For now, my molars are safe.
Date: Jun 4th, 2006 6:52:55 am - Subscribe
Mood: blotto

I grind my teeth; when Im thinking, when Im annoyed, when I cant sleep, and especially when Im worried. It is involuntary, but when I start its hard to stop, even when I know that its ruining my teeth.

Its been an affliction Ive had since childhood, but its only started to really annoy me these past few months because it seemed as if my teeth were in constant motion every other second. Id wake up with an aching jaw because I had been grinding in my sleep.

But yesterday it stopped. I wont say that its gone completely, I dont think it ever will be. I read Sue Monk Kidds "The Secret Life of Bees", and it ended the teeth olympics and the small ache that was residing at the back of my head.

This is the pain-killer paragraph.

"You have to find a mother inside yourself. We all do. Even if you already have a mother, we still have to find this part of ourselves inside. " She held out her hand to me. "Give me your hand."

"When you're unsure of yourself," she said, "when you start pulling back into doubt and small living, she's the one inside saying, 'Get up from there and live like the glorious girl you are.' She's the power inside you, you understand?"

"This Mary I'm talking about sits in your heart all day long, saying, 'Lily, you are my everlasting home. Don't you ever be afraid. I am enough. We are enough.' "

Sigh. I am enough. We are enough.

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More Rain.
Date: Apr 15th, 2006 7:27:16 am - Subscribe

I have spent the week mostly holed up, reading, playing games and making pathetic attempts at playing the guitar. The first week of the holiday is gone and I have no new experience to show for it, all the exciting things I promised myself I would do.. just like most promises I make to myself are empty.

Had my IC checked last Tuesday to verify my age, and I could have kissed the angel at Chillies when she said she doubted that I was above 21.

I feel as if adulthood crept up on me, I feel tricked and cheated somewhat, if Life was a merchant I would say that the years were shorter than he promised and I want a refund.


I am so annoyed with this anti-drugs campaign, not only because I firmly believe that drugs should be legal; but its potraying drug addicts as criminals when an addiction is a sickness and any monkey should know this.

And now we should all rejoice because Malaysia is about to turn into Iran. The "public indecency" law doesnt even allow holding hands in public. I think the best response to this would be a mass orgy in Dataran Merdeka... I know enough people who would do it if drunk enough.


I had a handwriting analysis done online today. It was like having a very bitchy but loved friend say all the things you know and dont want to hear.

In a nutshell I am one cold-hearted bitch who dreams too much and doesnt like making friends.

Its raining right now. Im always sad when it rains, I think of the most melancholy things. Its oddly mixed with a feeling of comfort because there is nothing better than going under the covers with a good book when its pouring outside.

I miss my little sister, and it hurts because I dont really know this sister that I miss because I wasnt around during the important years. The transition between little talking doll and full-fledged thinking being.

And I am vain even in my sadness, I am looking in the mirror thinking how cute my sad face is and my hair looks super good today.

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Sleepless in..
Date: Mar 13th, 2006 3:08:06 pm - Subscribe

I cant sleep.

Found out that my brother is like me. He cant sleep without the sound of music blaring.. it comes from living with my father for 5 years.. the house was never completely quiet.. all of us had different bedtimes. Even at the unearthly hour of three o'clock in the morning on a working day the television would be on, and someone or other would be on the way out or just coming in.

I have the sleeping habit of a house cat, I would fall asleep anywhere, sleeping on a bed was never pre-planned.. it was simply a comfort greeted with pleasure in the morning instead of the limited confines of a couch or an aching face from having fallen asleep facedown on the dinner table.

My father encouraged this.. he would initiate family activities at any hour..I remember long night drives with papa, just cruising around kl in silence.

We dont have long conversations, my dad and me. The silence is comfortable, I like the fact that my father does not inquire much into my life, he only steps in when there is sickness.. monetary needs.. or occasional stupidity..

Our text messages are as abrupt and efficient as our face-to face conversations.


Me: Papa, can you send my allowance tomorrow?

Papa: Ok

Conversation (in car)

Me: Papa, can I move to Nigeria, live off the land and marry Ombukwa the village chief?

Papa: Ok

Conversation (at home)

Me: Papa, can we keep this kitten?
Papa: No.

We dont have conversations at the dinner table because.. because, well we dont really eat at the dinner table. The table is sort of a surface to put food, and take food from. Sitting there is an alien concept to us. Sometimes we take it straight from the kitchen and then settle in our various favorite eating spots. On the couch with a book, in front of the television.. but there is an unwritten rule that the bedroom is offlimits. I guess it must be for hygienic purposes.

I cringe when I have to eat at the table, either when we have to pretend we have decorum in front of guests, or when I am a guest myself. The food just doesnt go down well..

Eating out is a different affair, restaurants just dont cater to our sensibilities, but I dont eat out unless there is someone to eat out with, and in situations of dire need (like extreme hunger) I attend to my meal with a book at hand.

Its as if simply eating without having another task accomplished simultaneously is a waste of time.

Now that most of us arent living together I find I miss dinner-time. We dont talk to each other, we mostly dont even sit near each other when we eat but there is a feeling of family, the sight of my father reading a newspaper while munching a sandwich in the kitchen, my sister on the floor with a magazine next to her plate of food, ariffs eyes fixated on the television while he munches on..

Its not exactly what Brady Bunch would do.. but you can do things together without being "together". Its just so nice to have a family that understands the distance we all need from each other to love each other.


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i dont remember
Date: Feb 23rd, 2006 11:10:40 am - Subscribe

I have a habit of running away when Im faced with problems... just coming back to deal with them when they have turned into big ugly monsters who inflict more pain than they originally would have had I just got my act together and dealt with it sooner.

There is a character in one of Stephen Kings shorts.. who cant deal with life without pressure. There is life at the bottom of the ocean.. millions of seacreatures that exist in an environment that would crush a grown man flat. But if they swam to the top towards the sunlight they would burst into a thousand pieces. Because they live on the pressure and thrive on it.

And this man lives like them, feeding off the intensity and can only exist with it. He cracks when life finally runs smoothly for him. Maybe I am that man, maybe I love the drama and the anguish and the intense suffering that comes with waiting for the BIG OUTCOME.


I spent most of the day playing hooky from class and finally ended up with my sister, shopping and talking mostly about "back then".. back when our family was in one whole piece as a functioning unit.

(functioning is a strong word to use in describing it)

Most of our discussions on this topic are usually filled with laughs, things that used to make me cry seem so faraway now,its like talking about a sitcom of a dysfunctional family that used to exist.

Back then every family outing used to end on a sour note, but as a child I was so used to all the fighting that it was like background music to my ears, I dont even remember what their fights were about. When I try, I just see myself staring out the window of the car, making up stories about the people I saw on the street, running my fingers up and down the upholstery.. absorbed in the dotted designs .. singing songs to myself.

I didnt see the cracks that were starting to get worse, I felt like this was ordinary and felt sorry for the broken families on television.. sometimes even wishing for something exciting to happen in my life because we were so ordinary... and just like everyone else.

Adelia reminded me of the time she kept on making me talk to my mom.. she kept on sending me from the room " go and see if mama is there.. go and talk to her.." I was bored and irritable and came back each time complaining that I just wanted to go back to bed.

My mom had had her suitcase out, and try as I might I cant remember sadness from that situation. She had threatened to leave us and all I remember feeling is wanting my bed and my moms big vanity case that was
filled with goodies that a five-year-old is not allowed to touch.

I dont remember feeling anything... through all the arguing, fighting and yelling. And the final slam of the door when they finally realized that all the children were quiet because they were listening in.

Maybe I was stubborn... I realize now that I truly liked the feeling of being normal and like everyone else. Yes, there were fights.. but that will be over soon and there will always be that picnic on sunday and everything will be okay. And nothing could contradict that vision, not the occasional beating from his hands, not her crying and lack of interest in me as her child... until it really happened and everything just fell apart. For real.

And even then I didnt feel anything. Maybe because it was just something I knew all along.

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Date: Feb 23rd, 2006 10:28:59 am - Subscribe

Sometimes I wonder why I blog when I dont really tell everything anyway. I tell myself its a mark of existence, its something to look back to, its something people, preferably friends, can refer to when they need to know whats my deal and how life has been going on for me.

But it doesnt work really well when I just imply, and write in code language that I hope someone understands.

Sometimes I think blogging is a cowardly way to say what we really want to say to certain people. It takes away the guilt, the feeling that you are responsible because you didnt try to reach out. Its like leaving a letter somewhere generally obvious and not that hard to find for that someone because you cant find it in you to say it.

You dont really care about the other people who read it, somewhere between the paragraphs is a little message that has been dying to get out , and you just hope that that someone reads it and gets it. Gets that message, goes up to you, and gets angry or apologizes or just simply says I read it and I fucking get it.

To hear them say Im sorry I hurt you so many times, i didnt know it hurt that much, actually i did, and I did it anyway, but Im sorry... I hate you for lying, but i get your reason.. but it just put me through so much shit I dont think I can forgive you, but Im going to try to... I love you, and Im sorry, and I was stupid, and I dont know why I do these things.. Im going to change.. things are going to change.. I promise I promise, things are going to be just like they were when I wrote you that poem.. that I wished you were you remember..

Millions of blogs lying around the cyber universe just waiting for that moment.


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