Hero’s dinner for tonight, prepared in advance since I’ll finish work at 8pm.

Chilli BBQ lamb, rice and long beans omelette.

Alright. Off to work now.

• I wrote briefly about advancement of mobile phones throughout the years. Someone should write about advancement of pet-naming too. Today in the mail I got a flyer about a missing miniature poodle called ‘Sienna’. Long gone are the days when dogs are named ‘Goofy’, ‘Droopy’, ‘Woofie’ or ‘Rocky’.

• I hope the family find Sienna soon. Missing dog’s notices always gives me a kick in the guts and makes me want to cry. It immediately brought me to the time my dog Tess went missing. We never found her, and the theory is that she went off to die away from the family so we don’t have to be sad. Gawd, thinking about it just makes me wants to blub again. See, I do have heart.

• Hero is working away again. It’s getting harder and harder to have the house to myself. Bleh. I took a nap today and dreamt that he was home. I wasn’t too happy waking up, I tell you! (Hopefully he’d be home tomorrow. *sadface*)

• I have to admit to myself that I’m juggling way too many balls now and I’m having trouble not letting any of it fall to the ground. Need to be a bit more organized.

• And oh, ate kangaroo steak for the first time last night. It was not bad at all!

Take, for example, mobile phones. Remember when they were as big as bricks and we could kill dogs with it? Remember how it always has to be near the charger…which was twice it size?

And the remember how mobile phone jus had those little screens (we could probably call it ‘mere slits’ nowadays) that would only show caller ID?

And then remember when it just used to be black and wite, and ability to send text messages was the cooles thing ever?

So much have changed, and it didn’t took us centuries.

I had my first blog at 13, on good ‘ol Livejournal. Back then the latest technology on mobile phone was texting. Unless we’re talking about Japan, whose mobile technology have always been 10 years more advance than anywhere else. At 13, I would never have envisioned mobile blogging.

Now I’m typing this entry on my mobile phone. My lovely Nokia 6760. I just tested my new Opera Mobile10 application to see if I could read blogs on it and as you can see, I’m delighted!!! So maybe now I can update more often.

This makes me look forward to future mobile technology for us blogophiles.

The downside of this? I don’t know how I’d justify paragraphs and I’m sure this will come back to haunt me whe I read this on a proper laptop…

Me: What’s going on? You ok?

Friend: I just had a chat with this guy, right? And he was cute and nice and everything, but like…did he think I was stupid? Like, seriously?

Me: …I’m, like, not following. Like, seriously. (Note: Why do kids nowadays insist on peppering conversations with gazillions ‘like’? Do they think they’re, like, gonna choke and die or sumfing, if they don’t, like, use that word in convo? Like, srsly!)

Friend: Well I was like “where you from”, right? Cos his accent was a bit different. And he was like, “South Africa!” and I’m like, “Riiiiigggghhhttt!” but he kept insisting he’s from South Africa!

Me:…and that bothers you because?

Friend: Well, he’s obviously white, and he’s blond!

Me: So?

Friend: So? What do you mean, so? He’s not black! He’s obviously not African!

…can someone tell this friend of mine that African and South African are not necessarily one and the same?

This is what you get when you have conversations with 19 year olds.

But at 19 even I knew this. Heck, I knew this when I was 8!

Ok, so I knew it because I had a South African friend at 8 years old but heeey….

Appreciating the suggestions from Tina and Cyril. *HUGS*

I would like to say a few things for those of you who may be worried that my soul is in danger. XD

I don’t hate my dad. Nor am I angry at him. I am disappointed, yes. And I am astounded by his stupidity, idiocy, and lack of sense. But hey, it has happened and nothing we can do to erase that.

So, my ‘conundrum’ as I mentioned in previous post has everything to do about ME, myself.

I don’t know how anyone else’s relationships with their parents are, so I can only speak for myself. As befitting of my Asian culture, my parents are revered and they are a cut above us kids. You don’t question your parents. I suspect this is the same in any culture, maybe just on a different intensity.

My parents make it easy on us though because they are so laissez faire. Either they are so, or we were very disciplined kids. I don’t really remember my parents forbidding us to do anything, as long as it is not illegal. Heck, when I was in school I can also choose to skip school anytime I want. A strange twist to this is I HARDLY ever wanted to skip school and I was very intense student…so I guess my parents thought it BEST for me if I took off sometimes! My intensity must have stressed them out!

To further illustrate the status of my parents: I NEVER referred to my parents as ‘you’, ‘them’ or ‘him/her’. I do it when I’m writing on this blog purely for English-aesthetics reasons. I realize it might be strange for native English speakers for me to forever mention my parents in third person. But when speaking to or about my parents, I use third person because there is no way I would be so audacious to refer to my parents DIRECTLY.

For example, I would ask my father, “Pa, would Papa like to drink coffee or tea today?” or “Ma! Surely, Mama would not think of watching reruns of Oprah hundred times a day!”

The respect I have for my parents sets them apart from us kids and respect is something I value very highly. I can dislike you intensely, but if I respect you that is all you need to gain my acquaintance. I can like you intensely but if I have no respect for you, life is going to be hard for both of us. In a lot of cases where I have broken up with my boyfriends, it was because I have lost respect for them as a person.

So all in all, it is the fact that I have now completely lost respect for my father that is hard for me to come to grips with. I still love my father. I still want him to live a good life. The same way as I don’t hold any grudges towards any of my exes and I wish them well. But nothing in heaven or hell would make me go back to my exes. Get it?

So I’m struggling with the acknowledgement that I see my father in a different light. My love for him makes me grapple to cling to every possible nooks and crannies to find details that I might have left out, so that I regain that respect for him. But it is a fact that after 25 years of knowing my father and being his Numero Uno child, I see my father clearer than anyone else. His loyalty and faithfulness to my mother would have made me respect him most despite all his other wrongdoings, of which you don’t want to know! He has collected a lot of enemies along the way, no thanks to his egotistical self.

So now that he has broken that simple, basic tenet of basic loyalty…there goes my grapples.

So it is not anger. It is more the realization that respect is gone and how I should react or adapt myself to it.

I don’t know how to describe how I feel succinctly. I guess unless one have gone through the feeling as weird as this, I don’t think one would ever understand how complicated, complex, confusing and hurtful it is.

P.S: Before you guys worry and decide to send an intervention counselling team, I’m fine. I see light at the end of every tunnel and move on to it with the speed of light (har har!), courtesy of my Type A genes (ironically, from Dad). I don’t ponder on things too deeply because usually I have something else to do or sleep to catch up with. But there are those rare, quiet times, when I have a minute or two to sit down, breathe and think, that I do ponder this. But since those times are far and few in between, and since nothing in this world have proven to dampen my Joker spirit, rest assured that you won’t read the newspaper to find out that the Chubby Penguin have necked herself.

Unless you tell me that chocolates are now illegal substances. Then I die.

(No, not really. I’ll just adapt myself to be a criminal by consuming that illegal substances!)

(See, told you I see light in every tunnel.)

The house is empty. Me, myself and I. Our housemates downstairs are out for a family outing. Hero is working half-day, to make up for the 2 days they took off because of the torrential rain.

I have classical music channel on.

BLISS!

It’s now exactly 2 weeks and 2 days into my semester break. Most of my friends have only properly started their break today, as they have been battling in the exam halls for the past 2 weeks. Yours truly is free of exam this semester.

BLISS!

So here are a few updates that do not come into ‘blissful’ categories.

1. I miss my girls back home.

Eileen. Stella. Ann. I don’t care two hoots about my time in college, as I see the period as bidding my time for future greatness (shameless!) but I did found joy in knowing, and gaining the friendship of 3 wonderful women. If there is one thing I miss from college, it’s them.

2. My parents are DEFINITELY separating this time.

Cheating is never ok. Cheating on several women is definitely NOT OK. Cheating on several women while ‘using’ your legal wife who have been with you through thick and thin throughout your married life is just so low. Therefore, even if I still love my father and even if the fact remains that I am closer to him than I am to my mother, I am not behind him in this one. In our last conversation on the phone, I left him with one parting sentence: “Imagine if I was in Mummy’s place, how would YOU feel if my husband did this to ME?” My father had no answer.

3. So this is a conundrum because…do I go and see Dad too?

Hero and I are planning to fly back to Malaysia for Xmas, more so to be with my Mum during this difficult period. And also, I think it is officially time to introduce Hero to the extended family. But now, do I go and see my Dad too? My mum have kicked him out of the house and I have no idea where he is living now. Do I make contact and see how he is doing? Or do I just let him have his punishment? Hmm …

4. Emails, emails, emails…because ambitions takes effort.

Because I am impatient, and because I like to strike while the iron is hot…I’ve been pursuing my dreams this year. Slowly, but surely. Unfortunately, this means I am unable to successfully juggle a lot of areas in my life. So despite semester break starting at 1^st October, I’ve been replying emails, following up, receiving phone calls…this on top of emails and phone calls I’m receiving about my parents’ drama. I am very, very overwhelmed so this weekend I’m taking a break from ‘business’ matters and concentrate on ‘me’ matters.

This means going bloghopping and seeing how everyone is doing.

And of course, the pressure on my back when I sleep at night. It’s weird. My sleeping patterns were trained to feel safe whenever there’s pressure on my back, literally because I know someone have my back. So the first night I had to line up those extra blankets and quilts on Hero’s side. It didn’t really do the trick because of course, my brain knows it’s just blankets and quilts.

So I spent the first two nights sleeping very little. Today is third day, so I don’t know how it’ll go but hey, no matter. Hero will be back this weekend anyway.

In my usual, annoyingly optimistic way, and to feed my list addiction, here’s a list of 10 things I like whenever I’m experiencing this ‘singledom’. It’s tantamount because in Hero’s line of work, he’d be working away at least half of the year. He’s doing less this year because he is now in the position to tell other people to work away but sometimes there are projects that are just to big a responsibility to be passed on to others.

So anyway, back to the list.

1. I don’t have to make elaborate dinners. I had oatmeal with chopped up bananas and apples for the first night. Last night I had tin spaghetti on toast. Both took me less than 5 minutes.
2. The better thing about not having to make elaborate dinners? More time to read a good novel.
3. I can watch Oprah, Dr. Phil and Dr. Oz. Not that I do anyway because I think they’re crap, but the point is, I CAN IF I WANT TO. Haaaaaaaaah!
4. The more important point is, I HAVE THE TV TO MYSELF! (And yet I haven’t watched it since he left).
5. I’ve dived into University work and haven’t stopped til now. Usually I reserve night time for couple time, but now he’s away my night time is drink-another-can-of-V-and-go-for-it.
6. …and I believe once I train myself to sleep alone, I’d appreciate and love the extra space in the bed.
7. The dog is allowed in. Usually she isn’t, cos Hero is not so keen on dogs, any dogs, being indoors. But he’s not here, right? So Dog and I have been having some serious girlfriends time. Mostly she just slept. But hey, who am I to judge. I don’t think there’s much you can do as a city dog. It’s not as if we have a herd to…herd.
8. I can choose to go to University library at night and do research. I said I can choose to. Not that I have done so. Sheesh. I’m not that hardworking. (Actually, maybe I should be).
9. I can walk around with my face mask on, my hair in foil and conditioner, my legs smeared in Nair. Also, I haven’t done so. But I could.
10. And I could stay up past 3am because I know I don’t have to be woken up at 5am.

Reviewing my list, I can only say the best thing with some time alone is…those times alone. I’m not complaining about couple life. I do the things I do because I chose to and Hero has never demanded me to be anything I’m not. I don’t have to make dinner when he’s home, he’s happy eating whatever is there. But I want to make dinner. I want to go to bed early (because of the conversations we have in there) and once I’m in bed, there’s no way I’m climbing out of it once he’s asleep.

This is the reason, I guess, that I’m much calmer and less stressed since I’ve been with him. He gives me the reason to set boundaries for my days. When he’s around I don’t work from the moment I open my eyes til the moment I drop of exhaustion (like I have the past couple of days). I eat proper food at proper times and sleep at proper times.

Ever heard the saying, “life is what you make of it”? I think Eleanor Roosevelt said that.

Yesterday, a friend texted me: “how do you make your life so charming? So happy?”

And I thought…wow, I’ve gone a long way in 3 years. It took me 3 years or so to be truly, genuinely, happy.

It’s been 3.5 years that I packed my bag, left home and embarked on a new life in a new country. I was so unhappy back there, I was stressed out and family situation was not looking too good. In fact, I stayed on because I thought I could change things for the better but then I realized…kids cannot fix their parents marriage, simply because it’s THEIR marriage.

So I thought F that, I’m outta here! You’d think me selfish. You’d think me self-centred. But I think after roughly 15 years of parenting your parents in their relationship, I think I’ve had enough. It was toxic. It was bringing me down.

More importantly it was starting to negatively affect the way I see relationships and marriage.

And I wanted out. I wanted to escape that vicious cycle. So I left. Left to leave and left to chase my ambition.

Fast forward 3.5 years later, I am so happy I praise the Lord everyday. Granted, I’m not that religious but I do understand blessing, and I believe I have been blessed undeservedly.

I do wake up every morning happy. Ok, ok, most mornings…you know, when your monthly hormonal cycle is yet present. Even in that sense, it just means I wake up moody only about 3-5 days a month. So if we’re being anal-retentive here, the more accurate guess will be I wake up happy 305 days per year, which is 83.56% per annum happiness rate (can you tell I’m a Finance student?).

This happened only after I realize that MY life is what I make of it. My relationship is what I make of it. If I want friends, I need to first be a friend. If I want to be happy, I try to make others around me happy. If I’m in a foul mood, I force myself to smile and all is right with my world again. If I want a romantic partner, I first must be the romantic one. If I want a dream man, I first have to be his dream woman.

Last week we had a whole week of beautiful, sunny weather after experiencing some dismal, cold and rainy weather. When I went in to work last Monday, I nearly regretted being at work. That in itself is rare because I’m a workaholic. But it was so beautiful outside and here I am! Working! Bastille day was that week and even if I care nought about what Bastille Day represents, I suddenly feel like going French.

So I thought out loud, “We should go for a picnic! At the park. With pizza and wine. And card games.”

And so it came to pass (haha!). Things were organized and by Saturday I and another friend dressed up, got gourmet pizza and chicken nibbles, a bottle of wine, a picnic blanket and card games. It was a glorious, lazy Saturday picnic. We had ducks swimming around, kids playing nearby, magpies trying to steal chicken bones off us…it was a warm, sunny day…oh, the charm.

Picnic Lunch By The Pool, Tissot

I came home after that picnic happy and rosy. I know because Hero said “You look so rosy!” when I skipped into the house. And you know what? Me being happy makes me a better partner. Much, much better partner. Maybe it’s the reason my relationship with Hero is the best relationship I’ve had.

I think it’s also important to remember you as simply, you. Sometimes I schedule my own charm time (or sometimes I call it My Selfish Day). Life is so busy that sometimes you can forget, but to me a busy life means you appreciate your downtime so much more. I pick a day when I don’t have work or class, and tell myself that I will not do anything today that does not include being selfish. So the day before I make sure that the house is cleaned, all meals are made and all my work papers or study books are put away. I call my bakery to order croissants. Then I go to the library to pick a few books.

The next morning, I feed the dog on my way to pick up my croissants. I come home with piping hot croissants, invite the dog into the house and both of us will sit on our pool deck, overlooking the park. The dog with her blankie and me curled up on the outside lounge with a plateful of croissant, a good book and 1) a can of V, 2) a cup of hot Milo and 3) a glass of wine. (Yes, all together). And I can spend the whole day like that until Hero comes home and I just pop dinner in the microwave and ask him to join me for wine.

Reading woman, Monet

It does wonders for my mental state, it does wonder for the relationship and the dog loves being asked in. What I also notice is that on the days leading up to My Selfish Day, I’m so happy and jolly because I’m excited and looking forward to the actual day. It is a wonderful feeling!

So that is my answer. Life is what you make of it. If you want a happy and charming life, it’s not coming to you while you sit on your bum. You have to go out and make it happen.

So what will you do to charm yourself today?

It is referred to by many names.

My father produces spectacular farts, and he usually releases them in spectacular locations as well. His fart begins with a huge fanfare, and ends with notes of such high intensity. The loud BRAAAAAAAP was your warning that an impending toxic fume of overwhelming nature will soon assault your very senses.

He likes to unleash it in the car. Sometimes he even does it on the way to church, resulting in us piling out of the car as quick as our little hands and legs could afford us. Those unfamiliar with our situation would have thought we’re absolutely delighted to be in The House of the Lord, and that our enthusiasm cannot be expressed quickly enough.

“Look at those kids scrambling to get out of the car everytime they’re here! Such love for the Lord. Their parents brought them up right!”

However, his favourite time to do it is when we’re facing a long drive somewhere. Preferably when we’re on the highway.

When we have no way to run.

I’m one of the unfortunate souls who cannot make a statement with my farts. One cannot even hear it, and most times it is in such little quantity that the gas disperse into the ozone immediately as it is being released from my derriere.

So most times you don’t even smell it. In fact, sometimes I feel the need to announce that I farted, just so I can enjoy the expression that is due to any common man.

(Aren’t I ever so elegant and ladylike, discussing farts and bums in public?)

In this way, I failed my father as his firstborn child. Unworthy to carry the torch of fantastic flatulence.

I hope he will be consoled with the fact that Hero is a very able farter. Not on the same par as dad in magnitude and excellence though, but he’s right up there.

Hero is also one of those noisy farters, and coincidentally like dad, only unleashes its’ fury exclusively near loved ones. Like dad, he chose his location strategically.

As of last night, it was under the doona.

I was caught unsuspected. Hero enveloped me in the doona and I thought, awww, how sweet of him! Just as I was about to give him a peck, I caught his grin. Oh, the horror! I instinctively knew what was coming (a bit too late if you ask me!).

And before I could escape…BRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPP!!!!

Mayday! Mayday!

I tried my hardest to escape the doona trap but Hero was laughing madly and held it down, oh, the horror!

It was only about 5 seconds of torture but it felt like 5 years. It still amazes me how CIA haven’t caught up with this weapon of mass destruction…send Hero’s fart in a bottle to Osama’s hideout and I tell you, Osama will surrender within nanoseconds. In fact, Osama would BEGGED to be taken, anything that’ll help him escape that toxic gas. It’s the breaker of wills and souls.

I’m planning my revenge for tonight. A can of baked beans is less than a dollar each. Pretty sure I could afford at least 10 of those in the name of honour.

I’ll keep you posted. Wish me luck!

Just so you know, I know how it feels to have a raging hormones. I’m not going to be hypocrite and tell you not to do it. Nor will I be an irresponsible adult by saying ‘yeah man, do whatever you like!’.

I only offer the following for you to reflect on. Observe these costs:

• A box of condoms: less than $10.
• Morning-after pill: about $18+.
• The price of Pills, in general: $16+ for 4 months + $65 to get a doc’s prescription for it.

Bear in mind, if neither you nor your sex partner can afford these, you will struggle to afford a child.

If going down to the pharmacy is harder work than going down on someone, what do you think raising a kid will be?

Being a parent may be the best thing that can happen to you, but you’ll enjoy it more when you’re in a better position.

Love is very different than lust. Bringing a child into this world in lust is not being fair to someone who is only borne because of YOUR FAULT.

And with that, I hope the judgement and choices you make are informed ones.