Mixed Tape Series: The Jacksons - Scream

H: Times like these, I wish I still had a therapist.

P: How very LA of you. What's wrong homie? Talk.

H: You know me. I don't talk. Never was one for words. So I write. Or try to.

P: Har har. Another one of your therapist's advice hey?

H: Good advice though. Typing is therapeutic. The feel of pen on paper is therapeutic.

P: How about having your thoughts published?

H: Quite. But it's also therapeutic when you write a long-ass spiel and drag the whole document to your recycling bin.

P: Right. So what's the point? If you write stuff and not do anything about it?

H: Dunno. I guess it feels good to be able to release it I suppose. And it feels like you can say all things uncensored. With nobody else talking back to you and having to justify everything you say which is pretty pointless. Kinda like now.

P: You're saying it's pointless talking to me?

H: You're my best friend. Of course you will talk back. Of course you'll judge and of course I have to justify. Of course sometimes it's pointless talking to you.

P: You know I love you though right?

H: But then you say things like that and it's all better. Stop playing When Harry Met Sally. You know it'll never work.

P: I know. Incestuous. It's worse than kissing my sister. Eugh, I can feel the cringe. Anyway get some lunch and I'll go to sleep. You know I should charge you out of hours for this. I'm better than Dr. M plus you don't have to go on that couch. Night sweety.

There was never a couch. Just issues, but never a couch.
And it was all good again.

27 before 27 blog countdown: 44

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A case of the ex (this is not a book review)

I used to read a lot but these days, I've lost time (and perhaps a bit of interest) to do so. Hence I've set a realistic challenge of reading at least 10 books before I turn 27. I've finished 1/10 so I've got seven months to finish nine more. I didn't want anything too intense for my first book so I chose Jane Moore's The Second Wives Club. It wasn't life-changing - quite predictable and oftentimes unrealistic. It had, however, a universal theme that everyone else can possibly relate to - the impacts of an ex.

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a Skype movie date epiphany

So M & I watched P.S. I Love You (via Skype) last week and I got a bit freaked out... If you've not read the book nor seen the movie (book's better but men in the film were *whiiiiistles*) I shall try to not spoil it for you. There's this scene where Holly (main protagonist) and her mum engage in a heart-to-heart about how Holly feels alone and pretty much zonked from being left out (read: the only miserable person in the room) or being left by people she cares about the most. I wasn't too keen on the film but this scene particularly hit the spot. M paused the film and delved into what he thought was going through my mind. I was so surprised he was right, but admittedly amazed that he can read my mind despite being so far away. <3

As mentioned before, I went through a funny phase about being close and trusting people - I OD-ed on cynicism and thought why the heck bother investing on a friendship/relationship when nothing stays the same anyways? I didn't want to be completely miserable so I played the game and expanded my network. My newfound friends were a mix of people I've met whilst out and friends of friends. They were all decent people and I guess they were the kind of people I felt I can waste time and spend easily forgotten drunken nights with. Most of them I still see around, some of them I can't name, few of them I still go out with. Maybe a handful of them I can trust taking me home safely if I ever have one too many. I should be fine in the city like this. So I thought.

It hit me hard when one Saturday morning, whilst nursing a massive hangover from a massive payday Friday night out, I felt lonely. My housemates were all out and I felt a bit clingy and needy and wanted to have a conversation with someone over coffee. Like, a real proper conversation about life and not just some random chat about the minute details of a cocktail, or small talk about things that pass you by. I pulled out my phone and tried calling a few people. Most of them I don't really know well enough to invite out, some of them were too hungover and could barely stay awake, few of them were more interested in planning the next night out. Pass, I say. Some other time.

I started reading old messages dating back to when I moved out last year just to keep myself occupied. I've realised that I've left heaps of unanswered messages from people I've known a long time and people I've just met then but was too chickenshit to get close to. Most of them wanting to catch up, all of them asking if I was okay. I know at the time they all understood how I was in a bit of a state, and though I'm sure they were not offended when I didn't respond an unbearable feeling of guilt crept in. I guess in my selfishness and in the desire to not feel lonely I actually forgot to give these people some credit. People who've come and gone, people I've left behind, people who've moved on. All this time I thought I was left stranded on my own they were there. They've always been there. I kind of forgot that yes, people actually care and yes, people want to listen. My bad. Really. Big time.

I guess we meet people and whatever part they play in our lives - whether they're there to stay or whether they're just there to keep you company to pass a time by - is an important part because whether you move on with or without them or whether they move on with or without you, a shared moment is a shared moment. Whether that moment has more impact to you than it has to them or vice versa, it's a connection that will always remind you that in your loneliest, there's a lot of people out there who have once made you happy. And that you can always be happy. Because people actually care.

27 before 27 blog countdown: 46 

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an angel called A

Honey & Tunney

My best friend from work, A, handed in her notice last month and she's only gonna be around for the next week and a half. I'm sad she's going but I'm absolutely stoked for her and her new job. It could be worse, she could be moving countries or she could go sailing around the globe with no access to emails so I'm really glad she's only going to be working around the corner from us. I'm sure we'll still see each other regularly. However... it's just... slightly demotivating to know she's not going to be around anymore. Everybody loves A. 

She's been a daily habit for three years - kinda like the first shot of caffeine in the morning except she's better for my health. She's a definite pick-me-upper in all sense of the phrase: fantastic support (at work and everything else), bubbly persona (she's loud but never boring), amazing friend (one of the most honest people I know). She says it straight as it is and is not afraid of telling you off if you're being crap about something but she's always up for a laugh and is genuinely a caring mate. I wouldn't know how I'd survive without knowing her in this city. Everyone needs someone like A.

I'm glad she's moving on... she really deserves to. However, I'm slightly scared. There's been so many changes in the past few years and there's more to come in the next couple of months. Quite frankly, I'm tired of seeing people come and go on a regular basis but A's taught me how to look on the bright side and how to take it all in with a pinch of optimism. A's one of those people who will tell you stuff like 'I'll still see you for a drink' and mean it, unlike most people you come across in life who'd say it out of courtesy. That's how good a friend she is.

So here's to the Tunney of my Honey, the A of my B, the wonder of a woman that is Miss AT. I love her to bits and pieces and I'm sure she's got a whole lot of great things ahead of her. Whoever's taking over her role defo has big shoes to fill!

27 before 27 blog countdown: 47 more to go!

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OLD JOURNAL ENTRY: Oh, but I can't read your mind

I used to be very good at reading minds especially when I know the person all too well. My instincts were always spot on and I felt like I had this bizarre superpower to be able to phone someone in despair at the right time without warning. At the same time, I felt that I was tough enough to act as a sick bag (your verbal vomit is safe with me!) and cheeky enough to point out what I thought was wrong. Or what I thought that person would do. I used to be able to muster up some sort of bull that actually made a bit of sense in a blink – and that was good enough for the time being until friend in case needed my sick bag service again.

That changed when I moved. The whole “I’m off to England” shebang brought forth several issues that I forgot to deal with myself. Suppose you can say I’ve been selfish for a while and I had to spit and swallow my own deal. I’ve strategically distanced (no pun here, seriously) myself from everything and everyone until I got my groove back. I felt better and by all means I was ready to pack myself up in a shiny spangly box labeled “Your Friendly Sick Bag, Improved!”. It wasn’t exactly as great as I thought, because I still felt a bit.. detached. It’s not that I don’t care because I really do. It’s just that I feel so far already.

I guess I forgot to remember that people change as you do, and that the distance you impose can grow twice as fast as you think (with the exception of several friends who know you too well and vice versa). Perhaps that’s why I get so frustrated sometimes, because as I remain 9000++ miles away from the friends I care about most, I still expect to know a lot when I myself have not been talking. Maybe I didn’t have to be the receiving end at all times – relationships are only great on a give and take basis after all. Maybe I should’ve said something as well. Unfinished business remains unfinished and closure may be hard to find. You can’t just expect things to be the same as they once were because sporadic fits of déjà vu will never bring the past any justice. And no superpower can let you fully understand someone you haven’t seen in ages. That’s a shame, really. But I still wish I could read minds.

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The hardest part =(

The thing about letting go is that saying goodbye isn't exactly the hardest part. The hardest part is that time between your last few moments and the final touch. There's a bittersweet taste to the last few minutes because more often than not you spend it reminiscing about good times whilst a voice in your head calls you to the present time and you realise there's not much left. There's a soreness to the last touch because you don't want it to end and when it does, you're left wanting more (but can't) except all you can do is watch until you're left on your own.

08 March 2011. Yesterday London celebrated Pancake Day. Yesterday the world waved the vajayjay flag for International Women's Day. Yesterday, I let go. Again.

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P is a nice guy (actually)

When you feel the need to be heard at a certain moment, you’re lucky to have someone who’ll (forgive the cliché) be there for you no matter what. It’s so rare to find people who would seriously drop everything for you unless you’re royalty and they’re obliged by unspoken laws of loyalty. But hey, even their royal highnesses find difficulty in having minions who are self-sacrificing because they want to.

I’ve not lived long enough, but I’ve seen a lot of faces come with promises of ‘being there’ until the very end. I greeted their promises with heaps of optimism and a pound's worth of trust, thinking that if I believed it enough the good of humanity will prevail and nothing will ever change because friends stick together no matter what! *cartwheels*
 
Of course, I woke up one day with a complete realisation that life is not one big Disney movie but rather, a random episode of One Tree Hill (minus the almost-always absolution and Peyton Sawyer's ridiculously gorgeous curls) and that people almost always leave.

But yes. Out of the 6 billion people (or is it 7 now?) in the world sometimes you just need one person. Do you have that one person? I believe I do.

P and I & have been good friends for a while now. And yes, it's platonic. There may have been a few testing times to our friendship but end of the day, we're really great as friends. Having him as a really close friend is possibly one of life's little treasures that go a long way.

If there was a person from college who'd drop anything for me, a person I'd trust my life with, it's gotta be P. Looking back at the past few years I've not gone through an episode without him around to pick me up. He's given up studying for a finals exam to check up on me when my heart was broken (aced it too), travelled miles to deliver something I needed at the time (even when he was on his way elsewhere out of town), driven me around and gone with me wherever I wanted when I visited home despite his busy schedule, given me great (sometimes unsolicited but much needed) advice when he senses my brain is going on overload. Most importantly though, he's always around to listen despite the timing, despite the distance. I tell him I need to talk and he's already on his mobile ringing me. He's really the best and I can only pray that my attempts at being a good friend can compare.

We'd go around weeks (sometimes a full month) without speaking but we'd just pick up from where we've left things. We may not be each other's first option of confidence but rest assured we'll be around to pick each other's brains over something if needs be. We've approved and disapproved partners and ex-partners... praised and dissed each other from choices on life and love... hated each other for things like not putting in effort or just hormonal moodiness... but at the end of the day we've always known one thing - that we'll always be cool with each other. Because we're always going to be good friends.

He'll never get to read this (I'm praying he never does, too) but I think he's actually better than what and who he thinks he is. And he deserves to be happy. I pray for his sanity, for his happiness, for his contentment. And I pray whoever gets to keep his heart in the end deserves it. It's a big heart and it's full of nothing but love.

27 before 27 blog countdown: 49 more to go!

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27 before 27

Image from Cakes by Kali

I'm 27 in seven months and a few days. Yes, yes, my birthday's tagal pa but I'm overly excited about this one. 2011 has been good to me so far - heaps better than 2010 - and I can only pray that this continues through the rest of the year.

Joining the late-twenties populace feels like some sort of turning point, some sort of end to an era, some sort of wake up call. I used to taunt 27-year-old friends when I was an in-betweener, thinking Gosh they're so old! and now that I'm about to step into their shoes I feel I deserve a slap on the wrist for being mildly cruel. I'm not really feeling much of a difference (yet) but I can imagine the pressure of having to be relatively more responsible and more mature about things. When you enter the late twenties it seems that you're somehow expected to be achieving the serious goals in life, and the margin for error becomes way too narrow you're almost left with none. Oh, and of course, there's the pressure of body clocks and making babies for the delight of my parents. Oh. Now that is PRESSURE.

My best guy friend P and I talk every year about life goals since we hit our twenties. We've had a conversation a few weeks back and we've both realised how far we've come and how we've achieved most major goals we've set for ourselves - the usual by 21 we should be this, by 25 we should be that. Last year I've achieved my goal of 'not settling' (another story...) and he's achieved his goal of 'settling' =) This year, I've realised that I've not really set a main goal just yet. P asked me what I wanted to achieve this year and for some strange reason I blurted out the silliest answer ever.

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