Zane is leaving for Kuala Besut without me this Friday. I was supposed to go with him but tonight, we made a decision that it would be best if I stayed behind with the lil chickadee.
I was a little heartbroken and just shrank on the bed, my heart hollow.
I lay like that for a few minutes alone, going through a mental list of who I could call for some sympathy. I didn't find anyone.
I'm just a little sad. But knowing me, I'll get over it in like 10 minutes.
Wish I could spend time wallowing in self pity but I've got a load of laundry to do.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Kalau kau mahu
A poem for those days when I'm aspiring, yearning, wanting something more.
kalau kau mahu
kalau kau mahu
ada langit biru yang lain birunya
ada awan putih yang lain putihnya
ada cara lain merenung purnama
matahari ungu di musim kelima
pagi yang lain sinarnya
malam yang lebih pekat hitamnya
pejamkan matamu sebentar
di sini kita bernafas tanpa kalendar
ingat tangis pertama disertai ketawa
manisnya pedihnya bila mulut dibuka
akan kukirim seekor rama-rama
dari desa tak pernah ditimpa cahaya
atau segenggam kapur biru
dari gua digali dengan kuku dan lagu
sungguh akan kukirim padamu
kalau kau mahu
sebuah perahu tanpa nombor dan waktu
naiklah teman-teman tak beribu
ada pulau biru yang lain birunya.
latiff mohidin
hong kong, julai 1970
Friday, July 25, 2008
Road trip
Zane and I hatched a plan over a three-course lunch at Cova, The Gardens, today that had me blissfully dreaming about it all afternoon.
To be honest, it was something that we both had been dreaming about all those years, and somehow managed to postpone for one reason or another. It's our long-overdue road trip to the east coast in our old buggy. We had wanted to do it last year, but of course, I had a happy accident which we later named Musa.
It's not just any old road trip, though, that we envisioned. It would be an artistic documentation of our journey to the east coast, through history and time.
Think Motorcycle Diaries meets Little Miss Sunshine. A journey of discovery, documentation and chaos!
We're thinking of taking the roads, trails and paths less travelled by and let serendipity surprise us. Though we are planning on a loose itinerary, we'll probably go on the fly most times.
Zane, the ever-diligent dreamer, wove his dreams into my own thought bubble, ever expanding it with happy visions and possibilities...until, by the time dessert came, I was already smiling in gleeful anticipation of the trip. It involved paintings, sketches, some prose and poems, and hand-bound books of our journey...and possibly an art exhibition of it to follow.
"We'll have to plan this right," he said, thinking deeply. "You know what car would be nice for this trip?"
I shook my head.
"A 4 by 4...with camping equipment and space in the back for Musa to crawl."
"Not the wagon?" I asked.
"Nope. Makan minyak banyak," he said. Then as an afterthought, "A kangoo would be nice too."
We stared off into our own thought bubbles...wondering....dreaming...
"It would be nice to take a long leave. You know how long we should go for?"
I eagerly put up all ten fingers to his face.
"No...more than that..."
"Two weeks?" I started to moan. I didn't have two weeks of leave.
"No...a month!"
Perhaps I could take no-pay leave...hermmm...
Well, this is just the beginning. They all begin with dreams anyway. Let's see what happens next.
To be honest, it was something that we both had been dreaming about all those years, and somehow managed to postpone for one reason or another. It's our long-overdue road trip to the east coast in our old buggy. We had wanted to do it last year, but of course, I had a happy accident which we later named Musa.
It's not just any old road trip, though, that we envisioned. It would be an artistic documentation of our journey to the east coast, through history and time.
Think Motorcycle Diaries meets Little Miss Sunshine. A journey of discovery, documentation and chaos!
We're thinking of taking the roads, trails and paths less travelled by and let serendipity surprise us. Though we are planning on a loose itinerary, we'll probably go on the fly most times.
Zane, the ever-diligent dreamer, wove his dreams into my own thought bubble, ever expanding it with happy visions and possibilities...until, by the time dessert came, I was already smiling in gleeful anticipation of the trip. It involved paintings, sketches, some prose and poems, and hand-bound books of our journey...and possibly an art exhibition of it to follow.
"We'll have to plan this right," he said, thinking deeply. "You know what car would be nice for this trip?"
I shook my head.
"A 4 by 4...with camping equipment and space in the back for Musa to crawl."
"Not the wagon?" I asked.
"Nope. Makan minyak banyak," he said. Then as an afterthought, "A kangoo would be nice too."
We stared off into our own thought bubbles...wondering....dreaming...
"It would be nice to take a long leave. You know how long we should go for?"
I eagerly put up all ten fingers to his face.
"No...more than that..."
"Two weeks?" I started to moan. I didn't have two weeks of leave.
"No...a month!"
Perhaps I could take no-pay leave...hermmm...
Well, this is just the beginning. They all begin with dreams anyway. Let's see what happens next.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The stories I carry with me in this life
You think in words;
for you, language is an inexhaustible thread you weave
as if life were created as you tell it.
“Tell me a story,”
I say to you.
“What about?”
“Tell me a story you have never
told anyone before. Make it up for me.”
Prologue, The Stories of Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Our entire life is a story, no, multiple stories unfolding all at once. There are the heartrending tales of the great love of our life. The full-blown drama-minggu-ini detailing the ugly family feuds. The comedy – yes, in hindsight – that is our tragic personal life. Some of our stories are long drawn out sagas spanning many years. Some have quick unfortunate endings. Still others -- making them the most difficult ones to bear -- are left to fester without closures.
Everyone has a story to tell, whether they realise it or not. Some have poignant tales that haunt us for days on end, others have happy anecdotes of a full life. From having lived, and in some cases, endured, their lives, these people weigh the words in their mouth and tell of fantastic fables and fantasies, exaggerated lives and inspiring parables.
Many of the people I’ve met have been candid enough to tell me their stories. I would like to think that I am the reason for this frank disclosure. That I somehow give off an aura that they could trust, that their confidences would not be betrayed, and that judgment -- the deadly sword of human thought -- would be sheathed and withheld. But, the truth is that, it is not my doing. It is they who I credit and respect for their forthrightness, for their capacity to share, hurtful though the memories may be.
Sometimes I feel that I should reciprocate the gesture by opening up to them with stories of my own. But the thought of exposing old wounds and leaving myself vulnerable again to people's judgments as well as to feelings that I’ve buried away make thise merely a fleeting thought.
So, instead of spinning a tale about some long-ago lover or the crappy best friend he ran away with; the first taste of snow or the last supper in Provence, I lend you my ears and perhaps my shoulders, too, so that your life stories that you choose to share will have more meaning in the telling. So that the weight of your words, and of the life it tells, will be borne by this mind. So that some part of you will be carried eternal in me.
*
On the 12-hour flight to Paris, we huddled under our blankets as other passengers slept in reclined seats and semi-darkness. You, who commanded an entire continent with your marketing strategies and who everyone respects for your work ethics, told me about what it was like to lose your first, long-awaited, child only months after he was brought into this world. I saw your sad eyes -- twin pools of regret and despair -- and that faraway look in them. As though you were re-living the moments again. The death could have been avoided, but it had been written in fate by the hand of God, and that was how it was to be. As you told it to me, there were no tears in your eyes, only in mine.
*
In Africa, there came to me the tale of a magical child, who for the first nine years of her life, would suckle on nothing but her mother's milk and the water from the holy land. Any substitute of a lesser degree would not suffice the thirst of the child. This was told to me by the father who commanded a fleet of airplanes around the world to stock barrels of the holy water from the land of Mecca. The child, now fifteen, has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and is blessed with a keen sense of storytelling.
*
From many years ago, at a time when our hearts were young and easily set a-flutter, you, my dear friend, told me of your lover. A boy who not just made your heart thump that much faster, but set it raging and on fire. A boy you were afraid to bring home to meet your parents. Not because he was the typical "bad" boy, but because you were already promised to someone else.
*
On another flight, I sit with rapt attention listening to how a diamond was lost, never to be seen again for the next eight months, and found intact in another state. The ring had somehow slipped off Datin's finger without notice and the following months were spent in prayer for the return of the stone. Trips to Mecca were made and special prayers were offered in which it came to her like a dream, the knowledge that soon, the diamond would once again be in her posession. With nothing more than this flimsy assurance to hold on to, the Datin returned to Malaysia, to be greeted with the news that indeed, her ring had been found and returned. What began as a RM300k investment has now been valued at over RM1 million. A whopping figure for a 6.3 carat diamond with a story to tell.
*
An Egyptian guide who works hard, talks fast and seems to have time to spare for everyone, was married to an eternally patient woman. His work takes him from city to desert to forests half a world away and back. Passport stamps and a ready suitcase witness the life of this traveller who leaves his wife at home for months on end in the name of work and comes back only to kiss her goodbye again. It was discovered later by the wife, from examining his expired passports, that the man and wife were together for a mere three months in their entire married life of twenty years!
for you, language is an inexhaustible thread you weave
as if life were created as you tell it.
“Tell me a story,”
I say to you.
“What about?”
“Tell me a story you have never
told anyone before. Make it up for me.”
Prologue, The Stories of Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Our entire life is a story, no, multiple stories unfolding all at once. There are the heartrending tales of the great love of our life. The full-blown drama-minggu-ini detailing the ugly family feuds. The comedy – yes, in hindsight – that is our tragic personal life. Some of our stories are long drawn out sagas spanning many years. Some have quick unfortunate endings. Still others -- making them the most difficult ones to bear -- are left to fester without closures.
Everyone has a story to tell, whether they realise it or not. Some have poignant tales that haunt us for days on end, others have happy anecdotes of a full life. From having lived, and in some cases, endured, their lives, these people weigh the words in their mouth and tell of fantastic fables and fantasies, exaggerated lives and inspiring parables.
Many of the people I’ve met have been candid enough to tell me their stories. I would like to think that I am the reason for this frank disclosure. That I somehow give off an aura that they could trust, that their confidences would not be betrayed, and that judgment -- the deadly sword of human thought -- would be sheathed and withheld. But, the truth is that, it is not my doing. It is they who I credit and respect for their forthrightness, for their capacity to share, hurtful though the memories may be.
Sometimes I feel that I should reciprocate the gesture by opening up to them with stories of my own. But the thought of exposing old wounds and leaving myself vulnerable again to people's judgments as well as to feelings that I’ve buried away make thise merely a fleeting thought.
So, instead of spinning a tale about some long-ago lover or the crappy best friend he ran away with; the first taste of snow or the last supper in Provence, I lend you my ears and perhaps my shoulders, too, so that your life stories that you choose to share will have more meaning in the telling. So that the weight of your words, and of the life it tells, will be borne by this mind. So that some part of you will be carried eternal in me.
*
On the 12-hour flight to Paris, we huddled under our blankets as other passengers slept in reclined seats and semi-darkness. You, who commanded an entire continent with your marketing strategies and who everyone respects for your work ethics, told me about what it was like to lose your first, long-awaited, child only months after he was brought into this world. I saw your sad eyes -- twin pools of regret and despair -- and that faraway look in them. As though you were re-living the moments again. The death could have been avoided, but it had been written in fate by the hand of God, and that was how it was to be. As you told it to me, there were no tears in your eyes, only in mine.
*
In Africa, there came to me the tale of a magical child, who for the first nine years of her life, would suckle on nothing but her mother's milk and the water from the holy land. Any substitute of a lesser degree would not suffice the thirst of the child. This was told to me by the father who commanded a fleet of airplanes around the world to stock barrels of the holy water from the land of Mecca. The child, now fifteen, has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and is blessed with a keen sense of storytelling.
*
From many years ago, at a time when our hearts were young and easily set a-flutter, you, my dear friend, told me of your lover. A boy who not just made your heart thump that much faster, but set it raging and on fire. A boy you were afraid to bring home to meet your parents. Not because he was the typical "bad" boy, but because you were already promised to someone else.
*
On another flight, I sit with rapt attention listening to how a diamond was lost, never to be seen again for the next eight months, and found intact in another state. The ring had somehow slipped off Datin's finger without notice and the following months were spent in prayer for the return of the stone. Trips to Mecca were made and special prayers were offered in which it came to her like a dream, the knowledge that soon, the diamond would once again be in her posession. With nothing more than this flimsy assurance to hold on to, the Datin returned to Malaysia, to be greeted with the news that indeed, her ring had been found and returned. What began as a RM300k investment has now been valued at over RM1 million. A whopping figure for a 6.3 carat diamond with a story to tell.
*
An Egyptian guide who works hard, talks fast and seems to have time to spare for everyone, was married to an eternally patient woman. His work takes him from city to desert to forests half a world away and back. Passport stamps and a ready suitcase witness the life of this traveller who leaves his wife at home for months on end in the name of work and comes back only to kiss her goodbye again. It was discovered later by the wife, from examining his expired passports, that the man and wife were together for a mere three months in their entire married life of twenty years!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Sixteen again!
I'm 34 going on 16. Haha. And so is Sylvan. Thanks to our obsession with Edward Cullen. Must thank Stephenie Meyer for making us feel this way.
The first time I read Twilight, it took me two days to finish it. The second reading is taking me a week!
I've finally converted Sylvan into a fan, too. We're starting a book club and collecting members. Haha. She's given her copy of Twilight to Shahrul and we're excited to know his reaction to the book. It would give us an idea of how the opposite sex takes to it. Well, I mean, not exactly opposite sex...but close enough lah.
If he likes it, then we'll have a third member. And officially enough people to form a meeting. Just kidding. I'm not that obsessed.
Sharon, the bride to be, is obsessed enough with her future husband and so we won't impose on her. Lest she has a change of heart after meeting Edward. Heh!
Zane is too adult to be enjoying this kind of thing. Let me be the baby in the relationship. With all my giggling and scene-by-scene analysis of Twilight with poor hubby, I think he's had almost enough. I warily asked him if he was okay to listen to all my kiddy talk.
He said, okay, but don't me jealous lah.
Me: Are you jealous ke?
Him: Not yet.
Me: Alah, don't worry, Edward is just a fictional hero. You're my hero in real life.
And he melted. Awww....but I can just hear the groans as well! Haha!
Edward: If I could dream at all, it would be about you.
The first time I read Twilight, it took me two days to finish it. The second reading is taking me a week!
I've finally converted Sylvan into a fan, too. We're starting a book club and collecting members. Haha. She's given her copy of Twilight to Shahrul and we're excited to know his reaction to the book. It would give us an idea of how the opposite sex takes to it. Well, I mean, not exactly opposite sex...but close enough lah.
If he likes it, then we'll have a third member. And officially enough people to form a meeting. Just kidding. I'm not that obsessed.
Sharon, the bride to be, is obsessed enough with her future husband and so we won't impose on her. Lest she has a change of heart after meeting Edward. Heh!
Zane is too adult to be enjoying this kind of thing. Let me be the baby in the relationship. With all my giggling and scene-by-scene analysis of Twilight with poor hubby, I think he's had almost enough. I warily asked him if he was okay to listen to all my kiddy talk.
He said, okay, but don't me jealous lah.
Me: Are you jealous ke?
Him: Not yet.
Me: Alah, don't worry, Edward is just a fictional hero. You're my hero in real life.
And he melted. Awww....but I can just hear the groans as well! Haha!
Edward: If I could dream at all, it would be about you.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Lessons for men and women, in preparation for Valentine’s Day
I know I'm a little late for Valentine's Day -- or early, depends on which way you look at it -- but here it is anyway. Some perspective on matters concerning love:
A man and a woman are sitting in a restaurant arguing about male-female relationships.
The man, having been in several relationships that did not work out, observed that it was difficult to make a woman happy, saying, “...it has happened to me many times that a lady has told me that I was making her unhappy, and that she wished that she and I were dead, at a time when I have tried hardest to make her happy. It is so many years now since Adam and Eve were first together in the garden, that it seems a great pity that we have not learned better how to please another.”
After pondering over what the gentleman had said, this is what the woman replied, to help shed some light on the gentleman’s perplexing, though not unique, situation.
“Now God,” she said, “when he created Adam and Eve, arranged it so that man takes, in these matters, the part of a guest, and woman that of a hostess. Therefore man takes love lightly, for the honour and dignity of his house is not involved therein. And you can also, surely, be a guest to many people to whom you would never want to be a host. Now, tell me, Count, what does a guest want?”
“I believe,” said the man when he had thought for a moment, “that if we do, as I think we ought to here, leave out the crude guest, who comes to be regaled, takes what he can get, and goes away, a guest wants first of all to be diverted, to get out of his daily monotony or worry. Secondly the decent guest wants to shine, to expand himself and impress his own personality upon his surroundings. And thirdly, perhaps, he wants to find some justification for his existence altogether. But since you put it so charmingly, Signora, please tell me now; What does a hostess want?”
“The hostess,” said the young lady, “wants to be thanked.”
Taken from The Roads Round Pisa by Isak Dinesen in her collection of short stories, Seven Gothic Tales.
A man and a woman are sitting in a restaurant arguing about male-female relationships.
The man, having been in several relationships that did not work out, observed that it was difficult to make a woman happy, saying, “...it has happened to me many times that a lady has told me that I was making her unhappy, and that she wished that she and I were dead, at a time when I have tried hardest to make her happy. It is so many years now since Adam and Eve were first together in the garden, that it seems a great pity that we have not learned better how to please another.”
After pondering over what the gentleman had said, this is what the woman replied, to help shed some light on the gentleman’s perplexing, though not unique, situation.
“Now God,” she said, “when he created Adam and Eve, arranged it so that man takes, in these matters, the part of a guest, and woman that of a hostess. Therefore man takes love lightly, for the honour and dignity of his house is not involved therein. And you can also, surely, be a guest to many people to whom you would never want to be a host. Now, tell me, Count, what does a guest want?”
“I believe,” said the man when he had thought for a moment, “that if we do, as I think we ought to here, leave out the crude guest, who comes to be regaled, takes what he can get, and goes away, a guest wants first of all to be diverted, to get out of his daily monotony or worry. Secondly the decent guest wants to shine, to expand himself and impress his own personality upon his surroundings. And thirdly, perhaps, he wants to find some justification for his existence altogether. But since you put it so charmingly, Signora, please tell me now; What does a hostess want?”
“The hostess,” said the young lady, “wants to be thanked.”
Taken from The Roads Round Pisa by Isak Dinesen in her collection of short stories, Seven Gothic Tales.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Romance
I finished reading Eclipse on Wednesday night. The last few chapters threw me off, making me feel as emotionally confused as Bella did. So now, while waiting for the fourth and final book in the Twilight Series, Breaking Dawn, to reach Malaysia, I am -- don't mock me -- re-reading Twilight. Heh.
This second reading is much more slower than before. If before, I raced through the pages to know what was going to happen, this time, I'm just pacing myself slowly, reading each line with greater insight and appreciating the subtle nuances and innuendos that Meyer has inserted into her prose.
Am I pathetic? Oh, hell yes! Gloriously so. I don't mind being teased for this obsession for what's considered a young adult novel. I think I need a healthy dose of romance right now in my life.
After giving birth and nursing my baby these past six months, I have lost all sense of myself as a woman. Where was that girl who was all womanly, sexy and adorable -- well, to my hubby at least.
I don't feel that way about myself lately. But from the bum-pinching I keep getting, I guess zane still thinks I'm attractive. That's a relief!
But sometimes a girl -- whether she's a virginal apple or a rotten old banana -- just wants to be wooed. You know, the whole dress-up, open the car door, nice dinner and dessert, flower thing. Sans baby, of course. It's cliche, but those things really work. It creates ambience and mood. Well, at least till the next feeding session, I suppose.
Zane and I haven't been to a decent restaurant together, just the two of us, in months! Seeing that I have a long lunch break on Fridays, I asked him if he'd like to have lunch with me today. I was thinking Cova, at The Gardens. Lovely place. Reminded me of my time in Sydney. I guess we could splurge a little.
But he only went to bed at 5 am this morning.
Give me a wake-up call at 10:45 okay, he said, exhaustion in his eyes.
Takpelah sayang. If you're too tired, then that's okay. We'll make it another Friday, I conceded, but still hopeful.
Oh, okay.
So with that, ladies and gentlemen, I'm dateless on a Friday.
:-(
This second reading is much more slower than before. If before, I raced through the pages to know what was going to happen, this time, I'm just pacing myself slowly, reading each line with greater insight and appreciating the subtle nuances and innuendos that Meyer has inserted into her prose.
Am I pathetic? Oh, hell yes! Gloriously so. I don't mind being teased for this obsession for what's considered a young adult novel. I think I need a healthy dose of romance right now in my life.
After giving birth and nursing my baby these past six months, I have lost all sense of myself as a woman. Where was that girl who was all womanly, sexy and adorable -- well, to my hubby at least.
I don't feel that way about myself lately. But from the bum-pinching I keep getting, I guess zane still thinks I'm attractive. That's a relief!
But sometimes a girl -- whether she's a virginal apple or a rotten old banana -- just wants to be wooed. You know, the whole dress-up, open the car door, nice dinner and dessert, flower thing. Sans baby, of course. It's cliche, but those things really work. It creates ambience and mood. Well, at least till the next feeding session, I suppose.
Zane and I haven't been to a decent restaurant together, just the two of us, in months! Seeing that I have a long lunch break on Fridays, I asked him if he'd like to have lunch with me today. I was thinking Cova, at The Gardens. Lovely place. Reminded me of my time in Sydney. I guess we could splurge a little.
But he only went to bed at 5 am this morning.
Give me a wake-up call at 10:45 okay, he said, exhaustion in his eyes.
Takpelah sayang. If you're too tired, then that's okay. We'll make it another Friday, I conceded, but still hopeful.
Oh, okay.
So with that, ladies and gentlemen, I'm dateless on a Friday.
:-(
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Twilight crazy
Last night, at 1 am, Zane came into the bedroom with a mock reproving look, wagging his index finger at me, almost half grinning.
I guess he caught me with my hands in the candy jar! He found me in the darkened room, under the covers with Bella and Edward in my hands! Heheh...I was reading Eclipse by candlelight again.
I felt a little guilty and foolish. He made me feel like a teenaged schoolgirl trying to fool her parents and getting caught. He bade me goodnight. Go to sleep. Don't read anymore, you have to wake up early to go to work tomorrow.
I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to lie to him and say okay.
I guess he knew it, and added, "Baca sikit je lagi...takpe."
We kissed goodnight. He went downstairs to do his painting and I joined Bella, Edward and Jacob in the freezing snow at the little clearing where they had set up camp, waiting for the final battle.
I'm so absorbed in the story, you just wouldn't believe it...I even spoke about it to Baby Musa on my drive home yesterday evening. I don't know if he understood just how crazy his Mama was with this whole Twilight saga thing. He was probably too preoccupied with his own Peekaboo book but I was going on and on about my theories of how the story will end.
I'm almost at the end of this third book and as always with a story that I like, I'm beginning to feel a sense of loss. My sister has pre-ordered the sequel, Breaking Dawn, but it's only being released on August 2 and her copy will arrive maybe a week or two after that. She's agreed to let me read it first since she'll still be in Bangkok by then.
If before, I was rushing through the pages, impatiently devouring the words of the story, now that I'm almost at the end, I'm slowing down my pace. Not that I don't want to know what will happen but because I think it's so special, I have to slow down. I don't know if I'm being silly but I want to be in a quiet place when I finish the book. So I can sigh, cry, contemplate or whatever, at the end alone.
Some stories just deserve that private moment at the end, when the last word can echo in my heart before the weight or finality of it sinks in.
I guess he caught me with my hands in the candy jar! He found me in the darkened room, under the covers with Bella and Edward in my hands! Heheh...I was reading Eclipse by candlelight again.
I felt a little guilty and foolish. He made me feel like a teenaged schoolgirl trying to fool her parents and getting caught. He bade me goodnight. Go to sleep. Don't read anymore, you have to wake up early to go to work tomorrow.
I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to lie to him and say okay.
I guess he knew it, and added, "Baca sikit je lagi...takpe."
We kissed goodnight. He went downstairs to do his painting and I joined Bella, Edward and Jacob in the freezing snow at the little clearing where they had set up camp, waiting for the final battle.
I'm so absorbed in the story, you just wouldn't believe it...I even spoke about it to Baby Musa on my drive home yesterday evening. I don't know if he understood just how crazy his Mama was with this whole Twilight saga thing. He was probably too preoccupied with his own Peekaboo book but I was going on and on about my theories of how the story will end.
I'm almost at the end of this third book and as always with a story that I like, I'm beginning to feel a sense of loss. My sister has pre-ordered the sequel, Breaking Dawn, but it's only being released on August 2 and her copy will arrive maybe a week or two after that. She's agreed to let me read it first since she'll still be in Bangkok by then.
If before, I was rushing through the pages, impatiently devouring the words of the story, now that I'm almost at the end, I'm slowing down my pace. Not that I don't want to know what will happen but because I think it's so special, I have to slow down. I don't know if I'm being silly but I want to be in a quiet place when I finish the book. So I can sigh, cry, contemplate or whatever, at the end alone.
Some stories just deserve that private moment at the end, when the last word can echo in my heart before the weight or finality of it sinks in.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Candy
Today, I feel like a kid trying to sneak a candy out of the candy jar! I'm sneakily reading Stephenie Meyer's Eclipse at work, hiding behind the mountainous pile of assignments my boss handed me! Haha...but what can I say, reading this vampire-human love relationship is so much more delicious than writing a press release about charter flights to Malaysia *yawn*
And to make it even more tempting, I'm right at the part of the story where Bella wants to seduce Edward. Talk about being distracted and hor*y at work! Haha...Anyway, I better stop reading now -- it's nicer to enjoy a book like this in a nice quiet room, on my own time, without having to worry that my boss is looking over my shoulder!
I've been telling hubby about the Twilight saga and he's clueless about how much I'm into it. But, being the nice hubby that he is, he indulged in my childish fancies. No, he didn't put on the fake fangs last night. We just checked out youtube and watched the trailer to the Twilight movie and the music video to Billy Joel's longingly beautiful Lullaby (which is on Meyer's playlist for OST to Twilight!).
After doing all that, he asked if I would want to be married to a vampire. I looked at him, rolled my eyes and said, I already am!
Anyone who knows Zane would know that he sleeps in the day and wakes at night. I, on the other hand, have regular sleeping hours (well, as regular as Baby Musa allows!). It's a joke among close friends that Zane and I stay in the same house, but live on different time zones.
Ah well, la di da!
And to make it even more tempting, I'm right at the part of the story where Bella wants to seduce Edward. Talk about being distracted and hor*y at work! Haha...Anyway, I better stop reading now -- it's nicer to enjoy a book like this in a nice quiet room, on my own time, without having to worry that my boss is looking over my shoulder!
I've been telling hubby about the Twilight saga and he's clueless about how much I'm into it. But, being the nice hubby that he is, he indulged in my childish fancies. No, he didn't put on the fake fangs last night. We just checked out youtube and watched the trailer to the Twilight movie and the music video to Billy Joel's longingly beautiful Lullaby (which is on Meyer's playlist for OST to Twilight!).
After doing all that, he asked if I would want to be married to a vampire. I looked at him, rolled my eyes and said, I already am!
Anyone who knows Zane would know that he sleeps in the day and wakes at night. I, on the other hand, have regular sleeping hours (well, as regular as Baby Musa allows!). It's a joke among close friends that Zane and I stay in the same house, but live on different time zones.
Ah well, la di da!
Friday, July 4, 2008
A yearning
It's one of those days again...the ones where my pulse races for some yearning that I cannot put a finger on. The days when I feel so utterly dissatisfied with what I have that I just want to abandon everything and run, run, run.
I feel like I am searching for something and I don't know what it is. And it would be okay to just leave everything and go because I know that I would come back eventually. I know that I am encapsulated in so much love that I can go without any weight of guilt.
Like what they say, if you love somebody, set them free. It is intrinsic in me. That when I am comforted with love, when I know that I am absolutely, unconditionally loved, I am able to rise above everything else and just be me. Do what I instinctively feel like doing. Without feeling like I betrayed anyone.
It's like love is the background music that accompanies me throughout the day. Sometimes you hardly notice it but you are comforted that it's there anyway. Regardless.
Like the moon left on all night.
Maybe I was born for bigger things. For higher achievements. For nobler deeds. Some days I want to be bigger and better. But most of the time, I know my place. I am a wife, a mother, a companion.
But sometimes, on days like these, I wish for more. It doesn't help that Coldplay is playing in my head. That Bella and Edward are on my mind all the time. It seems like I'm obsessed. But it shall pass. I know that for certain.
I feel like I am searching for something and I don't know what it is. And it would be okay to just leave everything and go because I know that I would come back eventually. I know that I am encapsulated in so much love that I can go without any weight of guilt.
Like what they say, if you love somebody, set them free. It is intrinsic in me. That when I am comforted with love, when I know that I am absolutely, unconditionally loved, I am able to rise above everything else and just be me. Do what I instinctively feel like doing. Without feeling like I betrayed anyone.
It's like love is the background music that accompanies me throughout the day. Sometimes you hardly notice it but you are comforted that it's there anyway. Regardless.
Like the moon left on all night.
Maybe I was born for bigger things. For higher achievements. For nobler deeds. Some days I want to be bigger and better. But most of the time, I know my place. I am a wife, a mother, a companion.
But sometimes, on days like these, I wish for more. It doesn't help that Coldplay is playing in my head. That Bella and Edward are on my mind all the time. It seems like I'm obsessed. But it shall pass. I know that for certain.
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