CIRCUSITCH

It’s a pretty dangerous setting for me to write right now.

I feel it should be nighttime, because it is dark where I feel. I hate sounding like a 19 year old discovering angst-ridden music for the first time (read: jeff whiny buckley anyone) but the truth is that: I feel as cheerful as a morgue. So many things add up to it, but to tell you the truth I’ve been feeling kind of angsty for quite some time now.

Rewind back to this Mick Jagger lookalike we shared a room with in Berlin. He was thin, all limbs and tight muscles, with scraggly hair and did weird stretches before bed. He scared the shit out of my traveling partner, who probably never met an aging rocker with a scarred face before. After an hour of conversation he said that I am angsty. I hated to be coined that word because I felt it was trendy – who did not want to be angsty if you’re listening to Bjork, Sigur Ros, or whatever that is cool right now. But then I recalled a conversation with my housemates before we graduated and I would rather be called angsty than downright depressing, which is, to me, the pinnacle of being trendy and hip – think Girl, Interrupted and Angelina Jolie. Wait, was that like 6 years ago?

I am so old-fashioned.

One of my closest friends argued a point about me which I think is valid. And very scary. There’s nothing that makes me happy than doing some cardio. And finally, I have to agree with her. It does make me happy. To be honest, IT’S THE ONLY THING THAT GIVES ME SOME SORT OF A BREATHING SPACE. I think it works like some sort of a escapism. I NEED to do it in order to make my life feel structured, and orderly. And the more I do cardio the harder I push myself. I’m no longer satisfied with only 30 minutes of working out. That’s merely a warm-up to me. I feel better when a workout exceeds one hour. I love it even more if I do double workouts in one day. It’s like the only time when everything in my life is going right. And I finish doing it feeling on top of the world, and I am ready to face whatever’s being thrown at me again.

I am a believer in taking control of your own life. I have no patience with people who complain about their stupid irritating problems and do nothing about them. Life is all about choices. CHOOSE, or shut the fuck up. I have a 23 year old male cousin who has everything in his life stripped away because he’s fighting his 4th? relapse of leukemia, which to be honest is just… final, and he would like your chance at life if you’re so inclined to hate it so much. You guys are all assholes, seriously.

And because of that, I am going for a run. Until I’m satisfied and then probably going for some kickboxing or something.

Even years later, it is still around. Driving by myself, rounding around the corner, I thought of your flaws.

Your biggest flaw was loving me that hard, that much.
My biggest flaw was stupidity.

I thought too far ahead. I wanted bigger things, things you probably can’t give. I want security, relying on no one but our own bank accounts. I want self-assuredness, not your socially inept lifestyle. I wanted a loving mature relationship, keyword MATURE. And in doing so I overlook the most important thing – I was loved.

Why was it not enough.

Sometimes, now, when I laugh so hard over random jokes with the man I am going to marry I thought of you and I. About the kind of person I am now, totally different, less demanding. I feel a twinge that you’re never going to get to know her, at least let me redeem myself over some bad things I’ve done to you.

Regrets? Sure, there are regrets. But that doesn’t make me want to chuck everything I have away just to rectify that. I’m seeing someone that makes everything and everyone before this feel like child’s play, a preparation to this very real thing. Sometimes, out of the blue, I smile over some things we share, and I miss him so much the urge is overwhelming. The ‘I can’t wait for work to be over cause I want to see you’ kind of overwhelming.

I’ve stopped thinking of relationships in terms of that. I’ve let go of certain things, added new qualities. Maybe we can’t afford a house, and maybe he is awkward with yuppies, maybe there will be no guarantees for us, but maybe baby, our love is beautiful.

It is enough now. Thank you for your flaw – loving me that hard and deep.

We have mastered the art of losing passports. Earlier this morning, the whole house was ransacked by the impromptu search team consisted of supermom, miss grubby, and the vacation goer herself. Superdad smoked outside at the garden while the Custom Officer a.k.a supercat wonders if anyone notices her belly jiggle. The whole house smelled like pandemonium. I remembered my own lost passport, only to recover it again, found on top of the fridge. The goddamn fridge.

In the midst of riffling through one of the drawers, I saw it, a souvenir given to me from someone in my past. How it got there was lost on me, and I stopped for a while to think about how random and out of place it looks, sitting pretty beside documents, musty smelling receipts, yellowed envelopes. I thought I have lost it. 2 years back, cleaning out the contents of my room, I threw most of the stuff out, and I wondered what happened to it. Your absolute favorite weapon, which you gave to me because it was your favorite, but now I am yours. Was yours.

Time actually stopped for a moment while I ran my fingers along the length, felt the bumpy edges, and tried to recall the moment this thing represents and every hopeful, youthful energy it brought. Considered giving it to you back, but then again I don’t think you do this anymore. This object is a symbol of what we – you and I -both were, and how things – ourselves included – have gone and moved on, changed for the better. It brought a smile to my face, how funny life is. How hopeful we were.

I would like to think that I remember the kind of person you once were when I look at this pair of wonderful magic. I hope you remember the kind of person I used to be to you too, in anything of mine you still have.

Here’s to lost passports, and friendships. May these things be found again, and reconciled.

1) Maps/Globes: I always love them. I could bury myself with just maps and my imagination will just explode. When I was a kid and I got so obsessed with maps I sometimes had to stop, close my eyes and relax because my head was pounding so hard with all the excitement of creating a fantastic travel story. I could SEE a tiny cars, bicycles, forming on the maps.
2) Cardboards: They’re like canvas or a blank piece of anything – I take a look at them and my pulse picks up; so many ideas I want to do with them.
3) Cardio/sports: Acquaintances say I’m just healthy. Close friends say I’m obsessed. Those who are very close? They say I’m deranged and in need of a relaxation or a white jacket. My rebuttal to them: I’m just VERY dedicated.
4) Food: Damnit. I’m crazy. I’m thinking about a lot of food these days. Satay ayam, then Magnum almond, Nasi Beriyani, salad with salmon, green peas, seafood, nasi lemak, maggi goreng, chocolate chip cookies, hot fudge brownies, ikan keli masak sambal… the list goes fucking on. LAPARRRR
5) Gardening: For no reason I’m suddenly obsessed with growing green things. Actually it’s a no brainer: my parents are avid green thumb-ers and it’s only natural that passion seeps to us. I have a potted plant at work I love VERY much, whose name is Vincent or Victor (can never decide/remember) and ever since then I get excited looking at green stuff. I don’t want flowers… I just want green leafy crawling things! I like tiny pots and big pots!
6) Organizing: I’m very much of a list person. I LOVE LISTS. I also love planning for a trip, a party or anything. I like orgazining tools – I find myself browsing longer at the storage area in IKEA more than any place, I like buying organizers, filofax, calendars (I have 3 desk calendars on my work place), boxes, folders/files.
7) Cyclists: NOT those fixed gear ‘i cycle in jeans and trendy shoes’ dudes. But I mean cyclist cyclists. The sprinters, the climbers – roadies. When everyone was going hooyeah worldfucking cup I am tuned in to tdf. I love bigh thighs and I can’t denyyyyyy. Only a real man can wear tights and look like a bad ass climbing up those hills. Nak Kawin ngan cyclist.
Telecommunication: I love the scope of my work. Telecommunication kicks ass. Why is satellite so damn interesting? Why do I feel like laughing excitedly when I hear the words Backbone Link and Design in one sentence? Because my excitement is above -30dB, and my heart rates goes way faster than 1gbps.

I’m at a new place for work, no longer in the dreaded twin towers. You only miss it when you don’t have it – why does that godammn quote has to be so true and so smug. I miss not having to flush my own crap when I do a number 2. I miss going down at 1030am and buying a feast for myself from Cold Storage. But I don’t miss the cold. It’s warmer at my new place.

I’m not sure if I miss the train rides.
I’m driving now, and to be honest I spend a lot of time in the car than I do in the train. I’m not sure what to make of it, on one hand, I enjoy the freedom driving gives me, but on the other hand I FUCKING HATE to drive, also; my thoughts tend to go wayward and awry and disarray and I start to think about a lot of stuff.

I’m going to miss the pretty girls I get to see in the train. Pretty girls just get to me – I take a look at their faces and just like that I am awed. I do not need to get to know them, I like the capability of injecting my own ideas of what they are like.

For the past 6 months, not a lot of you know what has been up in my life. To be honest, I can keep a secret (or secrets) quite well. Or maybe I just don’t see a reason in telling. They’re not secrets, but rather another facet of my life that I just do not show.

I am fucking tired.
Spent.
Wrung dry.
EXHAUSTED.

Apparently, I am crazy. Thanks to bad diet and lack of sleep. But things in my life are going great.

Body heat is the best thing in the world.

A part of a lovely poem I think is kick ass:

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

but I am sad that the World Cup is over.

I don’t watch the game. I only watched one and that was because the television was on. Of course I love the good looking boys on the screen. But nothing beat Tour De France’s boys. FUCKING A-CLASS THIGHS. And talk about mental strength and resillience! I want those in a MAN.

Anyway, with World Cup going on, everybody’s lazy. People come in late for work, bosses are understanding, and everything is going well. Today, I woke up as usual at 530 am and the whole world’s awake! I didn’t feel so lonely anymore. goddamnit they should have World Cup every month.

My boyfriend, for someone who lives, works, and breathes football, watches the games in and out. Sometimes we would be having dinner when the match is on and nobody cared. But that’s because we are both fucking sportsman/woman baybe. Who needs to watch the idiot box when we do our own heart pumping activity, day in day out? Today was a great cardio for the both of us, which of course ended in a little fight because goddamn it, both of us are Type A people and definitely will want to win on whose skills are better. Dier pon takleh kener tegur. Obvious gila kot kaki kau dragging! hahahah whatever. Technically now I am a tad better than him but being the natural he is he’s catching up. Of course, he’s a dude.

Bye.