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.