Thoughts from the workplace: Of turning 33, and others

I guess it's becoming a thing now, blogging once and then vanishing for a whole year. 

I made it to 33, the age Jesus was crucified or something?

I started being on meds again and got referred to a clinical psychologist. I got the privilege of having Dupilumab injected into my system, which helped with my eczema. I got some really nice friends at work who feed me well. Life is good, but still empty and confusing on some days. I'm getting all the help I've ever wished for, yet still I feel unhappy.

Some big things happened recently, like:

1. Turning 33
2. Buying a motorbike
3. Enjoying my appointments with my clinical psychologist and developing a crush on him
4. Moving on from my situationship and fully accepting the fact that we're better off as friends because our values do not align but we are terrific besties
5. Losing motivation on teaching 
6. Finding that lots of things are super boring
7. Basically losing the ability and drive to cook and prepare meals
8. Sending my kids to a debate competition and finding joy in it
9. Getting scared of the possibility of going to the morning session and teach upper form kids
10. Registering to get a motorbike license.

It's yet another confusing state of going through life without real excitement and basically trying lots of new stuff just for the thrill. I don't really have thoughts of ending stuff, but life is really lonely right now, BUT I am not convinced I can actually commit to having someone else in my life. Everything is just contradicting and most of the days I just face life without any real thoughts. Some days I feel like I'm wasting my life away, not really living it. Some days I try to tell myself I should just cut myself some slack. Some days I'm eager to master this Acceptance and Commitment Therapy that I'm learning from my therapist, but some days I don't have any clue on what I truly want as the outcome?

What if I actually don't really want to get better?

What if even if I feel better I won't get the things that I want now, like companion, a person as a source of comfort, a home, a place to belong?

What if my life will go on and on like this?

What really is the point of living?

What really is the point of all this?

Life in J, Season 4?

 It's April now.

I'm typing this from my school's infirmary room, otherwise known as Bilik Kesihatan. I'm the ketua for this week. What a way to start a new week after the Raya holidays.

It's April now. I'll be 32 in a week. Sometimes I forget I'll be 32. It's like a real confusion whether my current age is 30 or 31 and I have to subtract the years to really confirm it.

Contrary to what others say about getting into your 30's, I'm not really enjoying it. There's so much pressure to behave and act well, maintain your composure, be the bigger person, be proper, act your age, show maturity. And so many friends who used to be like me are now having terrific love lives so I can't help feeling a little Fear of Missing Out (popularly known as FOMO).

I don't know when it started but the thoughts are getting more intense, of getting out there once again and trying my luck on love. I guess it's a good sign that I've sorta healed from my previous relationshit, albeit sometimes the waves do come back and I think I'm still not fully healed for a new one.

Since end of June 2022 I think I've made tremendous progress. The first wave was of course that 3rd Term holiday in September in the same year. Then of course there were series of dark days, then darker days, then darker v2.0 days, but I'm glad to realise that those days are over now? Or are they?

I went to my Psych appointment today. I'm not longer on medication for about half a year I guess. Or slightly more than that. Some days I think I'm fine, it's just that my habit of wallowing in self-pity is the thing that's dragging me down. Some days I think that I have a defect. In fact I'm almost convinced my mind isn't healthy or normal. 

It seems like I'm making progress because I no longer want to just die. It's milder these days. Maybe all the distractions are helping. The walk in the park. The getting to know more new people. Idk, really. But beneath all these I know it's still lurking, that angry part of me, because this morning I was so angry and annoyed with the doctor who kept on lecturing me on ways to get proper sleep and ways to fix myself as if everything's so easy. She recommended me to see the Clinical Psychologist. I'm not sure whether they'd call. I think some part of me is apathetic towards certain things. Like why all the hassle if in the first place you seem disinterested to look further into my case and lecture me on thinks as if I don't know what to do. I told her again and again I knew what to do, it's just that it's so hard to actually do them.

I don't know if she gets it. I don't expect anyone to get me. Like how I'm being so sensitive and touchy again, I'm not talking to some of my friends just because I felt annoyed of what they said.

I don't know but today's appointment didn't give me a nice feeling. It was supposed to help me but right now I just feel angsty again I could really use a cigarette. It's so weird to be almost 32 but to also be this angsty. I love my job. I have a comfortable life. I'm doing well. My pay is good. Yet here I am like when I was getting paid peanuts and treated as subhuman at work back in 4-5 years ago.

And it isn't helping that the moment I put on such high hopes to get to know a person I was already growing fond of, I experience rejection again. Why was October 2019 so easy when it was so fcking wrong. I remember begging for it to now happen but it happened and carried on for years. Yet for this one this time, I'm literally begging so hard for it to happen but he's gone just like that. 

I know there's that thing like in the Bad Decision Bagel poem but again it's so different between knowing something and actually taking proactive steps or conscious effort to follow, do or accept it. 

I know maybe I'm in the process of dodging a fcking huge bullet or something but my heart and mind is so stubborn. And I know this isn't good because I know we must accept that:

1. Not everything is within our control.
2. Even if we get something, everything's temporary anyway.
3. We must learn to navigate through changes.

See? I'm not fcking dumb. I know it. It's just like there's two persons in me, one the very zen and sensible and wise and all-knowing adult, trying to advise this angsty teen or some kid with a wild tantrum.

Yet how do I explain this to the doctors? I don't think there's a fix for the essence of your being. Yes we learn through experiences, we won't touch what burnt us again, but there's always going to be that side of us that refuses to just follow what's good and what's sensible.

Seriously I just want a real break.

Maybe getting these all out in words has helped me see things a bit. I'm just tired of always being the decision-maker for myself, of having to fully take care of me, of having to stay very vigilant. I just want to relax and have someone take care of me too, like a little innocent kid being loved and cared for.

Am I still trapped here, this little girl inside of me, pretending to be brave and sarcastic and funny while truly I am tired and scared and so full of shit? 

I don't know.

I'm scared of turning 32, if I'm really honest about it. 

I'm really scared.

2025: Whew

 So we made it into another year.

1st February 2025.

I did something today. I went to the zoo. With someone new, someone I wouldn’t even expect I’d meet in this phase of life.

The excitement still hasn’t died down, and amidst that excitement of course there is fear.

The good ol’ classic fear of abandonment.

So I got to know A around November last year. It was just something random and spontaneous. We went out to the movies in December, and since then it’s been an on-and-off thing.

I know A isn’t ready for a new relationship.

I know I don’t want to be with someone who’s not ready.

And of course, there’s a bunch of things I don’t know. I learnt that assumption isn’t good, and neither is overthinking.

So as I lie in bed tonight, I just want to appreciate today. The jokes, the laughs that I had with A. The fact that he agreed to come and spend his time. The moment he helped me wear his full face helmet. The way he held the door. 

People would say it’s common courtesy. And obviously I don’t know him well enough. But I like this day. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. Oh, to be smitten. Oh, to feel that excitement, that rush. 

I’m not innocent to label it as love. My past experience taught me well. But I’m giddy. I’m enjoying this. And I want more.

To even think of this day—riding at the back of a Yamaha R25 in JB… it’s something I never imagined would happen in my lifetime. It just felt so surreal, looking at the tall buildings, listening to the purr of his bike’s engine, pinching is shirt to stay balanced behind. 

I know, this is just the second time seeing him and I shouldn’t allow my expectations to get too high. I wonder what would my counsellor say if I still met her. I had my last session last year around October or something. We concluded I was already capable of taking care of myself. I wonder how would she react if she heard about today. Is this a good beginning, or am I putting myself at risk?

I’m scared of getting hurt. I’m scared of getting my heart broken. 

But I want this one to work out. 

Please, please just let this one work out. 

So the first half of 2024 is gone?

 I'm blogging from my living room in my rented place in Pasir Gudang.

The night is silent, my neighbours kids have stopped screaming and bumping themselves against the walls. My cats are asleep. My Kindle is next to me, the cover of Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch locked on its screen.

This morning I sent my kids for scrabble. They didn't win, but they did well, according to me. 18th place out of 29 isn't too bad, right?

The place is messy now. I just don't have enough willpower to put everything in their places.

Tomorrow I'll have to go to work as usual. 

You'd think that after the previous post where my abdomen was cut open in an operating theatre, I'd sorta change 180 degrees into a pious, life-loving, God-fearing, all positive person.

You're wrong.

It takes just about a few months for me to forget the fragility of life and good health and now I'm back to being a whiner. 

I've weaned off on escitalopram against my doctor's advice, tired of becoming a robot. I feel things now. It's been around a month since the last pill. I mean I cried when I saw an ig post about a dead cat, remembering Kitty. Those tears wouldn't have come if I was still on medication. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is I need that little sadness. That little sadness when I arrive home after work and I watch the sunset and I close my gate and I know I'm not going to have anyone to talk to until the next day. Or next 2-3 days on weekends and long weekends.

I need the sadness when he rejects my invitation to go ngeteh, the sadness that I was always there for him but he can't even return me that favour.

The sadness that what happened in 2022 still bothers me.

The sadness that my life is absolutely lonely but as an adult I will have to professionally mask it until the next counselling appointment.

The sadness that those appointments may not even work anymore and perhaps the counsellor is secretly hating me.

You know, like fuck it why does life has to be like this.

One moment you're so happy you've been invited for a carpool and a trip to Melaka and you sing your heart out at Hard Rock Cafe and the next moment you're sad because they told you the band wasn't that god anyway compared to the last time they went there with their bunch of other friends.

And one moment you just feel like you're sorta accepted but you know one wrong move will eliminate you from that spot and sense of belonging you're beginning to build.

One moment you know perhaps you're not mentally and emotionally fit enough to get into a relationship and start a family, but at the same time you're longing for a family you build on your own.

Why is it that I can't seem to be calm and find peace in the moment, with whatever I currently have--a hugeass home with three bedrooms all by myself. A functioning kitchen with food. Books to keep me entertained. Stuff, chores, hobbies, all that can make me occupied.

But all I choose to do is to focus on what I don't have.

A guy. A relationship. A shoulder to cry on, someone I can lean my head on their shoulder. Someone to comfort me when I'm scared, when I'm sad, when I'm pissed, when I'm bored.

I'm beginning to think I'm running out of time. And some part of me already believes this is what I get for all the wrongs I have done. That I deserve this loneliness. That I deserve everything he's done to me.

I know there's nothing I can do.

I can't force people to love and accept me.

I can't force people to stay and not leave me.

I'm old enough to understand that if it will happen, it will. And if it doesn't, then it doesn't. There's no way to force things I can't control.

Sometimes I forget about that. I'm just too stubborn to accept things as it is. That this isn't cuti akhir 2022 anymore, that the person I knew back then was a different person because he's masking his weaknesses to get to know me. I wish I reacted differently sometimes to certain situations in the past. This would've saved me from so many unnecessary heartbreaks. But who knows, perhaps these heartbreaks were necessary after all.

Character development? 

Whatever.

See you in another post in 2025, if I'm still alive. 

How I started my new year with a midline laparotomy, and other things.

 I made it alive!

I'm here to see yet another year, and I have to say boy what an epic start it was.

I was scheduled for an appointment on January 4th, didn't expect I had to stay warded, and just like that the next day I found myself being cut open like a frog in a science class. 

How things just went so fast, I guess I didn't have much time to process it all.

Now I'm recuperating well at home,  slightly one week post surgery, with the company of my mum and two kittens. It's something I never imagined would happen, to walk into the age of 31 having to get a surgery all by myself. I never thought this was possible, that I'd have to rely on the compassion and mercy from complete strangers and colleagues I didn't trust enough to be friends. What an important lesson indeed, to go back to my 2017 self and get reminded that strangers are reliable and kind, and people who you deem acquaintances can provide the most unexpected form of care.

A midline laparotomy is something I've never thought about, nor do I even know the term prior to having one. Basically you get a hugeass cut horizontally on your abdomen, and realistically it leaves a very big scar. Have I fully accepted this? I guess it's tough, in this pursuit of love and acceptance and the belief that people still chase for beauty and perfection, it's like I loss a few points amidst my recent eczema scars as well. But I guess I can't complain, I'm alive, they got the thing out of me before it exploded or something. And at least it's not cancer, I tell myself.

The past week's been slow--animal crossing on my nintendo switch lite, playing with the kittens, trying to get back to reading and annotating Yagihara's A Little Life. Having conversations with my mum, trying to show appreciation that she came all the way to take care of me as my surgery wounds heal. Diet's been mainly on salmon and broccoli congee--again, I can't complain and I guess I'll have to wait before I get back to having my nasi lemak, laksa sarawak, and other spicy lauk sold at the canteen.

So what's the plan for 2024?

I can feel myself getting old, that there's not much cringe ambition and motivation left. I've got a job that gives me a tremendous sense of purpose, that nothing else matters anymore because I love my kids dearly (despite getting impatient with their teen behaviour sometimes). Oftentimes I picture myself as them, that 15 wasn't so far away, that my past writings remind me how terrifying it could be, navigating through school and stuff without much understanding on human behaviour and life's mysteries.

Heck even I don't understand life sometimes, but I know it's good and it's bad sometimes. I know oftentimes I get defeated my emotions, of waves of nostalgia and longings of the people and things and moments that have passed. But what power do we mere humans have but to get up again each time and remind ourselves that things will eventually turn out better. Better, and slowly for the best. As I think back of my years drifting aimlessly, changing jobs and worrying of an uncertain future, I just know that one day it'll all make sense, amidst all the worries and fears.

Spiritually, I've come to a switch, back to believing that there is indeed a God who orchestrates all these according to His will--A God who comforts and a God who cares. The journey of knowing that God is still a blur, but around the end of last year I had a longing for worship, an indescribable faith that I am taken care of.

While I admit my past mistakes still disappoints me till this day, I know I can't just dwell in them. Having gone through my surgery, having the moments of pure helplessness and pain, I know there is a price to pay and I believe I've partially paid my bit. I feel remorse over my past actions, but what more can I do? I just know that by now the people I've hurt will find their way to heal and eventually forget about me. 

Every moment prior to the surgery will be a memory I wish I can keep, experiencing pain, addressing it to the doctors, having gone to ED to see the surgical doctors and ruling out other complications, going through scans, getting prodded, getting poked, telling the nurses I'm in pain, taking painkillers, being pushed into the operation theatre, faces blurry cos they took my glasses off, getting assured that I won't know the pain because I'd be fully anaesthetised, asking again of the possibility I'd wake up halfway through surgery.

Waking up, it felt surreal, as if I went through a long, dreamless sleep, all my worries and thoughts taken away from me. Does death feel like that? Or is it more complex? I just remember being woken up by the doctor, the nurses, whoever they were, who were asking me whether I know where I was, and my initial words were simply, "Bina Insan kat mana? Budak-budak siapa jaga?" As a recall this memory I can't help to marvel at the greatness of modern medicine, of science, of how these knowledge have birthed capable people in the medical line, it's just so wonderful to think of, how are bodies are like cars sent for repair, how they can just lift out that thing and I could wake up completely fine, managing to articulate the pain as being similar to "Post-workout at the gym." I smile every time I remember the giggles of the doctors and nurses, entertained at my reaction, waving goodbye to me as I was pushed back to the ward.

To the doctors and nurses of Hospital Sultan Ismail Johor Bahru who took good care of me throughout my 6 days stay at Ward 4D, I will always remember the kindness and care. 

I'm glad I walked into the new year with such a tender fact that life is worth living, that I should take care of my mind and body, that it's all going to be fine.

I'll take this moment of recuperating as "Time you'll never get back," as said by my wise friend Cindy who's still here throughout the years of turbulence. This is, indeed, time I'll never get back. 

And being here, experiencing all these kindness, I just can't believe how the recent years have made me skeptical and cold.

So midline laparotomy, thank you? Despite the scar, I'll learn to accept things as it is. 

2024 will just be another year. Another year to learn how to become a better teacher, another year to learn how to manage deadlines, another year to maintain friendships and start new relationships. Another year to prepare myself for rejections, another year of trying, of heartbreak, of joy of love of all things in between.

I'm excited, and I'm eager to do better than the year before.

Random Evening Thought

It’s kinda funny that as you grow older you sorta learn more things about yourself that you thought you’ve already known.

I mean it’s your own body, own soul, you’ve literally been you your whole life but there’s so much more to know? Weird.

Take for instance last week I’ve just known for the first time that I’m actually allergic to shrimp and crab.

Then this evening it dawned upon me that I don’t know myself quite well after all.

Last year I’ve just discovered that I don’t have much of an impressive pair of lungs—my voice capacity isn’t as loud as a lot of people I know in my new profession. 

And today I just can’t help but ponder, perhaps if another me existed I won’t bother to befriend her or get to know her better. She’s way too eccentric for my liking. And probably that’s why he didn’t choose me in the end?

While there are things I like about myself, like my level of empathy and sensitivity, I sometimes wish I was more popular, more likable, more magnetic. 

but I guess we have to make do with what we have.  

Walking into 2023

 It comes in waves, really. They were right about it.

One moment you thought you’d be fine without them, but some nights it just comes creeping. The times you’ve shared with them, the deepest secrets you’ve opened up and showed them, the vulnerable parts of you that you’ve trusted them to take care of. It sends a lump in your throat, and you just can’t stop wondering why things had to turn out the way it did.

I walked into 2018 not knowing I’d meet him. A soft-spoken man who made me feel included, protected, loved and cared for. I looked up to him, he was my best friend, we shared interests and jokes only we could understand. I felt understood, I felt heard, I felt that the Universe finally sent me someone who understood my humour and thought that I was cute and lovable.

How did things just crash and vanish, I really don’t know. If you say it’s a lesson, that that’s the way of life—that the temporariness of everything is what makes it special, well to be honest after six months without him I still can’t see it that way.

While I understand that impermanence is part of life and sometimes you just can’t stop someone from leaving, nights like tonight I still wonder why it all had to happen, why I had to meet him, why I had to share my special bits with him, because the memories pain me so much. The way we shared that bond, and in the end turn into strangers like this, the way I’m dying to know whether he still thinks of me the same—this silence, the days when I miss him so intensely and would kill to hear his voice again, to hug him and to giggle with him over a stupid joke we share. 

I don’t understand anything about how this could happen from the start. And I’ve spent the last half of 2022 without him, somehow. Walking into 2023 without him shouldn’t pain me this much, but the hurt is still there, lingering, like a ghost, a black figure, jeering at me over my mistake of trusting a man who in the end didn’t fight to choose me. 

Will it get easier? I hope so. I want to believe it will get easier, that I will find someone better, that I will forget him. I want to stop clinging onto the memories ai had with him. 

This year, I want to heal. I want to experience kindness, I want to be reminded it’s ok to have made that mistake of choosing someone who in the end abandoned you. I want to forgive and let go, and stop fighting against something I have no control over. 

Forgive me, Universe. I just want a life filled with love. 

What on Earth

What on earth am I doing here?

2022.

I'm still alive. Well, barely. I read some previous posts I made a few years ago. Fears and all that. It's funny because the fears are still there but some have taken shape into different forms.

A week ago I wanted to hang myself. 

No kidding.

I sent myself to a crowded morning clinic, did the DASS, had "severe depression" written on my card. After that? Nothing happened. I'm still alive, although some nights I do still think of how does it feel like to get to the other side, to finish this all, because really the journey has become too long and I'm tired and I've seen enough.

Kitty died. 

Kitty died a week ago, on 3rd August 2022. Or maybe somewhere before midnight on 2nd August. I wasn't there to say goodbye to her. The last I saw her was in early June when I came back for the holidays. I had fears of losing her when I first moved here in April. 2022 sucks.

And it's not only that. 

I lost the guy I love, or loved, or thought I loved. I don't know which is correct, at the rate how things are going now. I don't even know when's the official breakup date. Just on 28th June something shitty happened and the whole July was a mess, and the first week of August was a total wreck for me.

I'm writing this down as if it's a diary entry of a teen in a YA novel, all angst and anger, but comedic. The fact is it isn't. It's painful as hell. When Kitty died it wrecked me further, because I realised when I came back here in June it was the final time things were "normal" back in Kuching. My next holiday is going to be completely different. And I hate different. I hate changes. I hate growth! I hate the fact that things are temporary but my own death is coming too slow!

It's not like I really want to die. I'm sure if Death came knocking at my door (a rented room in a rented house) tonight, I'd shit my pants. But really I'm just tired. If I jumped off Saujana in 2016 I wouldn't have to work where I worked at, met him, fell in love and end up with this pain I'll perhaps carry for a lifetime. I don't know if this is just a fresh wound and I'm being overly dramatic, but I'm still in denial and it hurts as hell to watch a person change right in front of your very eyes, turning into a monster you no longer recognise. The same person who sent you good morning texts and video called you and said he loves you and talked to you daily about the smallest things in your boring routine! How could someone maintain a deception and transform in a blink of an eye--without any arguments, no warnings, nothing.

But I guess things were doomed to fail and the past almost-three years were a lie after all, as how he worded it. A lie. That's what he said. Well fuck, right.

For many years I knew that trusting people is a mistake, and that everything is a lie. An then for two years I let my guard down, and quoting Lewis Capaldi, he pulled the rug. 

The big question now is will I ever heal?

The second big question is will I actually live to see my greatest fear, which is to die alone, old, wrinkly, never been loved and cared and protected by a life companion?

Will I always remember him fondly, even when I'm like 65? Because damn that will hurt.

I got what I wanted this year. A job. A job I knew would give me some sense of better purpose in life, unlike those sucky retail jobs I've had (and feared of having until old age). 

But why do things still feel wrong?

What is this constant chase for more? What is this void that never got filled?

I'm in a small town now, it's like where I lived at in Kuching. Quite suburb, has a little small town vibe to it. It's not entirely bad. In fact, for the whole months of April, May and June I think I was contented about things. I was settling down. And then came late June and July and now I want to die once again, the feeling I've realised I lost when I worked my last retail job. (I remember very vividly I was just between the aisles of stationeries realising I didn't have suicidal thoughts for probably months despite the harsh working conditions and long hours, and I had goosebumps because for the first time things felt normal).

But now I guess I'm back to square one.

It's not like I'm crying now. (Which is weird). I'll probably cry and wet my pillow before my eyes shut down tonight. I won't lie and say I don't miss him. He's been a huge part of my life in the past three years, sharing hobbies, reading the same books, telling punny jokes, all those quirky stuff I always dreamt of having someone to share with. 

And now he's gone, just like that. In the arms of someone else.

No hope of getting back with me, because I know his family disapproves.

And again, he's turning into someone I don't recognise anymore.

I said Kitty died.

And he said "I thought we stopped."

And he wants me to be "Gone forever," which hurts like hell because to be gone forever means to die.

And again I know it sounds stupid but I do feel like dying and just giving him what he wants--me to be gone forever. How would he like that?

But then I can't, because there's my favourite nephew who'll grow up and learn his Monono died of suicide and I can't do that to him. And my kids at school. They're teens. I'm supposed to live and be here until life decides for me my time is up.

Which sucks, but what choice do I have?

I have so many other people to consider and now this is sending me to tears. Because my mum will definitely be crushed. And again, my kids. And again, my little nephew. 

I have a fantasy that if I cross to the other side I'll probably be free from all this heartache and see Kitty again and everything else won't matter.

But of course I'm scared. I can't commit to the idea.

I want to type "What did I do to deserve this?" but that sounds whiny because I'm not the only person on earth facing a tragedy (or perhaps this is just a minor inconvenience).

But really, I'm so tired. I'm exhausted. I miss the feeling of crawling into someone's big, fat arms, getting a nice warm hug and someone telling me it'll be alright. And someone promising me to be there. The comfort, the security. 

I can't do this on my own. 

I hope this isn't the last post I'll hit publish here, because if that's the case then probably I did it, I made it to the other side and mustered up my courage to end all this.

#1 Monday the 14th

Here we go again.

I never thought I'd be coming back here. After all the years of typing out my end-of-year reflections, last year I have failed miserably and sometimes I feel like I don't even have the proper time to sit and reflect. But wasn't that what I asked for?

Somewhere in the middle of last year I hoped for a time where I'd be busy so that I could distract myself away from the thoughts of what had passed. I got what I wanted, I believe. But sometimes when I'm tired I begin to realise that not having the time to sit and reflect is also not cool.

I'm typing this out tonight because in a few hours I am going to take one crucial step in my life. I hate to sound dramatic, but I believe what's going to happen in a few hours' time is going to either build me of break me. I've never done this before, so I'm anxious. 

When I took the first step about two weeks ago, I was excited about it. I was in a good state, in high spirits, a bit optimistic than usual. But who would've thought that in a few days after that something happened again and it left me to reflect on how much I needed this. But again, the past two to three days things seemed to be looking up, so tonight I'm not sure. I'm not sure whether confronting my demons at this moment is really needed. I'm not sure whether this step is necessary. And above all, I suddenly feel reluctant to even think about what's been bothering me all this while. It suddenly feels alright. 

I've never sought professional help. I'm not sure whether it's a wise step. So I think it's natural to feel scared. What if I hear things that I won't like tomorrow? What if the truth comes with more pain than what I've endured? All of a sudden everything feels like it's not worth it, but it's already too late. I can't cancel things. And I admit, as much as I am scared, I really want to check out how helpful it's going to be for me. Even if it won't be helpful I just want to try it for once.

I'm not sure how I'm going to be tomorrow. I'm not sure whether I'll come back with a different thought. I'm not sure whether I'll see my family, friends, and workmates the same way again. As much as I want to fix this thing, a part of me says there's nothing much to be fixed anyway. What if it ruins my whole perception about everything? What if some steps are harder than I think they are? I'm still young anyway, all I want to do right now is live my life and laugh along my workmates, do stuff I enjoy, so what if actually there's nothing wrong about me and my whole situation?

I don't know. It's so easy to change my mind when I'm feeling good like today. But I admit it was hard when minor inconveniences happen. That's when the monster rises above me, talking louder than my own real voice. 

I'm liking my current chapter, to be honest. I have wonderful people around me, I still have some friends from my previous chapter, and as much as I feel frustrated over things, I know my parents love me. I'm not doing things that are expected of me, but I'm contented. I get tired occasionally, but that's normal. I feel like sleeping behind the wheels on some days, but that's normal. I feel lonely at times, but that's probably just because I fail to see how lucky I am to actually be surrounded by people who do enjoy my company. It's easy to forget when I don't feel as good as today. It's easier to believe the other way round. I don't get why that happens. 

For now I guess as there's nothing much I can do, I'll just go ahead with what I promised for tomorrow. Maybe it'll be like my 2016 trip to Serian. I'm not sure. 

I guess in the end it's just like what everyone says, the first step is always the hardest. With that, I can only hope that I've walked past the hardest part. 

Adulting (For Real)

You know it's funny to think on how back when I was 18 I felt it was already time to become an adult, to grow up, to be strong, yet after all the years, I'm still the same.

Of course I've grown a lot. But I'm still the same.

Take this for instance, this act of blogging. I don't exactly know why I'm here at the moment. Back then I used to write a lot here. A bit too much, in fact. But these days no one blogs anymore. Everyone's grown old.

But I'm here, seated in front of my bedroom window, looking out at the darkness of the night, listening to Passenger, feeling that same mixture of feelings I've always felt whenever I blogged back then. It's funny, how those years are gone, but I'm still here, still doing the same thing, yet in my life, as a whole, I'm a whole different person, doing a whole different thing.

I've stepped into adulthood, worked my ass off for money, paid my own remaining fees required for graduation, spent my money on things like food, toiletries, and entertainment. I've worked until the skin of the palm of my hands split open. I've woken up to the feeling as if I've gotten into a brawl the night before. And within a month, I've closed a chapter by quitting and opened another chapter by running away into a new place.

It's remarkable, how much change can happen within just a few weeks. Impulsive decisions, isolation, emotional roller-coasters, everything just keeps on cycling and cycling and I think I've got what I wanted: To be too busy to even think about nostalgic moments in my life.

To be too busy to feel frightened about the future.

To be too busy to even think about how unfair things are in my life. 

To be too tired to even remember about broken dreams.

It's becoming real, me settling as a mediocre adult. And while I can't deny that sometimes I stare into nothingness and wished that I at least had a shot to keep chasing my dreams and the circumstances were a lot easier in my life, I actually feel that I'm tired of running and chasing. 

I feel as if I haven't really given myself the chance to live up to a certain expectation I've set for myself in the years I grew up, and that I'm really not making use of my full potential, but in the end what's the use? What's the use of running and chasing and achieving?

And these questions make me sad because I know I'm better than this. But at the same time I'm tired. I'm tired of living and that fact scares me. 

Within less than a month I've tried F&B and retail, and that's just a month after teaching, which coincidentally overlapped with the brief period of getting the feel on how it is to be a published author.

That's like four chances in a year to live four different lives, so I know I shouldn't be complaining. I can sort of say that my 2018 has so far become quite colourful. 

Nothing could ever replace my busriding phase which I'm absofuckinglutely sure is one of the best chapters in my life. But right now I'm quite contented with what I'm doing and where I am and with the people I'm surrounded with. It's hard to go around feeling a bit skeptical on building connections with people, fearing that I'm thinking too highly of the people I'm with, but I'm learning. I'm learning to just be in the moment and trust that they genuinely enjoy my presence as much as I actually enjoy being with them. But there's that annoying little feeling of self-doubt that always screams into me, telling that I don't belong, and I hate it.

I hate it because that voice yells at me everywhere I go. I always get the feeling that I don't belong, that people actually don't like me, that I'm actually the only one feeling happy to be 'part' of them. And with the presence of this fear, I already know that in this new place, I'm actually liking these people a bit too much to the point that I can't act natural around them. I feel the need to please everyone. And that is, again, absofuckinglutely annoying because hell, screw everyone, screw everything, I actually want to be an island and not get attached to anyone or anything anymore.

But this is the essence of me, and lately I begin to think that it's a curse to have this feeling. Because actually it's this nice feeling that also makes me feel I want to just isolate myself and not build connections because in the end everyone will hurt you. Or you know, even more accurately, you hurt yourself and you know no one can help you even when they want to. In the end, it's you who doesn't want to be helped.

I think as I'm getting older I'm getting quite good at understanding myself and that's the scary part. The more I understand myself the more I understand what I really want in life and my wants scare me. 

I'm not worried, of course. It's who I am that scares me. It's the issues within me that I never really dealt with that scares me. You know I don't want to be a shitty adult who releases everything at everyone else, but honestly in these past two months I've learnt some ugly things within me that I know I should be dealing with.

Then again I'm not really sure whether at this age I'm already old or still too young or somewhere in between, or something that people can still label as a 'work in progress.' If that's the case, if I'm still allowed to feel like a work in progress, then again I think I shouldn't worry much about this adulting thing. 

For now, life would revolve around working my ass off for money. I know that sounds pretty boring and meaningless, as if I've lost all ambitions and hope, but that's the only accurate way to describe it. It also sounds like a tragedy, how the most-likely-to-succeed back in high school is now a minimum wage paid worker in the retail line, but again I'm just trying to keep myself alive without troubling others. 

I guess in the end I'm just walking my way towards living my own prophecy in my song 'Canned Coffee,' sipping away that bitterness and living life as how it is. 

I'll probably die as another no-one, but everyone's a no-one anyway. I'll probably just end up as a boring adult working my ass off until the day I die, but everyone's doing that anyway.

Farewell to a Friend

Things like these are easier to type out if we're talking about a dead person. A living thing that has lost its life. A friend. 

But I befriended buses once upon a time, and 22 days after the passing of STC buses, I'm still here feeling like a lousy friend who didn't get to revisit my dying, sickly, friend suffering of a silent terminal illness. 

This year's summer marks the summer where I could sing the lyrics to one of my favourite Thai songs, which simply goes

Standing looking at the sky,

it's not like it used to be

This summer I don't have you like before, like in the old days

And I can't help to not think of Summer 2016 when I first felt the true joy of busriding, when everything slowly turned into a crutch because life went spiralling down after that summer. And bus rides was the thing that saved me. Specifically, Spaceship and Creeks saved me. I remember dark early mornings on Creeks, feeling cold and alone but belonged, always excited to see the driver's comforting, fatherly smile accompanied by his jovial remarks that made me feel I was cared about. I remember going back in the late afternoons on Spaceship, sweat dripping at the back of my neck, and I'd refuse to take my hoodie off until it became too warm for me to act cool anymore. And on Spaceship I always felt welcomed, like the bus was mine, and since every single adult around me kept on losing their shit at that time, the driver became my silent teacher, teaching me the ways of patience and calmness through his actions and expressions.

It's not hard to see why I can't move on. I had high hopes to tell my favourite drivers that I managed to get a novel published, that I'm graduating first class honours and that I'm genuinely thankful for their presence in my life throughout my university years. It may sound odd that I have this inexplicable fondness towards them and their buses, but those were the things and people who were there for me when I thought of jumping off a building. And the sad thing is that they'll never know how much of an impact they have truly left in my life. And worse still, after this news, I'm pretty sure I'll never get to see them ever again in my lifetime. I never really had the chance to say thank you. And not being able to say thank you pains me.

As for the buses, I'm just disappointed that I never knew it would be this fast, this year, this moment when I was away being busy with a routine I couldn't escape and worse still, I actually did have a chance to come back if I knew but I didn't know it was about to happen. Hence, it felt like a lost chance although I had tried to let go since February, preparing myself for the possibility that this could happen when I was away. But the difference is, I was pretty sure I had more chances to go back and sit and hop on another creaky ride. 

It's a really hard time for me but unfortunately there's no one who can talk to my about it and make me feel better because I'm like the only one feeling this way. I can't imagine the next few weeks and months trying to cope with life and realising that one of my crutches is really gone out there. And every act of looking back just hurts me. I'm supposed to feel happy about the good memories but nostalgia leaves an empty hole in my heart right now and I wish I can just forget it all as if everything hadn't carried any meaning at all for me. At this rate I'm also beginning to worry that if I could feel this intensely towards the death of buses and farewell to strangers, then in the future surely a breakup or death of a loved one will wreck me even worse. 

And these feelings, everything, every thought, every reaction, just made me realise that I haven't changed a bit after all. I'm still weak as ever, still missing a lot of things in the past, still hoping for a hope to continue living, still finding that something that can fill in this constant void that refuses to leave me. 

But this summer, surely I am allowed to grieve for a friend I've lost, for a crutch taken away from me while I'm still struggling to walk. I'm not sure for how long I will continue to mourn, but I hope one day I'll find something that will make me whole again, just like how bus rides made me whole again on that summer that has long gone. 

Goodbye Spaceship, goodbye Creeks. 

Thank you for saving my life so many times. 

1

I haven't been doing this in a long time.

My thoughts are scattered, on Instagram, on Facebook, so many places, so many different places but none of them feels so genuine. None of them feels like what I've always written here and on my personal journal.

When I ended my busriding phase I said I'll never be able to write the same way again, and now, four months later, I think I really knew what I was trying to say back then.

Things have been a bit different in my life now. Chapters have ended, familiar faces are gone, days can be so lonely and nights can feel so long. And one thing has been gone for quite some time. My ability to express my emotions in words.

I've somehow stopped journaling and never allowed myself to sit and do nothing but think about what I'm truly feeling at the moment. I don't know why, but I suspect that I'm scared. Reflection involves vulnerability, and being vulnerable is one thing I learnt to leave behind when I wanted to adult up four months ago.

But I miss that feeling. I miss that feeling of knowing who I am and accepting how I feel. And maybe tonight is the right time to get back to it.

My novel has been out for about almost two months now. When my close friends ask me how I feel about it, I really don't know what to say. It's easy to show how excited I am about it on social media but the truth is it's just another random thing that happened in my life. I'm glad that this time I feel that my work is acknowledged, unlike my songwriting project and blog project and my fingerstyle guitar project, but I'm just glad for that reason.

There's some pressure to push myself to never stop but truth be told I really have stopped writing. I tried to get back and write a story last night but I only managed to write about 300 words. I think I don't have any more stories to tell at the moment.

I really don't know where I'm supposed to go from here. It feels like I'm back to my 17-year-old self, just right after SPM, trying to decide on what shit I want to get involved in in the future. While I'm pretty sure I want to teach until the day I die, I don't know whether I'm employable enough and whether I'll have the luck to get into the profession. 

And then there's more dilemma in terms of money and age or maybe it's just because I'm over-complicating things. I really don't want to go into details but I'm at this stage of life where I think I'm done living with my parents and I want to be able to be responsible for my own life but at the same time I want to stay in this suburban part of Kuching. I really can't imagine myself drifting into some other lonely city in this country (or beyond). 

Maybe I've become too comfortable here. I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I've already figured out what kind of life I want to live until I'm old and grey.

At the same time, I'm not worrying much. Maybe because I've gone through so much shit in the past years I find myself in a rather calm position at the moment. I'm being too calm that sometimes I fear all this peace and serenity might end soon with yet another argument, another kick, another thought of jumping off the bridge. 

I miss Spaceship so terribly but I've come to terms with the fact that I can no longer go back. Right now my crutches is just memories and coffee and there's really nothing much to be done. I haven't been out of the house for days and situations make it quite tempting to go back to my old self, but I'm doing my best to move forward.

Do I miss teaching? I do, but the feeling has somehow faded away. It's easier to move on from that phase compared to the busriding phase. I really loved the teaching phase though. I was so happy and I felt so loved and accepted. At home, things were great because there weren't much time for me to feel sad about anything when I returned home at 7pm. Some teachers were very nice, and kids were always making me feel precious. It was a really great brief chapter.

I don't know why I'm telling all this here. I met some old friends but I didn't know how to talk about what I really feel. I've come to believe that I'll never get comfortable of talking to anyone my real emotions and my real struggles. Maybe I'm getting old. 

I have no plans in the near future. I don't want to plan. And even if I have a plan, I don't think I want to tell it here. The truth is that everything's the same despite the changes. People don't just decide to genuinely love you or hate you for things you do or stuff you achieve. Even if they do, that normally isn't a good thing anyway so I shouldn't be bothered.

I think I've come to an ending here. Writing has become so difficult. There's nothing much to say anyway. Maybe that's why I've been gone. There's really nothing much to say here anymore. 

Hello (and Goodbye)

Whew.

Where had I been? It feels strange coming here back again after leaving for quite a long time. My last post was in March, and it wasn't a happy one apparently. 

Somewhere along the line I had probably convinced myself that blogging is such a childish thing to do because I shouldn't give people the privilege of reading about my semi-personal life. And probably I told myself to adult up because truly these days who the heck reads blogs anymore? 

But I'm coming back, because as how it has always been in the last several years, I've seem to keep a ritual of writing a reflective post to close the year and welcome the new year.

I can't really define 2017 in one word. Just how it is about life, there were moments of agony, there were pure moments of excitement and euphoria, then it all went down again, then up, then down, then well, it isn't supposed to be shocking. That's just the way things go.

And just like any other years, January, February, March, April, all those months up until summer seem so blurry, as if those days were in a whole different year altogether. 

But there's something about this year which made it so special—how obvious it was to me that I was indeed going through some remarkable changes, how things that scared me no longer scares me. And what made it better was that I had the conscious effort to overcome this right from the beginning of the year, so it felt as if a new year resolution was accomplished.

That thing was simply the desire to be courageous and confident to speak to people.

Back in a few years ago I would gladly avoid eye contact but these days it seems damn easy to smile at people. I'm not saying that it's completely not scary to do anymore, but I do realise that I fight my fears more than I've ever done. The old me used to almost always run away from responsibilities and make excuses, but this year I've noticed how being forced to take up a responsibility (or being forced to face my fears) had all changed me into this person that I kind of like. 

And bus rides, oh bus rides. Since summer 2016 I've developed this strange liking towards bus rides, which wasn't something I had expected since I never really liked the routine when it all first started. But as the year ended and 2017 began, I made this conscious effort to view bus rides as something that could give me something, just something, like a lesson, like a paid course in university. 

And so I chose to let my guard down a bit, fought away my paranoia and ignored warnings from friends and family to be careful around strangers. I talked to strangers whenever I had the chance. I smiled at passengers who I felt like smiling at. I began to show a little bit of courage to interact with the bus drivers who had been nice to me. 

The results were remarkable. 

In fact, if there's something I want to give credit to, which contributed the most towards my growth this year, I'd name bus rides as the main cause to all these great stuff. Second would be English Club, which definitely wasn't easy to handle and wasn't always fun, but played a huge role at shaping me this year. But I'm not here to talk much about English Club.

So back to bus rides, I'm not even kidding when I said that it became the main thing that changed me. I could never imagine myself initiating a conversation with grown up men (the drivers), or asking them whether they had taken their lunch, or giving them free canned coffee, but I did all that. I had never imagined talking to other passengers, developing a certain bond with them that some of them, whenever they see me, greet me like a friend. Me, this timid kid who used to be scared of ordering KFC at the age of 18. Me, this person who used to be too self-conscious and afraid of making mistakes because my family always told me I was doing it wrong when interacting with people. Bus rides, they liberated me. They allowed me to become my own self, to let me just do it and laugh at my own mistakes or learn from it, without anyone else being tied to my identity and scrutinising each step that I take, ready to comment on my mistakes. And that's why bus rides had sort of become my escape place.

And the best thing about that? 

I am about to become a published author!

This is probably the first time I've ever felt genuinely proud of my effort in many years. It feels weird to allow myself to feel this excitement, but for may years it had been quite a struggle to convince myself that I'm going in the right direction.

Writing has always been part of me. This blog alone was something I started in 2008, and I had been keeping a journal since 2007. Come to think of it, my manuscript wasn't just something that I produced in six months, it was in fact an accumulation of little things I've collected along my journey since high school. 

But I do realise that if things didn't happen the way it is, I wouldn't have been riding buses regularly. And that means I wouldn't have come up with this story and sent it to the publisher for the contest. 

It feels surreal. I never imagined my 2017 would be this way when the year first started. The days hadn't always been pleasant to begin with. Of course life is still full of shit. And that's why when things like this happen, I feel like weeping. I feel like weeping because it's been a very tiring journey and for once when something good like this happens you feel like you've been given a license to stop for a while and give yourself a pat on the back. 

Even right now as I'm writing this, I still have the struggles with me, as always. They never really leave you of course. The good feeling is there, but the bad one resides the same spot too, so it's hard to describe. And as always, entering into a new year is indeed something scary. It's the path of uncertainty which never makes me feel pleasant. Besides, 2018 will bring quite a few changes in my life which had, in the past few years, been rather like a routine. It had always been the same thing happening over and over again, added with just a little variety, because the time period was all in one same chapter. Leaving this year would mean closing an old chapter. I'm about to graduate, my novel will be published, I may not have the chance anymore to board buses regularly, farewells will happen, farewells involving good friends who had been there in the picture since mid 2014. And of course since the bus people had carried a lot of meaning in my journey as a passenger, I'll miss them terribly as well, as much as I'm surely going to miss my friends. I'll miss some of the drivers who had taught me a lot about life like real teachers in school. I'll miss some familiar passengers who had been kind in their words and gestures, reminding me that when shit happens, at least I have complete strangers to remind me that life is worth living after all.

I'll miss a lot of things in this familiar routine I've been living through in 2017, I really will. But all things must come to an end, I understand. And who knows what 2018 will bring? I wasn't quite sure about stepping into 2017 as well. I had never imagined some of the good things that happened this year. And by that I believe 2018 will surprise me in good ways as well. Sure, there are definitely going to be bad days, as you can never escape from that reality of life. But I'm pretty sure I'll continue to grow and learn as much as I've learnt this year.

And well, there's no use being too sappy because tomorrow's just going to be another day of living. I mean well yes tonight a line is drawn to mark a certain milestone or an ending/starting, but come to think of it, that's basically the same thing about birthdays or the beginnings of each season. It will be a nice thing though to read this in a year and laugh at myself, so I'm just going to post this.

Will I be back here? I don't know. It's fun to write and reflect, but these days I have other mediums, so this blog will probably be abandoned again. I'm still writing, I'll never stop. And my wish for 2018 is that I'll never run out of things to write about. I'll stop wishing to start jogging because that will never happen. And I will stop making unrealistic goals of reading 70 books. 

And well, that's basically it. I'm listening to fireworks right now as I'm sitting in my room. I'm smiling alone, I feel a bit hollow, I feel a bit like laughing. It's that strange mixture of emotions that makes new year's eve a rather interesting night. Hopefully next year as I sit and reflect on this table once again, I'll get this same feeling of gratefulness on how much I've learnt and grown. Till then, happy new year 2018. May everyone feel happiness in the little things each day of the year.

Missing

I'm making myself sad again at 2am and I don't know why I'm allowing this to happen.

I'm suddenly missing my childhood, and missing a life that I'll never have, and that's just kind of stupid, really.

I accidentally clicked on an old folder in my laptop, a folder containing scanned photos of my childhood and I'm suddenly feeling sad of all the missed chances in life.

Hours earlier, my sister shared a picture posted by John Mayer about how sure he wanted to become a musician as early as the age of 13.

I'm not saying that I want to become a musician, but sometimes I wonder about the missed chances in life. What if I attended guitar classes the moment I first picked up guitar when I was 12? There's a kid in church who recently picked up a traditional musical instrument and his parents have been really supportive. He's progressing fast, with all the circles of professionals he's surrounded with. It makes me wonder again about privileges in life and how privileges correlate with chances.

Then as I look at my old photos of childhood I just can't stop thinking why the hell I didn't think of following dad's footsteps and enter the Navy when I finished secondary school. I could've applied to UPNM. But why didn't I do so? These days I keep on thinking it's such a waste that I didn't grab the chance when it was right in front of me. It's too late now. In the past few months I've been thinking a lot of joining the Navy. I don't know why. Maybe it's because of seeing dad getting older. It's very stressful to be the youngest in the family. I live with a constant urgency to become someone, something, a person my parents can be proud of, because I fear I don't have much time. 

At this point I don't even know what I want to do for the rest of my life. I'm currently listening to Ed Sheeran's sad new songs from his new album and it makes me feel worse. I know I shouldn't be worrying, but my heart is aching, aching because I've screwed some pretty good opportunities in life and here I am, barking about privileges and how some people seem to have everything prepared for them. 

I'm not saying I regret anything though. It's just that this year I think my fear has grown bigger. Real fears, not petty fears like the fear of failure and all that. Fears related to your loved ones, your parents, specifically. Is this just one of the thoughts that attack you as you get older? Is this normal? Am I overthinking again? 

Feb

I've just realised that tomorrow is the last day of February, and I actually haven't blogged about anything here for this month.

A lot of things had happened, obviously. But I guess none of those things gave me the urge to blog here.

The other blog is still pretty much alive. So far I'm enjoying what I'm doing there. It's like a place where I can practise writing about the thing I'm currently so in love in. And that subsequently gives me the opportunity to practise writing in general.

Since the last blog post many changes had occured. I was recently elected as the president of English Club in my college, a position I didn't wish for, to be honest. I wanted to be vice president because I know I'm a lazyass and I hate being responsible and most of the time I am hesitant in making decisions. But then it's rather rude to decline, and at the same time I do want to lead a club of a subject that I am very passionate at, so yeah I guess it's time to learn about being a responsible leader once again.

Apart from that things aren't as grand as I'd expect them to be. Subjects this semester seem fun but I'm still not gaining any momentum in feeling excited about classes. I'm crawling through my reading challenge, for reasons I don't know why.

And my favourite bus, the Spaceship has been gone for more than 50 days, which is something that saddens me so much. At night I lie awake and wonder about its sudden disappearance, and life has never been the same again.

As we enter the new month of March I don't know what to expect. I'm feeling very lazy about assignments and life in general. There's nothing much to look forward to, and library adventures are getting pretty old. Things appear to not change as days go by, but I do know how things are actually changing so minutely that sometimes you do not realise about this. And then suddenly they're gone, just like Spaceship, just like my motivation in reading, just like how my hair grows and will be trimmed again in a few months' time, just like how my cat is ageing and there's an infection in her eyes and I worry about her, just like how my laptop is so laggy and might be dead anytime this year, just like all things, people, and places in my life right now. It's a sad, sad life. But oh well, just look at how two months flew by just like that and how we step into the unknown anyway because that's just the way it goes.

Cold

A lot of things had happened since the last post obviously, but I was too busy being lazy so I didn't care to write on my journal and make a proper blog post. And to be honest I do feel rather stupid for writing my thoughts in a public space like a blog for everyone to read, because it's creepy when you have an average of ten readers per blog post (thanks, statistics) and you don't have any idea on who they are but look at that, they're reading all the shit you've written about your miserable life.

But at the same time ironically I started a new blog on wordpress for more strangers to read. It's basically the project I mentioned in the previous post. I just couldn't wait until 31st December to reveal it all because who knows I might be dead before that and no one would ever know I started something. It's basically a blog I created to write about each bus ride I'm going to hop on throughout the year. I mean, yeah, who wants to read about a sad old miserable bus ride with nothing big happening, but I don't really care because writing about stuffs is so damn fun. I'm not going to force people to read them like how I forced people to watch my fingerstyle videos, so it's a rather relaxing project mainly done purely out of my love for writing and bus rides and all things weird such as the way some drivers spit too frequently out of the window and the way some aunties gossip about their colleagues and the way that kid stared at me as I ate my biscuit. Yep, that kind of thing. My kind of thing, the plain, the boring, the mundane. 

If you click on the pic it's going to
take you to the blog and don't worry hun,
it's going to open in a new window.

I don't think I have to justify all of my actions to a bunch of strangers reading this right now, but it's been a bad habit of mine so I guess I'm just going to say I created that blog to feed my love for writing and telling stuffs about the things I've seen. I'm so easily amused these days and it's just no other way I can express my thoughts so I chose to write about them and since I want a nice compilation of these thoughts by the end of this year then I told myself then I might as well just do it online and make it public so that people can have a virtual ride with me on these old creaky buses if they want to. 

Apart from that life's been mundane. I finished reading Angela's Ashes one or two nights ago and to be honest I don't think I'm going to accomplish my reading goal for this year because I'm really getting a bit slower than usual. It's because this semester break I find a lot of other things are distracting me such as:

-Jumanji and Pitch Perfect on TV yesterday and my nephew isn't here at the moment so the TV is all mine muahaha and that means I watched 2 movies in one day and when I'm not watching movies I watch cooking shows and shows about people eating stuff for cheap. 

-Today after church I chose to bake muffins and it took up my whole afternoon so I didn't get to nap. 

-Instagram and its damn funny memes are taking over my life send help pls. 

-I'm watching videos on YouTube about people talking about books more than I'm actually reading books ohmai why am I such a fool.

I also tried sketching portraits like how I used to do but damn it after losing the momentum and not practising it seriously, I've sort of lost the patience to sketch and shade so yep hermanos I've lost the ability to produce something like that Sergio Llull portrait that I sketched and I feel a bit sad cos I remember how therapeutic it was and how satisfying it was to be able to produce something like that.

You don't have to mention about fingerstyle guitar anymore cos I have zero feelings of returning to that thing. I won't be the next Sungha Jung so I might as well dream of doing something a bit less stressful than sitting for one week practising and recording up to 40 takes just for one video that lasts for 4 minutes and still show the world how crappy your playing is. Don't get me wrong, that feeling of accomplishment was grand alright but I tried too hard to the point of putting my self worth on it. 

I replaced my violin string which I broke many many months ago (I suspect it's been a year?) so yep, I haven't touched my violin that long. I tried to play some pieces today and damnit I sounded horrible. There's this hymn called Abide With Me which basically some people sing for funerals and to be honest I made it sound a lot more depressing. It's my favourite hymn by the way so please tell me mum and dad to play this if anything happens to me thank you. I love the pureness of the lyrics, so filled with pain but so simple yet so sad it's like someone telling me go ahead be sad it's alright.

Oh and relating to the title of this blog post lel it's reallllly cold in Kuching right now. I had to wear my hoodie last night and my fan had a great rest. It was raining the whole night yesterday and it doesn't look like it's going to be sunny this week but oh well you can never trust how the weather works.

I got back to driving last week but it was only a practice session with my dad along a rather deserted road and it was very scary because I haven't been driving for a year (yes please don't give me that look). Dad said I'm a rather fast learner but I know myself well. I'm a very clumsy person and I still don't trust myself to operate such a big machine in a place filled with living things. Dad also said a few helpful things such as:

Me: Ooooo look at that dad, there's a line here spray-painted "tamat" omg people use this road to race!
Dad: Yep and I heard many rempit kids died here on there motorbikes. 

I haven't been practising since. Mainly cos I'm lazy. Partially cos dad hasn't got the time to bring me to that road again. And really, I don't enjoy driving to be honest. I could get rich for every ringgit I get when people ask me why don't I drive. I hate my people, my fellow statesmen (and women) who say things such as:

"OHHH how did you come to college today?" or "OHHH how are you going back from college later?"

Then I tell them oh you know, I hopped on a bus this morning. Or, oh, you know, I gotta catch the 3.30pm bus later man.

And they go,

"OHHHH WHY DON'T YOU DRIVEEEE? OHHH YOU'RE SO BRAVE! OHHH I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE THE BUSES HERE!"

Like yeah they make it sound like a big deal like ooooo buses are so scary mannn so I might as well bark around social media about how fun it is becoming a bus wanker cos I'm sick of people saying STC buses are damn old and ugly and shouldn't be around anymore, I'm sick of people saying I should drive, I'm sick of people saying public transport is dangerous, I'm sick of people complaining that public transport in Kuching is crap, cos ohhh let's face it, they don't really want to ride on buses anyway. I bet my Bahts they just love complaining. 

I really did get those kind of things being said to me, if you're wondering. I wouldn't be this mad if I didn't.

Fine people, calm down and listen to me if you really want to know why. Driving is stressful and if there's a second option that is less stressful then why make life difficult. And I don't trust myself to drive and endanger the life of others, so I'd rather risk my own life crossing roads and walking to the bus station cos it's never OK to harm others but it's always OK to harm yourself. And yes, bitchachoes, I'm lazy. I want people to drive for me. And I have them drivers and I can sleep and daydream and half-exist and you can never do that if you're the one driving. 

That's pretty much it.

I really don't have any main thing to talk about here. You can probably tell the state that I'm in right now. Bored to death. A bit mad over nothing in particular. Kinda calm at the same time. Not sad at all. Missing someone I don't want the world to know. Bored. Feeling a bit feelingless in general.

Results were out yesterday and I really did scrape some A- so I won't be complaining. I mean, well obviously an A- is still better than a B+ and if you get a B+ it's still better than a B and if you get a B it's still better than a B-. If you're going to only be happy when you get an A+ then obviously there's something wrong about the way you see yourself and your self worth and you putting yoself in danger hun cos you not spossed to place yo value on something so temporary (Yeah I'm obviously tryna act like that never happened to me uh uh.)

See y'all in the next blog post, mysterious readers. 

Happy New Year

Well. Hello.

I'm afraid I've forgotten how to blog here. I've been reading my old posts since October 2016 and it annoys me that everything seems jumbled up on this blog. Narrative, descriptive, reflective, it's like mixed vegetables stirred in a pan.

Things are slowing down at the moment.

Since this is my first post of 2017 then I guess I'm going to make it a bit reflective. But again, I can't seem to stick to one format.

Finals are officially over (I had my last paper on Sunday..) and right now I'm having a semester break which is, well, as usual, not as long as any other uni's semester break, and to be honest I'm really glad it's that way.

Because dios mio, it's only been Day 2 of my semester break but I'm kind of messed up. Yesterday and earlier today I woke up at 6am without my alarm clock, and I'm really impressed with myself. I didn't nap, kept on cooking stuffs and eating, and today I did a massive room-cleaning session which is, as usual, my post-exam ritual every semester.

That's not the end of the story.

I thought I'd be having a break from libraries and buses and coffee to test how far I can go without these three, and to be honest I was doing really well yesterday, but right now I swear the urge is so huge that it's beginning to scare me. But I don't want to give in, and I honestly want to try not going for a week, but man, I really don't know why am I doing this to myself.

I mean I'm alright when I'm all happy and I get to eat with my parents and do all those normal happy family shit that other people do. The urge arises when I feel sad over things, and that's just sad. I mean, shit, am I using buses and libraries and coffee to run away from problems? Maybe they were right. Maybe the sense of attachment has been established. But then isn't it stupid to not choose to do something completely harmless that makes you happy when you know that can make you happy? This is a rhetorical question. Please do not attempt to answer.

Other that that life's been as usual. I'm in some sort of dilemma of letting my hair grow or cutting it short again because I'm starting to have a mullet right now. So far the vote's been rather equal. My mum really wants me to grow my hair like last time, and she kept on saying it makes me look prettier, and to be honest that saddens me because does that mean that she doesn't think I'm pretty with this hair? And will she love me less if I continue to cut my hair? Is she beginning to think that I love short hair because I don't like men? I do like men and want to marry a man one day. But I don't want to be girly because it's damn uncomfortable. Life is so difficult.

Dad, on the other hand, said it's up to me, and it's my hair, and I can do whatever makes me comfortable. Which is, well, rather shocking, because he wasn't very keen of seeing my new haircut last year when I first tried a pixie cut. I think he sort of understands that this haircut had given me more confidence and sense of identity, or maybe he's just being a normal dad who simply loves saying "it's up to you."

Most of my friends have been saying that they prefer seeing me in short hair, and I don't normally listen to my friends more than my mum, but damn it, this time I think I want to listen to them. Sorry mum.

But I'm not cutting my hair just yet, because just like my bus rides and library and coffee test, I want to test myself on how far I can go without cutting my hair yet. Right now there's no sense of urgency to see the hairdresser, but I fear that it's going to grow out quite ugly at the start of the next semester, and what if I cut it after the semester starts and then it turns out uglier, and damn it, why is life so hard.

Apart from lamenting about my hair, there's nothing really much happening. I'm currently reading The Count of Monte Cristo, which is my first book of 2017, but damn it, after 5 chapters in I only realised that it's an abridged version which didn't clearly note that it's abridged, so I was pissed off, in a way. But the storyline is flipping good and I'm just going to keep on reading this until I can afford the Penguin version which is flipping expensive but people say is the best edition out there. Makes me mad because why are good things always flipping expensive.

And oh Ed Sheeran's new single is really nice to listen to because the lyrics are damn nostalgic and it makes me want to cry when he sang the part about his friends doing different stuffs and turning into different kind of adults but the bottom line is that they all raised him and he can't wait to come home like damn, right in the feels.

Exam was kinda shitty btw so I'l be impressed if I can sort of scrape an A- for certain papers but then again it's over and we'll just have to wait and see. Besides, I don't want to get a perfect CGPA but have no time to do the things that I enjoy, like writing, reading, wasting time on bus rides, talk crap with my friends, escaping boring classes, playing guitar, daydreaming and doodling in class, well you get the gist. No one should ever place their happiness below their grades. 

Since when am I a happiness guru? Who am I kidding? Haha.

The bottom line is that well while I'm in the mood let me just write some reflections about the things I've told my parents and third sister (who is someone who shares quite a lot of opposite views with me but strangely I can talk to her without arguing about anything, which is probably one quality I'd want in my future spouse, if I ever get to marry.)

I told them that happiness is rather subjective and I don't want to be too ambitious in life. I told them that if one day I land myself into a job that doesn't pay me much, but allows me to do something I enjoy in my spare time, then I'd be contented enough in life. I don't know exactly when did I start feeling this way, but I think it started around the end of last year especially after I wrote Canned Coffee.

Just like how Dickens said that his favourite among all his works is David Copperfield, I have to say that if I die anytime soon, I want people to quote me saying that my other songs were kind of shit and cringeworthy, but Canned Coffee is undoubtedly my favourite of them all. 

And again, we have reached the point where I have nothing left to say for now. I started a blog on Wordpress about a specific theme but I don't think I want to show it to the world just yet, but again all of my projects seem to die barely halfway through, so I hope this one will stay at least until 31st December this year.

I'm also on my way to read 70 books this year, but damn it I kind of realised that it's kind of a bit too ambitious. Other things to achieve this year include saying thank you after every bus ride, taking more pictures with my parents, collecting enough money to buy a travel guitar, start jogging for real, and oh well, you get the gist. Also, I need to get back to driving and stop being a lazyass. Or chicken. Or both. I don't know why I seem to run away from driving. Oh I know. 

Till we meet again in a better, coherent blog post.

Basically revision and finals were
all about doodling bearded men.

I'll Sort of Miss You, 2016

I'll make a proper entry on my exact feelings at the moment, since it's been a yearly tradition.

This is going to be the last blog post for this year. 53 blog posts. There's been an increase since the previous year, but I blogged less than the older days, and I no longer seem to blog about the things I used to blog the most about.

I remember leaving certain years feeling unenthusiastic and hopeless. The darker days are still vivid in my memory, and I don't want to ever forget it, for it serves a good reminder for me to understand other people's struggles better.

2016 has been very memorable, to be very honest. If 2015 had been about walking out completely from depression, and library visits, 2016 has been a bit more than that. New haircut. New self-acceptance. Bus rides. A connection with others. Dark moments, still. But it's different these days. It's different because I know what to do. I am no longer that 19 year old who was lost every time the light turned off. These days when the flame dies, I use another source of light. And that is probably what I learnt the most this year.

I'll sort of miss this year. And it's always scary to walk into a new year, but I can't say I'm not hopeful. 

My wish is simple. 

More books. More connections. Good health for everyone. Hope in times of anger and despair. Bravery to be happy and bubbly. Less hesitance in making a difference.

.

Random pics throughout the year:

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

September

October

November

December

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