I believed in you.

Against my own instinct. Do you know how hard it is to stop myself from prying or pursuing suspicions? I did it to respect you. Trust you. Support you.

But you didn’t appreciate that in me did you? No. You used it for yourself. For your selfish gains.

You lied. And for what? Are you afraid of losing? Afraid of the truth about yourself?

You want the truth? You are a coward.

I may not have achieved anything better than you. But at least I don’t go to bed at night hating the person I’ve become.

“Hello, what are you doing now?”

“I’m packing all my stuff into boxes. So much to move!”
“Where did you get the boxes from?”
“Giant. They let me rummage through their discarded boxes.”
“Did you get any of my butter boxes?”
“Nope. I have Ribena, Pringles, BioZip. Even Minyak Cap Buruh. No ButterLite. You’re not pushing enough stock!”

Later, with someone else.

“So, you managed to get boxes from Giant?”
“Yeah. I realised it’s interesting to see my stuff packed into Pringles or Ribena boxes.”
“I know what you mean. My brother lugged a Whisper box to the new house.”

Priceless for cheap.

A single stem of red petals. Or pink. Or yellow. And an unexpected gesture. Thoughtful, forthright, uninhibited. Very much like open-faced bloom itself.

It’s a near-wordless exchange. What is there to say that compares to this little wonder? Nothing. No need. Just hold it close and drink in its fleeting beauty – echoes of the moment that will soon fade away.

It’s about delighting in the now. It’s about a choice to find joy – through a small piece of a vast and unfathomable world that we have no control over.

And all for just 2 bucks a stalk.

2am roast pork.

The best answer for a starved soul and stomach – friendship and food.

Not just any friendship. It’s the kind that says it doesn’t matter what time you call. It’s the kind that helps you see the good in you when you don’t. The kind that makes you thank God.

And not just any food. But the kind that makes you reach for more because you can taste the magical ingredient of love.

Then, when your hands are smeared full of tears and grease, you can look forward to tomorrow because suddenly, the world seems a better place.

Dear Celeste,

Thank you for resignation note, dated today. While I found the concept interesting (and tempting to accept), I find the need to remind you that this is a joint venture. So while you may feel like resigning, your letter is null and void. You can ignore me. But I am bound to you by my eternal faithfulness.

Hence, I am returning your letter with an offer for more grace and mercy. And wish you the best of faith, hope and love. For the rest of your life.

Thank you again, for your kind (and entertaining) proposal.

Sincerely,
God

Dear God,

I hereby tender my resignation of belief, effective today.

I would like to express my gratitude for the things you have shown me, as well as the love and the grace I have received. However, while I know the experience I have gained is all good and true, it has become increasingly difficult to continue in this present position.

In lieu of my resignation, please do let me know if I can be of any assistance to my replacement or in any other way during this transition.

Thank you for allowing me to serve with you.


Sincerely,
Celeste

The fondest memories can be found in the strangest objects.

For me, it’s a pink stool from IKEA. It sits next to my work station and I never gave it much thought.

Looking at it now, it marks a soft spot in my heart – where different lives, different purposes and different paths met and shared. An argument over a brief. A frustration to let out. A joke to laugh at. A break from the computer screen. A bar of chocolate to indulge. Or just a little assurance that we’re not alone.

It makes me smile. It makes me miss people.

I feel like a big helium balloon.

Everything is just so up in the air. My life. My beliefs. My work. Heck, even my address. Should I do this or should I do that? Or should I just not do anything? Can’t decide. Can’t seem to see a direction. Just drifting wherever the wind blows, till the pressures of external circumstances pop me. Or till test of time completely deflates me to a lifeless, soulless piece of trash.

Where’s my string to tie me down? Who will hold the other end and see me as a source of joy instead?

It’s easy to say why I like someone.

“You make me laugh. You complement me. You get me. You understand me. You listen to me. You care about me.”

But when I want to say why I love someone, suddenly, I need to pause and weigh my words.

Why do I love?

None of my immediate answers can justify the enormity of the word ‘love’ because I’m compelled to give an answer that transcends me – my perceptions, my opinions, my feelings.

It comes down to this: that DESPITE me, I am loved. Till I can’t help but love in return.

Mart and his mashed beans

Mart wants to fart. Needs to fart. Loves to fart.

He had many farts. Short and power explosions that would send everyone running helter-skelter in all directions. Or mild vibrations that would get many pairs of eyes staring at him. Or the deadly whiffs that enter the nostrils of unsuspecting victims – the kind that gets him looking for a magazine to accompany him to the throne.

He makes no secret of his love for his farts. But he keeps a secret weapon up his pants.

Beans at breakfast! All mashed to a potent fart-inducing consistency.

Celeste and the flying peas.

Once upon a time, there was a pea. The pea met another pea, and for a while, they were happy. But just for a while. Soon, they were not so happy. So the peas rolled away. One plopped into a puddle while the other fell down a cliff. But they wanted to do more than plop and fall around. They wanted to fly!

All they needed was Celeste, who had clumsy fingers and loved to play with her food. A mis-stab of a fork and a slippery slide from the fingers, and they were off!

Eight years.

That’s how long you and I have shared a room. That’s 1/3 of our lives.

But we believed that God put us together for a reason. Same church. Same classes. Same cell. Same friends. Same room. And it was difficult at first. But much fruit has come out of it.

Now He also separates us for a reason. And it’s difficult still. But God has shown His grace in providing everything we need up to this point.

I love you. And I know what love is because of you.

Don’t forget your promise to call once a week.

“Sounds like they’re singing about you.”

She ain't got no money
Her clothes are kinda funny
Her hair is kinda wild and free
Oh, but love grows where my Rosemary goes
And nobody knows like me

She talks kinda lazy
And people say she's crazy
And her life's a mystery
Oh, but love grows where my Rosemary goes
And nobody knows like me

There's something about her hand holding mine
It's a feeling that's fineAnd I just gotta say
She's really got a magical spell
And it's working so well
That I can't get away

Edison Lighthouse. Youtube it.

It’s a strange moment, this one.

A moment of waiting. Just waiting.
Because that’s the only thing I can do.
But it’s not a waiting in silence. Or a waiting in question.
It’s a waiting for a wave of circumstances to hit me.
And I can’t do anything, but hold my ground and face it like a big girl.
I kind of know what to do.
Hold my breath. Kick a little. Paddle a little. Wave my arms around a bit.
But will I sink or swim?
Only time will tell.
Ok, here it comes. I can see it now.

Obscene fruit.

When the fridge is stocked fruit every Monday, I grab a few and leave it on my table for snack attacks.

A large jambu with a very red and very rounded butt.
Two China pears (those greenish-reddish ones) with their stalks facing the same way.
Two oranges.
Two apples.
Two huge yellow pears.
Two ripe golden yellow melons
A banana in between two oranges.
A banana in between two apples.
A banana in between two huge yellow pears.
A banana in between two ripe golden yellow melons (yes, there they make sure there plenty of bananas every week).

Ratatat is performing.

I know, because some of the guys are spreading the word. I’m also quietly pleased that I know who they are talking about. But that’s because I have a few of their tracks on my playlist. Which were given to me, along with other random tracks. Because I was begging for some shit that wasn’t my own. Interesting sounds. But I wouldn’t be found squashed in a crowd, watching them. Much less pay 60 bucks for it.

I should go, I’m told, to experience it.
What if I don’t like it then?
Just drink until you do!

There’s a grumpoos lurking in the office.

He seems to have his favourite victims – the poor writers who are seated in the corner of the creative team. And he chooses them at random. Different times. Different reasons. But always the same terrifying manifestation of grumpiness.

Sometimes it’s simply because it’s Monday. Or that a brief is too boring. Or that auntie rose is down for a visit. Or that someone was being rude.

Exorcising this grumpoos takes a little know-how. A little ice-cream works sometimes. Or some TLC. Or a good sleep might do the trick. Or a fantastic weekend!

I’d like the claw package please.

Metal claws. 12 inches. Retractable. Will I be able to retract them one by one? And healing abilities come in the package? I don’t want to be bleeding all over the place. So, this is on special offer, right? What? No discounts? I thought this is the X-men promotion you’re advertising. Oh. What off-screen abilities are on offer then? Multiple-language abilities. What the hell am I going to do with that? Who am I going to talk to if everyone’s busy flying around? Smoke a thousand cigarettes at once?? This Super Power mall sucks!

It takes skill to steer a turbo-charged car along a twisty countryside road.

It takes skill to be a passenger in one of these rides. It’s a less developed skill than driving, but an important skill nonetheless – to significantly reduce chances of muscle aches, headaches and vomiting.

I call it the 3-point grip. Fold your right leg under the left leg and jam your left foot against the wheel well. Grab the door handle with your left hand. And lean your back against right side of the seat.

Then relax. It helps you remain calm in case of a crash.

You wanted my Isaac.

How could you? You gave him to me. He changed my life. Suddenly I had something to look forward to. To nurture and to see grow up. To reap joy from. Even in the pain. And just when I thought he was mine, you wanted him back.

Why? Why must I prove that I love you more than all this? Why must I give him back? What about what I want? But gave back I did. I raised the knife and plunged it in.

Isaac is now dead. And I’m still looking for that blasted ram.

So maybe things will go back to the way I’ve always know them to be.

I decided to take a step into something I’d never thought I’d do. To walk a path I’d never saw myself deviating to. And with every step, I took it oh so cautiously. Every deliberate step. Waiting. Waiting for a sign to say that this is the way I’m actually supposed to be. Or waiting for a sign to tell me that I should turn around and run back to where I was. So maybe this is it. One pause. One turn of the head.

Drink the soy.

Coy toying. Boycotting. Plotting. Playing. Pulling.
NOTHING!
Funky bananarama, dalai lama. Soppy drama, holy mantra.
Honey bunny runny money. Funny.
Feel and deal. Sun and run. Take and break. Make and shake.
EXCUSE ME!
Tears and fears and smears and dears.
For the year? Something near? What do you hear?
Confused and used and battered and bruised.
Hide now and think how.
Loose sigh, look high. No show, tip toe. Yes or no. Go with the flow.
HAHA.
Slim shady. Maybe.
Stand up, heads up, bottoms up, give up, shape up, make up. Sit up. Pull up.

I stand humbled at my own weaknesses.

All the steely resolve in the world. All the restraint I’ve kept myself behind. Everything I have willed myself to do or not to do – and made it even a source of pride. But now I see it all crashing around me. I am strangely comforted though. Yes, there will be things we’ll hold on to and things we’ll throw out the window. And in all that, the result becomes less important. Instead I come face to face with what it means to be just human. And in God’s eyes, that’s really ok.

I burst into tears today.

All because of an SMS.

Perhaps I didn’t realise it before. I’ve been slowly wrapping up my heart in the worries of work, the tiredness of trying and just being overwhelmed by obligations. In all that, mum sends me a verse and prayer for the day. And it’s something about the fact that she never does this. And the fact that she’s thousands of kilometres away from me. And the fact that she knows better than the people I see everyday. That makes me see just how God comforts in the most unexpected of ways.

I was expecting him at our table.

I was not expecting a boy with downs syndrome to be there too. I soon found out that the boy’s curiosity had led him away from his mother’s nearby table and to ours for a little attention. I didn’t mind, really. In between catching up about the tiresome and complicated world of work, I witnessed something I’d not seen in a while – a connection out of the human heart. He taught the boy to open a can of drinks, listened to his indiscernible chatter, and unexpectedly, made it an enjoyable time for us.