Freakishly Awake

It is 3am Sunday night, or Monday morning depending on how technically correct you want to be. I am not looking forward to going to work in the morning. I am so tired of the sh*t that's going on. I feel like quitting even though I know I won't. I set myself a task and that is to stay on till the end of the project and that is what I'll do. But it still doesn't change the fact that I dread the idea of going back in a few hours. This is bad. This is what happens when you work too many hours and working weekends and suddenly one weekend you decide you have to take off and you get too much time to think why it's better to have a job that doesn't require you to be there seven days a week and you begin to resent it even though you didn't resent it before and was actually keeping a cheery disposition because well, you could. At 3am my mind is racing. Past events keep repeating that are of no consequence on today, or any other day in the future for that matter. I wonder if it's a reaction to the coffee I had at 7pm. No, it must something more. And no, it's not to do with what happened on Friday night. I know it isn't, because these things are not beyond my EQ. But I did freak out a little at the time, because I was completely drained from the stress I was under at work and it was the last thing I'd wanted to deal with and I had no idea it was coming. Seriously, even after 5 minutes into the conversation I had no idea what the other person was trying to say. I was blind-sighted. Exhausted and blind. But it clicked when he said he and his girlfriend are on a trial separation. Dear god. Once I heard that I knew what the rest of the speech was without hearing it. It's happening again. Why me? Why do I give people this wonderful sense of trust that they feel they can talk to me about anything and everything, and that I am this caring, thoughtful person that gives a sh*t? I hate that I do care. Because I'm drained right now. And the only person I can think about right now is me. I know that's selfish, I know that's not nice but I've been alone for years now, I'm used to thinking about me, and the last "relationship" I had was utterly soul-destroying because I cared and he didn't. Why doesn't someone rescue me for a change? He actually said he would, bless his cotton socks. Yes, bless them all! But still does me no good. He wasn't riding a white horse and he had no armour. I'm cursed to be a romantic forever. Every girl wants a fairytale, even though every modern girl knows it's practically impossible. And in practice, almost impossible. I am the poor sucker for the "just might be a tiny bit possible" part. Reality check please. Strange as I am completely and utterly rational. Freaky and awake. But I don't think it's the reason why I'm being insomniac tonight. It's work that I don't want to face tomorrow. Trying to delay its existence, for I know once I fall asleep, the next thing that happens is I open my eyes and the truth will be upon me. Sigh. Admitting denial is for the poor man who can't afford to not face the truth. Being in it is for the rich man who can. If you know what I mean. One happy thing about the weekend has been the rain. The lovely rain beating down a happy, strong rhythm. It was like a veil that cut me off from my troubles. I was hidden and untouchable. But the rains are clearing now and I hear the chirps of the early birds. Sirens that alarm me to the approaching day, marching marching marching towards me, ready to sieze me and haul me off to the firey incinerators. Curse the day!

No Smoking (but only if you don't want to)

When the ban on smoking in public indoor areas became effective on January 11, 2009 in Taiwan, little notice was made of it. People at work continued to smoke in the fire stairs for at least three weeks. Every pub or bar I've been to since the ban still allows its patrons to smoke. Once early in the ban I'd forgotten and asked the barman for an ashtray. The barman apologetically reminded me that smoking indoors is now illegal while handing me a cup filled with a small amount of water as an improvised ashtray. Other patrons were less mindful, ashing directly into the candle holders. I've never heard of a non-smoking patron complain at any one of these establishments.

It is now 5 months after the ban and indoor smoking has not yet diminished. It's been disregarded by the smoking community and entertainment establishments without much consequence. I am not advocating for a reversal on the law, but I do believe in enforcing the law. Especially when this law was established to protect the health of the community.

What could be even more disturbing is whether this kind of disregard for the rules is indication of greater disrespect for the law. If, adherence to the simplest of rules is ignored, where then does the it end? I don't want sound hysterical, but there are some things that should be monitored and a society taught to be responsible.

Night Thoughts

Nights are mysterious. So are night creatures. We need light to flourish but night creatures flourish against nature's intent. Wondrous night creatures.

Lover's Quarrel

Being single and living alone has its benefits. It means a clean house that no one can mess up. The fridge is never full of someone else’s half eaten and forgotten take away. There’s never a queue to do the washing machine (I once shared a house with 12 people, so I know!), and for that matter, the bathroom. I have the luxury of walking around the house in as much or as…well, you get picture. It also means I can spend over 12 hrs a day at the office, knowing I have nothing to go home to. No pets, no plants except the hardier ones, no loved one. I am thankful that I have great people to work with. But similar to any relationship, when anyone stresses out far too much it affects everyone. They’re pissed off, so you’re pissed off. You get short with one another an get on each other’s nerves. But what’s worse is that you can’t scream and yell at them then slam the door as you walk out. That satisfying act of violence. All you can do is sit and brood, and wait for the tide to turn.

Reaction

Ooooooooooooh I'm impressed!  The ability to potentially email your posts from your work email, and not be caught blogging from the website itself.  What a marvellous invention.

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How bout a subject line

Let's see if this works better...

I'm trying out the new fandangle function of emailing my blog posts.  Let's see it in action.

Fundamentals

The alarms sounds at 7:55am. I turn it off, knowing a second will ring in 10 mins. My eyes fly open when that happens, disturbed by its frequency having already fallen back to sleep. I switch that off and fall back to sleep but this time, only semi-consciously. The alarm calls for the third and final time and I am awake. The light is faint in my room and I can tell it's grey outside. Another grey and cool morning. My bed is warm and comforting, and I toy with the idea of playing hooky. It's the most deviant and exciting thing I will consider doing for the rest of the day as a force stronger than me pulls me out of bed. I sigh at the burden of having a sense of responsibility. I decide to take my time getting ready, believing it's time I've earned for working till 11pm the night before and probably will again tonight as I've done often enough these days.

Home is a small apartment. The upper floor is the "budoir", consisting of a double bed, wardrobe, shelves, portable charlie horse*, dressing table, night stand and a reading lamp. I go downstairs to the tiny living room/dining room/games room/study with kitchenette, taking care on the narrow steps. Only about two weeks ago I took a tumble, on route to the bathroom in the middle of a dark night, in a drunken daze, bringing down my forearm directly onto the blunt edge of a step. It resulted in an over-turned pot plant, spilt soil and a cricket ball sized bruise, deliciously swollen black and purple. I was brave and did not cry, just gritted the pain that shot through my arm and into the pit of my stomach.

Getting ready in the mornings is a bore. It's simply routine. I think I am literally do it in my sleep. Wash and dress and I'm out of the door of my 6th floor apartment. My lift is an all mirrored affair. Useful reminder that the dark circles under my eyes will not go away. Out onto the street I walk briskly. Down to the main intersection where my bus stop is. There are two breakfast vendors that are unfailingly stationed at the two ends of the block. One is a middle-aged lady selling noodles and "oil rice" from a push cart, the other further down is a husband and wife team serving fresh shallot pancakes and soy milk from the back of their small truck. Whilst I am tempted most days, I am usually more deficient in caffeine and breeze past both options to catch the next bus that booms down. My day in the real world begins.

Shark Attack in Sydney

Just saw on the news that there was a shark attack in Sydney Harbour. There's even a link to an excel spreadsheet of shark attacks in this article. The guy didn't die, but he was rushed to hospital with a hand nearly severed and chucks taken from his leg and backside. Poor guy.

But this incident also highlights an interesting fact. The fact that the waters of Sydney Harbour are getting cleaner. Cleaner water means more fish, and more fish means more attraction for the sharks to come in for a good feed. When was the last time you heard good news about the environment?

So come on tourists! Come to the clear clear waters of Sydney and enjoy nature at its best. Right in the heart of Australia's most dazzling city.

Awww. I miss Sydney. It's the sunshine. Get a little sun on you and you just feel gay! Ahem. No pun intended.

Chapter Two

She puts the phone down. She never had any intention of calling him in the first place. Perhaps it's her age, something more primal, more hormonal that caused her to have a momentary weakness. Some need to partner up and nest. There would be no point calling and feigning nicety. She didn't want false pretenses where he mistakes politeness for interest. And to have to tell someone you're not interested would only just create unnecessary inconvenience for both parties. There was no desire to tempt friendship either, not when she was about to leave in a few short months for good. What kind of friendship would develop anyway? She certainly didn't want him to think she would oblige to a "mutually beneficial" friendship. She had had plenty of those in her youth, but now she had moved onto other goals in life. It is now time for emotional fulfillment.

A man who doesn't call a woman back is called a bastard. Are the issues at the forefront of a woman's consideration when she doesn't call a man back also rests so prominently in a man's mind when he does the same? I'd be very intrigued and pleasantly surprised if they were. But let's face it girls, men are bastards.