Saturday, March 26, 2016

Happy Easter?

It's a few hours away till Easter. I observed Lent this year but I didn't go for the Maundy Thursday mass (was busy closing the damn pullout that has sucked out 10 years of my life because I loved it to, next on my list: right effort). And I am not going for the Easter Vigil. Instead, I will be going to church at 10 in the morning tomorrow. It's good enough.

I am still ill from the pullout. I don't know what the reaction is because I switched off my phone on Good Friday and haven't switched it on since. I want a break. I want to think. About my life, about where it is going, because 2016 is going to be a time of endings.

I can't allow the diseased limbs to linger. The poison is creeping into me and more and more of me is going rotten.

I observed Lent this year, went for Confession for the first time in 13 years, took Communion and yet all I do is break into raucous sobbing, weep like I am going to die...and I know I don't have to be alone but I feel sick again the way I felt last year and I don't want to talk to anybody or see them. I will deal with them on Monday.

I don't feel that Easter feeling inside me. There is no joy.

And all I want to be is away.

I'll do the things in front of me now. Take the dogs for a walk. Feed them. Go out and buy some cat food for the outside cats. Write three letters. Try to meditate. Try to clear.

And maybe sleep.

I'm falling to pieces but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm so tired of all of this.

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Turn Down These Voices...Inside My Head

It's funny, this feeling of loss when I wanted so long to be free. This silence, this whole world of nothingness as I carefully edited you and you and you out of my life. Now it's all clean. We have to sort through legal issues, dry and technical. All emotion on suspend.

I have to think of a new life, a new life without you because you have rejected me and I returned the sentiment. I see your lives, the lives I am supposed to want to envy and emulate and I don't. I really don't. I cringe. That's all.

We can't be friends. We can't be civil. We can't smile and pretend.

We can only allow this silence to grow until it fills the world, the universe, these atoms of space between us.

Unbridgeable distance.

There's only silence.

There's only indifference.

There's only hate.

Saturday, January 16, 2016

They Don't Know That I Go Running Home When I Fall Down

You left and you took home with you. Maybe it was about time. I couldn't always be living in some transitory state, with home not something I had created, with home always somewhere else. And I would go back for a few days and try. Or sleep.

It was not enough.

All these years I had spent in suspense. All these years I had spent not creating my own home. My own curtains, my own tiles, my own bookshelves, my own pictures on the wall. The smells of my own cooking coming from the kitchen.

I was on the floor for such a long time.

And now, I'm picking myself up.

Sunday, January 10, 2016

A Sense of Desolation

It's funny, Christmas was tough this year, but I am only now finding out how tough. And this doesn't even have to do with the credit card bill which I nearly fainted on seeing. I slept through a lot of it. Woke up early to go for Mass at the chapel near the house with Esther, and thence to breakfast to La Bodega. I didn't think we could go wrong with La Bodega but I was mistaken. A surly waiter coupled with a fancy breakfast that contributed to that swoon-inducing credit card bill as well as the runs for the next few days (wasn't that a fitting end to the year, seeing as I had spent a lot of the year with digestive issues?) and then back home to nap...only I napped the whole day away. It wasn't a fun Christmas for Esther at all and I thought, hmmm....poor planning. It was all due to poor planning.

But it was more than that.

Christmas, the day itself, has become something that needs to be endured rather than celebrated. Any sort of real festivity seems to have died with my mother.

So if I don't like what's on offer, I have to create my own. Figure something out or go overseas for a holiday during that time rather than staying here and feeling miserable.

I have to fashion a new Christmas out of elements that I love. I have a whole year (well, 11 months and 15 days more to work on it).

I have written out my Christmas card list, started collecting addresses, marked the date on the calendar to write them all out (one time I wrote birthday cards for August in February which may have been efficient but was totally strange) and the date to post them.

The other thing I need to do is start managing my credit card bill. And expenses. No more impulse buys on the net (funny thing, I rarely have impulse buys in any physical shop, unless it's a bookshop). I have to avoid Kinokuniya because a single visit almost always ends up costing me at least RM500.

So instead, I will make a list of books that I have on my bookshelf that I haven't read but planned to read sometime, and go through those - I'm on Milan Kundera's Art of the Novel now...which has to be read slowly. I don't think I will manage to finish all the books I set myself to finish this month but that's OK. As long as I have lists and schedules, it's all good. As long as I don't let up and keep on reading the good stuff, it'll be OK.

Maybe it will help balm the awful desolate feeling I have inside right now that threatens to overwhelm.

I cannot afford to be overwhelmed right now because there's work coming out of my ears and I cannot lose the plot, I have to keep working at it, chiselling away at all I have to chisel away at.

I feel so sad. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015


As the year draws to a close a rift in my heart opens up and there is what I want to do, what I planned to do, and all the things I left to linger in chaos, not picking out the pieces, not bothering.

I know who I want to keep close and who I want to push away. And probably I am right. For my peace of mind and happiness, I am right. But I feel the sadness rise within me for all that once was, that is no more.

The people I make an effort for, and the people I allow to fall by the wayside. I convince myself that this is the right way to go, the right way to be.

Why then, do I sit up into the wee hours of today, feeling so cut up about it? Why do I feel so guilty? How can silence make you reel the way words once did?

I don't know.

All I know is I start work tomorrow after more than a week off. I start work tomorrow.

And I need a good night's sleep.

And maybe I can transcribe an interview tomorrow and write a story. Maybe I can feed the dogs and the cats, go in early, do my work, do my work, do my work well.

What do I have left to cling to? Now that I have cast myself adrift?

Friday, November 13, 2015

Gum Infections and Recalcitrant Dogs

So I'm down with a gum infection. A 7mm-deep hole under my root canal-ed tooth which got filled with food and then, infection set in...made an emergency appointment to go see Dr Priya (I had missed my appointment with her in September, I don't really remember why) and told her I thought it was my wisdom tooth...but she checked it out and found all the food wedged in that huge she cleaned it out, wedged in some medicine that tasted of cloves and put me on a course of antibiotics and some painkillers to see me over the first two days, before the antibiotics kick in and start fighting the infection.

Anyway, I didn't start on the course last night because although my friend Sue-Ann brought me chicken porridge to eat, I really couldn't bring myself to eat. The only thing I could manage was the Milo that accompanied the porridge. And even took a while.

Then I tried to sleep but I tossed and turned and couldn't make myself comfortable. It wasn't pain was like there were ants crawling all over my body. Ebony gave up and went to sleep somewhere else. Sheba loyally stuck to me, licking me every once so often to make me feel better.

And Elliott who was in my room (ostensibly because he was scared of the fireworks) moved from side to side very restlessly refusing to settle down (which of course, did nothing for my insomnia).

And then I finally dropped off...and woke up to find Elliott sleeping on the bed beside me. When I tried to shoo him down, he growled at me, which got him kicked out, not only from my bed but my room and the house. He could cool his heels outside.

And now, it's starting to storm, with the thunder growling ominously and he has started to hyperventilate and when I went to get his and Sylvie's bowls for lunch, tried to push his way in, looking at me with terrified eyes.

I told him that he is not coming in, that he can go and have that heart attack if he wants, I really don't care, and slammed the door in his face.

I think he understood.

Friday, October 09, 2015

Not Cut Out For Motherhood

I've moved in and life has quickly become terribly complicated. Firstly, I need a CD tower. Secondly, I really, really need a washing machine. Thirdly, I seem to have acquired four dogs and two kittens. Three of the dogs were mine to begin with (though not staying with me, except for Sylvie and later, Sylvie and Elliott). The two kittens, well, one fell down my air well and starved for two days. The other was deposited at my doorstep really emaciated and hissing (there were dogs on either side) madly, her eyes tearing, so scared I had to throw a towel over her to take her in, feed her, and stroke her to calm her down.

And then, there's the extra dog. I was taking Elliott and Sylvie for their morning walk last Friday when I saw this dog bobbing up and down along their path. So I crossed the road...because I didn't want Sylvie to pick a fight. (She does that) And I noticed that the dog was tied to some planks. There was no evidence of food or water around. It was a hot hazy day. When I drove by later on my way to work I noticed the dog was still there. Still tied to the planks. Trying to make itself comfortable on the grass the planks were on. Poor little thing.

I thought to walk away and ignore it. But I burst into tears on my way to work thinking of the poor forlorn little thing. What if nobody rescued it. What if it was just left there, or worse, picked up by the city council and disposed of? What had that dog done to deserve such treatment?

I got to work and texted and Facebooked some people for help. Perhaps unsurprisingly there was no help forthcoming.

The tears kept coming. I could feel my heart breaking. Poor little doggie. I left and went to pick her up. She was still there, still tied to the heavy planks which had been put there for some construction project or other. I persuaded her quite easily to jump into my car and took her straight to the vet. She kept making that bobbing movements as if she couldn't help it. The vet said she had a neurological disorder, probably brought about by distemper.

So, whoever had owned her before had not bothered to give her her shots, or deal with the massive tick infestation or even have her nails cut. She was a sorry little thing.

I brought her home and tried to feed her but she was too terrified to eat unless I was right there in front of her, watching her and coaxing. I had to kick the other dogs down - distemper, ticks, not things I want them to get. I sprayed Frontline on her twice...(I would bathe her in two days) and tried to be kind. She ran if she saw me wielding a broom or a mop. She threw up in one of the rooms on the first day. She learned quickly that if she couldn't hold it in, the air well was the place to go.

She wants to be friends with the other dogs but they only want to kill her. The kittens, well, she is gentler with the kittens than the other dogs...but maybe, a little too interested in them. They are bolder with her around, than with the other dogs.

So that is why my life has become complicated. Oh wait, that's not all. Why I have Bruno is Dadda collapsed over the weekend, purging and throwing up violently while I was there to do my laundry. We took him to the hospital in the wee hours of the morning  and he was too weak to stay by himself. Julie came and carted him off to her place. Which meant that Bruno was left alone.

I took him...and in the short time he has been here, he has already destroyed one side of the auto gate (I keep him tied most of the time now). So now, all the dogs (except for Elliott whom I am going to return to my father) are up for adoption. They have tied up my life - mornings are about walking them and cooking their food, feeding the kittens.

Evenings, I rush back from work to do the same. Kittiens just need feeding and having their kitty litter cleaned fairly frequently and as such are more independent. But if someone wanted to adopt both at a go, I wouldn't say no.

I am really not cut out to be a mother.