Thursday, December 22, 2005

LeT tHe OvEReATiNG bEgiN!!

dear jess

I have the ugliest handwriting on the block. And I know that. I don’t need anyone else to tell me that and in attempting to write a romantic letter, if ever; it would definitely be a failure. However when I flip through them in my journal, it gives me nothing but great pleasure, pain and intrigue.

The shadow of time is slowly caving in on me. This year the world didn’t celebrate new years and my family didn’t celebrate Christmas, which makes this one slightly more stressful, with the lost of significant others.

The ugly handwriting fails me not and tells me of the pain that I had to go through in one of the darkest times this year, gained friendship, and the death of it. Accusations, harsh words, hatred.

I’ve caused a lot of pain too. Lost love. Wrong values. Bad judgment and decisions that have left people in depression, pain and even regret.

I’ve also been treated with grace by so many around me. Im contemplating naming these people but perhaps it isn’t wise as I may miss out those that may have given me grace without my awareness. My friends and family who’ve been there when I was ‘mistreated’ at church, work and even when I had secrets I couldn’t share with anyone else..

Backpacking beautiful Thailand is one that was written with so much care, at guesthouses, the lounge at my stay when I was alone, in a bus on the way to the next destination, even on the floor as I cried once. It’s something that means so much to me and yet so few can share this experience.

To grasp a whole year in my hands feels like standing in front of a work of art and describing it all at a go. You see, the only calculated achievement or lack of it was that I read slightly more than half of the books I had wanted to read.

It’s all in this one big feeling I have right now stuck in my throat and is welling up in my eyes. It’s not quite a feeling of pain and or joy..

Sometimes its great not to be able to describe or journal something. And that the feeling stuck in my throat is something that no one can duplicate from me.

The good and bad thing about going into a new year is that I can never anticipate what will happen. I thought I was going to be shivering with excitement that ill be headed off for Christmas, as it turns out the feelings are opposite now.

You’ve been good to me. The silent listener of all my moans and groans. Whilst my letters to you will taper off as I shall indeed be busy stuffing my face, thank you for being crazy enough to read my letters, yet nice enough not to hate me.

In all soberness and sadness I wish I wasn’t in right now, from the intimate spaces of my heart, I want to wish you merry Christmas in my mother tongue..


Praise God the giver of life who somehow sees me worthy to be His. I hope that you and I will see that this Christmas

If it weren't for the rocks in its bed, the stream would have no song.
-Carl Perkins

yours in need of a shot of christmas cheer,


Tuesday, December 20, 2005

aLL mEn aRe.......................

....... idiots

dear jess,

We set ourselves up for disappointment all the time, just waiting for that moment when that one single person will pay our one single self attention for more than 15 minutes of their time.

So we make politically-incorrect-bias-sexist-remarks like all men are idiots. And by idiots I mean exactly that. Love lesson 101. When a woman is angry and you fail to call her? You immediately become an idiot. The excuse you swear by that is truth to you that goes along the line of ‘I was waiting for you to cool down’ is.. idiotic. How is she suppose to cool down when you were the only one who could make her cool down?

Failure to call her within the first hour of her fury being made known – you will face some anger, but redeemable.

Within the next two hours- begging is advised

Within the next 3-5 hours – be prepared for many hours of groveling phone time

After 5 hours – ask her to come see me for a reality check.

Perhaps it is us women who are idiots. The definition will range from female to female under the umbrella of giving losers who’ve wronged them second chances, waiting on them, waiting for them, and who knows what else.

I’m even more convinced that we are the idiots sometimes as we believe the empty lies of being wooed, romanticized, and hang on to promises that he will call, come or email.

Most idiots may or may not get that moment of realization when the brick hits and the realization dawns that if you were his or her priority; he would’ve called emailed or be at your doorstep no matter how tired, tied, or tried.

And there we go shaking our heads at ‘unhappy singles’, including ourselves. Who’s the idiot now?

From one idiot to another..

Friday, December 16, 2005

rAw aNd ReAL

dear jess,

We love at the expense of getting hurt. We make good friends at the expense of being betrayed. We share at the expense of being laughed, mocked and shamed at. We ask at the expense of being rejected. We forgive at the expense of being wronged again.

We close ourselves up at the defense of our emotions. We are sarcastic at the defense of our own insecurities. We stay away from relationships at the defense of protecting ourselves. We fail to share the truth at the defense of letting people know who we really are inside.

I hate it when someone talks to me about my letters to you. Asking me why am I this way. As if I should explain further the raw truth that came so hard to explain to you in a letter read by so many. He would ask me this as if my purpose was to be dramatic.

I hate it when the person who claims my loyal friendship treats me as a stranger when he is back and doesn’t speak to me more than 5 words or ask me out for a catch up drink. And yet to someone else I do the same.

I hate it when I think that I can keep my feelings free from a relationship and then when I’m hurt I cry, off the lights and type a letter to you in the dark.

In the deep recesses of my mind I get the feeling that someone is going to get hurt. And yet I use him. Maybe because he’s nice or maybe because he makes me laugh. Or maybe because he’s just there.

Mutual misuse. Even then, someone is bound to get hurt.

There is nothing wrong with hurting and giving hurt, only when you know it might happen with or without your doing.

Honesty. Its such a hard thing to do. Impossible in fact. Someone told me she’s going to approach this single one person who’s done me wrong. Finally someone who’s fighting my battles, the one that has for so long left a scar in my heart, the one that no one came up to me and apologize for the scars they left permanently.

The other day I put on my gold chain and choked in tears for the person who gave it to me.

If I know so much about causing hurt why should I let him into my life knowing that someday it will be his tears, and mine too.

growing too old for my own games,

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

i'LL bE hOME fOR chRiStMAs..

Dear jess,

After 27 years of being away this will be my first Christmas at ‘home.’ Christmas has always been a mad rush of putting up pretty things for people to come together and enjoy. We’d wake up at 6 and rush into a drained looking musical team who would later be completely happy with their performance.

In my years of being away, I have met a little few interesting characters. This one calls me when I’m asleep to tell me how happy he is that there’s breeze today and its Christmas soon! Then later, he would tell me stories of playing truant, gang fights and even sad suicides.

For once. It’s nice not to be the stand up comedian who has to tell stories and keep the other amused.

It’s also nice to have someone younger than me speaking Portuguese to me in bits and telling me that in the settlement, the week before lent is a water festival that leaves everyone drenched, whilst Christmas celebrations start from now with singing, late nights and of course the infamous boozing attached to it.

The format of this hedonistic lifestyle, somewhat amuses and attracts me.

Cracking into the nutshell of my life seems to be finding a balance in all sort of things. I seem to fail to reach it and perfectly hate the standards that others force on you. The spiritual will condone whilst the worldly will entice.

There are so many things wrong with the pictures in our lives today from going only as far as a stage to proclaim Christ to just being sarcastic about going only as far as a stage to proclaim Him.

Drenched, broken and still impossibly searching for the balance, I’m thrilled at the prospect of Christmas, going two hours away to a whole new experience with a group of people that even I know little about, and yet am related to alot and the promise of being taken to have chicken ball rice at 4.30 am by the interesting character, as a latest addition into my life.

It’s beginning to feel like Christmas, in any sort of spectrum possible.

waiting to wish you Bong natal,

individually named christmas balls...

Friday, December 09, 2005

a sPooNfUL oF suGaR

dear jess,

its raining outside, again and makes an awesome time for still reflections, silent longing's and typing on my bed. someone asked me today if i was ok, and that i hadnt been my usual self lately. perhaps thats true to some extends.

my life feels rather stale. like the bland taste on your tongue after getting sick. its pretty hard to describe but nothing excites me anymore. friends, church, entertainment. i guess most people would call it the mundanity of life that they've come to terms with at accepting, except, ive had mundanity, and this doesn't seem to be it...

its hard to cure something when you're not even sure what it is.


Wednesday, December 07, 2005

yOu caN rUn, buT yoU cAnt hiDe!!

dear jess,

Some people exist merely to torment me, I believe. As many as have come and gone, there are some that migrate back to promise and seal torture for my life. The scary part about these people is that they seem like lambs to others.

I’ve always told myself to trust my intuition more, like for example when I saw the unrecognized number on my hand phone and the little small voice was shouting out that it could be him. don’t pick it up!

You see, the problem with swearing by male best frens is that sometimes, ever so rarely, you get friends dressed as males, with the embodiment of a female. Something like the term wolves dressed in sheep’s skin. You enjoy the male accompaniment because they won’t sweat it if you forgot their birthdays, didn’t see them for a few long weeks, and wouldn’t argue over about watching a movie or doing something without him.

But every, now and then, a male exists without knowing that in reality he is more, if not worse a female. Well, for the sake of being politically correct, a male or a female that is high maintenance is absolutely riveting, hence my torment.

There must be some sin in complaining about a “friend” to you and not to him, which isnt right as I've seen some people do. But since ive told him in his face that he is high mantainance and annoying and also, confronting, plus everything else, I guess all that’s left now? Is to sit and wait till he corners me AGAIN about why I haven’t called him to spend my every waking moment with him so he can once again question why ive neglected him for the last 5 years. I wonder how long I can duck him with the 101 excuses before I have to see him and reveal intimate details of my life because he probably thinks he deserves to know whilst he stares at me and sits too close for comfort. Bbbbbrrrrrrrr a chill just ran up my spine.

Well, at least you can be sure that my letters to you will remain dramatic from here on.

Wish me duck, I mean luck.

Groan, groan, groan,

screaming or smiling? asian monalisa... i say screaming, and no one hears me..

painted poster outside a theater house, bangkok

Monday, December 05, 2005

siNginG in ThE rAiN or MaybE thAts wHy iTs rAiNinG..

Dear jess

I have rain tappin on my roof, and Christmas music in the background. With the atmosphere that’s as close to perfect as it can be for a Malaysian girl who adores rain and celebration, it must be good days ahead.

Everyone loves Christmas, because it makes you remininsce. And sometimes the gifts, the friends and family, and of course the wine drowns out the sorrows of normality, past pains and losses, or the fact that you’re away from home.

Its interesting how family structures work. Ive never come close to appreciating mine till lately. Last week, we sat down and listen to country, even josh groban with beer, nuts and live band. Yes, my family ‘structure’ is one that you can take pubbing. Because of course, when I was 12, they took us to watch the very same band in a smoky pub, watch the band play with their boots, hats, and husky voices.

You wont think much of pubs until you’ve gone into a Portuguese owned one, that ensures on the way out they know your name, and you’ve said goodbye to everyone, and the next time you’re back you can take credit for beers and booze!

Of course there is nothing like watching a band that has been performing for so many years from a lead who can yodel as well as do a josh groban. Even local group too phat came to watch.

It seemed like music week too, when the cousin and I watched movie, had supper and told a certain somebody that if we have an album we will autograph it for him. All this only to discover later that the certain somebody was also the lead singer of a local underground band. If I found a hole in the ground I’d hide it there, especially after letting him listen to our recorded singing of going to the chapel! Or was it worse when we screamed at him that he hadnt heard of the country and western group? I cant decide, but talking about music to a band that apparently was the first to have their demo tape played on Malaysian airwaves?

Note to self, bring portable hole wherever I go.


uncle charlie plays with os pombos