The Many-faced Monster

One of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is when you BECOME what you were STANDING AGAINST for.

So how can this animal be allowed to take care of the millions of abused women and girls in this world through his Right To Lie Foundation if his very own personal foundation is barely there?

Sometimes I feel as though people who fight for certain causes are just not what they seem to be. A leader who claims to have compassion for abused migrant workers could very easily look down on any person hailing from a non-first-world country, so I've personally learned. These kinds of leaders only approach you when they need your money or when they need you to vote for them to win some kind of award or title. I still receive those silly “gimme money” and “vote for me” emails every now and then. These people are just so lucky to be helped by so many rich foundations, such as the L Foundation.

I remember how M used to talk about how an Old Auntie used to watch over him in his apartment. She was the previous resident in that apartment we used to stay in until she passed on. I've never seen her before and I don't wish to.

What kind of an atheist are you if you're able to see and believe in ghosts? M loves being different from the 6 billion+ people in this world. So even as an atheist, he has to be an atheist that's different from other atheists. Bloody unique, aren't you, baby bear?

I used to call him that silly name because he practically snored like a growling polar bear.

Wherever M may be now, I hope he brought Old Auntie along with him on his many adventures. She'd be thrilled to bits to be able to listen to his neverending stories while he smokes his rollies or his pipe (another "THE MAN" wannabe). He'd be thrilled to bits to have a female to lie and sweet-talk to every now and then.

I remember how I used to sit near him to listen to him talk non-stop while he prepared his uniquely-flavoured rollies. He’d use coffee, vanilla and even mango essences to prepare those things.  

Come to think of it again, Old Auntie could be the only witness to what M had done to me, the disposable fcuktoy.

I met one of M's acquaintances a couple of weeks ago through another friend during an outing. I'm so glad he doesn't remember seeing me hanging around near his area before. He is exactly how M had described him. Always claiming to know certain celebs or rich people. Wouldn't have been nice for me to tell him what M had said about him, so I’ll just write about it here.   

I wonder if M ever meant all the nice things he ever said to me. Or is he just like another one of those despicable men depicted in his wonderful documentary.

However sudden he had so unexpectedly dropped me from his life, for a while, I had truly believed in the existence of love, passion, whatever you call it, right up to the point when he suddenly changed. Those are the moments that I’ll remember and maybe cherish for a very long time. The wonderful ones, I mean.

But for now, I do wish he would somehow end up castrated. That should’ve happened on the day when he was born.

Wishful thinking, perhaps.

Wham. Bam. Thank you.

Hard to believe we’re almost done going through with August, with September beckoning. The stream of time flows so quickly. If only there’s a pause button somewhere to stem this flow. I’d even want to return to that part in time when M had so eagerly and convincingly coaxed me into his life. I so wish to return to that time and say no to him.  

Too late. Defiled and dumped already. I’m now just a piece of junk that’s been taken on a ride and then thrown aside. Time has not healed me so far.

Certain church friends would now rather not have anything to do with me: “Isn’t there any other church people out there whom you can talk to?”

No. Those “other church people” don’t know M (even though they might know him in some way, or heard about him). And they don’t know me. They’d listen to barely half my story and suddenly talk about forgiveness. No, I won’t forgive M. One cannot condemn violence against women but still behave no different from any other idiotic male animal when left alone with a woman.

I recently walked past the place where he used to stay in. Someone else stays there now. Someone else now sleeps on the bed where M had used to mess up my life. Silly me thought we’d be together till the end of time, if ever there’s such a thing. Such naiveté.

“See if you can find me after this,” so he had said.

You can go to hell for all I care, M.

Let’s see… Why did I even bother choosing him?

Because a man who speaks so convincingly about violence against women, human trafficking and human rights is not the type of person who’d shout at a woman and not bully a woman with all kinds of demands, right? And because a man who can rub shoulders with all kinds of NGO people and wax lyrical about the good things he has done for so many poor people out there is not the type of person who would leave you all sad and lost after getting tired of fcuking you, right?

Yeah, right.

And this same bloody racist atheist even once said that atheists don’t believe in life after death. They believe that they have only one chance to do something, and with that one chance, they must not blow up that chance to get that something done. So you’ve got your chance to fool around with me, are you happy now, M? You know there was no one else before you. And most likely no one else also after you because I’m already too sick to look beyond- “FRAGILE. DO NOT TOUCH”. FML.

I watched “The Purple Rose of Cairo” not too long ago. Despite being the pervert that he is, Woody Allen did a good job with this movie. I instantly identified myself as the silly female character in that movie, played by Mia Farrow. While watching the same movie repeatedly to get away from her life’s problems, Mia soon realized that one of the characters in the movie had suddenly come into being and just walked out from the cinema screen to approach her. Mia fell for that created character that simply charmed her socks off- unreal yet beautiful in many ways. Similarly, I fell for M’s created character: brave, charming, talented. He’s good at fleshing out characters, and many would never know who and what the real M is.

M had always spoken about how a person shouldn’t be constricted by this “fate & destiny” type of thinking when something goes terribly wrong. I cannot help but agree with him. He should not be allowed to continue with his selfish, arrogant ways. Practise what you preach, M. Don’t just talk shit. I repeat, don’t talk shit about violence against women everywhere you go and then have people grovelling at your feet after listening to your power speeches.   

I will always remember that little adventure we had in a certain country. He wanted to look at ancient rock shelters and log coffins because of his passion for ancient and dead things. To get to one of these places, we had to climb up this one stupid hill which took almost forever to climb. And while climbing down the hill again (more like slipping down), I got away with a little scratch on my leg caused by a little thorny plant. That silly man came down looking all frazzled and somewhat dazed, and totally got his leg all bloodied up because he intelligently walked into a tree stump which only he had not noticed. He was probably looking around and hoping for sexy “apsaras” to appear from amongst the trees and didn’t notice much of anything else that could endanger him. This is probably what happens when a person decides to take a dump near an ancient log coffin area.

Apsaras (Angkor Wat, Cambodia)

Another time was when we were walking by the roadside, along a row of shops. He directly walked into an iron-pole and got a bloody cut above his eye. He thought the pole was made of plastic or rubber. So being the invincible genius that he is, he proceeded to walk straight into that pole thing.

“Don’t tell my sponsors how I got injured,” so he had said.

Yeah. Sure. My lips are sealed. I didn’t move my lips at all while typing out this sentence.

So with the pictures he had taken of himself and his injuries, he probably wants the general public/rich sponsors to believe that he had been attacked by a tribe of marauding savages (probably remnants from Kublai Khan’s ancient armed forces), or that he had wrestled with giant man-eating plants that morphed into many-headed cobras.        

The word “Naga” comes from the Sanskrit, and “nag” is still the word for snake, especially the cobra, in most of the languages of India. 

Any man who desires to be greatly admired would eventually write a book about something. Our friend here has been talking about this desire since many years ago. He made me visit a certain archaeology site three times to take pictures for his silly book, and he made me travel 3 hours to another site in the heavy rain to take pictures of some forgotten ancient wall scribbling. All that effort wasted because I don’t think he’ll be using those pictures. Bloody fool (I’m referring to myself).  

He even made one of his loyal friends, Sean, go all over the city to look for a book for him. He already has that book. It’s just that he couldn’t gain access into his house to get that darn book for his research. He loves sending people all over the place to get things done for him. He takes pride in having people addressing him as “Hitler”.

Why Hitler? Hitler committed suicide.

Back to his book project. Because he considers himself a great Jedi, or simply because he got “Ketuanan Sejarah”, he’s come up with this great idea to get this whole group of well-qualified writers to contribute to his book. This type of “ketuanan” that he possesses can be defined as “Chakravartin”.  And because he is Mr. Chakravartin, he can control many people through his Hitler-inspired style of leading.

My knowledge in history is extremely limited. I learned that new word “chakravartin” about 10 minutes ago. Can’t rival with someone else’s 10+ years of history knowledge and travels all over South East Asia.  

 I wonder why he keeps criticizing a certain group of politicians. I don’t think he’s any different from any of them. Except that he probably holds a portfolio that’s slightly more unique compared to the rest (simply because he loves being different from all the other 6 billion++ people on this planet).

He should consider learning some manners from his favourite idol, THE MAN. From what I’ve read, THE MAN is a caring father and husband. He did not abandon his wife when the going got real tough for him. What a proud, happy father he was when his daughter recently graduated from university.

Cropped picture of THE MAN. Long ago, M got me a hat with this same design on it too. He's totally obsessed with THE MAN.   

Ungrateful Child

What I’ve lost to M can no longer be recovered. I’ve just got to live my life as best as I could for certain other people’s sake.

I love my new place. The boss is more civilized compared to those two “God is the boss, not me” crazy women I used to have to deal with.

A good boss is the type who knows how to look after his/her own people. In turn, those people reporting to this kind of a boss would definitely reciprocate in a similar manner (depending on how grateful you are to your boss).

I was about to have my dinner not too far from the office last Friday when my new boss suddenly texted me to inform me about something urgent that had to be settled. It definitely was urgent, so I walked back to the office late that night to complete those few urgent tasks in case the customers started complaining.

Now I just heard about how that Big Bully female Principal, whom I had the unfortunate chance to momentarily encounter, isn’t handling things too well at that crazy school I just left. We’ll see how long she can last over there. Such is the kind of person whom I will never be grateful to, especially since she also goes around telling people about God, Jesus and the Good News but has no whatsoever respect for her employees. Put her next to Freddy Krueger and you’d notice how much kinder Freddy is.

Talking about bosses, I have to mail a birthday card to one other lady boss whom I used to work with before my stupid relationship with M started. Can’t believe she wrote me a three-page testimonial when I asked her for one last time. Don’t really know how to thank her until now.  

I’m also grateful to have such a wonderful, caring mother who never allows me to touch anything in the kitchen (in case I hurt myself while cracking eggs or scooping rice).

I wonder how many years it’s been since M last saw his mother to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day. I’m sure his mother would gladly accept him with open arms should he ever decide to go home to his parents despite his selfish stupidity and bloody imperfections. He probably thinks his mother is just another crazy old woman who’s not intellectual enough to talk at his level. Same as how he considers certain other old women in his previous neighbourhood as not up to his intellectual standards because what all these women talk about every day revolves around mundane topics such as buying vegetables, what to cook for lunch/dinner, why that other neighbour is so annoying, why they’ve not been feeling well lately, yesterday’s Chinese drama………

Of course these old women only talk about what they usually talk about. They’re not as fortunate as you are to have been sent to such a good university to study all the way until PhD level. What did you expect these old ladies to talk about? A Juxtaposition of Neanderthalian and Homo Gautengensis Classificatory Attributes? Human Sacrifice Practices in Early South East Asian Kingdoms? Homo Sapiens: Its Ontogeny and Evolution of Religiosity? Eat shit lah, you hopeless Malaysian-Chinese-who-ran-away-fast-fast-from-his-family-and-thinks-he-is-so-bloody-special.    

You once condemned certain Chinese this way: “’I know so and so’, and that is how you do business. Are you crazy?”

You’re not that different from many other Chinese either, you crazy dope. You also love using people for your own selfish benefit, love telling stories about how you met so and so, la di da and the list goes on. That’s the only form of love that you know. Probably that’s what makes you stand out from the other 6 billion people on this planet, you bloody user.   

Yap Ah Loy had many Yap Ah Moi’s. In fact he had a battalion of 300 Yap Ah Moi’s to feed the lustful Chinese in 1885. Unfortunately, this Neanderthal mentality has not been updated yet.

Very true indeed, you Neanderthal. I wonder who was that Eileen woman who had followed you to Bangkok in July 2009. Wonder why I just had to find out about this the hard way.

Wonder why you had adamantly refused to add me as your Facebook friend too. What was your actual excuse when you had been able to add those other people whom you could take advantage of and lie to all the time while they continue to admire you. Not only are you a Neanderthal; you’re also a complete dickhead. A perfect dickhead who thinks he’s some kind of macho rebel going around breaking rules and annoying the shit out of any high-ranking minister whom you feel like annoying.    

I hope you have not forgotten to wish your mother a Happy Mother’s Day this year, M. I wonder how many Christmas and Chinese New Year family reunions you have missed out on so far. But they’re not important to you, aren’t they? You call them “petty” matters and you’ve included me into your list of “petty” things as well.

Can’t understand why I had made myself go out to get you porridge almost every day when you were not feeling well at one time, even when it had rained heavily. I know I can take care of myself when I’m sick but it’s sad to realize that no one will be around for me when I’m not feeling well.   

What an ungrateful child you are, M. How pathetic. Carry a paper bag, cut two holes for the eyes. And cover your head in shame.

Smooth Criminal

The only reason why I'm venting my frustrations through this blog is just so I could minimize those chances of me breaking down and crying while walking on the streets. Stupid thoughts about him could suddenly come back to haunt me every now and then.

It's just annoying when you have this crazy man with a very high IQ of 180+ looking down on you because he just suddenly thinks you're not good enough for him. Totally annoying when he rubs it in by saying he doesn't have to be an "office slave" unlike many other people out there in this world, including myself. Even more annoying to see that triumphant smirk on his face when he says he doesn't have to do "9 to 5" like everyone else.

Of course you don't have to be an "office slave". You're unique, unlike everyone else who's stupid and boring and don't know anything about history and anthropology or whatever else you're good at. Other people are stupid because they have to work everyday to look after their families and don't have time to spend  the whole day reading about human evolution and the religions of the world. Other people are boring because they don't get the chance to run around in all kinds of exotic countries, all expenses paid for by other parties. Other people are also hopeless stupid fools who have "sticky, greasy children" and/or ailing parents to take care of. They're not special because they're not brave enough to run away from their responsibilities; not smart enough to get other people to adore and worship them; not "Jedi" enough to be anything extraordinary.

"I've done some research before for my Psychology subject during my final year back in the States. A group of us students had to visit this particular prison to interview hardcore criminals. The thing about these people is that they're not stupid people. They have extraordinarily high IQ levels," a friend told me during one of our heart-to-heart talks.

"You cannot be too naive to allow this man to bully you......"

Sigh. A bit too late now. I had saved myself all these years for one stupid idiot who had just used and dumped me. He's a stupid Malaysian Chinese. Stupid Mongoloid.

Like I care

"No, I'm not a registered voter," I told Ariel, much to her surprise and dismay.

 

"But it's your responsibility as a citizen to register as a voter!" she exclaimed.

 

I wasn't ready to tell her why I personally don't intend to ever register as a voter. Like I care. I really don't. I just woke up one day and decided I really don't want to know what's going on in the news anymore. It's like a neverending Chinese drama that has got so much drama in it that it has already ceased to be exciting. But don't end up thinking like me, for heaven's sake. It's my personal choice. 

 

When a man could get so obsessed with politics to the extent of leaving behind his own family (and wife) and dumping a girl he had promised to look after, there's no point in convincing him not to leave. I so love using the phrase "and wife", don't I?

 

"Stop writing! You're getting into so much trouble!"  

 

"It's not going to make a difference," so he had said.

 

So be it. Let all the Angelas, Lynns and whichever aunties out there continue to shower you with praises (and sometimes free meals) for your intelligence and wit, for your amazing ability to charm your way into any person's heart. You say you're not doing this because of the glamour. I say you're doing this because you're just fcuked up. Already fcuked up big time since your university days.

 

Strange how all these kind aunties could tell you so many things about their families but you never mention anything about yours. Not like you have much to tell anyway.

 

Write on, you big liar. It's not going to make a damn difference to me anymore, you bloody rapist, bloody rapist, bloody rapist.  

 

This anger's kinda getting out of control, I suppose.

"I Don't Exist"

My purpose of being here now seems unclear. I should go home soon to look after my parents. That would be a more worthwhile thing to do. Better than M who had left behind his parents (and wife) and not visited them in years.

I so love bashing him up through this blog. Somehow helps to rebuild my self-esteem after getting bullied by this champion of women’s rights and whatever other human rights you can think of.

M has come to know about me seeing a professional counsellor because of what he has done to me. Defiled and thrown aside. Why hadn’t I decided not to be with him in the first place when he had asked me to?

“I don’t know what you have been telling the counsellor. But whatever it is, I don’t exist. I am not to be mentioned,” M had said a few times during that one final time when we had met.

Why? Because you’re afraid your “I’m a hero to the poor and downtrodden” image might get tarnished?

You don’t want to exist? It shall be done then.

From now on, M shall be known as M. Simply because you don’t exist, don’t want your name mentioned during my counselling sessions with the counsellor, don’t want people to find out about you leaving behind your wife and family just so you could travel the world and achieve whatever ultimate enlightenment through that high IQ of yours while making those unsuspecting others continue to admire the monster that you are. 

Asshole!

The Nephew

“This girl has such a bad temper. She should get punished. Only then would she understand the difficulties that parents go through,” Landlady grumbled about her daughter early this morning as I was about to go to work.

Mother and daughter had yet another shouting match this morning.

Anyway, the daughter had already been punished enough when her parents decided to divorce many years back. So there......

“I hope you don't mind me giving your phone number to my nephew. Has my nephew contacted you?” Landlady asked me, hiding her enthusiasm and curiosity without much success.

“Yes. We went out for dinner two days ago,” I answered in a non-committal voice.

Then came that annoying question: “So what do you think about him?”

“Well…” I shrugged, looked at the kitchen sink and kept quiet because I really didn’t know what I should say.

In just one hour over dinner two days ago, I managed to get Nephew Dude to tell me the story of his life. I had said we could have dinner at any place that's not too fanciful. But Nephew Dude opted for one particular expensive eatery.

Nephew Dude just started working in the Sales Department of Company XYZ about a year ago. He said he’s managed ten businesses before- a series of entrepreneurial endeavours that opened and then closed, like various books that got thumbed through and then thrown aside. Like how I got used and dumped by (in)famous M.

His dad just had a surgery. And he has two kids to take care of. Let’s just call these two kids Christopher and Melissa.

On a typical school day, Nephew Dude would wake up real early to fetch his kids to school. Then he’d spend some time sleeping at his office car-park before heading to his office just when work is about to start for the day.

“I’ve been through some really difficult times previously… Gone through some counselling,” he mentioned, and then quickly added, “but I’m OK now.”

“My two kids aren’t that good in their studies. So I make sure they do well in at least something. Both of them love sports. At least they’re doing something to keep them off the streets. At one time, my son went through a tough time. He’d hang out with all those bad street kids. Once, he stole $600 from his grandfather to go buy anime collectibles…”

I suddenly felt this strong urge to ask one strange question: How did you meet your ex-wife?

And so I got my answer. Nephew Dude used to teach in a language school. He met his ex-wife there. His ex-wife was from Vietnam.

“A few months after Melissa was born, my wife walked away from the family. She stayed with another man. Always got herself drunk and took drugs,” Nephew Dude said.

“At one time, me and my kids together with my dad had stayed with my elder sister. My sister and I are no longer on talking terms. When she sold the apartment we were staying in, me , my kids and my father had to stay in a small room. We had nowhere to go……”

“I just got a new place for my kids and father. I’ve been so busy with my work I’ve not had time to unpack all my things. My sister is an interesting person. She divorced her husband and stayed with another man. They fought a lot. She had two kids with this man but didn’t get married until recently.”

Then came this other strong urge in me to ask him one other personal question: How did your ex-wife die?

“I really don’t know how she died. She probably got high and jumped off a building,” Nephew Dude answered.

“My son was very sad because he was quite close to his mother. Melissa didn’t really feel anything when her mother died. Her mother walked out on us when she was only a baby.”

Yeah. Same as to how M had walked out on his wife and family about 4 years ago, dragged me into his life along the way and then dumped me. Which silly girl could resist the charm of this piece of shit who had enthralled a nation or two with his amazing story-telling skills?

On the day before I had gone out with Nephew Dude, I had called Madam Professional Counsellor to seek her advice on this whole dating business because this is happening not too long after my bad experience with M.

Madam Professional Counsellor had already kinda forgotten about me. I really can’t fathom as to how she ended up as a “professional counsellor” when she’s obviously as full of shit as any other shitty person out there on the streets.

This “professional counsellor” is so full of shit that she actually said “Oh, that’s wonderful news” when I told her that my Landlady is trying to matchmake me with her nephew who already has two kids and a dead ex-wife whom he sometimes still refers to as “my wife”.  

So-called pro counsellor probably only managed to hear, “My Landlady is trying to matchmake me with her nephew,” and simply interpreted the rest of my sentence as unimportant gibberish that should just be ignored.

Anyway, I didn’t bother to ask Nephew Dude if I could pay for my share of dinner that night. The bill came to almost $100 for the types of food you could get from any other restaurant for about half that price, or even lesser.

When he drove me back to my apartment, Nephew Dude said he’d like to see me again. When I got out from his car, he said “see you” but I said “bye”.

I’m already too tired to be considerate to men.

Damn you, M. Bet you’re happy there’s a strange man out there who’s suddenly thrown into the story of my stupid life.  Now go ahead and keep telling the world how passionate you are about helping the poor and downtrodden.

after the quake

“Can you forgive him for what he has done to you?” Madam Professional Counsellor had asked me.

For a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything and just sat there quietly.

“I don’t know,” I finally said.

I don’t know.

I don’t. No.

I won’t. No.

Part of me longs to have him return to me. The other part longs to have him fed to the crows.

The economy was booming. People had more money than they knew what to do with. And then the earthquake struck. For the characters in “after the quake”, the Kobe earthquake is an echo from a past they buried long ago. Satsuki has spent thirty years hating one man: a lover who destroyed her chances of having children. Did her desire for revenge cause the earthquake?

When I saw that book four days ago, I knew I had to own it. Haruki Murakami did not disappoint. His stories had me immediately enthralled, what more with me being able to identify myself with one of the characters from his earthquake novel.

She thought about the child to which she never gave birth. She had destroyed that child…. And then she had spent 30 years hating one man. She had hoped that he would die in agony. In order to bring that about, she had gone so far as to wish in the depths of her heart for an earthquake.

“I feel you, Satsuki. I wonder if I’m going to go on harbouring my hatred for that one man for so many years; that earth-shattering hatred,” I had said to myself four days ago.

So engrossed was I with the book that I had not even realized a disastrous earthquake had actually taken place in Japan around the time while I was seriously poring through Murakami’s book. I only found out about the Minamisanriku disaster two days ago and how M had linked this horrifying event with the nonsensical religion-based doomsday theory. 

Anyway, what I'm going through isn't as horrifying as what the many in Japan are going through right now. My personal problems pale in comparison to all the shit that's going on out there. 

I so hate going back to the office again to work. But office slaves like me cannot be easily excused from the office.

Lady Boss’ No. 2 is currently overseas in a country that’s located somewhat near Japan. Dang, if only she had been in Minamisanriku two days ago. Her former colleagues had so totally disliked her. She, who is not even qualified to be a Head of Department, could end up becoming a Principal in this insane school.  

Translator Jay Rubin says of the collection, "The central characters in ‘after the quake’ live far from the physical devastation, which they witness only on TV or in the papers, but for each of them the massive destruction unleashed by the earth itself becomes a turning point in their lives. They are forced to confront an emptiness they have borne inside them for years."

Could I ever forgive this insane Principal who made me feel worthless?

I won’t. No. Definitely not. 

Could I ever forgive M?

I won't. No. I hope he burns in his atheist hell.

One year ago

Calling him would've been futile. He'd not answer anyway.
Emailing him wouldn't have made any difference.

Today's date really means something to me. Exactly one year ago, I slept with M for the first time. First time for me.

But do you think M actually remembers the significance of today's date? Noooooooo.... Of course not. He'd rather remember dates of early human migrations, timelines of early South East Asian wars, the evolution of mankind, the importance of DNA, the importance of being able to wheedle out freebies from unsuspecting company enthralled by his charisma, the mysteries of the universe......

I'm too "petty" for him. Too unimportant. Totally insignificant. Doesn't matter how I feel. So unimportant and insignificant I could just so easily be used and dumped like a useless rag-doll.

My life so far

Landlady has invited me over to her place again today for dinner. She’s making duck soup.

“I won some money yesterday after playing mah-jong with my relatives. Come over to my place this evening, I’m going to make duck soup. Please don’t bring anything over this time,” Landlady said while queuing up to pay for her groceries this morning.

I had just followed her to church early this morning.

Landlady continued, “My nephew, he’s such a smart boy, got his Masters, but his two sons are always failing in school. His wife left him and last year, she passed away. They got married when they were so young. I pity his sons. No female figure in the house. Last weekend, both sons and the father just watched TV the whole day.”

“So cute, last week, one of his sons fell asleep in the bus on the way home and got locked inside the bus. I called the bus company but no one answered, so I had to call the police…”

I then thought about M again. He’s the kind of person who’d walk into any minister’s office and argue over just about anything while trying to get other people to agree with what he’s got to say about anything. He’s also the kind of person who’d stand on stage and talk about human rights, women’s rights, all that shit. But isn’t he just the type of person who causes families and relationships to fall apart?

“What’s the point of getting married when you can’t even be responsible for that marriage?” he once said to me.

My question to M is, “What’s the point of you running after so many women when you don’t even intend to really take care of any one of them once you got bored of them? Was I too insignificant to remain with you so that’s why you now have to avoid me?”

In him, I first saw a man who’d be able to stand strong and protect those whom he cares about. In him, I saw a man who’s capable of many wonderful things. Now, I wish he’d been castrated ever since the day he was born. He never liked children anyway, so it’d really not matter if he no longer physically possessed what a woman does not have.  

Just had my first session of “professional counselling” with a particular “professional counsellor”. I wasn’t sure what I had wanted to get from that counsellor, but the advice and responses I got were pretty standard. A professional counsellor is a human being too. Such people have problems of their own to deal with too.

“He doesn’t deserve you. He’s one of those second-hand, third-hand types of people who’d prefer to hang out with wild people. He’s a man of the streets. Are you going to just accept him again should he ever decide to return to you?” AE scolded me through the phone.

  That’s my life so far, apart from getting harassed by insane boss No. 2 at 8.00 pm ++ almost every other day after office hours. I can’t wait for these next 2 weeks to pass me by.

Professional Counselling

It's really annoying to get blamed for something that isn't your fault. For the past less than a handful of months, I've been trying to clear up this huge pile of office shit left behind by 5 people hired consecutively last year.  It's so huge a pile of crap that I'm still working on getting things set up properly. But No. 2 and Lady Boss are not happy because things are still not perfect. Seriously, I give up. No wonder people keep running away from this place.

Today marks my first day of seeking professional help for this terrible, terrible ordeal that I've stupidly put myself into right after M kicked me out from his life after all the things I've done to make him happy. I called the counsellor at the wrong time this evening as she was about to go out with her family for dinner. But she said she'd like to hear from me again later in the evening. Awesome. That's what professional counsellors are for.

That's what professional counsellors are for because I cannot go on suddenly breaking down while in the midst of working on something wherever I may be. It's not healthy.

Many a times, I had felt like screaming out loud, crying, crawling and hiding under something that could shelter me from all these hellish mental demons that keep on appearing to haunt me. But I'm just afraid and worried other people would freak out.

Seriously, how shit could a popular champion of women's rights be so well-loved by the general public but still take advantage of other girls? How in the world could I have been so deluded to believe M would always be around to protect me from harm? If  not because of my family back home, I would've done really crazy things to myself much earlier on because of what M has done to me.

Choices

I was given two choices last Thursday evening: “No. 2 has complained a lot about you and your work. We do not wish to see the two of you continue to be unhappy with each other at the office so we’re giving you two choices here. Either we give you a letter of termination or you sign on this resignation letter that we have prepared for you.”

Just that morning, No. 2 had made me sit in her office and have me listen to her shouting at me and then making me listen to her talk about God’s love.

“I’ve been through tough times before. But I’ve had my church mentors to see me through. When you go through difficult times, I want you to know there is a God out there. Go down on your knees every night and pray. That’s what I can tell you as a boss, friend and sister,” No. 2 said to me.

 No. 2, you’re seriously demented. No wonder you’re still single. No wonder you've had to collect so many short-course certificates throughout your life to satisfy your fat, ugly self.  You want this, want that, always give out strange instructions and no one even knows what you actually want. I’m not even supposed to be responsible for office cleanliness but you threatened to give me a warning letter for not keeping the office clean? What the fcuk is wrong with you? What has your pastor taught you in church? Can't blame you for being insane because even your own church pastor keeps getting involved in scandals.

I called M three times two days ago. He refused to answer the phone. I called again the next evening. No answer. Just that continuous ringtone with the naïve caller waiting and hoping like a stupid fool, and M on the other side of the line probably sniggering away while going about with his plan to be famous worldwide. He used to always like to tell me this: "I want to be famous, I want to win an Oscar award and a Nobel Peace Prize." 

"I want, I want, I want". That's all he knows at most times apart from some other things that many average people haven't heard about. He always considered himself special and "I don't want to live like the rest of the 6 billion people in the world".

You fcuking retard! What are you a deity of some sort? Oh wait, you like calling yourself a "Jedi", with strange powers and some sort of deep knowledge of the mysterious unknown. I did a search on Wikipedia and the description totally floored me (see footnote).  

Fcuk you, M. You made me come all the way to this new place, promising me we’d be together for a long time, but you just pulled the rug from under my feet and made me go crashing all the way down, not knowing how I could ever pick myself up again.

You wouldn’t even care if I were to end up dead today. I should’ve known you were only using me to get what you had wanted. You always like to use people, influence people to make them give you what you want. Free meals, free rides, free lodging- simply because people adore and worship you, like how I used to.  

You’ve mentioned many times that you HATE children (because your god, Richard Dawkins, said children shouldn’t be brought into existence to go through life’s sufferings). OK, so I thought I could get on with my life without hearing the sounds of little feet pitter-pattering around because we could still be happy together. I had told myself that you’ll be the only man whose hand I’ll hold for the rest of my life.

Sad to say, you said families and relationships are “petty” and you have a greater cause in life to fight for.

Strange how you could change your mode so quickly after using me.   

I had made a very bad choice. I truly had.

Jedi: The Jedi are characters in the Star Wars universe and the series' main protagonists. They use a power known as the Force, and weapons called lightsabers that emit a controlled energy flow in the shape of a sword, to serve and protect the Republic and the whole galaxy from conflict or government instability.

This is getting seriously disturbing.

Breakdown

I can’t believe I just broke down and cried in front of Lady Boss’ crazy No. 2 this evening. I can’t believe I’m still working for and reporting to these insane church-goers.

“You’re not up to my standard. I can’t understand your report. Why repeat the names and dates so many times when all you have to do is to type it once? Why haven’t you told Ms E to rewrite her letter properly? The alignment is still out. It’s not professional at all,” No. 2 blabbed on.

When the waterworks came about (“I’m sorry, I’ve never been like this before, sob, sniff”), No. 2 said, “Something’s bothering you in your personal life. Nevermind, we’re here to help you….”

Sure. I can’t wait to go through another pummelling session tomorrow. Nothing beats getting bashed up on a daily basis by a caring, loving Jesus-lover-of-my-soul follower.

The only reason why I have not done anything crazy like jumping off a building or hurting myself with knives is because of my parents. I cannot disappoint them.  Whatever money that I am able to save up on my own would be for them as they approach their sunset years from here.

My recent meals have never costed more than a total of $3.00 on a normal working day. Doesn’t matter if I end up looking real skinny because no one’s gonna be too bothered about this anyway.  Special meals that I used to buy for M sometimes almost reached $20 for each meal but I never thought too much about the price. I used to even walk around in the rain to buy him food when he was too sick to get up. At one time in the middle of last year, he ended up almost broke, but he always had really silly people around to rescue him. He always knew how to get people to buy and get him anything. I totally gave away too much to this useless man.

Health-wise, I’m still OK so far (I’m not referring to my mental state of mind). Motivational books and articles that tell me to “Love Yourself” and “appreciate what you have today” might work to a certain extent, but I still do end up crying while walking on the streets or sitting in front of my computer most of the time.

“You know, I used to hate listening to mushy love songs. But it’s different now,” I used to tell M.

 I now hate listening to mushy love songs. They make me sick.

The Chicken & the Snake

It's really dreadful having two crazy female chickens running an organization. They seem to know what's best all the time, barking out orders like there's no tomorrow just to satisfy their egos. These barking chickens have recently caused quite a number of office slaves to throw in their resignation letters. Can't believe even one particular learned professor could suddenly decide to leave as well (the ONLY professor in this organization, you idiotic female chickens!).

Anyway, Lady Boss' new No. 2 has started to attempt to push in her personal friends into the school. One has managed to get in, and many more will follow suit. Many bosses and politicians would do this, I suppose.

Today, I will show you how a chicken can morph into a snake.

No. 2: Are you happy with your work here?


Me: Yes, I'm doing fine.


No. 2: But it's not fine with me. I don't see what's fine here. Why is the office still dirty? Everytime I walk in here, I see rubbish. That's not fine. You have to be more sensitive to what's going on around you. Anyway, I want you to get all the Form Teachers to see me tomorrow morning about last month's student attendance. Remind me to meet up with the Science Department teachers during the teachers' personal free time tomorrow. Get Ms. E to rewrite the annual camp cover letter for me. It was so full of grammatical errors!

Focus on the above 2 sentences in bold fonts.


Whatever. I'm not the only person in the department who's getting all this shit from No. 2.

So I decided to text No. 2 at 7.30pm today: "Ms. E has rewritten the cover letter. The Form Teachers will meet you at 4.00pm tomorrow".

No. 2 replied: "OK".

About 1 hour later, No. 2 texted me, "What is the meeting with the Form Teachers about tomorrow?"

I replied: "About last month's student attendance".

No. 2 probably wanted to "save face" and avoid sounding like the dum-dum that she is, so she replied: "OK, I will see the Form Teachers individually in their free period as agreed. Don't change my instructions".

I'm not surprised with her reply. She goes to this insane church where members are regularly told that "you're born to be the head and not the tail!", and "as a Christian, you must be able to blend with any situation".

So far, No. 2 has managed to always win all arguments with anyone (ie: always being the head and not the tail) and changed her stories so many times to safeguard herself from any form of humiliation, much to the chagrin of many office slaves (ie: blending in with any situation by twisting and blending her words around to suit the occasion).

Armed with these powerful words of wisdom from her church, this noisy chicken can morph into a snake anytime when need be and still get away with it.

Quite a good thing she's not married 'cos she can even suddenly morph into a black widow spider and eat up her mate. Can't believe she's only been here for 2 weeks and managed to make the school spend so much money.

I've never made my previous dates spend too much money on me. I buy them stuff to repay them for whatever money they've spent on me. But they still ran away (maybe I should've been more crazy and demanding?). We shall save these lame stories for another time. I do want to tell you more about useless M and how he has to run away and hide from assassins and then leave me all alone to fend for myself while being made almost homeless twice in a row, but that would have to wait until another time.

In the meantime, I shall just go to work and pretend life is normal, I'm doing fine, I'm happy, when in fact I usually end up bursting into tears while thinking about useless M who should be fed to two noisy, carnivorous female chickens (that can suddenly morph into snakes, spiders, whatever).

I HATE Mondays!

Another weekend is drawing to a close and it’ll be Monday all over again tomorrow.

Reminder to self: DO NOT stay back late at the office to do extra work. Your effort will only go unappreciated. Drop everything by 5.30pm and get out of the office.

Last Thursday night, Lady Boss and her new No. 2 (brought in to replace Lady Boss’ hen-pecked husband) waddled into my office like two ample, bosomy hens and clucked at me angrily as I was still using the air-conditioner after office hours.

“Good heavens, why are there so many lights switched on in here. Do you know that it’s very expensive to use the air-conditioner for extended periods of time? And why is the office so dirty?” Lady Boss complained.

“And why are you not taking care of the hostel students upstairs?!” Lady Boss asked me, and then said to herself, “No, wait. You already moved out.”

Yeah, you were the one who had forced me to move out from the hostel in less than a week. Totally forgotten about it after your one-week vacation in Australia, haven’t you? Good heavens, people like you get to travel around the world anytime while people like me have to work like dogs and get lashed at just to satisfy your raging hunger for control and manipulation. Of course the office looked dirty because your cleaner had run away because you gave her too much work and paid her peanuts.  But it doesn’t matter because all your sins would’ve been forgiven each time you go to your church for Confession. Dirty slate wiped clean. Brand new start each week. Doesn’t matter even if you were to have stabbed someone to death today because your awesome god can still forgive you after you've confessed your sins.    

Lady Boss gave me a glare before walking out from the office with her new No. 2.
I used to cower in fear each time she glared at me. But that evening, I just stared back at Lady Boss blankly, my eyes devoid of expression. What was I supposed to feel? I'm tired of and indifferent to many things around me by now.

I is sad.
At least that's what I'm feeling now.

On the plus side, Landlady invited her children and me to her place for dinner yesterday evening. She said it’s nothing special but just a day she where she wanted to see her children again.   

“I thought about having this dinner gathering on Sunday tomorrow but my daughter wanted to go eat special roast duck somewhere else tomorrow,” Landlady said.

After dinner, I walked back to my apartment. Landlady called not too long after that and asked if I would like to follow her and 2 of her other young tenants for a drive around town. Couldn’t refuse this offer since nothing interesting ever happens during most of my weekends. Even church people cannot sincerely accept me because I’m just another stupid Asian immigrant “stealing” resources from the citizens of this country, so these people think. Love thy neighbour, indeed.

That evening made me realize that Landlady had always had this one kind-looking old man around to look after her. He was the one who had given her an apartment just for her to live in, a car for her own use. He was also the one who had brought her to some of the most wonderful countries in the world where she could meet important people and royalties. And he was the one who had driven us girls to some of the most happening hotspots in town last night.

Soft-spoken and well-read, this old man patiently drove on and explained to us the names and history of the places we saw. I suddenly thought about M. M was outspoken, insane and well-read. And he has this natural habit of always running away and hiding from his loved ones. Stupid, stupid M. Who would’ve thought a somewhat well-known figure like him could do such a horrid thing to this silly girl he had once enticed and wooed.

It’s almost dinner-time. I should go look for my $1 meal now.


My boss

F.A.M.I.L.Y.

A few friends had previously forwarded this particular email to me that taught me what F.A.M.I.L.Y. means:
Father And Mother, I Love You.

Not too long after I had moved into my new room just a few days ago, the Landlady had spoken to me about how her daughter kept reminding her to "don't bother me all the time"- don't cook for me, don't do this, don't do that.

"Maybe she only wants to be independent. Most young people are like that. They want to have their own life," that's all I could say.

But I know I was merely plucking random words from mid-air and trying to arrange them in a way that I hope might comfort the Landlady in whatever way possible.

This morning before I left for work, the Landlady came in earlier than usual to clean up the apartment once again. Such are those few things that keep her going with her life. Her daughter woke up and groggily emerged from her bedroom not too long after that. Mother and daughter met in the kitchen.

Perhaps this mother had tried to talk to her now-grown-up child this morning. Perhaps this mother had wanted to somehow reach out her hand to this once little hand that she had used to hold on to so lovingly and protectively 30 years ago. Perhaps I like sounding dramatic in my sentences once in a while.

All in a sudden, daughter went back into her bedroom and mother was sitting down on the sofa, flipping through today's newspaper.

The Landlady then saw me and smiled sheepishly. I wasn't sure why. It's that kind of smile you get when something unbecoming had happened to that person who had smiled at you, only to make you think that nothing's wrong. Like a person who had just taken a rough and nasty tumble onto the floor but could still force a smile on her face.

I made my way to the kitchen to wash my hands and noticed these freshly-written words staring at me from the whiteboard in the kitchen: "Please don't talk to me in the morning. Use this board. - Jen"

And then I immediately imagined myself as the mother who's just had those red hot words directed at her.

"It's difficult when her father tells her bad things about me," Landlady told me a few days ago.

"I understand. It's tough not knowing whose side you should be on in such a situation," so I went about trying to think of nice things to say once again to the Landlady.

I could also imagine that particular hatred boiling within Jen. It's that accumulative, pent-up feeling that could only be purposely and instantly expressed in ways where your sole purpose is to retaliate against that person who had hurt you either intentionally or otherwise- an eye for an eye, tit for tat.

Same as to how I had quietly left my mother alone in the kitchen to prepare this year's Chinese New Year reunion dinner dishes after she had stubbornly decided to ignore me and prepare everything on her own because she never wanted me to get my hands dirty in the kitchen. It's been like that ever since I was a child.

"You know how to cut vegetables or not?? Cut also cut until night-time!" my father had sarcastically said when I tried to help out in the kitchen that morning.

I decided to take an extended afternoon nap in my room and pretended not to hear my mother calling me when she soon realized I was missing from the kitchen. The father got a much colder treatment from the daughter soon after that vegetable incident.

"Since you're so smart, why don't you go prepare everything on your own?" I thought to myself as my mother kept on calling out my name and knocking at my bedroom door.

Father and mother, I love you. But I hate it when you do and say things that make me want to intentionally hurt your feelings in return simply because there's too much shit going through my mind.

Valentine's Day, 2011

While queuing up for my dinner this evening, I had to control my urge to pick up a coin a woman had accidentally dropped onto the floor  and use it to buy my dinner which was exactly the cost of that coin from the floor. I have never treasured money this much before. I have also never been this broke before, and not able to tell anyone about it (now you know). As if M would even care.

Before I left the apartment this morning, the landlady arrived to run her usual housekeeping errands at the apartment. She asked me if I had joined some sort of Alpha Bible study program before. Just last weekend, she had excitedly said we could go take an evening walk together one of these weekends when the weather is good.  A strange pang of sadness started to well up within me when I realized how much this landlady wanted some form of substitute to fill up that void in her life when things had not worked out that well in her family life long ago.

 “How was your Valentine’s Day yesterday? I played mah-jong with my lady friends yesterday. No one mentioned anything about Valentine’s Day, hahaha,” landlady said.

“Oh, nothing much. Just busy with work,” I answered, somehow sensing the landlady’s pain and loneliness.

I kept myself very busy at work on Valentine’s Day this year. After work, I rushed to that evening class I had just started to attend. For our class presentation, volunteers went to the front of the class to present their thoughts on Valentine’s Day. I realized there were many single men and women in that class, one of whom is a divorcee who had loudly and proclaimed her single status to everyone, added with her intention to date again. That’s the kind of intention I would not wish to think about anymore after this.

“This is the Valentine’s Day card that my husband had given to me 26 years ago. I’m still keeping it to remind me of that one time when our love was still strong,” so said the crazy brave and bubbly divorcee, much to everyone’s amusement.

It was already very late when I got back to the apartment. Valentine’s Day was almost over by then. Along the way home, I had to pretend I had not seen girls walking around with their boyfriends; girls holding red roses; couples sitting together on roadside benches. But I could still imagine and remember those unwanted snapshots in my mind so very vividly while writing about this.

What a day it had been. I was so glad I managed to keep myself extremely busy.

As I was about to enter my room and call it a day, I heard the sounds of drumbeats pounding from my housemate’s radio and a girl moaning excitedly in my housemate’s room. I soon realized my housemate’s BFF who spends every day and night at the apartment isn’t exactly her BFF.

At least both girls care for each other and were able to spend a meaningful Valentine’s Day together this year behind closed doors and also have their love for each other unknowingly made known to this accidental passerby. 

                                                   

Almost Homeless

This morning, I visited a Catholic church with my new landlady. I’ve never had a landlord or landlady before throughout my working life. Had always been accidentally lucky enough to be provided with accommodation without ever having to pay for rental.

I had been working in a school for the past few months and had moved into the school hostel not too long after starting to work here because M had told me to leave his apartment.

Just last Tuesday, I had asked the lady boss if I could be excused from night-time hostel duty on Monday because I had an evening class to attend. She immediately told me to leave the school hostel and find a place outside to stay in. I couldn’t feel anything anymore by then. I’ve reached this stage in my life where I’m just already completely numb to feeling pain, rejection and dejection.

Knowing her, she’d intentionally make me move out from the school hostel within just a few days’ time. True enough, I was told by the Human Resource girl that I had to move out before the week is out. That was the second time I was made almost homeless in this foreign country.  The first time was when M told me to get out from his apartment (guess he got bored of having me around by then and had to think of a creative way to politely kick me out).

I know there is a God up there somehow despite the fact that church-goers can be complete duds at most times. I managed to find a decent place to stay in 2 days later at an extremely strategic location.  

The landlady’s daughter and another girl stay in that same apartment I’m now staying in. Both girls come from divorced families. I know how they feel. I would understand them totally if they wouldn’t want to ever be involved with any guy at all in their entire lives because it really hurts to completely give yourself to a man only to have him suddenly push you away from him and then have him behave as though you’ve never existed before in his life.

It’ll be Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I’ve never been on a Valentine’s Day date before in my entire life. When my relationship with M started one week before Valentine’s Day, I could only wish him from my home as Chinese New Year had coincided with Valentine’s Day last year. Come to think of it again, M has not celebrated Chinese New Year with his parents for the past few years (because he's just so emotionally retarded).

I’m thankful for being able to find a decent room to stay in so soon. I hope lady boss dies in an accident soon because she made me cancel my Christmas flight ticket home and ordered me to clean the school hostel until midnight on Christmas Eve last year.

Gracist Chinks

“Are you a foreigner?” woman sitting at the front pew suddenly asked me.

I muttered a soft “yes” and stopped maintaining eye contact with that stupid female chink Chinese woman. She turned away from me and didn’t say anything else after that. Oh gee, all the friendliness had so suddenly disappeared soon after Holy Church Woman found out I’m a foreigner.

We might look and sound alike, but the moment some of these chinks  Chinese people find out where certain other Chinese come from, that’s where all the judging and stereotyping step in.

So this church that calls itself “Grace” isn’t exactly full of grace after all. What do the members from this church call themselves then? Gracists- pronounced with a silent G??

Damn, it's tough living in a foreign country.

It's tough not being able to tell your parents about all the office shit you have to go through each day because you don't want them worrying about you.

It's tough forcing yourself to stay normal while at work and everywhere else when you've got this supposedly wonderful man who so suddenly told you to get out from his life because you're no longer of any use to him.

It's tough when you suddenly find yourself without a place to stay in very soon and have to quickly find your way around just so you don't end up on the streets.    

It's tough when someone has advised you to seek professional help but you can't because you don't want people to know that you've somehow lost your mind.