Insecurities.

My biggest flaw right now, is my overwhelming sense of insecurity, in myself, and in others.

I exude a sense of confidence whenever I'm conversing with someone, but that's only because I speak well, and have enough street and worldly knowledge to hold my own.

When it comes to dating someone, I get flustered and insecure at the first signs of irregularity and unbalance.

I've been dating this French guy, Olivier, recently, and it had been going pretty well. Outside of our first date, of which we spent 6.5 hours together, we've only hung out at his place where he either cooked, or I brought dinner over.

It was quaint. It was nice. It was very comfortable. It reminded me of Mike. O and I just spoke on the phone for 45minutes after yet another miscommunication and difference in style, which led us to not meeting up for the 2nd week in a row.

I shouldn't, and couldn't, blame him for the way he likes to handle his schedule, because that's the way he wants to live his life right now - one day at a time, after his 8 years relationship had just ended earlier this year. Sometimes he wakes up feeling depressed, and it's hard to shake it off, and when I woke up late today and didn't text him in time, he made plans for the rest of his day despite us confirming it last night. While I do not agree with the way he's handled things, I recognised it as a coping mechanism, something I'm painfully acquainted with.

What scared me was how I've came to be reliant on him, after such a short time(even for me). That when after all was said and done, and I laid crying on my bed, I finally realised I'd let myself be so emotional over O, because he was like a cross between Mike and Randy - not wild, not a bad boy, like a tall and handsome stable rock, a lot like Mike was, but also filled with emotional issues, just like Randy was.

I've been drowning in a sea of loneliness and uncertainties, and O was the first proper rock that came by that I could tether myself to. I suppose it's for the better that I had the semi-breakdown, because that's probably not a road I would like to travel down.

It was a lot easier when a few weeks ago, I was on first dates with O and a few other guys, and I generally did not give a shit. I should not have started to make a choice that early.

I'm just lonely. I'm not emotionally ready for a relationship yet. I probably never will, not until I find that true rock in my life.

Wilson is a safer choice, even if we don't end up seriously dating - I'll talk about W another time; I'm still trying to come into terms with the fact that I was emotionally reliant on O, and not because I actually do like like him. 

I mean, I shouldn't be, right? 3 days on now, and I barely think about him anymore. And not when it still tears me up inside whenever I think about Mike. And not when I also have some fuzzy feelings for W. And then again, how do I feel about Mike, now? How could love still be love, after the 7th breakup? You take something apart often enough, and eventually it will not resemble the pure form it was presented in, at its very beginning. Yet I miss Mike with a terrible vengeance, that it hurts, physically.

Sigh, I don't know. I don't know anything, anymore. I hate that I allow men to have so much sway over me. I have so little friends left because of my issues, that even my closest friend is leaving me behind. I have no man, and my family life is in shambles. It's all rather pathetic right now, but I'm glad for the little things that keeps me moving on, and the people who still sincerely want me in their lives as a friend.

I just need to persevere on.

(Han) Solo drinkers

At E.Pachi supporting Ni, since I wanted a drink anyway. There's this one other guy who's also at the al fresco area right now, and we're both solo.

I'm drinking alone because I hate to be home and face the hostility - I wonder what's his story?

Something frivolous to muse over.  I often find solidarity in fellow lone drinkers; there is always a story.

Maybe I should have become a bartender. They get the most interesting stories of them all.

---

Editor's note, 8.58pm: Ah, so he's not flying solo like me, his girl friends were just really late. Oh well.

Apology and absolution, are not synonymous.

Heyo!

Got back at about 10ish pm, after I kinda spontaneously decided to watch Jurassic World on my own after work. Terminator Genisys and Jurassic World back-to-back, both of which are classics from my childhood; Jen is a happy camper!

It was a pretty excellent movie, and I teared up at all the mopey parts, but I teared mostly because I was supposed to watch this with Mike. In fact, I booked the tickets for a few Saturdays ago, but we missed it after waking up and messing around in bed, not knowing my phone picked up the IndoSat carrier, and got switched to Indonesia timing instead.

Well, I'm sure he's already watched it on a date.

Anyway, I'm only posting now because I spent the last 2 hours trying to talk sense into my mother. Things at the homefront has been steadily getting worse. The SIL took the kids and left over a week ago, but she eventually let the kids return last week to attend their tuitions, and what not. As of right now, she's still staying alone in their flat at the Pinnacle, and refuses to come back here. 

She's been forcing her hand and trying to make my brother shift over to Tanjong Pagar along with the rest of their family, and stop caring for my mother, so my mum and I begun seriously discussing the option of selling our family home, which is in our names.

My family life is so complicated and simply put, fucked up, that it will take a novel-sized entry to talk about it, and maybe I will, one day, talk about it. But not now.

Long story short, it might be a more viable option if our two families split and lead separate lives, especially since the SIL wants my brother to stop giving allowance to my mother. We'll buy a smaller flat elsewhere with the proceeds, and I'll pay for all our future upkeep.

It'll be tough for my brother for his convenience to get into work, but something's got to give, right?

---

One of the many topics I've touched upon with my mum tonight, was the fact that a big part of our current situation was set in motion by herself, albeit unknowingly, and she did not, and still do not, absorb the responsibilities of what her past and current actions have wrought. A few new revelations came into light tonight, and she looked to me for immediate forgiveness and understanding, the moment she finished her announcement.

While our mum has finally realised the impact of her past actions on our psyche, she expects us to forgive her, to take pity on her. Every time she apologises, it was done with a tinge of "Don't you realise how poor thing I am?"

I told her tonight that "apology and absolution are not synonymous. You have to truly understand the impact of your behaviour, and work on healing, and embetter yourself from the within. We forgave you easily, because we are your children, but you need to stop assuming that you deserve absolution from anyone and everyone, just for owing up to your mistakes, but subsequently repeat the same mistakes over and over again."

I follow a very uncomplicated rule of thumb - Own your mistakes, live your mistakes. You've made your bed, and lie in it. I don't tend to let my mistakes happen the 2nd or 3rd time, because fool me twice, shame on me, right? Unfortunately, that one rule does not apply to me when I'm knees-deep in a relationship, ha.

Anywayyyy. Back to the topic. My whole point of this entry, is that Apology does not equate Absolution. Apology paves the path to absolution, but it's what you do next, that shapes how the dice will fall. - Jennifer Lim G.S. (yes, I'm doing it. I'm quoting myself xD)

To prevent history from happening again, you need to pull your heads out of your own arses instead of avoiding the mistake in shame. Owe up to it, work towards embetterment, stop lingering on what's done, and move the fuck on.

A Blind Eye

I haven't been on this blog for over 2.5 years, so why not jump right back into it, and continue writing about my relationship woes?

I've tried writing into a notebook on my daily whimsical thoughts, ideas, and such, but the book proved to be too bulky and cumbersome over the months - So it's now relegated to the bottom drawer of my office desk.

2 years ago, I was in a relationship with a man, Randy McG., whom, a few dates in, after I've already fell hook, line and sinker, told me that he is married, but separated, soon-to-be divorced. I believed him, because I was desperate for companionship, and he was so good to me, and charming, and intelligent.

Long story short, I had a nightmare year with him, where after months and months of turning a blind eye to the dozens of girls texting him and exchanging naked photos, I sunk into depression and severe alcoholism, due to his serial cheating and constant need to lie. That and he was never going to leave his wife. I almost took a plunge from the window sill in my kitchen - It was a wake-up call for me then, and I went on dating apps to try to move on from the whole situation.

It took a few tries and some really bad times, but with a 2 weeks' trip to US and a really disastrous trip with Randy, I finally moved on - I met Mike T.

Mike and I had our first date just slightly over 1 year ago, in fact, we just wished each other happy anniversary last week or so. He was this awkward, geeky, tall, smart and handsome man - My perfect type. Only problem was, he was a lot older than my usual dating pool - and I actually do like them older - He was 50.

Thankfully, though, Mike looked nothing like his age, and after hours of talking about music on our first date, we subsequently went on a second date, then a 3rd, 4th, 5th etc, and Saturdays unofficially became our date nights. I started staying over at his place on date nights, we started being comfortable just being around each other. I had my own toothbrush in his bathroom, and we talked about getting some toiletries for me to use whenever I stayed over. 

Randy was finally cast away from my mind like the fading nightmare that he was.

Then, the problems started creeping in. Mike was a little resistant towards giving our relationship a name, even though we were exclusive and seeing each other regularly. I took it in stride, calling him my Pseudo Boyfriend, but we had our first break up just right after I came back from the US, whilst he was still in Vanuatu. I can't remember the reason for that breakup, but it was probably something to the effect of not wanting a messy breakup, because of our age differences, and whatnot.

Anyway. So we broke up. That was Breakup #1. Throughout the months, we would break up with each other, only to either: 1) Regret our decisions the moment we meet up to break up proper/pass me back my stuff, or 2), go by days or weeks of separation before one of us caves and texts "I miss you". Repeat #2 to #6. 

We just had Breakup #7, to which I've told him not 3 weeks ago that if he really wants to give us a shot again, he has to do this right, and do right by me, because there won't be a Breakup #8.

Then 3 days ago I made the drunken mistake of sending Mike a video telling him that I love him, hoping it will secretly make him happy(like he said it did when I told him before), but instead, he ran. 

Mike ran, as always.

I've always turned a blind eye (of sorts) to how he goes back on dating sites almost immediately each time after we breakup - Breakup #6 happened also when Mike was back in the US, and he subsequently hopped back onto a site(Match.com?), and lined up a date for when he returned back to SG less than 2 weeks later. 

Between break ups #4 to #6, I had to tell Mike that if we ever break up again, he needs to give it time, a mourning period if you may, before he tries to go on dates again. It's honestly that bad that I had to request this of him, which evidently, did not stick.

I turned a blind eye to the girls he added to his Facebook, to which I was removed from literally less than an hour after Breakup #6, because "it will be too painful to look at your posts". I was never added back, but I could see from his activities and recently added friends, that he's been busy - I know some of them are from dating sites. They get to be on his Facebook, whilst his ex-girlfriend of one year, did not. 

Editor's note: M texts girls he has met on dating sites (but not went on a date with, yet) whenever we're on a break. I've never pursued the issue because the messages were innocuous enough, but still enough to raise a red flag at the back of my mind. As the Chinese proverb goes, 无风不起浪。If there is no wind, there would be no waves in the sea.

I know I sound overly suspicious, and that I check up on him, but I've never made a real fuss for Mike to explain himself. I let lax the instant he resisted.

I was desperate for Mike to love me. Now I know he never will, because that's just how he is.

Despite the niggling realisation that I'd become a spare tire, I refused to believe that my sweet, geeky and insecure Mikey could be a jerk. 

My sweet, sweet Mikey who always catered to my whims on where to go on date nights, always trying to find something new and interesting for us to check out, who never really once lost his temper at me, even when I was being hormonal and bitchy, who always cuddled me when I asked for it, who got me belated "Valenmas" presents to surprise me, even though he isn't the romantic type. Whom always made me feel so safe in his arms.

I refused to believe that Mike had become a jerk who was perpetually putting out hooks into the sea, hoping for the right one to bite - But in the interim, when he got lonely, when he missed the companionship, when he longed for my soft skin, he returned to me, time and again - the Jenny Jen Jen, Cage, Granny, the loving Jennifer who always welcomed him back with open arms.

To him, I was prolly a safety net of sorts. Jen is comfort, Jen is familiarity, Jen is fun. Jen will always take him back. Jen is a bit of everything good, but just not enough of everything right.

To me, Love IS comfort, Love IS familiarity, Love IS fun. Love is always forgiving and always welcoming. Love is imperfect and a constant work-in-progress.

I turned a blind eye against Mike's flaws, and fell in love with his little imperfections; my sweet, gentle, smelly Daddy Bear.  I should have cut my losses and left before I fell deeper in love.

Yet, it wasn't all woes. Mike did also make me realise that I DO deserve a better man, instead of being content with the basic criterias of being single and does not cheat. 

I deserve better, and I WAS getting better, especially during the three weeks of our last separation. I was doing a lot better at loving myself more, but after letting this happen time after time, I'm apparently not doing well enough.

It's back to square one now, and as much as it pains me, I admit that I should have let Mike go when I recognised the fact that he will always be a runner, no matter if we would have been right for each other or not. I should have gave up trying months ago. I mean, he gave up. Despite always coming back to me, he was not the Mikey I knew and loved.

Please just let me find the strength - I've been so deliriously happy the last couple of weeks. There was a glimmer of hope that Mike had finally started behaving like the loving Mike I knew, and I finally got to meet his family just last week. This simply shattered me, when I thought there was nothing left to shatter. When I thought I was already jaded when it came to him.

We shall never be again, I cannot let it be again, and I need the strength to let it all go, and rise up from the ashes, because I am still the little engine that could. 

P.S: Gawd. I so need a smoke right now, but I'm 33 days smoke-free, and by god I'm going to stick to it.

Mementos of 2012.

08 January 2013.

At 12 midnight, my hand drifted towards my well-worn notepad and brimming pen stand on my right, and began to write.

It came as a bit of a bafflement to me that I have only counted down to 2013 at Steve & Ann's 7 days ago. It felt like weeks. I guess time flies when you're having fun, but drops dead from the sky when you're doing the entire opposite.

in 2012, I witnessed a few events. 2 of my closest friends getting engaged to be married in May and September this year, - Which reminds me, I have to start jogging tomorrow - the unification of surprising pairings and breakups of some of the greatest loves I have ever seen.

I have also experienced the excruciating pains of losing a dear friend, Mark, which made me deeply appreciate my family and friends. Well, at least for a week or 2 before I ultimately returned to wanting to strangle some of them to death or some sort. Some sort... Sort of.

I kid. I love em :)

Then came the homo sapiens of the X chromosome. In early 2012, I dabbled in a budding relationship for a couple of months after a span/self-imposed drought of 5 years. Naturally, it crashed and burned. I subsequently trampled the hearts of a few men attributed in part to my resolution of 2012- To do what makes me happy.

Not to worry though; while living the cliche of "good girls like bad boys", I got my retribution handed to me by falling in love with a good boy from the wrong timezone. I have then repaid my debts in full by tossing and turning in bed for months, tormented by false hopes, waiting on the sidelines like a famished vulture perched in wait for that malnurished coyote that just would.not.die.

That and the 8kgs I have gained since fracturing my ankle in June. So yes, my debts are paid in full.

In 2012, I have met a few bad men and a lot of good women, moved on from a job of 2 years which I'd both loved and hated, did a short stint at a friend's company, before returning to do what Jennifer Lim simply does best- Laze around the house trying to put to paper the inner ramblings of her mind, while immersing in the illusion that she is a starving wannabe writer. The weighing scale shattered that illusion to a million pieces.

Anyway. I've recently stumbled upon my dusty manuscript, 2 chapters worth of crumbling pages absconded in a makeup trunk. Blowing the dust off, I sneezed as I reached with the other hand for my first and only fanfiction, 4 pages worth of uncompleted storyline hidden behind a couple of James Marsters busts.

As I stared at them, I began to realised that, my life, such as these papers in my hand, could be very easily summarised- Incomplete, unsuccessful.

On more than a few occasions, I have been showered with praises in regards to my "talent" with languages, whether it was to compose them, understand them, or even mutilate quite a few accents. I had always reciprocated with an accepting smile and a bashful thank you, mostly to avoid the unnecessary trouble of explaining how undeserving I am of them- I have tried explaining to people that I might be smart but not that smart, since I have nothing to show for it, ad nauseam.

SO done repeating, thank you very much.

Some days I will wake up in bed stifling a gasp of fear, clutching my pillows, tucking my body into a ball and tried hopelessly to drown out the heavy banging on my door and the screening voice of Life telling me to "wake up my fucking idea" - Oh wait, that's just my mum.

I do sometimes spent many a sleepless night pondering the atrocity of my life; 28 27 years, 3 months, 5 days, and nothing to show for it. Those days, I would react to all questions and conversations in a decidedly acrimonious manner and with eyes glazed over. So sue me.

Nonetheless, I have more or less accomplished my 2012 resolution(read: paragraph 5), so I am ready to leave my somewhat self-indulgent lifestyle on the backburner(what, you think I was going to give it all up? You cray cray) and attempt to make something of this dream I have always brought up sanctimoniously.

It is with a fevered wish that I hope all my friends have stifled tears, bawled loudly, laughed madly, cursed occasionally, made mistakes, learnt, and loved deeply in 2012- Because I have.

Despite the lack of any lasting continuity, I do not regret a single thing I have done last year. Mistakes made in the past are dead. I always like to use the sentence, "You've made your bed. Now lie in it."  The only thing to regret, is what might have been if you do not try. I do not aspire to be Shakespeare or Dostoyevsky, but one can hope to lead the very titillating, albeit very short, life of talented Lord John Wilmot, sans the venereal diseases.

May all of you find something in 2013 to live for. After all, we have survived 6 raptures and 1 doomsday. Celebrate life and make something of it just in case the next prediction actually comes true! For now, I am going to pick up my pen, and write.

Love,

Jenx

After Death nothing is, and nothing, death,

The utmost limit of a gasp of breath.

Let the ambitious zealot lay aside

His hopes of heaven, whose faith is but his pride;

Let slavish souls lay by their fear

Nor be concerned which way nor where

After this life they shall be hurled.

Dead, we become the lumber of the world,

And to that mass of matter shall be swept

Where things destroyed with things unborn are kept.

Devouring time swallows us whole.

Impartial death confounds body and soul.

For Hell and the foul fiend that rules

God's everlasting fiery jails

(Devised by rogues, dreaded by fools),

With his grim, grisly dog that keeps the door,

Are senseless stories, idle tales,

Dreams, whimseys, and no more.

― John Wilmot

这两个月，还以为过得蛮开心的；即使没了工作，至少还有你的陪伴。

我知道我们不是男女朋友，而虽然在此刻我们两的 ‘成人世界’ 里只有对方，我们往后依旧什么也不会是，更何况，我也发现我已渐渐单单变成你的卸闷工具。况且，我也发现一个铁定的事实 － 你最近对另一个女生感兴趣 － 哈， 可能是我对你太好了吧。

人都是对未钓到的鱼儿较感兴趣。

也可能是我自攀清高，以为我足够满足你，就算只是应你而求只当一个特殊 ‘朋友’，但我对你的日久生情开始萌现，让你无法呼吸。

我真的不知道。

但我真的受伤了。。。 我为你付出的一切根本一点也不值得。我有时纳闷是不是我自己的错，但我 ‘要求’ 的从来并不多（其实想想，我有要求过什么吗？）现在的情况怎么也不只是单单我一手造成的。

今天看着你坐在她的旁边，心好痛。早上只有我们两人世界，下午却又什么都不是，我的心荷负不来。

是我真的开始太喜欢你，还是因为太寂寞了，变成对你产生依赖？我不知道，但我很累了。真的不行了。

我要找回自我，不想再为你伤心了。不想再裸露我对你的情感。累了。放弃了。我很想很想就此退出，从新做一个真真正正的，普通朋友。

Lord, please grant me strength.

Guilt.

guilt  /gɪlt/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [gilt] Show IPA
–noun 1. the fact or state of having committed an offense, crime, violation, or wrong, esp. against moral or penal law; culpability: He admitted his guilt.
2. a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.
3. conduct involving the commission of such crimes, wrongs, etc.: to live a life of guilt.

Guilt is a cognitive or an emotional experience that occurs when a person realizes or believes—accurately or not—that they have violated a moral standard, and is responsible for that violation. It is closely related to the concept of remorse.

Catholic Guilt

Catholic guilt is the term used to identify the supposed excess guilt felt by Catholics and lapsed Catholics. The term Catholic Guilt is controversial as it is not clearly differentiated from the guilt felt by members of other religions or moral codes.

Living in sin, with sin, by sin, for sin, every hour, every day, year in, year out. Waking up with sin in the morning, seeing the curtains drawn on sin, bathing it, dressing it, clipping diamonds to it, feeding it, showing it round, giving it a good time, putting it to sleep at night with a tablet of Dial if it's fretful. Always the same, like an idiot child carefully nursed, guarded from the world.

But sometimes, on a defiant day, I would tell myself, "Never regret anything because it was what we wanted. What we want. Guilt is the price we pay willingly for doing what we are going to do anyway."


In ipsa dubitatione facinus inest, etiamsi ad id non pervenerint.
Guilt is present in the very hesitation, even though the deed be not committed.


Has it been 8 months, already?


While I know I often preach, "No apologies, no regrets", and that I said once that I've stopped listening to my conscience, it IS there. Nagging, tugging at me. Every recollection of you is bittersweet because it is tinged with the burden of guilt. But I must admit, there was also the pleasure, the joy, the excitement.

I am smart, but not too intelligent. I'm courageous, but not too brave. Not brave or intelligent enough to know what to do.


What about you? Do you?

Days down under.

3rd day in Sydney is winding down to a close. 

Night falls at 6ish every night, and it's pitch dark by about 7.30pm. Life's really slack around here, so it's still taking me quite awhile to get used to it. I'm pretty laid back, but there's a limit to how slow things are here. Thankfully, while some of the clubs I've been to have been disappointing, the bars are doing better. Prolly it's because you don't have to pay $25AUD to enter the establishment to find out that the crowd and music sucks. Heh.

I got back at 10pm after having fun in a gay bar called the Colombian Hotel. How awesome is that? Alot of shops along Oxford Street and George Street were closed by 3pm today, but Chi-Town was great - Felt like home! Food wasn't all that expensive as compared to other places in Sydney too. Managed to shop a lil despite my tight budget... Though I'm fearing for the remaining 14 days.

Oh well. We'll see what happens when we reach that road. Have 5 more days before we head down to Melbourne to bunk at my friend's. Woo hoo!

3rd day in Sydney is winding down to a close... It's times like this when in the solace of the night, I find myself awake, thinking about... All the little things. Nothing. Everything.

Good night.

Family.

Do you know how it is sometimes, that you wish someone was never born? Well, unfortunately for me, I have always been too nice and never wished that upon anyone. Only, today was of those days I wish I was never born.

Family. What are families for? People talk about the perfect happy family, one which started out with the white picket fence, 2.5 kids, doting parents, obedient children, happy childhood and selfless familial love.

The perfect family life is somewhat a myth for me. Going 'home' everyday after work is a torture, and I dread the days that I'm off from work but simply too tired to drag myself out of the house. So instead, I try to 'compensate' by staying out a little while longer after work, and locking myself in the room during the weekends. There is only one solution for this before I go bat shit insane - I need to move out, pronto. I just hope I would be independent enough to survive on my own.

The laughable thing is, whenever I get into a serious relationship(not that there were many, as I can only honestly count the 5 years r/s), I still fantasized about doing right by my man, then one day create a family, and be a mother my kids will be proud of. To give my own children a whole, complete family that I never had.

But you know what they say about you taking after your parents... So I guess that ideal needs a re-evaluation.

Oh by the way, to the sperm donor who helped in my creation, Happy belated fuckin Father's Day. Hope you had a good one with your happy little family in Malaysia, and thanks for creating this dysfunctional family and then leaving me in it shortly after I was born.

Mum told me you did actually fought to keep me during the divorce. Me. When I first heard about this years ago, I was relieved that you didn't manage to, because the only vivid memory I have of you as a kid, was the time you teasingly asked me to share my Gardenia bread - I said no, and you gave me a slap across the face. I can still remember how I stared off to your right side in shock, too fearful to look into your eyes, while I tried to understand why my father hit me. I can still recall how my ears rang. I was, what, barely two?

Anyway, for the first time in my life, I'd actually thought it might have been better if you did manage to get custody of me; That since you've already made a mess out of this family, the current one you've built should not be that worse off.

Hah! I can't believe I even let that thought manifest in my mind.

My life might have been shit, but I have somewhat survived it - I wouldn't give it up for a second try with a father who barely gives two hoots about me, especially when he is the one who created my living Hell.

Happy Father's Day. FUCK YOU.

Dried.

I'm sitting here, staring at my laptop, trying to think of ANYthing interesting to blog about after a night of sinful dinner at 7atenine and way too many bottles of beer at Howl at the Moon while nursing a persistent hangover from yesterday.

I have come to realise that my recent excessive drinking is concurrent with the meeting of Strawberry. I mean, I admit - I do drink like a fish usually, but it used to be limited to the usual Fridays, the occasional inclusion of Saturdays, and the rare weekday that I allow myself to indulge. And 90% of the time, it's just whiskey and tequila. But now? Looking at my credit card bill, I realised I've been drinking beer and whatnot every 2 days at the very least for the past month or so. Having thus decided to limit my drinking with forbearance in consideration of my liver and 'weight loss programme', and to abstain from alcohol for the next one week, AA meetings are still unwarranted.

Strawberry actually reads my blog. And I know I shouldn't be talking about how I've been drinking more since meeting him, 'cos the hell if I'm going to let him think that this two occurrences are entirely co-related, but fuck, I reckon he already thinks so. 

Anyhoo, today was the first time that he did not text me. Not that I'm surprised or particularly distressed, considering we had a sorta spat yesterday, what with him with the short end of patience after being stressed out at work, and me, frustrated over where the hell this thing is going, knowing full well that it will eventually end up nowhere. I suppose it will be a good thing if he opts to make that our final contact; I hate it that I gave him the unnecessary guilt, and lord knows, I carry enough of it for the both of us. Maybe its time to do the right thing and leave the poor guy alone. Maybe.

10 days since I last blogged. And I've been meaning to blog since 8 days ago, but unfortunately, my creative juices are all dried up. All I'm left with is... Well, moonshine, anyone?

Loving yourself.

Author's note: Ugh... I'm having an awful headache + giddy spell out of the blue. This sucks.

Yan was staying over again last night, partially to keep me company because I was feeling relatively down. (Other reasons being my place is nearer to her office, and we got used to seeing each other at least once every couple of days, lol.)

So anyway, Yan's curiousity was piqued when she saw me staring off into space in the general direction of my mac screen. She came over to look over my shoulder, and saw the message I'd just typed into my Twitter/Facebook.

"People always tell me my biggest problem is that I dont't love myself enough. But I've tried. I have really tried. The problem is, no one has ever set an example."

After reading it, she went quiet. For that few seconds, I willfully continued to stare at my screen, refusing to glance back for her reaction. "What for," I thought. "She's prolly just weary of my perpetual lack of self-confidence."

I heard sounds of clothes ruffling; She was probably taking out some sleeping clothes from my closet. Just when I was about to heave a sigh of relief that she was going to drop the issue, I heard her saying quietly in Mandarin:

"It's not that there is no one who loves you. It's just that you don't believe there are."

Christ... What a vicious cycle.

(Courtesy of my niece, Jasmine)

在如此哀伤的时刻， At such moments of sorrow,
她努力回想， She labours to recall;
试着完整背出， Trying to unerringly recite,
她年少时曾热爱过的.
一首诗。 A poem
That she once feverently loved when she was young. (line 4)

- Jimmy(几米)

Had, having, and in quest, to have...

... Seems to be all there is to life at times. Always about the quest to have, to own, to conquer, and then beat your chest to proclaim to the world: "I am the BEST!"

You see something you like, you want to own it. You see someone you like, you want to have him/her.  You want it permanent, you want to call it YOURS. Your first impulse would certainly be NOT to share.

Unfortunately, the world doesn't work like that. Treasure the occasions where you do have things just falling into your lap, and treasure even the moments that you fought for something but it didn't last. 

Treasure what goes on in your life right now that gives you joy, because nothing lasts forever. 

Author's notes: I admit, this entry sounds a lil grim, but it's not being emo, lmao.  Just a thought that came into mind while browsing through some of my previous entries.

Vita non est vivere sed valere vita est.

Jenx, the crappy serial dater.

So far, there's been H, A, A2, Z, and K who have asked me out. Not considering the one I was kind of seeing late last year that stretched till January this year.

ALL of them went somewhat ka-boom after the first date, well, at least the first or second. And it wasn't like I flunked them all; In fact, I've only flunked 2! Not too sure about K, since he was fairly recent - We were out on Friday night, but judging by how he's not texted me this couple of days, I think I know. *Wry smirk*

I'm a crappy serial dater :( Too coy with some, too prudish with others. So, yeah... I'd rather go back to my old status quo of not dating much and enjoy some peace and quiet.

Jenx, the crappy serial dater - Henceforth temporarily retired.

Wedding bells ring-a-ling-a-ling~

Well, not mine, definitely. It's actually the Chinese wedding dinner of Mavis and Ying Quan who went through their ROM ceremony last year :D *Throws confetti*

I was kinda shocked to hear that Mavis asked me to be one of the 'sisters'; After all, we aren't very close despite knowing each other for almost 2 years. Still, I'm not going to look a gift horse in its mouth. I would LOVE to be involved in the ceremony, and I am already comtemplating the colour of the new dress I would be getting for the wedding!

However, such occasions also awakened one of my innermost secrets(well, not really, but still).

I have always, always hoped to be a maid-of-honour some day... But I've missed a couple of chances - I couldn't be the maid-of-honour for my sis-in-law(apparently because my brother's the groom), so my niece took the place, and I was only 14 when my nanny's daughter got married. Seeing that I have so many close friends who mostly already came in BFF pairings, I suppose this is one selfish lil dream that'll never come true. Oh well!

Besides, I still have the dream that every woman has but mostly denies - To get married to the man you love in a lavish and romantic setting... In spite of the animosity I have towards the male species at the moment.

Hopefully the PTB will grant me that since I'm not likely to ever be maid-of-honour in this lifetime. :P

Predicament.

Thursday was...


It was a relatively simple lunch date. We went to the east to have lunch and chat, parked by the ECP to smoke and chat a lil more. I heard a few revelations that caught me off guard. Pleasant ones, of course.

I never knew that the man I'd always found charmingly handsome, had found me very attractive too, not to mention attracted to me enough to actually ask me out. I also never knew just sitting next to him in the car could feel... what's that word... right.

Too many ramifications, too many things at stake. For one, will A end up like H? Will I be able to prevent my emotions from joining the fray? Sigh. I don't know.

The angel on my right shoulder has been harping on me to back off, but the persistent devil on my left shoulder has had herself perched permanently on it, whispering her words of temptation into my ear, telling me to give this a go and see where it goes, even though deep down I know - Nothing good will ever, ever come out of it.

The taste of cigarettes and taste that was uniquely you, while being enveloped in a cloud of perfumed 'Eternity' air... Well, that one's gonna stick for awhile.


Thursday was... Well, Thursday was nice. More than nice.

It was fun but...

What's next, now? My mind is running through with a million and one scenarios.

Of course, there could be worse outcomes... But I certainly do not want to become your fubu.

I can't keep doing such things to myself or I'll slowly die inside(if my stupidity doesn't cause my death first).

I want to stay in my protective bubble - thank you very much- believing that one day, one day I can find someone who wants me. Who loves me. Who honestly wants to be with me. Not the constant flow of psychos and men who want to go wham bam thank you Jen!, and I end up becoming a men-hating cat lady living in a one-room flat in Toa Payoh, 30+ years down the road.


It has to be all or nothing, and despite how nice it would be, I know you can't and won't be the one giving it to me. Oh well.