aside, Hayflick's limit holds and our one guarantee from birth arrives, often before the limit is truly reached. Senescence.

I want to be moved. To tears. To laughter. To something. The last time my heart swelled and sang out was when sitting by the the turquoise waters of Yamdrok Tso. I have been searching for that again, the point where beauty touches so deeply one is overwhelmed by wave after wave of joy, sadness, hope and the infinite other emotions out there. I hear the hearts song on solitary runs by the lake, a few more of those may be good. Maybe I just need to be done with my work, to see a few more sunsets, to run my fingers through the lentils and cardamoms in their sacks at the spice market, to watch the lights on the other side of the banks and it will return. Maybe what I need is to be fulfilled rather than reaching out to a thousand things only to want a million other things.

Is this a mid-midlife crisis? Regrets before the time is done and while I still actually have time to do some of the things on my list? Hence, the greatest fear is that ironically while spending time worrying about not doing/ not being able to do all these things, I could have done them.

A mouthful of

beautiful teeth. It's hard not to stare.