You keep rolling with the punches

Someone said I should start writing again. So I am.

(Not that I usually listen to what people say but some people have more pull on me than others. And he's cute so ngeh)

A lot can change in a matter of minutes. Seconds. Mili-seconds. Nanomircominiskirtseconds.

For instance - you can fall in love, fall out of love, fall out of favour, make decisions that can change the wind in your sails and I can go on and on but there's no point in that because I'm pretty sure you know where I am going with this.

Point is, people change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst. We evolve, we have to. Humans who stay stagnant in their cocoons of comfort (or discomfort) are useless to society and to themselves. You go on auto-pilot for the rest of your lives while Ayn Rand gives you the middle finger.

So change is good even if it springs from unfortunate circumstances. It gives you more options to screw over, more doors to maybe nail shut and more fingers to trample on. Generally, it makes life more exciting.

What I'm trying to say is that I'm not about to sit by and wallow about people who have hurt me or shut me out of their lives simply for being me. Sure, it stung when a person I thought I knew deleted me from her life. Literally. 9 years of friendship brought to an end on facebook. It was more amusing than anything else though. I like it when people confirm my psychoanalysis on them. That said, what is done is done.

I offered friendship, companionship, a shoulder to cry on and my general insanity to be a good friend but apparently when you tell someone they have an attitude problem, that is enough for them to bypass all the support and love you have given them throughout those turbulent years.

Meh.

It's funny though. In the time I lost a friend I thought of as a sister, I gained someone I'd find closest to be a soul mate to me.

Not a bad trade off all things considered. Maybe I should give this fate thing a try?

Jigglenomics

I skipped the gym two weeks in a row. Whee. I paid for it dearly when I was wheezing on the treadmill again. This is why I like procrastinating. I claim I learn my lesson and then go back to doing just that.

Speaking of which.

Credit cards.

Farking bane of my life.

Those instruments of deceit should have never fallen into my hands. Now I regret the day I gleefully signed my paychecks away to the institution of frigging doom.

I admit. I have little or no self control. I'm spontaneous when I shop which means "OMGOSH I LOVE THAT TOP. WHO THE FARK CARES IF I CANT FIT MY BREASTS INTO IT ?! I WANT I WANT I WANT11!!!!11!"

Then in slides my card of eternal damnation.

I spent more than I should have. Hell, warning signs should have popped out when I spend more than what I earned in a month on a SINGLE WEEK.

Now those cards lay hibernating within the deepest regions of my closet. Never to be touched again by my weak hands.

And now I work to pay off my bills.

I used to laugh at my friends who had racked up enormous credit card balances and promise myself I'd never do that. I told my fat butt I was getting the card for essentials ie, gym dues and petrol. Then that spiraled into getting a new phone, fixing that phone when the damned screen broke (it cost a bomb because it was a new model and they had to import a new screen), clothes, expensive bag, even more expensive wallet, clothes I rarely wear and food I didn't have to eat.

For what? To be left with a headache now and unneeded stress over a bloody card?

I lived beyond my means. I flinch when I get my bills now. I pay more than the minimum in hopes that I'll have everything sorted out before I leave for Australia (if).

Never again. From now on it's debit cards or nothing.

Also, any potential sugar daddies looking for a sweet young thing, please contact me. I can entertain you with my amazing abilities. Like maxing out your platinum credit card, albino tiger shows and showing you the right way to dress for your age.

I accept credit cards.

What a graduating disappointment

If I was honest, I'd say I'm a huge-assed (literally and figuratively) procrastinator. Alright so I graduated. Not all that great I guess. Anyone can graduate. The bloody professional's however. Different story.

2 ruddy exams. And that's it.

Maybe it's because I come from a family of over-achievers. Maybe that's why I feel like I don't measure up or that my successes don't mean nothing more than a silly piece of paper with fancy fonts mocking me.

Can I do better? Probably.

Do I want to do better?

After that look in my grandfather's eyes as he pressed my hands and made me promise I'd get my professional exams over and done with before the move to Australia? After my mother's almost accusing voice sounded as she reminded me how I said I'd be on the honour roll no problem?

I don't have a choice do I?

In other news, a tiny piece of glass found its way into the sole of my foot last night which rendered me bitchy and annoyed. Yeah I know, no different from my normal 9-5 mood but it's the bloody weekend for god's sakes!

I've also decided to stay with my current company after some negotiations on their end.

Feels nice how some people can see my worth. Or whatever illusion of worth I seem to project.

Who am I kidding? I'm awesome, I have (had) great hair and most importantly of all, I watch Hellsing OVA.

We sing in spanish and we dance in autumn!

I've given up living rigidly. Not that I was a complete tight-arse before this but I generally used to stay away from crowds, shy away from parties unless forced to go and paid no heed to other mind-numbing social events.

Because there was no point to them. I thought they were frivolous, demeaning and a general waste of time.

Then I realised something.

THAT'S THE WHOLE BLOODY POINT!

People go to clubs to dance, flirt, have a good time and try to get lucky. That's not a bad thing if done once in awhile. 3 times a week is pushing it but monthly or bi-monthly events are fucking necessary for you to drain your brain from the every day chain of horribly boring sequences that run on auto-pilot.

I'm young. Okay young-ish. I've been applauded in the past for not acting like I was in my early 20s. That I am matured for my age for not giving into the perils of youth.

I say screw that. I want epic stories to tell my grandkids on cold mountain evenings (hint Viker, hint). I want tales to laugh over with my friends when we meet up. I want to look back 20 years from now and cringe at the clothes I wore, the make up I plastered on and the drunken pictures I had no idea existed.

I'm not saying that I'm going to start going ape over things I never used to. Moderation is the name of the game and I still love learning. 

I've shed my inhibitions, danced like no one was watching (I hope no one was) and I don't give a damn about what you think about me.

PS : The best part was that being girls meant not having to pay a cent cos we were THAT fabulous.

PPS : No. We did not hook up with anyone from the club. Although I think a few hearts were broken, all 3 of us have men we adore, love and who trust us.

PPS : I know. I lol'd too. 

("Amy", "Bait" and "Shana")

A cold and an inexplicable need to buy new underwear

I have a cold. Not full blown just yet but it's getting there. Probably my fault for disregarding the need to wear bottoms while sleeping in a room designed to keep an eskimo happy.

I have plans today. They include working (not a choice), going to a birthday party and actual partying later on. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've gone out after dark? 

Not long enough by the tell tale signs of my car's mileage I guess.

Also have you noticed how amazingly cute underwear has become? Maybe I've just started noticing that there's more to innerwear than just g-strings, thongs and lacy numbers. 

Can't afford them now though. Saving money to pay off for the nuclear reactor I pre-ordered in '06. The end times are approaching with Najib as PM now and I want to be riding the beast into Hell.

With cute panties on.

Post Earth Hour thoughts

I didn't really feel like celebrating earth hour. I thought it was a pointless exercise. You turn off the lights for an hour and then what? If you know me, you know I'm not the type who runs with the crowd. Sheeple, I am not.

But after last night, I take back my pessimism (I know! Shocking!).

True, you can't do much but it creates awareness. Well one hope that it does. If not for the public, for the government to realise that their people WANT environmental policies to be taken more seriously.

Instead of competing for the coveted "Who is Most Corrupted" title and pointing fingers at each other, politicians should be pushing for more important agendas. Oh no , I'm not denying the fact that corruption prevails (ha ha) but for fuck's sake, less lip service please.

Federal governments and state governments have to step up. Offering tax breaks for companies that succesfully reduce their carbon foot print. Push in more moolah into R&D industries. What-the-fuck-ever it takes to show the public that they care (or at least are faking it well enough) about their well-being.

Individuals and private companies should take heed. Turn off lights, don't put your air conditioning on full blast, encourage your kids to turn off the bloody computers and go out to the parks instead (one stone - two birds solution).

Yes, and that's me looking all smug.

Beauty regimes for the poor

As I lay on a friend's bed waiting for her beautician to work her magic on me, I mused how much I had spent on make up this month.

Nearly RM 400. Yeap.

Why?

Because I figure why not?

Rather than spend it on booze (belly gut), porn (the intrawebs were invented for that reason), clothes (I'm trying to lose weight), food ( Again, weight loss), books (I have too many) or a man-whore (The Viker would be amused) I now spend my money on trying to make myself look pretty.

For someone who's idea of make up useD to be coloured lip balm + a smudge of eyeshadow + too much eyeliner + how-the-frig-do I put on mascara?, I think I'm close to becoming a novice in the area.

I now know what brushes to use and how to use them. I know which colours look good on me (pretty much everything - thank you good genes!). I also know how to maintain my eyebrows.

Men have no idea how much time, effort and money goes into looking good. You complain when your woman looks haggard but then feign pissing in your pants when her credit card bill comes in.

If you're tapping that arse, expect to maintain it mister.