Bored at Work


Too bored at work. Spent most of today reading blogs of friends, of strangers, and of people I've come to know through reading their blogs but they probably don't know me because I don't like advertising my own blog through the comments section of other people's blogs.

Anyways, I realised that most people around me, who owns a relatively interesting blog (as opposed to those where-they-went-and-what-they-did-today blogs) are the ones who think a lot. And it reflects a lot on their blogs.

Mine's more of the gibberish kind of posts because I don't actually plan what to write. My fingers just move across the keyboard of their own accord, and it doesn't help that my language is going either.

The ones I read today were ones with most of their posts revolving around life, love, whatever. Sounds simple? No. They're very deep and make you nod your head in agreement, saying "Why didn't I think of that?"

It makes them look like people who sit on the fence chewing on cud everyday thinking about the philosophies of life, but to what I know, they're normal people like you and me. They have a career, have sociable lives, and the only difference is that they have ample of free time in front of their computers.

So what is it that makes them different? Or maybe it's just me. I'm just not smart enough or deep enough a thinker to make casual observations that sound so right.

Either that, or I'm too sensitive about the issue because things will come gradually and I shouldn't think about it too much.

Ah well.

Paiseh


I apologize for tantalising dear readers with saying that I have over a hundred photos to post and then not posting them even after blogspot fixed the bug with the editing function.

Anyway, I haven't really had the chance to get home and touch my photos folder on my own computer, because one, my thumbdrive got screwed, and two, I'm kind of spending every waking moment with Lazy screwing.

No wait, that's an exaggeration. We just screw a little here and there everyday, but that's not the point. I've been so tied up with him that I hadn't got the chance to touch my own computer. He isn't any better too, his blog hasn't been updated since the break-up-patch-back ordeal.

Anyways, just a wee lil' update on my precious baby. I've been to see him yesterday, and he was just sitting naked in the middle of the workshop. The fairings are back, and they look gorgeous. The colour tone isn't exactly what I wanted, but one can't complain right? My original yellow's very bright and special. Now it's become darker and just.... "normal".

My mechanic, Ah Seng, is still on the lookout for a second-hand clutch lever, a second-hand right-side footrest (the entire hunk of metal, not just the footrest itself), a skeleton bracket, and he's re-moulding my back seat again.

Shouldn't take too much time, seeing as the fairings are almost ready save for the last finishing touches, and Ah Seng's got the full system of exhaust for me already but just can't quote a price to me yet, the re-moulding of the back seat should take less than a week and the others shouldn't be too hard to find.

Now it's just the money I'm worried about. I dropped off $500 as a deposit yesterday, and after a thorough conversation about the pricing with Ah Seng yesterday, I'm pretty sure the price will go over $1k. Maybe $1.2k? $1.3k?

You know, girls my age shouldn't be worrying about finance for stuff like bikes. We should be worrying about our appearance and using the money for facials, clothes, accessories and shoes. Not bikes.

It's just difference in perspective I guess. Bikes are so much more important to me than dolling myself up to attract other guys. Don't get me wrong, I love dolling myself up too, but if given the choice, I believe everyone knows what it's going to be.

I do hope Dante's coming back soon. I miss him terribly.

Noogie Woogie

The old man tried to wake me up early on Sunday by nuzzling his nose against mine and *nuzzle* *nuzzle*. I was shocked awake by a pair of long-lashes.

*giggles*

And in an effort to be even more sweeter than sweet, the old man's starting to take notice of my animals.

The old man also finally relaxed enough to let me pillon him around on his wave last night.

My sweet, silly old man.

Choo Choo Train


I love my sweet, amazing, understanding, romantic, funny, loving, accepting, nagging, smoke bellowing Choo Choo train!

Fufilling A Promise


Seriously. I am so tired of work and so tu-lan with everyone that I am refusing to work today. I am still in office but I've been doing nothing but pretending to work all day.

Lazy fufilled a long-time promise the other day when he took me to the marine shop at Yishun central.

When I had my accident about 2 months back, Lazy promised to buy me goldfishes as soon as I get well enough to walk.

So guess what he's doing?



We started everything from scratch, so we bought everything from the tank and filter, to nets and food and even anti-chlorine.


Big-ass filter.



And last but not least, the goldfishys we chose.



Dum Dum and Bum Bum. Now if only we could tell which is Dum Dum and which is Bum Bum. The shop owner told us that one was male and one was female, but wouldn't tell us which is which, so we're pretty much confused.

Lazy says that Dum Dum is a male, and Bum Bum is a female, but that pretty much gets us nowhere unless either one of them starts laying eggs soon.

Anyway, here are the fishys getting used to the water temperature outside of their bags,



And here's a very excited Lazy opening the plastic bag to let them explore around inside the tank.


This is his excited face. I'm serious.

They're so pretty!



Lazy can't take his eyes off them.



He was playing with them and staring at them for quite some time, just like an excited child.





Isn't he sweet?

Crap


Something's wrong with blogspot. This is like the seventh time I'm trying to post something.

Busy


I apologise for not updating recently about us. I've been more than busy at work, and I no longer have the time nor the privacy to blog anymore.

Lazy and I are back together again and more in love than ever. He's become some sort of a super glue, and he's been as sweet as honey as well.

I apologise for all you nice nice muacks muacks who expressed their concern for me whether in my comments, or through msn. I apologise for not updating and making you guys worry. But I'm glad too, because only through these times can I see the people who care for me and are standing on my side.

Thanks.

I promise a full update as soon as I have to time. In the meantime, WORK!

*scoots*

Trying


I am trying and yet you're pushing me away.

Further and further each time.

My few-months-old friends are not more important than you, but your 15-years-old friend is more important than I am.

So many times I tried to reach out to you.

Why am I bearing the burden of your own insecurity for yourself?

Someone once told me never to walk away. Because walking away means giving up. So you're giving up, pushing me away.

Then why were you expecting me to chase after you? Why were you waiting downstairs without telling me?

Maybe I should've installed CCTVs at my void deck. To see if anyone is waiting for me at all. For all I know, many people like to do this too. To walk away and expect people to chase after them. Twice.

This is so crap. I am so confused. Maybe in some perverted way I had wanted this too. Which might be the reason why I am not going all out. I wanted to get a new phone for him today. I also wanted to pack all his things and send them back with the new phone.

Oh god I am so confused. What is it exactly that I want?

This confusion has got nothing to do with Dee W.

A part of me wants to run bare-footed downstairs uncaring of my hurt ankle after his leaving bike. A part of me tells myself I should let it simmer, let him cool down. A part of me wants to pack his things right now and end everything. A part of me refuses to let go, and a part of me already has. The part of me that refuses to let go sees his sweetest moments. The part of me that has sees him at his most unreasonable and possessive moments, coupled together with the problem of his friends, and his family.

We're not going to make it, aren't we?

I'm just sad to see things end this way. We could've still been friends.

Jealousy


Jealousy is a fickle thing. It can make your mind go haywire and think of worst-case scenerios.

Is it jealousy and possessiveness that's keeping lovers apart? Something to think about.

Is it jealousy and possessiveness that's preventing you from even listening?

Is it the combination of both that prevents you from believing?

You set the unsaid and therefore invisible rules. I didn't chase after you, so I don't get the chance to explain myself for coming home at 3 in the morning after a night out with my friends. You set the rules that say that I made you look stupid and like a jerk. So what have you made me look like?

Ask around.

Most of the time it's just a toe out of line and I get it. Bad.

Jealousy is a fickle thing. Because along with jealousy, comes pride and possessiveness.

Booya


I just realized that I sounded kind of hysterical in my previous post. So I'm here with a new post TO SOUND MORE HYSTERICAL~! BOOYEAHHHHH!!!

No seriously, I'm just here to annoy you guys.

I'm actually more than busy at work, and I'm starting to scream at people, so you guys should feel glad that I'm not screaming here.

Stress ah!

Sunday morning rain is falling..


Lazy comes back tonight! YEAHHH!!

Today was awesome. Went shopping with the black devil at Orchard.

Did something I might regret because he might not appreciate it. Ah well.

I am $400 overdrawn (I wanted to save $500 this month for my bike repairs), but shopping with the black devil, I couldn't stop myself.

But I feel so GOOOOODDDDD! Retail therapy with an enthusiastic friend is AWESOME!

Friday Night


I am stuck inside on a Friday night. Because I pushed away a couple of appointments, for the beloved WLNY people, and MOST OF THEM DIDN'T COME.

Sod you all.

So now, I am stuck at home, trying to get people to come out waste some time with me.

Nic's studying, Dee W's at a chalet.... Hmm, I wonder if a certain Mr R wants to take up last night's ice cream offer.

I need some wine~

Shit


I don't mean a flying squat to you, do I?

How the flaming hell would you expect me to feel?

Shit. This only gives me the right to do the same to you. Except that whatever I do doesn't even matter to you, right?

... Fine.

Thursday Evening


Stuck at home again.

The very evil Mr. R struck up a conversation with me in the middle of the night yesterday. Yes Mr. R, I will heed your words!

The very evil Mr. R was also the first to msn me when I got home after work today. He asked me in a mock-surprised tone why I got home straight after work even though Lazy wasn't here.

He might not have meant anything, but it kind of struck a chord inside me. Yea, why am I coming straight home after work even though I have nothing to wait for? Even if I had, why am I waiting in the first place? Shouldn't I put my own needs and wants before his? Since he obviously does pretty much that.

Sensitive, sensitive, sensitive. That's what I am too much. Dee W says I have to learn to give and take on the emotions part.

Shit. I think too much. Maybe that's why I have so many strands of white hair.

It's been 8 days of celibacy (read: no sex) and I am going crazy! Argh! Need.... ... ..


*EDITED* By the way Mr R, you should feel very, very honoured. Lazy went through a LOT of shit from me to get me to make even the teeniest change in my blog. You didn't even kena anything. Shiok, hor?

The Twilight Zone


Oh my.

People. If you like supernatural phenomena, come work in my office building.

All throughout the time that I've been working here, there've been small incidents that can be brushed off as electric faults, wind blowing, or just plain weird smells wafting around.

Like the time both the male and female toilets started flickering as soon as I stepped into the toilet. Normal, right? Wait, there's more.

The mini fan in the toilet turned on by itself while I searched for the on/off switch. Later on I was to find out that the fan turned on by itself, while the switch was off.

Then there is this Bangladeshi smell in the female toilet on the ground floor. Sometimes it's strong, sometimes it's weak. But there are no Bangladeshi workers anywhere nearby.

I've heard a high-pitched crying on the second floor aisle along the boss's office. Figured it was just one of the accounts girl being bullied again, but nobody was there.

There is this room in which we keep the engine oils and oil filters and some smaller parts. The stairway is totally blocked with junk/stuff/whatever to prevent anyone else from coming into the room. There is totally no ventilation in the room at all, which means the air in the room is pretty much stilled. There was this once when I went in to collect something, and left the door wide open while looking for parts. Suddenly, I felt breathless and I whirled around. The door was slowly closing by itself.

So I dropped whatever I was carrying and ran out. I babbled about what happened to my colleagues, and found out that some of them have seen a child hanging around inside the room sometimes.

The forth floor was a constant pain in the neck, because there were two seperate occasions whereby some thing kicked the door in displeasure, almost breaking the door. The first time it happened to our previous accounts girl in broad daylight. We thought someone was playing a prank on her, trying to scare her. But when it happened at 4am in the middle of the night to the entire leather department crew who were burning the midnight oil to hit their quota, we started taking things seriously.

Eek.

Those were the smaller things that probably had good logical explanations as to why they happened.

However, yesterday my store manager met with something so scary that he fell ill and had to take MC for today.

There are 4 stories in my office building, the first and the forth stories being the most normal despite the things I've just described and a couple of my colleagues having seen the aforementioned child and some seeing another non-existant Indian guard in broad daylight (one of our previous colleagues actually rubbed shoulders with the Indian guard, then finding out that we DON'T have an Indian guard).

The third story supposedly holds the most sightings, but they're relatively peaceful and don't really bother the living much.

The second floor, however, is the most malignant. There is a locked magnetic door leading into the second story store for tyres, and that door leads into another locked door leading into another part of the second story store. Both locked doors have only just been installed recently.

My store manager, let's just call him KC, unlocked the first door and proceeded towards the second door on his right. When he had unlocked and opened the second door, the first door SLAMMED shut. And the best part of it is, after the slam, he could hear the distinct "click" of the door locking.

He let go of the second door and ran back to the first, kicking and pulling at the lock. During the course of doing that he let loose a whole string of expletives, so our guess is that he offended that something even more because the second door slammed and locked itself, thus locking him in. With both doors locked the only thing he could do was to keep screaming and kicking and pulling at the first door until it burst open and he ran out, his face a pale as a sheet.

He had high fever today and took an MC.

Our boss got wind of this and went to investigate that very door with the store supervisor, EL. Keep in mind that this happened earlier on today. They investigated, with no results, until EL locked the first door before they were about to go off. As they waited for the elevator, they heard a "pop", and looked back. The first door that EL had just locked, was hanging ajar.

The boss was here just now with a couple of the mechanics and the store supervisor and workshop supervisor, discussing the matter. Previously when I told him that I heard mutterings on the second floor he dismissed it, saying that it might be some store guys eating snake in a corner, hidden from view. Today he talked about the thing freely, and the conclusion was that the "things" up there did not like the doors locked. He also related a couple of strange things that happened when they first moved in here, such as getting lost in the stairway and certain items disappearing.

Eek.

As of now, the boss and one of our tyre guys are upstairs in the second floor, both armed with very strong flashlight, investigating the door. Let's hope we don't hear screaming anytime soon.

Tuesday gloom


It's only Tuesday. 3 more days to the lonely weekend. Although it's not my weekend shift this week, this week is still unbearably long.

Spent last Saturday working, and then going out for Rochor beancurd and movies with the charismatic gentleman Dee W.

It's only 12pm now, and I'm checking my phone for the millionth time for any signs of any messages, from anyone. I'm rechecking, again and again, my e-mail, friendster, both WLNY accounts, for any messages or any form of contact at all. It's driving me crazy, this feeling inside. If kept under strict control, it won't explode into a bottomless well of confusion and complication.

Life's getting slightly the way I want it to be now, but somehow I'm not liking this feeling at all. I feel as if i'm wielding a knife that's dripping with the blood of the people I love and the people I don't. As if I'm wrenching their hearts one with my bare hands, to feel it pumping away on the palm of my hand while I squeezed it into oblivion.

What have I come to be? I've become such a horrible person. Then again, I was given no choice. Which person in their right mind would want to lead a life such as mine without striking out?

I'd like to be like you too. But I can't. I can't let go. I don't have a choice. I don't want to live the way you're living now. I don't want to put everything I have right now on the line in pursue of something else. I am not you.

Time to rethink? To reconsider? To assess my position in life, what to give up and what not to? Now's the worst time to do that. Because the thing I want to give up most right now is the thing I need the most.

Let's just wait it out and see where this goes.

Back on the road again


But this time not as a yellow road menace. No, I forged Lazy's signature (with Lazy's permission) and added my name as a sub-rider into his insurance.

No, not the 929, the wave. His little bicycle with engines.

It's my very first day on the road ever since the accident.

I passed by the road opposite of my accident site just now on the way to work, and my arms and fingers suddenly became very stiff. The memory is still fresh at the back of my head and the rest of my body parts know it.

Tonight, I ride alone back home. During rush hour after work, along the dangerous Lentor, right through my accident site, on Lazy's filmsy little wave.

Oh god, somebody help me.

I need to curb this, to overcome the fear that rises in the back of my throat before proceeding into a full blown hackles-raised shuddering that sweeps through the entire body.

If I am not to regain confidance with this small machine, what right do I have to ride on Dante, my hunk of purring metal who gives me the power and control like no other bike can?

I am so not good at rejecting people


I don't want things to get out of hand, but I don't want to lose any friends either.


"r u really ok with riding the bike???"

"very scary
but ride slowly i think should be no problem
some more this bike a lot smaller than my own one"

"hmm... if too scared don ride la..."

"but have to ride it home ma
plus have to learn to overcome the fear
if not when my own bike comes back i not confident enough to handle
then die liao"

"then sell it away lor... i drive u everyday..."

"i work at 9am leh uncle
by 9am u supposed to still be in bed one leh"

"for u i can wake up earlier 1..."

Oh you. Cheeky, naughty you.

"not good la
got some people here tongues wagging about us liao
... really not good
you wanna meet up for coffee or dinner or sweets or ice cream after work still can la"

"hmm... ok lor... don wish to let them talk too much also... not too good for u.."

So glad you understand. ^-^

Deep. Really Deep.


The following is lifted from a dude with a tortured soul. been following his blog for quite awhile now. How I got his blog address? From here. He's one of the writers of this entertaining (if not slightly brainless, not meant in a bad way) blog.

Dude, I respect you and I seriously hope you're not pissed at me for lifting things off your blog.


"Grey areas are like bomb shelters during a war. You sit a a dirty little corner, your hands wrapped around your shivering knees. Your hands - you know they're not going to protect you if a bomb does come your way. The bomb shelter is. The crust of the earth you're buried under is. Your hands, they just make you feel better, make you feel more protected.

And you believe that's all you've got - your hands and a loosely sheltered insecurity. You overlook the sturdiness of the shelter, the bruised soldier clutching tightly onto a gun, his eyes tightly transfixed onto the door.

But at the end of the day, you know that you're safe here. You know that by hiding here, you won't find yourself standing in the line of a crossfire. You know you wouldn't have to duck, or dodge. You know no one's going to be throwing a grenade at you. You know.

You know only because you believe. You believe only because you're sick and tired of being cynical. Because being cynical is the only defence you have between you and the disturbing reality of reality. Only by scoffing at physically impaired children, then you'd ease the pain of having to sympathize. Maybe not ease, but remove. You remove the pain, like it doesn't belong to you.

Being cynical allows a thorough assessment of every crappy situation you find yourself in, the do's and don'ts, the wrong and the right. You measure every criteria, index every index. You're afraid you'd find yourself in a position where you'd have to regret, so you avoid it like a disease. But the truth is, no one granted us superhuman foresight. We can't be in the know of everything before, now, and years later. We aren't capable of predicting, and sometimes even our instincts fail us.

So we have to rely on ourselves, on our better judgement. We enforce that better judgement, and if we're still flawed - at least we'd be able to tell ourselves that we've exhausted every possibilities and it was our best."


Seriously. Deep stuff.

Took me three skims to fully comprehend what he's putting across.

And the author? An 18-year-old Singaporean boy. I feel so ashamed of myself.

And he's off


.... to China for a holiday trip.

It was a mad rush to pack and settle his bike's insurance and other things on top of meeting his friends for dinner.

Imagine the shiokness of sleeping at around 2 in the morning, and having to wake up at 5, him going off and me falling asleep again, and then having to wake up at 8am for work.

We spent all of yesterday glued to each other. Taking and savouring every last minute of being together. Having each other to nag, to tickle, to cuddle and to disturb.

In bed we held each other as tightly as possible and kissed with more vigour, as if the kisses could let time linger longer.

Before he left, he bounced on to the bed for one last kiss and one last hug. And then he was gone. He called me again at 8.30am to let me know that he was on the plane and to make sure that I was awake to go to work.

Oh, to take in as much of you as possible, for as long as possible! He's been absolutely perfect this whole week too. Just as we entered heaven.......... he has to go.

I feel like Psyche, wife of Cupid, who marriage was cut short when Psyche secretly looked upon Cupid with candlelight and accidently dripped wax on him (moral of this story is, use torchlight). My fatal mistake was to have the accident, rendering me unable to take leave and MCs for quite a while, which is why I could not go with him.

(I know, doesn't make sense, I just felt like mentioning Cupid and Psyche.)

He'll be gone for 12 days, which means he'll be back directly before 1st of May.

So now there's nobody to sayang me, nobody to cuddle with me while watching cartoons, nobody to pat my head and call me little girl, nobody to squeeze my arm constantly to remind me that I'm getting fat, nobody to look forward to after a long day at work, nobody to drive me insane constantly, nobody to walk Tracy with, nobody to disturb Cash, nobody to kiss me on my forehead, nobody to "Darling" me, nobody to steal his cigarettes, nobody to poke him in the chest, nobody to complain how skinny he is, nobody to tickle him and cuddle him and run her fingers through his hair, nobody to play with his few-days-old stubble on his chin, nobody to snuggle her head into his chest, nobody to make funny funny noises and make him laugh, nobody to share the blanket with, nobody to snatch the bolster, nobody to play with Eeyore with me, nobody to ask me weird questions, nobody to answer my weird questions, and the list goes on and on...

He's only been gone a few hours, probably still sleeping on the plane right now, but I miss my Lazy already.

Matrix's meeting me at the bike shop later to help me with Lazy's insurance and to cajole the boss into letting me forge Lazy's signature to add my name into his insurance. If I eventually do get to ride Lazy's wave (though I highly doubt that, seeing as he forgot to write that authorisation letter and/or make a photocopy of his IC for me), I'm going to do things to it. Maybe change the brake pads, since Lazy's been complaining that the brakes are not effective, fix the headlight, generally clean up his don't-know-how-long-never-wash bike, maybe add some stickers in.

DW's coming over to pick me up in his brand spanking new white Vios (the old model, not the new one with the Belta shell) at lunch time to go meet Matrix. Hopefully the insurance gets through with no hitches, and the adding of my name into the insurance goes smoothly as well.