She Killed It With Kisses.

I met a little girl last week. Before she had even turned two, her father had raped her. Repeatedly. Forced himself upon her so violently that he broke her leg during one particularly brutal attack.

 She was a tiny, nervous little thing when she walked in. Four years old. Not a conventionally pretty child by any means; hair was hacked off at odd angles and she had a weird squint in one eye. Wouldn't say a word but she let me put her on my lap, took the cookie I offered her.

She grew more animated as the day passed by. God. I think children are incapable of faking happiness; it is only us adults who feel the need for two-faced martyrdom. I looked at her, with her little peals of laughter trailing like little bells behind her, her little hand seeking mine out for a reassuring little squeeze, everything about her so little and pure and innocent, and I cannot imagine, simply cannot fathom,  how anyone could look at this little child and find it in their heart to hurt her.

Still, this is not a story of monsters or other misunderstood beasts.

It is not difficult to love a child. Perhaps though, our niceties that day had a tinge of the superficial. Old people. Disabled people. Abused people. Poor people. It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but society has programmed us to react a certain way. We reach out with sympathy by default. It is not difficult.

I was the same that day. I can't say I did anything out of the ordinary. I played games with her. Let her hop after me as I went about my work. Allowed her to thumb through my notebook.

Those who know me are well aware of the many squiggles, butterflies and aliens I adorn my books with. Most of the time, they're met by my friends with this :

=.=

This little girl was leafing through the pages and going "Wow. Wow. Wow." Quite naturally, I was feeling immensely self-satisfied. She then came across this picture.



"Wow."

She looked up at me and pointed to herself.

She pointed to my odd heart-shaped sun.

Then she pointed to me.

Not to diminish this moment but......... T__________T

I felt so small after that. Here I was thinking I was Little Miss Big and Mighty and Charitable and this child goes and... just "Wow."

Anyway, this is a story of a little girl who touched my heart. I don't think I'll be updating my blog before Christmas so OMG Merry Christmas everyone.

I heart-shaped sun you too. =)

Toodles.

A Light Hits The Gloom On The Gray

This is a picture of someone's cat that I stole off the internet. What if it were your daughter?

There's always a danger of turning into a caricature of yourself. A single rogue trait will unhinge itself and threaten to overwhelm the collective essence that is your being. People will stop seeing you as a real person. All the wondrous complexity of your individuality will be lost, and you will merely be An Individual, Capital Letters.

When I was a little kid and my aunt didn't feel like driving out to pick me, I would hitch a ride home with a friend's parents. On one of those days, I discovered, to my utter astonishment, that her dad had a bald spot smack on the top of his head. There is a lot you see when you are not the kind of child who will sit still in the backseat. Naturally, it was imperative that I draw this to his attention. He was equally surprised.

"Really?! I never noticed."

I then had to explain to him, quite kindly, how it would grow larger and larger by the day. I expressed my sympathy.

In retrospect, I suspect that he was going "FUCKING FUCK THIS FAT FUCKING KID," in his head.

As you grow older, you realize that not everyone will like you. It's alright. Heck, there are people who don't like Tim Tams, and Tim Tams are AWESOME. YOU ARE AWESOME. You tell yourself this because despite your new found maturity, these things hurt anyway.

Please like me. I know where Grandma hid the brandy.

 I had a lot of stuff to write but now I can't remember any of it. Oh, I read this scientific study about how we have an actual sixth sense - with the people we love, our brains sync up and we can feel each others thoughts and emotions. The parts of each person's brain that controls the nervous system beat together. That's amazing. On the flip side, I wonder if perhaps just like all our other senses, this too can go awry. Maybe some people wander this earth with the complete inability to connect with anyone. 

I just backspaced an entire paragraph. I think the bigger my hair gets, the less intelligent I am. 


I miss people this month. Work has kept me busy, not because there's been a whole lot of it, but because time management and me will never be BFFs. I am incapable of being responsible for more than two things at a time.

 Love. 

 It's almost November now. Time has whizzed past, hasn't it? I'd like to think it's been a good year though. Next year maybe, we'll walk the wintry streets of New York. =)

Toodles.

Obligatory Blake Lively picture.

Amazing Grace

First off, I adore Blair Waldorf but honestly.... trade lives with me, Blake Lively.

 

Blake Lively once drove her brother to his girlfriend's house at 6am in the morning. She was 5 years old.

True story.

Granted, it was a Barbie Mini Electric Car and the battery died before they got there but the point is, well you know what the point is. To quote a friend of you and I - SIGH. I'll tell you how misaligned the planets are this week. Yesterday, I went to the bank to get a replacement ATM card (I accidentally left mine in the machine while answering the phone) and they told me... they were out of stock. No new ATM cards. Is that even possible?

 Sometimes, you have to realize - it's not your problems that have been too big, it's you who have been too small. I don't know. God and I, we've had our issues. Still, 6 billion people out there, someone's got to be watching over all of us. There are forces at work here, larger than you and I. That I believe.

I imagine that at the end of this, it'll all make sense.

When I grow up, I'm going to be 6 feet tall. =)

I'll find time to blog properly soon. I miss lying on the floor with my earphones in, thinking about absolutely nothing. 

Toodles.

Lost In The Haze Of The Wine.

"You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back."

I had this conversation with a dear friend some years back; someone with whom I’ve sat and discovered that, lo and behold! That little iron thingamajig beating mechanically in your chest? It works. We decided that what we want most, what we need most from our parents is not love; for love is free and love is cheap and love is easy and love is fleeting.

No, our world-weary nineteen year old selves declared, what we need is security. The idea that you can march out into the world and FLY into the sun, unplagued by the crippling fear that you’ll trip over the first pothole you come across before you even lift off. You know, it doesn’t matter if you fall. You don’t need to be perfect. Everything will be alright. If you were to find yourself within the depths of some deep dank abyss, trapped in the clutches of entities names unknown, someone would notice your absence and come looking for you.

Love might curl up on the couch all teary eyed, grasping desperately at its rosary beads. Security will find you, fish the crap out of your hair and bring you home.

It is a comfort, knowing you are safe. I don’t know if you can understand it, without experiencing the lack of it. Safe from what? Just… safe. It makes a difference. It keeps you anchored in the present. The past, it has this terrible habit of flinging you prematurely into the future.

I was reminded of these things, talking to another friend a few days ago. It makes me a little sad when parents are irresponsible. Not angry, because parents are people and people are allowed imperfections. I just feel that the world, though beautiful, can be incredibly hurtful too, and children aren’t equipped to fathom all this on their own. When you’re little, you see life through your pink heart-shaped sunglasses. You should.

It’s been a crazy month. Enlightening. Sometimes, the people you least expect to will come through for you, and stay by you till the end. There comes a time when you have to let go of the anger and just forgive, because Good Lord, there’s still a long way to go and you’re not going to enjoy the rainbows and unicorns and flowers hunched under all your emotional baggage. If you’re not Mother Teresa, it’s fine. Give what you can. It’s enough. There is no paradox to love. If you love till it hurts, it still hurts.

In spite of all the insanity, I’ve been incredibly blessed this month. Incredibly. I lost my faith in God for a while there, but apparently he never lost his in me.

Toodles. =)

Your Heavy Heart Is Made Of Stone.

There are days when hard as you try, there is no out-running the tornado. The movies, you're always the hero. The forces of nature course fearfully down your path, their jaws of havoc and destruction snapping at your heels but you're not only one step ahead, you're single-handedly saving the world while at it. Literally. Because there's a bullet lodged in your right arm.

In the movies, you're always the hero.

Real life is not the movies. In real life, sometimes your character plain SUCKS. Sometimes, you're the doe-eyed damsel in distress that the rest of humanity wants to punch in the jaw with the fist of feminism. Sometimes, you're Twirly the Moustached Villain. Sometimes, you should have been played by a better actor. Sometimes, you're just the guy in the cafeteria scene with two lines.

I believe, today especially more than others, that at the end of the day, it all boils down to choice. There comes a time when we have to grow up and be accountable for the decisions we make, shoulder the yoke that is our existence.

The storm blows in. Stand strong and face it. It will pass, all of this. It will pass. The rainbow is looming just over the horizon.

Stand strong and wait for it.

The Sun's A Ball Of Butter

I have been busy busy busyyyyyy. The citizens of the world were in peril, lives hanging in the balance, their fates already written in the cliches. Soooooooooooo. I did what any self-respecting undercover superhero would do.

I put on my pink leopard print shoes and went shopping. Over. And over. And over. After all, a great man once said, "Do or do not. There is no try." Which, by the way, is the motto of Sungei Wang Plaza.

Tell me you get it.

Anyways, somewhere out there, a small nation is saying a grateful prayer as they review their annual GDP.

Besides that, HMMMM. I've spent a lot of time walking around the house listening to really loud music and eating tomatoes. One of my neighbours, God bless her soul, has been possessed by a rogue gang of evil kitties who insist on singing karaoke at all hours of the day. At least, that's what it sounds like. I decided, as I saw the other day on Facebook - WAT A HECK?! - I wanna party tooo! So I do.

I've been going for driving classes. Ya Ya Ya. I KNOW. Finally. The driving instructor is just....something. So today, I was sitting in class, doing the usual (the mysteries of the universe have to be attended to), when he turns to me and goes....

(pointing to his shirt) "Tangachi, you tengok saya pakai baju. Betul?

"Um...betul."

"Tangachi! You naik jalan sudah langgar I! Sepatutnya, you tengok saya pakai....mata! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

W. T. F.

clutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAclutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAclutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAclutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAclutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAclutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAclutchbrakegasgearHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

At 12.30, Jesus had an inspiring thought; "Hey, let there be peace on earth," - and thus, class was dismissed.

In other news, I went for my haircut yesterday. I've been going to the same hairdresser since I was a little girl. I tell her what I want. She tells me, "you cut like that no nice." She proceeds to do whatever she wants. She's gotten terribly, TERRIBLY skinny. I'm afraid one day someone's going to drop a box of toothpicks in her salon, and everybody will be all, "Dude, where did she go?" Seriously.

What else. Ooooo. I've been watching How I Met Your Mother. It's easy to relate at this point. Quarter-life crisis. What am I DOING with my life? Good GOD. I thought Marshall Eriksen was AWESOME at first - I mean. Come. On.



Now he's just Whipped, and I mean that capital W with all my heart. Meh. Ted, on the other hand, is pretentious and judgmental with a whiff of douchebag.

I like.

That's all. I'm probably going to be really busy soon, and not in the Superman Saves Universe By Plugging Hole In Ozone Layer With High Heel manner. It's BETTER.

Next month, I become Clark Kent.

True Story.

Toodles.

The Stars And The Spaceships.

It's been 25 days since the end of the exams. If I had posted this 2 days ago, this would have some metaphysical significance. Ooooo, cosmos. 

I've spent 9 days in Batu Pahat, 7 days in Singapore, 6 days in Kuala Lumpur, 3 days in Melaka. Read 4 books, bought 3 pairs of shoes, went jogging a grand total of 2 times.

In an alternate universe, I am an auditor.

Speaking of said shoes, one of them is pink leopard print. Woot woot. I wore them on the bus the other day, and an old Chinese lady couldn't keep her eyes off my feet. I thought, duh. Then, just before my stop, she asked me, "Where did you get your anklet?"

=.=
 
I went for my first job interview! I was struck by a speech impediment I never knew I had, but I think it went alright. Oh, well. Even frigging Superman is Clark Kent in real life.

Superman once spent 1000 years in another dimension with Wonder Woman while remaining faithful to Lois Lane. True story.

I just finished reading Dean Koontz's Odd Thomas. Odd's mother is this beautiful woman who's equal parts sunshine and psychosis. Odd gets appendicitis and she locks herself away in her room. Odd gets the flu and she threatens to shoot him in the eye. The slightest hint of responsibility or attachment unhinges her.

I feel like that sometimes. Commitment-phobic. I want to live in a happy little bubble. Keep me guessing, and I'll float along forever. The people I know scare the crap out of me sometimes; if I could capture their essence, I'd bottle it up and sell it on Ebay to cure constipation. Mapped out career paths, right down to their retirement plans. Set wedding dates and the milestones their 2.5 children are going to achieve. Cars, apartments, credit cards. WTF.

My 2 given names mean victorious and free. I like that. I want to be that. I'm not that. Yet.

One day, I'm going to be a wily old cougar who spends her days drinking 100-proof liquor and seducing unsuspecting younger men. I'll wear enormous rings and lounge around the house in caftans and NO ONE will make me comb my hair. HAH.

Until then though, I'll float along and be happy. Heal the world, maybe, who knows. Tomorrow, I'm going to pretend that I'm Boobs Legsly. She's also 23 and a good 8 inches taller than me.

Toodles.

Just A Small Town Girl.

The feelings, they are a tad fraudulent right now.

I told everyone I wasn't coming back for CLP. Trust me, I was DETERMINED. I was done with the studying. The sweat, the blood, the tears. I've always been a night-before-the-exam mugger. These three years have been tough. The Indian in me, he cowers in the shadows of labour's looming form.

I once had a cat who cowered much the same way at the sight of my glorious self. My sister christened her Snowball. I loved that cat, in my own prickly little way. Scrubbed her clean with big, bristly brushes and Dynamo. Fed her copious amounts of Maggi Mee. Schooled her in the art of kitty refinement - young ladies do not take afternoon siestas in neighbourhood drains, nor do they snack indulgently on lizards and birds.

Naturally, the cat ran away. No self-respecting cat puts up with a name like Snowball.

Anyways, I digress. I'm still torn. The plan was to start working and do my Masters on the side. I don't really want to practice law. Job searching though, sucks ass and blows balls in turns. There's so much of everything everywhere, I whelmed and drowned.

Side note, whelmed is apparently recognized by spell-check.

In the end, Hotmail simply refused to upload my resume. I saw it as divine intervention. God stepped in, and you don't mess with God. Oh, no. 

I miss college. I don't think I fully started enjoying it until this year. I usually turned people down whenever I got asked out before. I definitely wasn't saying no out of deference to my hallowed studies; I was just clinging to the familiar, hanging out with the same people out of habit. Things changed a lot for me after the mugging in January.

Life; it's more Japanese than African, if you catch my drift. That day could have gone very differently. I do suffer the occasional bout of stick-in-mud-itis but I say yes a lot more often now. I'm glad I do.

All the same, it's been a good 3 years. I've met some amazing people, and made friendships I hold very dearly.

I have 2 months to decide where I'm going in September. I suppose if I come back, I'll seem all hoo and no ha. Still, the ever dependable Indian balks at the idea of sifting through all those job applications so for now, the pendulum swings towards CLP. We'll see.

Toodles. =)