bittersweet

There was once a system that sucked me inside its magical environment. It was non existent, like an unwritten song lyrics. Being a first timer as I was in that unexpected experience, I was floating away through an unheard life – ignorant of the lovable beings around me. I was a prisoner inside my own deeds; a prisoner who feared from the outside world, who fell in love with the system that formed darkness in a short hiatus.

Like a drunkard I was flushed and felt intoxicated with it. A feeling that can never be described. When I needed more doses, the system was graciously charitable. But before I knew it I was abandoned by it, the system was no where to be found. The charity was cut short. I was suffocating, because finding out that that system was realistically turmoil. That system that I was sucked in promised me the world in one hand, but I mostly saw the waves of confusion that drifted me to unwanted places. First of them was a place called Emotional Instability. Luckily, I was out if it sooner than expected; only to find myself with an unwanted guest. It kept following me to places that had never been visited before. I wanted some answers: why was I abandoned, who might that unwanted guest be?

Curiousness made me realize the paid visit was from a guest named Capriciousness. It was addictive; moreover, it was unsurprisingly a hand-me-down from my so called fellow – Emotional Instability. I realized the former had enough of me, or did I have enough of it?

Capriciousness was ironically a beautiful transition. Made me easily forget I was ever into the system. With the mood swings flying everywhere it landed me upon a school of thought. An aptitude of familiar territory – a preview of my prehistoric life with the wonderful and lovable beings. I’ve reached an understanding that life still goes on. At last I was cured until a fortnight ago a rushed reappearance by it shocked me. I do not want to be trapped again by the system. I was tired of its problems. It brought grayness to my hair. I need to live an easy, blossoming life away from it, as far as my body can drag me. The thought of being intervened by the system scares me.

So let bygones be bygones.

choices

I’m kind of questioning the life choices I made. Nobody “slapped me on my hand” and forced me to do the things that I did. I more or less chose to do them no matter what outcome could be there.

An i.e., “My Mama told me to stop biting my nail, a bad habit that I do, or else my cell phone will be confiscated for a month. ”

Well sweetheart, you either choose to bite that filthy nail, or choose to stop. But, if you chose to stop that habit of yours, then that does not mean you are doing it for the fear of your Mama, instead you chose to stop doing it, because you know what the terrifying result would be – a week phoneless not a week of Mama’s preaching.

I know I stepped on a dangerous and sensitive territory, that I trespassed the morale of any person – "فلا تقل لهما أفاً ". But trust me, I’m not your Mama’s rebel, I’m trying to express how I see the world in my own eyes. And how I see it, the world is marched through the choices made by people themselves.

Anger is a choice made, not a heredity of dysfunctioal behavior. I don’t know, I don’t buy the latter. A person chooses to be angry on Human Being A, because Human Being A did something wrong – a glitch. Now, if that angry person stepped back and gave some thought to the matter, he can either be a pain in the ass and shout at Human Being A or be cool about it. So which is it? Everything in life is treatable and fixable, no need to make a huge fuss –the size of China –about it.

I don’t think that a person grows evilness within him. I believe, or chose to believe, that a person has an option of being evil and niceness is just one of his road that is less travelled.

Now, speaking of choices, I chose to hate the word “busy”. I chose to be annoyed by it. I chose to not like hearing it. The “z” sound in it makes me nauseous when enunciated by a person who worships bustling. I hear a bunch of people pryingly say they’re “busy” with a particular thing that might postpone, for example, a one week planned outing with a friend. I don’t religiously believe in 100% busy life or 100% busy day (It’s wonderful to enjoy stillness once in a while). There’s always time to spare. There’s always a millisecond that could be fitted in a schedule.

I don’t really get busy people.

But then again, it’s my choice not getting them in the first place. ;)

"i.wish.i.was.a.punk.rocker"

• I walked into a salon and saw 6 Indian eyebrow threaders trembling on stools and couches, screaming at something. the one and only Philipino was courageously running with a broom trying to kill a gecko.

They say higher ground means royalty.

But the way I see it:

Indians are chicken and Philipinos are gutsy*

• I really hate it when I'm solemnly in a room .. dead silence .. and my stomache suddenly growls at people who might think that

a) I have food shortage in my house.

b) I might've accidently expelled mixed gases from my other end.

Untrue. I even drank a bottle of water, but the stomache generator has gotten worse. Urgh.

* Stereotyping is unintentional.

Copyright © 2006 Sandi Thom, I Wish I Was a Punk Rocker

Powered by Castpost

casual.wednesday.&.crawling.insects

My division that I work in never fails to crack me up. It’s the only girl’s dominated division.
You’ve got Nadia, our sluggish boss whom I adore.
You’ve got Khookhoo, a young mother of a one year old. With a couple of conversations, we’ve discovered we were in fact related (what a small world heh).
You’ve got Simone, Khookhoo’s Egyptian-Originated, Bahraini-Passported partner in crime. She talks funny; Egyptian-Bahraini funny.

Bring these together, and you’ll draw closer to a comic bunch.

The last of their comedic play happened not long ago during brunch time.

Khookhoo asked me if I want anything from a cafeteria. I get suspicious of food delivered from cafeterias especially ones called sunrock .. sunrise .. sun something, so I unobligingly replied with a sweet "no thanks, i already brought my own apple and banana".

Their sandwhichs were delivered, they hungrily went into another office and started with their food. But five minutes later I see Khookhoo's face, all bloated light headed approaching my table. I'm still picturing her pose lol.

I asked her, "what's going on?"
She blurted out something like "our sandwhiches were filled with crawling insects and spiders"
I've never heard of spiders finding their way into edible things like sandwiches, but I saw the proof with the two bites deducted. I presume Khookhoo with all her starvatious self had munched two bites from the sandwich until eventually analytical Simone discovered (read: screamed) those gross creatures. How unfortunate.

I have never laughed so much since I joined that division. It needed me a day to flush this out of my system.

They sooner or later threw up whatever was eaten, called the Ministry of Health and called in the cafeteria and bashed whoever was on the other end of the phone.

On the same day, Nadia skipped worked .. again. The night before, Nadia and her hubby were more like a scratching dummy. Termites ate half of their bed and continuously were after them. They spent the rest of the night scratching each other.


Apparently I’m the only sane person at this girl’s dominated division, I carefully wrote this after Simone mentioned how she loves caressing her butt with Baby Johnson's Lotion.


In the midst of all this, I decided to choose a day in the week to dress (semi) casually. So what day better than Wednesday?!

More casual, more approachable, less seriousness and more enjoyable.



Copyright © 2005 Middle of Nowhere by Hot Hot Heat
Powered by Castpost