social caterpillar

Some people are social butterflies. I'm a social caterpillar, hiding in my cocoon and stalling to fly out of my shell. It's not that I don't like people - I do, most of the time. It's not that I don't like talking - I do, to certain people. But small talk is annoying. It's pointless to spend a night out with endless conversations that go no further than, "Hi, how do you like this party so far? What do you do now, work, uni, unemployed? Do you hate reality TV, too?"

I'd rather talk to people about things that matter. For some people, the transition between small talk and substantial conversation comes easy. I have friends who can sit down with complete strangers and have fantastic conversations. I don't understand how this works. I can't even maintain a conversation with the people at work for over two minutes. Maybe I always lose interest, so I don't bother keeping up with the conversations. I'm more content talking to my close friends about what's happening with them. Does that make me antisocial? I can be social, but I can't fake an interest in people or bother to approach strangers, unless they are that handsome guy on the train. Maybe I just care too much about what people think of me. Or, perhaps I'm not willing to invest myself in others when I know that I will probably never see them again or see them often. Maybe I'm just lazy. To be polite and make small talk sounds like a lot of work.

On the flip side, I sometimes meet people with whom I have an instant connection. I automatically click with them, and conversations run smoothly with little effort. I get this gut feeling that I'll be good friends with them and feel comfortable sharing my personal thoughts, even if I've only just met them. This is what true friendships are made of - long-lasting friends with whom I will forever share that special bond.

rain

There was something about the November sky last night. The peculiar shades of grey in the heaving clouds and the cool sensation of the crisp air were so comforting and so lovely. I love rainy weather.

It rained as we walked around Darling Harbour, under one umbrella. Unlike other times, I didn't have to quicken my small steps to catch up with your big strides, and for the first time, I felt like I was up to your speed, or perhaps you unconsciously slowed down for me.

We sat and talked. I compared this time with the first time, the previous times, and the other times, and I realised so much and yet not much has changed. You're still poking fun. I'm still jokingly upset. We're evolving at the same pace as we're learning about each other. This is the beginning of a very beautiful friendship.

I liked how we shared one umbrella, though I became too self-conscious and fought the urge to walk in the rain by myself when you started to tease me. But I was hoping - wishing - that it would never stop raining, for I had found another reason to be fond of the rain.

thinking outside the box

I was rummaging through our kitchen and accidentally knocked over a bottle of fish sauce, the pure kind with no added sugar. Naturally, the sauce splattered everywhere, and the kitchen reeked of dead fish. Oh, why did we have to be Vietnamese? My mum and sister weren't home to (help me) clean up, so I had to get on my hands and knees to wipe up the mess. My dad and the boys (Chino and Socks) just stood around watching - typical males. I'd love to end up with a guy who'd cook and clean. I'd be glad to be the breadwinner, as I don't mind being the one to wear the pants in a relationship. Or perhaps I haven't met anyone who could 'lead' me.

Speaking of cooking, when am I supposed to start learning these sorts of things? I asked my mum when she learned how to cook, and she replied, "since I was in sixth grade." Well, duh, that's because there was a war going on at the time, so she was thrown into the role of being a mother to her many siblings. If there was a war right now, I'm sure I'd magically morph into a responsible adult too. Mother wasn't impressed and told me to start praying for a good husband, one who would tolerate my laziness/clumsiness/uselessness. I told her that with this face, I wouldn't have any trouble finding a sucker to marry me. So she retracted her comment and recommended that I be a spinster, already showing her condolence to the unfortunate soul who was going to end up with me. I don't think my mother understands me; I have big dreams! I enlightened her about my dreams, and she advised me to wake up.

This is my last week at CBA. I'll hopefully be out of the corporate world for a while. After three years of being cooped up in an office, I'm sick of this routine, so I'm going to step out there and take a breath of fresh air. It all started with the usual emailing marathon that LN and I have at work. When you have that much time to email, you start to question what sort of profession you're in, or maybe we're just outstanding at multitasking. Our regular series of gibberish led to a serious discussion about where we were at and where we should be.

I'm an unconventional person, so don't expect me to stick with a typical 9-5 job for the rest of my life. I'm impatient, yet ambitious (deluded) - what a rare combination. You often hear about success stories of people with great accomplishments, who are well-established and who’ve moved onto writing How-To-Get-Rich books. These self-help books were published to educate and inspire us to think outside the box, but do they give us the balls to take that giant leap? I frequently wonder where I'd be in ten years' time - if I had made something out of my life or if I’d still be wondering where I'd be in another ten years.

you're beautiful

There’s this stranger (let’s call him RD) that I’ve seen four times in the past six months. The first time was on my way to work. I woke up at Wynyard station, and there he was - way too good-looking for that early in the morning. I even rubbed my eyes, thinking I might still be dreaming, but no, he was real. It would have been a fairy tale if he’d fallen equally in love with me, but he didn’t even notice me. Probably for the best, since I likely had drool on my face (from the nap, not from staring at the handsome guy). He seems to exist in some Hot Guy parallel universe because I hardly ever see him.

A few months later, I was on the train home from work with my best friend. We were playing this dumb game where we’d purposely sit in different carriages to see who would follow. I, being stubborn, stuck to my carriage, so we ended up sitting apart (which completely defeats the purpose of travelling together, right, LN?). She woke me when we got close to our stop, and there he was again - rushing past me. At this point, I started wondering if he was some kind of dream, considering he only seemed to show up when I woke up (okay, twice). To prove he was real, I said, “That’s him!” LN, totally lost, just said, “Him, who?” clearly not keeping track of all the guys I’ve stalked. I told her he was my future husband, and she agreed he had a rugged, manly look.

Last week, I caught the train from a different station, and there he was yet again. I noticed he was talking to someone I vaguely knew from years ago. So, naturally, I decided it was time to reconnect and went over to say hello. The guy I approached must have wondered why I was suddenly being so friendly, but unfortunately, he didn’t introduce me to RD. The train arrived soon after, and I ended up sitting just behind them (pure coincidence). I could overhear RD talking about software, programming, and other tech stuff (I have a soft spot for IT nerds). That was the 8:07 am train. I took that train again today, but he wasn’t there. I almost missed it because it took me an hour to get ready (yes, it takes that long to look presentable). I considered waiting for the later train, just in case, but figured no guy is worth being late for work.

I ended up being ten minutes late anyway because I stopped to grab a big breakfast from a takeaway shop. I’ve got my priorities straight.

books

One of the things I miss the most about primary school is the book club. You know, where you get to order books and have them delivered to you in class, with the order form slip inside. I remember how excited I got whenever the book orders came in. If I hadn't been so worried about my classmates' opinions of me, I would have sniffed fondly at the lovely pages. Nothing beats the smell of a new book!

I took delicate care of my precious books. You would never find creases in any of the pages; I would use a bookmark or memorise the pages rather than defile my books with dog ears. I used clear contact to cover all of my novels and often lent them out to friends who didn't take as much care. One of my books came back with a dried orange juice stain, and it almost made me teary. From then onwards, I put plastic covers over my books before lending them out (because, obviously, the clear contact wasn't enough protection).

I had a diary where I kept track of where my books were being loaned. I contemplated making library cards for everybody, but I didn't have a laminator and didn't want to border the line of scary and obsessive.

what happened to me?

The last bar of my petrol meter has been flashing for a few days. I haven't had the time (or money) to fill up. Petrol prices have skyrocketed, so it costs more to feed my car than to feed myself. Dad lectured me about my apparently empty tank, and my defense was that I've decided to live life on the edge. What's more exciting than testing the limit and seeing how far I could drive? I'm such a daredevil.

I recently bought DVD box sets: Veronica Mars, Dawson's Creek, Felicity, Gilmore Girls, The OC, and Smallville. I also have the complete series of Friends, but that's nothing to brag about. I mean, who else can say that they have a whole collection of teenage dramas like mine? I'm at least five years behind on TV, so it's time to catch up. As a teenager, while everyone else had their eyes glued to the television, I had my head buried in books. My parents were worried about me and barred me from reading after bedtime. So, I read under my blanket with a torch—subtlety had always been my specialty.

Libraries and bookstores were my sanctuary. While my family shopped, I sat in the bookstore and read as much as I could, enjoying the smell of the crisp pages and getting high on their scent. In primary school, I was the school's Library Monitor (much cooler than it sounds) and came to school early every morning to offer my assistance. I sacrificed an hour of my sleeping time to spend quality time with the books. Whenever new books came in, I was assigned to cover them with clear contact since I had proven to be the most qualified candidate. Now that I think of it, they probably only let me do it because no one else was dorky enough to even want that job. I was obsessed with the laminator; I could have made good use of it at home, but every moral fibre in my body stopped me from stealing it (my bag was too small to hide it in). So, what ever happened to that little bookworm?

the best ship is friendship

Crushes are fun, fleeting, and uplifting. I'm extraordinarily obvious when I'm crushing on someone because I suffocate them with my attention - flooding them with text messages, calling them constantly (you know, just to check if they've read my messages), and camping outside their house until they give in and come out to see me. I'm positive that I scared off all of my previous crushes; those poor buggers didn't know what hit them. It didn't bother me if they detected that I had a crush on them. In fact, in some cases, I admitted it to them, and for some reason, the common reaction was laughter. The nerve! Actually, I was amused as well because I didn't take the serious approach when broadcasting my affection.

/Flashback

"Hey, guess what?"
"What?"
"I think I like you. I have a crush on you."
"Hahaha, what did you say?!"
"You heard me. What's so funny?"
"You are."
"I'm serious!"
"Oh, okay."
"I know that you don't like me in THAT way (I can be so modest sometimes), but I just wanted to let you know!"
"Err. Yeah, but you know that I just want to be friends, right?"

/End Flashback

You'd think I'd feel awkward after the confrontation, right? Nope. Crushes are insignificant to me, and usually, after admitting to them, I get over them quickly. It's easy to tell someone that you have a crush on them because those feelings are not deep, so the caring factor is minimal. It's a totally different story when you feel yourself falling for someone because that's when it really matters. Some people struggle to show how they feel in fear of rejection because when you actually like someone and they don't like you back, it can hurt. So, you pack away all your girlie tricks of trying to snag his attention, and you become more mature. People act strangely when they're developing feelings for someone - not because they are playing mind games, but because they don't know how to behave around the person, so they end up giving off mixed signals unintentionally.

When you're a smitten kitten, your head is in the clouds, and you daydream about what it'd be like to be his girlfriend. Then reality slaps you across the face when he tells you about the girl he got with over the weekend. I actually don't mind at all when someone I like is liking someone else. I'm twisted like that. Sure, it hurts a little (thinking to myself, "I'm prettier than her, so why aren't you hitting on me?" Just kidding - maybe it's just the ego that gets bruised a little). You can sort of tell when someone likes you; you can't be positive, but you'll at least have a hunch. However, if it's heading in the opposite direction, then you can definitely count on your instincts when they're screaming that the person isn't interested in you.

It's natural to have feelings for more than one person. You have that one special person in the back of your mind, even if you're not dating them (they don't even have to be aware of the fact that you hold them on a pedestal). You can be interested in and date other people along the way, but you'll never really get over that ONE person. It's not love because you've never been in a relationship with them to develop such feelings. It's more about the mystery - you'll always wonder "what if." This person gives you constant butterflies, and when you're at a party and they happen to walk into the room, it's as if a bright light is shining on them and holy music starts playing in the background, drowning out the rest of the world. The "What If" guy is the one who stands out from the rest and intrigues you the most. He's the boy who came close to kissing you but never did - like as though the two of you have sped down the runway twice but never taken off.

It's possible to gradually see someone in a romantic light after being acquaintances with them for years. It has never happened to me, though. I know exactly what I want, so when I meet someone with those merits, I know from day one that they're special. I lack the patience to wait around for the day when my "What If" guy starts to notice me. As far as I know, he was never interested in me, and it was probably the alcohol working its magic. Now that we're friends, he probably thinks of me as a guy (note to self: wear skirts and dresses around him more often to strongly remind him that you're a girl). Having his friendship is awesome - maybe not entirely satisfying but genuinely comfortable.

It's extremely rare for me to like someone more than a crush, so the event of my admitting to someone that I LIKE them is close to extinction. I really don't see the point because if you have that connection with someone, you both should feel the tension. If he's not feeling it, then there is no point in you verbally conveying it to him. It'll just complicate the friendship as he'll understandably treat you differently due to paranoia of hurting your feelings, giving you the wrong impression, or giving you false hope that it might eventuate into something. You have to be honest with yourself - when you know that the person doesn't feel that way about you, you shouldn't bother pursuing them because if it didn't happen six months ago when you first met, then it ain't ever going to happen. Perhaps the initial attraction was mutual, but that ship has sailed, and the only other option floating about is friendship.

is chivalry dead?

We know that we are the children of the divorce generation. Working at GE has taught me that at least 50% of Australians are happily divorced or separated. It still surprises me when customers tell me that they're divorced and loving it. Somehow, we've been taught that it's too risky to put that much faith and trust in another person. Many of us don't bother to work things out because time is too valuable. Our time could be better spent leaving, starting over, and meeting other people. Fresh, sparkly, and new is always better, isn't it? People trade in marriages like cars. Relationships, even those bound by marriage, have become as disposable as contact lenses. Time for a new choice of eye colour - who will look good on me this year?

The dating world has gone mad, completely and utterly insane. We've got relationships that fall apart for valid reasons (like infidelity), but we've also got relationships that break up because they are "too perfect" (what the hell?). Maybe I've been out of the game for too long because I don't know how it works anymore. The days of chivalry, romance, and courting are resting in peace. I blame this almost entirely on the fact that every television show or movie promotes the idea that sleeping together on the first date is normal. If you meet someone for the first time and end up in bed with them that night, where's the novelty in that? There is no pleasure in the unwrapping of the package. There is hardly sufficient time to build up healthy anticipation. Sex on its own has become anticlimactic.

Perhaps I'm just being one-sided; everyone's got their own choice of lifestyle, and who am I to judge? Meh, whatever tickles your pickle!

love to hate those silly love songs

Do you think your taste in music reflects your current chapter in life? For example, if you had just broken up with your partner, you'd be addicted to those sappy love songs. I share a love/hate relationship with love songs. I love them because so many of us relate to them that they could become our national anthems. But I hate them because I'm attracted to them when my relationships fall short, and they fail to cheer me up. They trigger the tears, and make me feel worse off than how I was before I clicked play on my Winamp. But I continue to sing along to them, drawn to their depressing lyrics. It's my choice to hum to these songs for their therapeutic results.

I have a playlist with random songs, but there will be one song that will stand out - one song that will remind me of someone, either a guy in the relationship that has just crumbled or a new crush. What makes this all the more silly is that I can now associate certain relationships with certain songs. Sometimes there's more than one, but there's always and definitely one. Songs do remind us of certain people and times.

Nobody is safe from being my idol at the time of a breakup. Jennifer Lopez got the nod when my three-year relationship went down the drain. Her song "Promise Me You'll Try" tugged at my heartstrings, even though her voice usually gets on my nerves. I stumbled across it while going through my old MP3 collection and I couldn't get it out of my head.

The one song that was overplayed on Winamp was "Missing You" by Imajin. I listened to it on repeat, overanalysed the lyrics, and sent it to everyone on my ICQ list, forcing them to appreciate this "amazing" song. But who on earth permits these people to release songs like this? Funny enough, another person who had been in a war-torn relationship recommended this song to me. It was my all-time favorite during that period. I listened to it all the time, sometimes on a loop when I slept. It allowed me to be mournful while I sang along to the melody, claiming each and every word as mine.

These songs are similar to musical journals. I don't have to jot down notes and I don't have to necessarily explain what I'm feeling because the songs are doing a good job at that. For a while, I thought I was the girl in S Club 7 when I listened to "Never Had A Dream Come True." She was definitely talking about me. She must have been. Even if she had no idea of my existence, she must have composed this tune just for me. That, too, was another song recommended by my buddy. Perhaps he assumed that she wrote it for him, but I'll dispute that issue with him in person.

So what could possibly possess me to drown myself in these heartbreaking songs? Maybe it's easier to listen to someone else whinge about how they suffered, even if it is for the sake of making a record and raking in the dosh. I'm sure my parents probably know when I go through a breakup; they should be able to recognise the gloomy tunes blasting from my room by now. Not to say that I've been through many breakups, but whenever I do, these love songs play a good role in my journey to recovery.

the butterfly effect

Yesterday, a friend and I had a discussion about what we looked for in the opposite sex. Months ago, I listed some superficial requirements in an old entry. This time around, after much thought, I retracted my answer and replied "Chemistry" – someone who could give me butterflies in my stomach.

When I was a schoolgirl, I placed my crushes on the good lookers. As I grew older, I realised that looks weren't that important, so I went for guys with a good sense of humour. Then I discovered that it wasn't enough because guys who could make me laugh usually have a dark side and would make me cry just as much as I laughed. Then I met a guy who was suave, who made me nervous, so I ended up being dull. I also had one dude who tried to crown me his queen and looked at me with puppy eyes. I couldn't stand his clinginess, so I disowned him, but he refused to leave and camped outside my house while I talked to him through my security door. That was an interesting year. Then I met a nice guy and after three years, it didn’t work out.

So, when I claim that I want someone who is 170cm+ in height, who is witty and who isn't a stingy bugger that only calls me during Vodafone free time, I was wrong. I want someone who can give me butterflies and someone I have chemistry with. It doesn't matter if he's daggy or a bad dancer – as long as sparks fly when we're together; he's the one that I want. Actually, I was serious about how I don't want a stingy bugger; I can't stand tight asses. My point here is, it's been a long time since I've met someone that I'm attracted to, and it's ridiculous for me to bind myself to guys who measure up to such unrealistic requirements. Even if I did find someone who had the prerequisites, the following could happen:

a) Lack of chemistry between the both of us.
b) I feel the chemistry, but he doesn't.
c) He feels the chemistry, but I don't.
d) We both feel the chemistry, but are in denial because we've entered the Friend zone.

This, in turn, throws me back to square one. I'm not in search of a perfect boyfriend or any boyfriend for that matter. Boyfriends are like socks. When you want a nice fitting pair, you can never find one. All the different coloured socks in your drawer and not a single pair go with your sneakers. So why must we all analyse so much? Just let nature take its course. However, if my stupid cupid can see this page, I'd like to ask him to aim properly next time!

Butterflies. When you experience that sense of nerve and anxiety from meeting someone, should you surrender to those feelings or enjoy them for what they're worth? That sensation can be described as paper-thin butterflies fluttering about within your stomach. The butterfly effect works differently for everyone. My butterflies start from that first moment of attraction and then the hopes that he knows that I exist and falls equally in love with me. As he sustains my expectations, the tension just builds stronger and stronger, praying that nothing is going to stand in the way of those butterflies rushing to clinch the pothole of my stomach walls.

I don't need to seriously fall in love right now; I'd be content with the butterflies because I'd rather have the butterflies in my stomach making me feel alive and full of optimism than an empty tummy with no sentiment, no jab in the gut to tell me that this is the one, this could be it. I like the sign even if it's in the form of a butterfly.

smitten kitten

You know that you like someone when the thought of them makes you happy. When you replay your conversations with them and feel like you can laugh out loud.

Oh, hello butterflies... It's been a while :)

the first move

I'm mentally practicing the art of asking a guy out. Well, I'm technically not going to ask him out, but just hinting for him to ask me out. Or at least manipulate him into asking me to meet up in a non-committal way, just as friends, just because. But I do, of course, have somewhat of a hidden agenda. Only not a very well-hidden one. It's like an agenda wearing a fake moustache and aviator glasses. You know it's meant to be a hidden plan, but the whole disguised aspect just really isn't working. My best friend says that I'm so transparent that I can't even pretend to hide my sneaky intentions.

I'm not one to take the first step. I'm a chicken nugget, and my friends think that guys are afraid of me. They've got good reasons to, and they're damn right in trusting their instincts. If I weren't me, I'd warn guys to stay the hell away from me. She's a mess when it comes to relationships! Run! And don't look back! But, being me, it's my own mental health I need to look out for. I'm only kidding. I've grown up since last year (but it's only March!), and I think I'm much more mature when it comes to relationships. So this is me, casually wading in the kiddie pool of "taking the first step." In the hopes that maybe, just maybe, one day I will dare to jump in the deep end. Without my floaties.

My friend has been contemplating for months about asking her crush out. I've tried to motivate her, but she's still not game enough. I guess it's because she likes him a lot, so she's got a lot to risk (like her dignity, job, reputation at work, you know, nothing major). So I have it easier because this guy and I don't really know each other yet, but we had that comfortable vibe going from the beginning, so that makes it less painful. Besides, I'm gambling with free money here. I have absolutely nothing to lose. I'm not even asking him out; I'm just going to talk to him, and if he wants to ask me out, then that's up to him. (Though, I know I'll be disappointed, my ego will be bruised, and I'll whinge about it if he doesn't).

Someone told me that the next person I go out with could be someone I might end up with. Only because we're all getting old! I mean, there's no point in engaging in another three-year relationship and ending up with nothing/no one. It's all about investing now, eh? Are we only supposed to date marriage material guys now?

the crush

I couldn't sleep last night, but I jumped out of bed when my first alarm went off (I set three alarms every night; yeah, it takes a lot to wake me up). I'm even wearing eyeliner. I got to work on time, said hi to the people in the elevator, and asked my colleagues how their weekend was. I don't feel at all hungry, and lunch is approaching.

I must be feeling happy.

friends before men

Relationships aren't as simple as they used to be. Whatever happened to the innocent days when we met someone, sparks flew, there was chemistry, and we soon progressed to the ritual of dating?

Nowadays, a relationship doesn't involve just the two people; other parties somehow get tangled in the situation. It's not just the two of us anymore. There are other people to consider and other issues to fix. At the end of the day, you wonder if it's even worth the trouble.

Is it because we're all getting older, so everything has to get harder? I remember the days when satisfaction came from just walking hand in hand with my boyfriend to the bus stop or walking and talking alongside him as he mowed his lawn. Those innocent days are over. Now, when you meet someone new, they don't come as single as they look. Some come with emotional baggage, an ex-girlfriend, or disapproving friends. All these aspects almost outweigh the potential relationship itself. I guess at one stage or another, we must draw the line to decide where our priorities lie and if it's worth taking the plunge.

playing the field

You have to resist temptation. It's something we all need to do at one time or another. If you think about it, you can probably relate this statement to something you crave but shouldn't have, or even more frustrating—can't have. Be good. Think twice, even if it's something as innocent as eating another piece of chocolate cake when you've already had three.

When placed in a sticky situation, do you allow your principles to decide or do you follow your heart? Sometimes I just want to throw away my mental rule book and let my instincts guide me. Lately, I've been more adventurous than ever before. I think when you have nothing to lose and you believe you cannot feel any lower, it's safe to aim high because if you fail, you'll just fall back to where you were. Things you thought were out of your league are suddenly within your reach. You embrace it, determined to let it be only a temporary craze because you don't want anything to tie you down now.

Unsure of what you're searching for, but positive of what you don't need, how will you ever know when something good hits you? I've been cruising along, like a bird flying high and not following any particular path. I've left my map at home, yet I find great pleasure in knowing that I'm in no rush to find the right direction.

freedom

I think I've gone through a lot of changes in the past week, a lot more than I did in the past year. When you're forced to stand up on your own, you learn to depend on yourself. You don't need to rely on another person to make you happy. I love this feeling.

Hello, World!

closure

In the spur of the moment, your mind freezes for a second, your senses are delayed, and the world feels like an awakened dream. Your heart starts beating faster, your head switches back on, and you feel the heat rising. Dusty thoughts revisit your mind, your sanity - scattered.

Time slowed down as I realised that it wasn't meant to be. Thank God I came to my senses and stepped on the brakes before it was too late. We're not 16-17 years old anymore; the past should be left in the past, or it will steal the future.

It’s time to move on. The person who broke you can’t be the one to repair you.

sealed with a kiss

I have a letter for you, I keep it in the back pocket of my mind but it's all about you, I wrote it after today, I'm sending it into space, maybe one day it will reach you.

rock bottom

When you've fallen to rock bottom, the only way is up, right? Unless you choose to dig deeper, creating a bigger grave for yourself.

I've pinched myself several times today to remind me that this is it. The missing pieces have gradually shaped themselves into the current puzzle, and I don't like the complete picture. Over the past year, I've watched things change, slowly and steadily. It's like eating popcorn; you start with a full box, and you slowly eat it, not noticing how little by little it's disappearing. By the end of the movie, your hand reaches into an empty box, and you find yourself grasping at thin air.

Sometimes it's hard to notice that something is missing until it's completely gone.

blast from the past

"Never waste your time thinking about someone from the past...they didn't make it to your future for a reason."

So, what do you do when you’re blissfully enjoying your McFlurry at McDonald’s and your ex walks in? Not just any ex, but The Ex - the one who hurt you unnecessarily. Naturally, you strike up a conversation. Yesterday, I ran into my ex-boyfriend. He’s still funny, suave, and good-looking, but he didn’t take my breath away. More lukewarm than hot. We chatted for a bit and even agreed to catch up.

Years ago, being friends with him was at the top of my wish list. Back then, he wanted nothing to do with me and blocked me after we broke up. We eventually became civil but rarely saw each other. Now, my blast from the past wants to hang out. I can already hear the objections from everyone, but fair warning: my selective hearing is fully activated.

I used to have recurring dreams about him wanting to be friends again because, as you know, I’m a bit obsessive. I’ve invested a lot of hope, birthday wishes, and camped out too many nights waiting for shooting stars to let this chance slip away. I’m embracing his friendship for old times’ sake. I owe it to the stalker girl in me; she’s been waiting for this day. After very little thought, I’ve decided it’s okay to enjoy his company. We both feel that it’s healthy now. I love our witty banter, but I don’t like him that way anymore.

It’s harmless to think about someone from the past if they stumble into your present, but only if you don’t see them the same way anymore. He might have occupied my mind six years ago, but that’s ancient history now.

misconception

I'm still here. I just don't feel like writing.

It's fascinating how I can sometimes mislead people with my writing, as if they can decipher my entire character through my blog entries. Some take my words too literally. Just because you read these words doesn't mean you truly know me.

Perfect strangers might form an impression of me based on what I portray here. You're free to make assumptions, but please don't assume you understand my mind just from reading my thoughts. Remember, I choose what to share.

However, it stings when someone close reveals a character flaw you never knew existed. When we're angry, our words can cut deep, making you question how well they really know you.

Everyone keeps secrets; no one reveals their true self entirely. We all hold back a part of ourselves. It would be wonderful to find someone who knows me so well that even if I act out of character, they wouldn't judge me. Someone who understands my personality so deeply that nothing negative I do would change their opinion of me. No one's perfect, and I'm certainly not, but perhaps one day I'll meet someone who sees me as perfect for them.

cattiness

It's been my experience that I find it easier to communicate with male employers in job interviews. They tend to be more accommodating and pleasant compared to female employers, who can sometimes come across as more competitive. I think I prefer working under male supervisors because they seem more understanding and compassionate. I've noticed weird tension with all my previous female bosses, maybe I am a lesbian? Just kidding.

I don't want to disparage my own gender, but I've found that females can sometimes be difficult to work with. There can be elements of competitiveness and assertiveness that come off as challenging. Men, on the other hand, are straightforward; you do your job well, and they're happy with your performance. They rarely question your methods. From a professional standpoint, it seems tougher to meet a woman's expectations across the board!

stuck in a rut

Looking for a new job is a bit like searching for a new boyfriend. You start with an idea of what you want, read through job descriptions that catch your eye, and go on interviews hoping to find the right fit. It's a bit like dating—juggling different companies can be exhausting.

Like dating, companies can look promising from a distance, but after the interview, you realise it's not the right match. I'm eager for a new job, but I refuse to settle for just any position. After three interviews, I'm starting to appreciate my current job more. It's like being in a long-term relationship where occasional doubts make you wonder what else is out there. People leave relationships for various reasons, often because they're not ready to settle down and want to explore other options. However, playing the field isn't always as exciting as it seems. You might go on numerous dates in search of Mr Right, only to settle for Mr Right Now.

Knowing what you want can be harder than knowing what you don't want. For instance, I know I don't want a job with an 8:30am start time or a long commute. Seeing what else is out there has made me realise how good I have it now. My current company is ranked highly as a great place to work, and it's globally recognised.

Roaming the CBD for job prospects is exhausting. Meeting new companies and exploring new opportunities has dampened my enthusiasm. After these interviews, I can confidently say that none of the other companies come close to matching what I have now. There was no spark, no chemistry. I doubt I'll find another boss as nice as mine or an office located conveniently near food courts and a train station. I truly appreciate where I am.

Sure, my current job has its challenges and unresolved issues, but maybe it's worth giving it another chance. After being here for a while, perhaps a bit more patience could make it even better. Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck in a rut, but there's a comfort in knowing I have something stable to rely on. For now, I'm content in my rut because it's mine.

how to win friends and influence people

Today, I have an interview with a recruitment agency. I'm debating whether to wear eyeliner - a small step toward breaking out of my rut. I'm hopeful they'll help me find a better job so I can gather the courage to leave my current one. This Thursday, I have a meeting with my boss about my future development plan and ambitions. I doubt my boss would be pleased if my only ambition is to leave this company.

As for the self-help book I'm reading, "How To Win Friends And Influence People," should I feel embarrassed? I initially borrowed it a few months ago because the title amused me, and I was curious about its content. It had been gathering dust on my shelf, but after hearing good reviews, I decided to give it a read. Perhaps reading it on a crowded train wasn't the best idea; people can be judgmental. I think I caught an old lady giving me sympathetic looks while I was absorbed in my book this morning.

Since work was slow, I continued reading. Interestingly, my colleagues have started offering to get me coffee and other things. Looks like the self-help book is already having an effect!

vanilla sky

We all impose rules on ourselves. They're not official policies engraved on plaques hung on our walls; rather, they're mental guides through life.

When you set these rules, you enforce them. But what happens when you break them? Are you then responsible for assigning your own punishment? Right and wrong seem straightforward, black and white, yet there's often a grey area. We make exceptions for things that don't neatly fit into either category. Mistakes are part of daily life. If no one knows of our mistakes, who judges us? Perhaps the guilt we carry is the price for our secret errors.

Life can feel ephemeral. Some days, I resist waking up - not out of depression, but sheer indifference. Facing another day, knowing it will pass like countless others, can be dulling. Most days, I'm content, but occasionally, a glum mood settles in. Distractions help momentarily, but nothing holds my interest for long.

The twist at the end of "Vanilla Sky" is breathtaking. The concept of living eternally in a dream, orchestrating every detail of that illusory life without ever knowing it's mere fantasy, is brilliant. Ignorance, they say, is bliss. Tom Cruise's character chooses the real world when given the choice in the movie. Films often persuade us that reality is superior simply because it's real. Given the option, though, I'd prefer the dream - a world crafted by my imagination to fulfil my desires. As long as I remain unaware it's a dream, it's my reality.

there's gotta be more to life

You know those social butterflies, the singles who embrace their "freedom" without a significant other, living it up at every party with the same group of friends? They mingle, have fun, but inevitably head home alone. I often wonder if they feel lonely sometimes, if they miss having someone special to call their own. Do they lie awake at night, feeling the empty cold space beside them, staring at the undisturbed second pillow that reminds them of their solitude?

I confided in my best friend that I felt like curling up into a ball and hiding under a blanket. It sounds so unhealthy, doesn't it? But let me tell you what's truly unhealthy. It's having a loving family, wonderful friends, and a good (enough) life, yet still finding yourself sulking. It's never feeling satisfied, always thinking there must be more to life. That's been my broken record for the past year.

the notebook

Being understood and loved would be perfect. Not understanding someone, and still be able to love them is a challenge.

I recently watched The Note Book, a love story. Funny how every love tale must revolve around a knotty love triangle. Complication, betrayal and heartbreak are all the ingredients that make these anecdotes tantalising. Somebody is destined to be cut, simply because the heroine can only desire one. They say you don't get to choose whom you love, so obviously the choice of who will love you back is also not negotiable.

you, off my planet!

Before I vent about my seemingly trivial life, amidst the weightier issues like the Asian tsunami, the Iraq war, and homelessness, I apologise. My problems are small, but I need an outlet.

Firstly, I've been dealing with a chronic issue: headaches. It's frustrating because despite multiple doctor visits, I always leave with an explanation but no prescription. Apparently, it boils down to sleep deprivation causing these persistent headaches. And then there's my ongoing battle with the staff at McDonald's. No matter how many times I order my Oreo McFlurry with extra Oreo, they never seem to get it right. Oreo are crucial to me - I feel like my McFlurry is naked without them. It's one of my biggest pet peeves when people don't deliver what I've clearly ordered, especially after explaining it in detail. I don't mind paying extra for that extra Oreo! So, by now, you can tell I'm in a foul mood. Then, to top it off, my fringe starts bothering me, and in a fit of annoyance, I give myself the worst haircut imaginable. I look like a seven-year-old with a jagged fringe way too short. Looks like I'll be sporting a headband for the next few weeks.

Of course, I know I could have been clinging to a coconut tree in Phuket, Thailand, fighting for my life. I'm aware that would have been life-threatening and tragic. That's why I'll stop complaining about my petty issues. Sometimes I think about making a difference, but it would take more than thoughts to help these suffering nations.