Friday, January 30, 2015

There's something wrong with Elliott

So I made another boiled egg this morning (this time I timed it to see that it was properly half boiled and not three quarters boiled) and Dadda ate it with gusto. OK, well, he didn't grimace at it.

I spent a productive morning doing various things and then I got to work and went out for lunch at Beyond Veggie where I had a full plate of petai fried rice (which I would have never touched in pre-diet days) and it tasted so good. And it may be past six o'clock now but I'm still full. That's what happens when you go on GM. Your stomach sort of shrinks.

I notice that it also has an effect on my mood. I tend to fly off the handle a lot more easily now. Am I feeling deprived without knowing it? But then, I do feast on weekends. Yesterday I bought all the ingredients and today, when I get home (after this Skype interview that I have to do), I will be chopping up the various bits and bobs that I have to do.

Then tomorrow, after my visit to the dentist for the crowning, I will throw everything into the pot and start cooking. I am thinking that I probably should bake the cake tonight rather than wait for tomorrow. But hmmmm....don't really want it to be stale.

So yeah, maybe I will wait and then make it after lunch. Much better idea.

It's 6.20pm now. My 6pm interview was rescheduled to 6.30pm because my interviewee was having trouble connecting to Skype.

Let met check in again.

Later for you.

Thursday, January 29, 2015

Three quarter boiled eggs and fish curry

So here's the way to deal with a hypochondriac when you're not sure if he's actually ill. My father said he was feeling weak...possibly because of his reduced food intake. So, this morning, I boiled him an egg. I had meant to half boil it but I felt it too long and it was three quarters boiled instead. No matter, he ate it with pepper, salt and not a little gusto.

Then for lunch I packed a good deal of fish curry and mixed vegetable and rice from Pakeeza. Enough for lunch and dinner for two days. This too, he enjoyed and seemed to be stepping more briskly.

And to top it all off, I finally got a maid service to come clean the house which was reeking with dust and filth...and well, that makes everybody feel a lot better doesn't it?

So now the house is clean, the father is feeling less neglected and more like himself and the dog (who really is a finicky dog and does not like dirty) is reclining happily in his doggie bed.

I bought all the ingredients for the dishes I hope to make over the weekend - which means I can start cutting them up tomorrow - ready to be mixed and made into something wonderful when I get back from the dentist on Saturday morning.

I'm wondering if the prolonged diet (although I do break it two days a week) is having an effect on my mood. If it is, I should stop because it's not fair for me to be moody and lash out because I'm lacking some chemical or other in my bloodstream or I feel deprived.

The funny thing is, if I'm feeling deprived, I really have no idea of it. I guess it is something subconscious.

Although I'm supposed to be finishing the fifth chapter of Leap of Perception, I have taken up Tempest Tost instead. I don't think I did it justice in my first reading of it. Now I am enjoying it so very much more.

I didn't drink coffee last night. Maybe, after I've finished the various bits and bobs I have scheduled for the night, I will fall asleep properly.

Later for you.

Christmas holiday

I have just booked myself a holiday for Christmas. Inspired by a former lecturer, I will be going to a place I've wanted to go for a long time but just never got around to, or maybe, never had the guts to. I asked two people to go with me. The first said yes and then had a minor meltdown. The second said Christmas is so far away and she would think about it. In the meantime, I just went ahead and booked myself a bed.

Why not?

I hated Christmas last year. I spent most of the day cooking for people who were ultimately ungrateful and I thought, hang on, this is not how I want to spend Christmas in 2015. I want to pick my own party. Even if it's a party of one. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife.

I've become really good at being by myself. I prefer doing things along. Why not, after all, why ever not?

Alone, I can read. Alone, I can write. Alone, I can think my own thoughts without the screaming of another soul beside me.

So, alone it is. Alone it is.

My father, I think, sensing my growing distance and not happy with the diet I happen to be on which makes him not cook for himself...has started making his funeral plans. He feels ill now. So ill that today he started talking about death again. He told he that he has a fixed deposit at Maybank and to be sure to make a claim on it should anything happen to him.

So, tomorrow, with the new cleaner's coming in the morning, I will go pack some food for him to have both for lunch and dinner. Maybe if he eats, he will feel better.

The thing is, when I cook enough for it to last the whole week, he wastes the food. He finds fault with it. And then it has to be thrown away. And now he acts neglected. Dying. Sad. Abandoned.

So I will do the best I can.

But I will also be getting on with my life.

And I will people it with those I really want to be around.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Three in the morning

At three in the morning I'm stripped naked and I can't pretend. Whatever is, is. Whoever I love, I love. The screaming of outside noise recedes and I hear my heart. And this grief that I have been labouring under for the past year or so, I feel it. The sheer weight of it. And I can't pretend. No I can't. Not at three in the morning. Which is why I prefer to be asleep by this time.

But sometimes I'm not and something cuts me right open and everything pours out like sludge, like fuel, like the oil that leaks into pristine oceans killing all that beautiful marine life. But when I keep it inside for too long, it kills me, slows me down, when I keep it inside too long, it's like I'm moving slow, so slow, through amniotic acid. When I keep inside too long, I feel nothing, I forget how to feel.

And this is the hour, the moment of truth, always the moment of truth, when everything slips into something sleep, we go deep and awake, well, the mask slips and there we are, scars and all, ugly, horrifying, but real. So real.

I am so tired of all these masks. No I'm not that tough, in fact not tough at all.

I'm so tired of pretending.

Can I stop now?

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Billy Joel - And so It Goes

And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose.

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break.

Dear Diary, Please Tell Me What To Do

Dear Diary, please tell me what to do. I thought it was my mind that deserted me, but it wasn't. It was my heart. I didn't care anymore. And I still don't.

I can go through the motions. In fact I make a good approximation of going through the motions. And even on slumberous nights such as these when my heart used to fill with emotion so potent, so overwhelming that I was forced to write, even then...well, those nights are gone. And I feel nothing.

And what I'm struggling against is this emptiness. It feels like, well, nothing. Like reheated soup. Salt not included. Like a sky enveloped in that murky haze, bled of colour. No rainbows, no cerulean blue. Just me. Here. Lying on my bed. Eyes wide shut. Drifting through days that make no sense, have no meaning.

You always come up against death. There is no explanation or comfort there. Just the great bourne from which there is no return. You can't look past the wall. The way is closed. And the dead, they keep their own counsel. They keep it closed.

But I'm not dead yet.

So why do I feel like I am?

Does this ever end?

Does it ever stop aching and become peaceful, sweet, serene, all right?

I'm just asking for all right.

I'm writing a letter out into the ether for my heart, if it hears me, to stop wandering around, orphaned and untethered and to come on home.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Someday You'll Forgive Me

Someday you'll forgive me
And I'll wake up
and won't know why.

Someday you'll forgive me
And just like that
I'll stop weeping
at sad intervals
for the things I didn't do
for the things I did.

Someday you'll forgive me
and the fissures in my heart
will close
will close over
and I'll sigh
and finally fall asleep

Someday you'll forgive me
and when you do
I'll know.

Friday, December 05, 2014

Post Holiday Blues

The holiday was supposed to calm me down, be an oasis in this desert of busy-ness and lots of niggling little things that nibble away at me like mosquitoes. But it wasn't. The holiday itself was well enough. But the coming back to this chaos filled me with some vague nameless rage where I find it difficult to be civil, even a little civil and I've taken to avoiding people because they (without meaning to, of course) drain me.

There is so much work to do and the work is not going to let up until New Year's Adam. And possibly after that. And I don't feel equal to it. And I don't care about it.

And all I want to do is snuggle under the covers and sleep for longer. Or read trashy novels about bakeries (I am craving freshly-baked focaccia for no discernible reason) or cafes or wrap presents (actually I'm avoiding this because my room has degenerated into a scary tip and I find it safer to be outside of it).

I sent out a whole bunch of cards while I was in Australia. Not nearly enough cards because I have lost my major address book which has disappeared somewhere in that slush pile which I need to sort through carefully, patiently to make some headway.

No headway so far.

Elliott has come out into the hall to curl up on his green bed so he can be close to me. He has difficulty figuring out where I'm going to sleep and until I switch off the light, he has one eye open to regard me quizzically every time I move. I need to move though.

I need to shower.

And tomorrow we're taking off to Klang for a brainstorming session. I need to get directions as I don't know how to get there.

All I know is I'm tired and grumpy and I would rather sleep in. Late.

I can't believe that after two weeks off I'm back to feeling this way, even worse than when I left.

I just can't believe it!

Tuesday, November 11, 2014


Today I bid on my first eBay Christmas present: a set of vintage watchmaker tools. For the first time in my life I entered a high maximum bid and now I have to wait two days to see if I get it. It feels thrilling. I am not sure about Christmas this year and what I want to do about it or where I want to go.

Have to start creating new traditions around it.