everyone wants a new slate, or so they think

dear jess,

the year comes to an end, and im thrilled. somewhat, atlhough i dont know why. there are chances though that i will be terribly depressed as i go into another "age zone" in less than four months time..

ive read a book, and it tells of how in order for us to become better, or something like tat, we have to erase our personal history. and, at first that shocked me. for our personal history is who we are, isn't it? but ive come to realise that perhaps that is true. our personal history may trap us more than it gives us a sense of identity. our past traps us to think that we've made unforgivable mistakes, or that being a student and playing with snow was the best times of our lives, or that because we were once handsome, we might still have hope to become that again. ive seen people living in the past, and to a certain extend i do too, and truth be told, its getting awfully tiring. like tat old record playing over and over again or the uncle who keeps telling you the same story over and over again.

well, if i succesfully erase my personal history, that leaves me with not much writing material; of course with the excpetion of annoying people that i will always be able to write about.

sounds good right? im turning thirty soon (just to say it makes me quiver) and i dont have anything to succesfully show for it. im not worth a certain amount, im not at a certain social strata and for all the asians reading this, who rate success this way, im not married with kids. i guess what makes it okay would be that i dont care, i never have and refuse to. there, no personal history there?!

our attachment to things, experiences and routines are like personal histories.

If you have no personal history, no explanations are needed; nobody is angry or disillusioned with your acts. And above all no one pins you down with their thoughts. It is best to erase all personal history because that makes us free from the encumbering thoughts of other people.

Begin with simple things, such as not revealing what you really do. What's wrong is that once people know you, you are an affair taken for granted and from that moment on you won't be able to break the tie of their thoughts. I personally like the ultimate freedom of being unknown. No one knows me with steadfast certainty, the way people know you, for instance. From now on you must simply show people whatever you care to show them, but without ever telling exactly how you've done it. You see, we only have two alternatives; we either take everything for sure and real, or we don't. If we follow the first, we end up bored to death with ourselves and with the world. If we follow the second and erase personal history, we create a fog around us, a very exciting and mysterious state in which nobody knows where the rabbit will pop out, not even ourselves.

If you really want to learn, you have to remodel most of your behavior. You take yourself too seriously. You are too damn important in your own mind. That must be changed! You are so goddamn important that you feel justified to be annoyed with everything. You're so damn important that you can afford to leave if things don't go your way. I suppose you think that shows you have character. That's nonsense! You're weak, and conceited! In the course of your life you have not ever finished anything because of that sense of disproportionate importance that you attach to yourself.

excerpts from Journey to Ixtlan by Carlos Castaneda, on which Paolo Coehlo based his thoughts on for The Zahir.

so, looks like i have alot to work on for the new year. Well, happy new year and as they say in my mother tongue bong anu nobu :)

yours
jess

its starting to look like..

dear jess,

im sitting here on the floor of a hotel, with the lappy on a makeshift table, which is a chair really. i dont really have anything to say except be like everyone else and perhaps i should somehow talk about the year and so on so forth.

i suppose we can measure the year in wat we've accomplished or how many people love us or how much we've done. which is why i usually dont do much of that. the only thing that i can count is the books ive read, which i tend to be quite proud of, even if its two.

but what i thought i was going to say, as i was on the way back from my grandmother's, grandfathers' and great grandmothers' graveyard this afternoon, here at the little town with 13 firsts of malaysia, was that we humans need to measure stuff, or do something in order to feel that we are of value or that we are alive.

we put flowers in the grave, despite the fact that it really wouldnt mean anything to a person who cant appreciate it anymore, people whomewe probably never bought flowers prior to their death, but it makes us feel good, or that we have something to do in the land which represents the absence of activities.

so anyways, the year, right?

i was looking forward to december, its a time of enjoying the christmas season, but not so much this one, because im crunching on my work and i need to finish that before christmas. otherwise i would be tagging along from shopping mall after shopping mall, and i would be in singapore, plus i would also be planning a childrens carolling in puchong. instead im stuck here, on my make shift table.

so i need to do those things, and buy those candy's i never eat so it feels like chrismas, you know.

back to the year.

well, by now, you would probably have realised that i have nothing to say about the year really. however im really proud that i manage to keep my life compartmentalise. does that make sense? perhaps not, because you're in one compartment that doesnt always have to understand what i was saying. i suppose im proud that i manage to keep my life to myself, and to me thats a big accomplishment. no award, no calculation just a personal satisfaction.

on that, let me leave you with a bizzare note, everyone should have carls jr, at least once in their lives, despite the fact that the burger cost 17 ringgit and the set 20 plus. yes, it is that good.

your,
jess

leave me be

dear jess,

a friend of mine was asked today if i was attending another church.

it makes you wonder, that in my anger should i just start binge eating in the next few hours? or perhaps it makes you wonder why i would be angry in the first place?

see, the thing is, i have had a strange history with church. the "church" and me have not been the best of friends. we were, once. then the "church" betrayed me. it said things about me that were not only untrue, it has scarred me so much for a few years now, that i have changed.

when i was younger and slightly more idealistic, i did what was me, and did not bother what others should think, less their assumption was wrong anyways. but apparently in light of that, i was still accused of being certain things, from people who had spoken less than two words to me in my whole life.

they seem so sure. they would say, jessica is...... and that would follow a warning. i would be so angry and yet i couldnt do anything about it.

so, after i was severly scared i decided that the church and me had to have a slightly new relationship. one that didnt see me talking too much, or hanging out with too many guys, or laughing too much. my church relationship was one that got me there and back again with little view of me, less it was necessary.

thus, it shouldnt surprise you if you hadnt met my new pet, my new dress, my new attitude or even a new person in my life. i have worked so hard and keeping it all away, nothing in my life should mingle, lest they, she, it, or he be judged.

so my anger isnt in a statement, or in a perception that at least i was attending a church, even if it isnt the one that i really am attending. my anger, yet again, i think frustration, is in the fact that no matter what i do, people find a fascination in assuming about me, my life, people who i probably havent said more than two words to.

perhaps i should look on the bright side of life and realise that i still have true friends who check these strange statements with me, or perhaps assume that other people's lives really arent interesting and they find that they just have to talk about me. perhaps that i should think that im like a superstar in my own life, getting "rumoured" about my oh - so - interesting life.

when my human spirit feels like its failing in me, when i feel that im so fed up and i have been doing good by not laughing too loud, or talking too much, or being seen and all else has failed.. i guess it brings back haunted memories.

im tired of being trapped as a creature of my past. so im going to pull up my sleeves and roll with it. the next time someone asks, tell them i attend a church in singapore every weekend, my boyfriend is brad pitt and that im migrating in the next two months. if someones going to talk about me, i should at least have some fun, no?

yours, and by that i mean mine,
jess

knock knock

dear jess,

it seems that perhaps no one really had anything to say at all in the first place. that in the light of "facebook" maybe everyone really never ever had anything on their minds to say in the first and now that no one will pay attention to our blogs, we move on. maybe thats all we really want. us human beings. attention. im sure thats not a maybe.

perhaps thats all that makes us feel like we are part of this world and thats why we do the things we do. apart from facebook or bloggin that is. we get a fancy job, so we get attention, oops i mean so that we belong. or we do something different and travel or work odd hours, so that we belong, and yet dont belong enough for other people to envy us.

well, at least in my little crazy world where i try to find privacy on the web and yet have the feeling that im telling everyone and yet no one. perhaps this is just the perfect world for me.

Better go hungry than to be alone. because when you're alone - and im talking here about and enforced solitude not of our choosing- its as if you were no longer part of the human race. coehlo in zahir

yours

jess

mirror mirror

dear jess,

there is a lesson we learn or realise every now and then. sometimes its about ourselves, sometimes others and sometimes ourselves through others.

the biggest puzzle in the world perhaps is our own selves. and the delusions that relate to us being ourselves.

its so interesting how we only see parts of ourselves that we want to. and largely, interpretation really is in the eye of the beholder.

ive come to realise how wrongly i can be interpreted or how perhaps wrongly ive interpreted myself. like how someone i know thought i was probably being annoying when i always think out loud and seemingly hesitate to make decisions, when to me i was just processing my decisions out loud. or how someone thinks that he is good at most things when i think he is just a pain.

perspectively, we always think that we are right. perspectively we think that we are independent or confident when people think that that aspect of us is just cocky and annoying. we shrug and just shove it off as thats me, accept it, and not just that, we become proud of those aspects because we think that people not liking us is their own fault, not ours.

i always knew delusion was my best friend, i didn't until recently realised it was everyone elses too..

yours,

jess

...

dear jess,

i write this with some amount of hesitation. i was tearing three days ago at the hospital when i saw how he looked, how much weight was gone and i dreamed of him that night and the next. on that third day, he passed away.

its simple. i don know him like everyone there, his sisters, nieces and nephews, but he was to me the one thing that no one else was. he acknowledge my presence and he made time to talk and smile and to just be nice.

and for someone ive known seemingly so little off, im grieving.

you will be so dearly missed, john marcian carvalho.

yours,
jess

distinguishing it

dear jess,

i recently threw out a big basket of clothes. skirst, baby tee's and other 'valuables.' i would do it every once in a while but this one was a "major" one. i had bought three dresses, a sandal, four tops, a shorts and im sure some other stuff i dont remember in the span of just two weeks. i was and still am the tee and jeans girl who doesnt comb her hair. still.

yes, it wasnt budgeted and most of all i had shopped for dresses, something i despised till recently.

i was, and to some extend still hanging on to tees i love but cant fit in anymore thanks to the bulging tummy. tee's that i had probably worn few times, because they were "branded" and most likely will never fit into even if i starved myself to death.

im a believer that people can change, but more often than not, we dont. we still think that the pants or the bag is in style because its "us." how many of us try a style of sunglass we'd never think we'd like or a pair of clothing that "isnt us"? and how many of us actually end up buying those..

as usual, i digress.

ive thrown out those i can't wear and am aimed at trying more new "threads." i hope that that subconsciously transmits to my personality and not just my wardrobe. we all say we've changed after ten years, but have we really? are we still wearing the same type of flip flops with the same type of pants and shirt that everyone can spot us a million miles away?

change is good inside and out, as long as it isnt a V-neck shirt on a man or strange cowboy motif shirts. Ah! fashion is so difficult..

yours,

jess

simply put

dear jess,

im convinced. we, at some point of our lives complicate things, just because. usually attributed to all these reasons and blamed on reasons like our personalities or that we dont think its the right time.

i don't get it anymore though. and worse of all it frustrates me.

the boy likes the girl, the girl likes the boy, but its not right because its not right yet. the girl loves the boy but has to be away, so he breaks up with her, because?

wasnt love meant to triumph over such "trivial" things like time and space? were we subconsciously waiting to leave or waiting to find the "right one" or waiting for the brick to hit us on our head?

nope.

i think its this.

we humans, subconciously dont want to be happy. not all the time anyway. we like to think of ourselves as tortured souls.

fall in love with the girl we cant have.

distance wil keep me from loving you.

maybe its ancestry and since the majority of us will not get killed or tortured for being in love with someone different, we subconsciously torture ourselves.

what happens if a girlfriend decides one day to leave for the jungles of the amazon? the girlfriend usually follows the boyfriend or husband but men sometimes work differently and dont immediately see to living the dreams of their better half. perhaps this is a womans curse.. do dreams end for us, where relationship starts?

are we all just subconcious human beings waiting to scream that we are tortured souls, so that the world will pity us and we can write great songs and poems?

i hate it that it seems im the only one who really does think that life is that simple if we let it be. but i guess not everyone is ready for simplicity.

yours,

jess

ding dong bell

dear jess,

im sure i thought of a reason to write. a theme to my life or just to manage the letter writing habit that is slowly going obsolete in everyone's life. the problem is i dont remember anymore what the reason was and the danger is i might rant on about things in my life that i might take for granted that that would in any way interest you.

still. here i am trying hard to remember.

i watched a film today. 1957 i think it was called. my partner rated it 2 out of ten and i couldnt really disagree considering i could have read a book instead and it might have been more interesting.

ah. and now i remember my initial thoughts. its hilarious really, i was at church the other day and a few people said they hadnt seen me in a while. i attributed it to me being away, here and there but i didnt get into the details. one said hi and asked where i was worshipping now.

*blink*

i should've given a bizarre answer, something i wouldn't hesitated at either, if i wasnt too much in shock. i should have said something really strange and jaw dropping.

what the heck, im sure ill be given another go at that sometime in the future.

yours,

jess

rain, rides and roaches

dear jess,

it seems that the typhoon signs have reached here. i see the bit of roof waving at my window and i remember our five hours "layover" for our bus down north. we were soaking wet, so that our umbrella that i had bought from home actually came in handy and yet not handy enough. little did we know that about 30km away the typhoon was about to kill five people. we bought our poncho's and walked to the tailors at hoi an, vietnam.

by the time we were done, all our clothes were wet, i had nothing to change into, but another semi wet pants. we had to change because we'd be doing another twelve hour bus ride, at least. we were then halfway through our 48 hour bus ride. we were given the impression that we would sit in the same confortable bus for 48 hours straight, yes thats a two day bus ride non stop but as usual, no one tells us anything in this country. we took a twelve hour bus ride from hanoi, which where we started our trip and were first greeted by men touching us, annoyingly asking us where we were from and women who had no patience or want to understand tourist. it was all becoming a cold country, just like the crazy typhoon.

the next thing we knew we were on the hard seats of those busses. it was, and i will never be able to do justice to the explanation, but it was like sitting on a horse (id imagine) in a bus. there were these five lines on the road, painted perhaps so vehicles should slow down, and every 10 seconds apart i could feel them grinding through my brain. the bus it seems, was not only hard seated, we could feel every bump, every grind and every horn, which the locals would do every 10 seconds or so. thats right, no one would be on the road and we'd still hear the horn.

my bus rides have consisted of a roach crawling on me, a vietnamese man leaning over my seat to sleep on my hair, an old aunty slapping my feet as i climbed down from my bunk bed, a vietnamese lady literally, yes literally kicking her BARE foot into my face and tossing and turning on the already hard seats only to be greeted with? stinky feet in our faces.

i think ive reached the point where i can laugh at those incidents. im not sure i can say the same for my travel partner..

yours,

jess

sleeper bus, we were given the impression we'd be in these for 48 hours...

a total of 60 over hours were spend in busses like this, cramped, hard and crawling wit roach

fifteen minutes to late

dear jess

im growing irritated of having to upload pictures in three different places and lack the want to write to you about my trip. and ive just realised that i can just post the facebook link. so this is parts of it and the rest will be on facebook, still being uploaded. vietnam has been one crazy ride but i dont really feel like writting. i suppose the blog is being phased out in my life slowly. perhaps?

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16828&l=54869&id=652088209

yours,
jess

ho chi minh's mauseloum, where they keep his corpse, despite his death wishes to be crimated. it was close, the body gets send to russia everytime this year for "upkeeping"

nine million population, four million motorcycles, and a honk from one vehicle every four seconds. imagine it. thats as far as you'd like it to be! its absolutely crazy

ladies selling the old fashion way

side stalls in hanoi, all chairs are small and scattered every side walk and street serving desserts to crabs and seafood!

market place outside our guesthouse, hanoi. all the streets in the old quarter look like back lanes.

baguette bread by the street, hanoi