A note to Baka

With you, baka, nothing seems to work out as planned. All for the exception of booze and food. The salsa and chicken burritos were kind of substandard i must say, but thank you anyway, for letting me sleep way past your chow hour and not lamenting.

Things we were supposed to do this weekend:
1. Dip in the pool
2. Do an awful amount of walking around Chinatown
3. Making delectable tortillas for dinner
4. Watch ESPN on cable
5. Shop for exquisite pillow cases
6. Read

Stuff we ended up doing:
1. Slept
2. Errand running at PS plus uncomfortable bus ride home (cramped spaces and squeals of irritating guffaws from the seat next to ours)
3. Not quite delectable tortillas
4. Someone slept while i watched Jamie Oliver on Discovery Travel and Living
5. Uncovered pillows
6. Barely read 2 chapters of my book

You are undoubtedly in love with your single bed while i need wide open spaces. I need sprawling without constraint and propelling from one side of the bed to another. I get cramps from your resting your head on my shoulders, and i'm sure your arms ache from mine. Our unsynchronised snoring and my refusal to do a number 2 at your place afflicted me with both insomnia and constipation. I can put up with your crankiness, kisses from your unshaven face and your verbal abuse, but i really need a bigger bed and most of all, i need you to step out of the house for some few minutes while i take a dump. Will you do that for me? Pretty please? (You'd better say yes!)

Everything aside, i really like the way you smell, your melancholic sense of humour, your well-stocked larders and refrigerator, your tastes in music, your childish demeanour and your "lots of brains'. I really do.

Your malaka.

An Almost Perfect Weekend

The rain, Friday night, cigarettes, alcohol, music, a boy, a kid, and breakfast in bed. An almost perfect weekend.

About changes, love and some

Sometime last week, i cant remember if it was between dinner and mahjong or coffee and karaoke that a dear friend said to me - I really wish you were who you were before and that you find someone who loves you for who you are, because you are more than that. That moment of epiphany kept my mind reeling for days. I wasnt always the cynical, snappy and difficult person that i am, i couldnt help but wonder, had i become the worst of me? Then again, some changes are inevitable and necessary. The mistakes we wish we hadnt made, the disappointments, the heartaches, the adversities and the long list of shouldas, wouldas, couldas had somehow become instruments of defence mechanisms we used to battle and better ourselves. The tricky bit however, is all about balancing, to be cynical and not indifferent, self-respecting and not proud, warm and not pretentious, i'm learning, not giving up and hopefully getting there.

Unfortunately, things kind of get awfully perplexing when it comes love. Compromises are made and rules are broken as are hearts. Happily everafter exists only but in fairy tales, most of the time, you have to choose between happily or everafter, only to end up with naught. Is it true that there are fundamental attributes you cant change in a person? Is it also true that one cannot impose one's beliefs on another? Or when it comes to love, nothing really matters? The more i question myself, the less sense love makes. Perhaps it is not love that does not make sense but people in love. We make rules only for them to be broken, draw lines and create boundaries only for them to be stepped on. After all, true love transcends distance, time, space and just about everything. Or is it? What have i really learnt from my past relationships? Enough to know that even though it hurts, its better to have loved and lost than never to love at all.

Moving on, George left last Sunday for Saudi Arabia, he seems to have an affinity for countries with the abbreviations S.A. It didnt seem that long since we first said hello, such is life i guess. I'm glad we caught up over breakfast, the air was cleared and tears were shed, till then, cheerios.

The week had been uneventful except for one funny little incident. Mr 007, as my friend had so amiably named him, gave me an account of his escapades or near death experiences so to speak. I so wanted to believe him for its better to have a CIA agent as an acquaintance than a Tom Clancy wannabe. Honestly, being shot and hiding underground is much too fictional to be credible, he might as well said he had been abducted by aliens, i expected more from him. Tsk tsk. For the first time in my life - I am more than that, there i said it, now i'll have to believe it.