I wish, I want, I am

To wishfulthinker:
Thanks for saving me from having to actually using my head.
Sorry I was late with the tag.


I am thinking about two family members going through a rough patch right now, a pitch I’ve been placed on, and my dog who’s been with me 12 years.

I said to a cancer researcher two Fridays ago, “Everyone’s a geek. You’re a cancer geek, I’m a writing geek. Geeks are just people who know so much about one subject it’s scary.”

I want to publish my children’s book.

I wish I was half as helpful to the people I love as they’ve been to me.

I miss Melbourne. I was there just last year, but I want to go back. I love so many things about it. I lived there as a student and have returned as a tourist. Maybe I love the idea of it more than the actual reality, but it’s the one place I can see myself living in.

I hear things about my workplace all the time. I find it disturbing that other people are so well informed - more so than we are.

I wonder if I’ve peaked and haven’t realized it.

I regret nothing. I’ve been through some things I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and I wish some of the lessons weren’t so hard. But otherwise, nothing.

I am making it up as I go along. I sometime wish someone would come and tell me how I’m doing, but I’m afraid I might not like what I hear.

I dance quite energetically. But I must look like a spaz cos the last time I did it, someone kept hugging me. I thought it was affection, but it was only later I discovered it was because I was being embarrassing. I was surprised on two levels: that I was actually causing embarrassment, and that I was actually hurt upon learning this.

I sing very often. I also like to do the harmony bits.

I cry every time I watch E.T. Every time.

I am not always forgiving. It is one the few traits I admire in others that I wish I had in myself. I’m a true Scorpio, the best kind of friend and worst kind of enemy. I’ve a long way to go, but I’d like to think that’s slowly changing. It could simply be me getting old, but who cares.

I write very good recommendation letters. And resumes.

I confuse a lot of people.

I need a new car.

I should try yoga. They say you get abs without sit-ups and more importantly, you can have sex in alls sorts of illegal positions. I don’t care about the abs.

I finish magazine articles. Once I start, I need to finish it. I’m sure it’s borderline obsessive compulsive, but I need to. Main features, charts, sidebars, everything.

The past 36 days

I have:

• Been in Amsterdam, albeit only at the airport.
• Been ripped off by a French taxi driver who said he didn’t know the way to the loft I was supposed to stay in – after he proudly showed me his cab had a GPS road-finder.
• Stayed in a rather decadent 3-level loft in Cannes. The room I stayed in had a floor that was half wood and half glass, which I covered with a blanket. The owner of the loft was quite amused, asking if I hated sunlight. I replied that "I love sunlight, but I just love my privacy a little more." He went on to make me feel all Victorian and boring by informing me my room was popular because of the glass floor – particularly with the ladies. Brilliant. I’m a prude.
• I discovered I quite like the pink coloured wine they call Rose (roh-zay).
• I learnt how to order water, orange juice, ask for the bill, the receipt, and say ‘one moment’ in French.
• I had my work short-listed and I’m now an official Cannes finalist. It felt very nice.
• I didn’t win.
• I made acquaintances with counterparts from Singapore, Thailand, the Philippines, the UK, Russia and Kazakhstan. The Kazakhstani one was the cutest.
• I’ve been insulted by a Nigerian guy who asked me for a donation to his charity then gave me a dirty look when I didn’t pour my life savings into his collection box. Asshole.
• I danced in an informal street party thrown by a corner wine shop. It was a simple, pretty spontaneous affair, with barrels for tables. No stools. Just spirits on sale, a DJ and people dancing. A young French girl of 11 flirted with me – with her Mom cheering her on.
• I saw Martin Sheen speak. If he ever ran for President, he’d be a serious contender.
• I ran twice along the beach they call La Croisette. Running with your shoes on the sand? Tough. Like running through glue or molasses. Those stylish pictures you see of the well-toned runner tearing along the beach with their faithful Labrador? Lies.
• French women like to sunbathe topless. The problem is, most of them are over 70 and have the youthful skin of Madeline Albright. I’m a boob man myself, but I’m quite off it for awhile. I also think it’s quite a nasty thing to inflict on visitors to your country who’ve gotten up to run. Imagine running along at a steady, adrenalised, feeling-great-about-yourself clip and then going “Oh FUCK!” and briefly losing your eyesight.
• Been to Monaco. I saw a yacht so big, it housed another speedboat (and I don’t mean the rubber zodiacs Navy SEALS use, I mean white-coloured-ride-it-along-the-Carribean-coast-with-your-mistress-in-tow-sipping-champagne kinda speedboat) AND had a motorized crane to airlift the eight ski-jets parked on the second deck. Oh, and there’s the Helipad. Drug money. I’m sure of it.
• Been to St Paul. Lovely little artist village.
• Missed my flight. Did the whole Amazing Race thing from Nice to Orly to Paris.
• Spent the night at Charles De Gaulle airport. I never dreamed an airport could close short of heavy snow or a terrorist attack. This was like sorry-come-back-tomorrow closed. I slept on two cold, hard, metal chairs (no, I’m not being dramatic) and only because that one had a broken middle arm rest. KLIA, you’re the best.
• Accepted one of the most creative wedding invitations I’ve seen in awhile. It was in the form of a resignation letter. “We the undersigned hereby tender our resignations from single life.”
• Met two people I’ve only spoken to via email thus far. It was great. Sometimes, you go ‘What if they’re totally boring or obnoxious? What if they think I’m totally boring or obnoxious?” It couldn’t have turned out better.
• Watched Superman. I brought my folks. Though I don’t hold it against her, I do wish Mom had a better response than “He’s very handsome.” And that grin. Sigh.
• Thought about taking up cooking. And salsa. What the fuck’s wrong with me?
• Thought (again) about buying a car.
• Made someone promise to have an operation.
• Saw a taxi with a beautiful name on it. Almost all taxis in Malaysia have the name of the driver and/or owner on the door. This one said Khamis bin Khaled. ‘Khamis’ in Malay means ‘Thursday.’
• Bought a book on Chicago for ten ringgit. (that’s slightly more than USD2.50). It’s in black and white and the photos look very old but it’s cute. It has a lot of schematics in it and I hope to be able to visit these places someday.
• Got a call from my first girlfriend’s elder sister. She told me to come by one Saturday cos “We all gather for dinner and Mom would love to see you.” It was very, very sweet but I probably won’t. I miss them too but I think some more time needs to pass in her marriage. But I think it’s only a matter of time. They’re beautiful people, and I can’t think they’d only be around as memories.
• Had dinner with a wonderful couple I just met. When I say ‘just met’, I mean ‘just got to know.’ We met more than four months ago. Sometimes people just click. They have three lovely children. We had dinner in their home after they put their kids to bed. The wife made chicken curry, rice, mixed vegetable and we had chocolate moist cake after.
• Had a friend tell me she’s a lesbian. I found it a relief since I don’t know anyone in my gender that would be good for her.
• Found out Nelly Furtado is openly bisexual. I found it a relief since I’ve always thought of her that way. In an age of piracy and downloaded music, I have always bought original Nelly Furtado music.
• Missed my blog friends, but been afraid of my blog. I don’t know why. It’s a nice place, and it’s found its voice. Maybe the blog itself is a friend and I felt guilty I’ve neglected it too long and I didn't want to face it. Even as I write this, I don’t know if everyone has given up on it. Are you guys still out there?
• Realised that in Malaysia, nobody changes their surname after marriage. I always knew that, but never thought much of it till I thought about all the hyphenated names I’ve seen in countries like the US or the UK. Smith-Ramirez. Parker-Bowles. Folke-Wittes.
• Been told by an ex-colleague who’s returned to my office that I’d changed. “You seemed so angry when I met you. Now you’re calmer.” He doesn’t actually know me very well, and I never knew he noticed me or that I appeared that angry. I don’t even know if should be happy about what he said, but I am.
• Met a new girl who joined that shares my family name. I told her to smile because “That is what our kind does.” She thinks I’m a fucking weirdo, but has humoured me. I said to her the other day “Let me see it” and she stopped typing, turned to face me in her chair, and smiled.

I’m back. I’m sorry I missed everyone’s comments and didn’t get round to replying them. Life just happened. But I’m back.

The 100th post

I’m writing this at work, which I’m fairly certain violates some clause of my employment contract.

Thing is, I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance to write again before I travel. I’ll be away all next week but I’d been wanting to post some new material so now’s a good a time as any. One last thing on that travel bit – prolly no Internet access where I’m staying so please forgive me if I don’t reply your comments as quickly.

Right.

For a while now, I’ve been wanting to put more energy into my writing. Through a friend, I was recently introduced to an informal group of people who want to put out books and comics. Not all of them want to write, they just want be involved in something creative (one is a lawyer who’s offered to do up our contracts if any one of us gets offered a publishing deal).

It’s been really good though. I had initial fears it was going to be some pretentious book club but it’s actually been like a gym for writing. Well, actually it’s a cross between a gym and a lab. We get a simple assignment, we do it on the spot, and it’s amazing some of the stuff comes out.
I’m going to preview some of these exercises (and their results) from time to time for two reasons:

• I think they send your head to all sorts of interesting places. This was important for me cos I was so focused on improving the writing I totally ignored improving the thinking.
• I want to bring others along for the ride. More to the point, I want to see where you guys go with this. Don’t try and write. Don’t try and be a writer. You don’t have to. Just tell us a story.

Anyway, below is the experiment, and the result (my result anyway).
I’ll see you guys when I get back.

Experiment: One Syllable Rhythms.
Tell a story in words of one syllable.


Result:

Oh shit. It broke and now I’m dead.
What do I do?
I know.
The pill.
Doh! Too late!
Chill, Jen, Chill.
Think!
Mom will know.
Mom went through this last year.
Mom will help cos mom knows.
Mom will help.

Or Dad will know.

Someone to watch over me

Yesterday evening, a thunderstorm broke out in my part of town.
It wasn’t particularly heavy, and everyone reacted in the usual manner – irritation at having to endure the gridlock, and having to revise dinner plans.

What actually happened was in three different spots, all less than 50 metres from my office, trees well past their first century were uprooted. One of these spots is where I parked my car.

I imagine it takes quite a force to rip a tree with a trunk roughly 5 feet in diameter from the ground. And now that the shock has passed, it strikes me as odd that such a force didn’t suck the cars off the tarmac as well. I got to the car park and I saw my colleague looking like a tree fell on his car.

“You see your car?”
“Nope.”
“Better get in there.”
“Where’s yours?”
“Under the tree.”

The radius of the damage was wide enough to do two things: Cover half the car park (it was a big tree) and force me to run a full circle to get around the roots and into the parking lot. That brief sprint was the longest five seconds of my life.

My car was covered in leaves and a long branch had fallen across the hood.
I don’t remember rushing up to the car, but I must have because I was circling it and patting it down like a burning child.

Four cars were crushed beyond repair.
The tree missed my car by less than two feet.

I’m not the religious sort, but I thanked God for saving my car.
A car which over the weekend, I had contemplated selling.
A car which I often park in very spot the tree was uprooted to save it from baking in the sun.
My folks are fairly devout Buddhists. I’m not, but I lit some jos sticks as soon as I got home. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

This morning, the church gates were closed.
The tree has been cut into sections but it’ll take another day or two to clear it.
The only person I saw was the pastor surveying the damage.
I’m wondering: where is his car?