Tag Archives: choice

On the mend

25 Jul

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It has been a while since I last thought of you.
I like it this way.
I think maybe this time round, I really am over you.

Honestly, there was a point in time where I thought I would never get over you.
That was how intense my feelings were.

And then one fine day, you broke my heart.

Consciously or otherwise, it was a good thing for me.

Sure, it hurt.
I spent days typing messages to you, and then deleting them before I could hit the ‘Send’ button.
I spent nights crying in the shower, nights crying in bed whenever I thought of you.
There were days where I’d break down on my way to work because I saw someone who reminded me of you.
I cried watching White House Down because I knew if I was in that situation, I could never rely on you to save me (not that I’d ever be..).

But eventually, all that crying has to stop.
I can only afford so much tears.
I got tired of crying, and of being miserable.

The moment I decided not to cry anymore, my body started mending the broken parts.
It started looking for distractions that I never knew existed, or appealed to me.
I think its amazing how the human brain works.

Slowly, you started fading from my thoughts as it shifted to other things that made me happy instead.

I think of you occasionally.
I do.
I did.
I still do.

If you’ve ever really loved anyone before, you’d know that it it impossible to completely erase him or her from your memories.

Nor is it possible to completely forget the pain once the memories come back.

But its ok.

Pain changes people.

Outwardly everything is still the same but deep within, something is happening.
I’m not sure if its good or bad yet.

Either way, I’m not complaining.

I like changes.
Always did.

A conversation about Turkey

12 Jun

chickman
*This is a pretty long post, but just entertain me and read on..*

It started out as a very normal, post holiday conversation about my most recent trip to Turkey.

I usually call it the post holiday mortem report.

THe usual questions always pop up –
Q: How was the weather there?
A: Freaking awesome..! Nice sun, cold winds, low humidity, longer daytime.. simply gorgeous. I wish I had time to check out the coastal towns coz’ it would have been perfect.

Q: Picked up any cute guys?
A: Nope.. They did all the picking up instead.. Asians are like hot stuff there for some reason.

Q: How is the shopping?
A: The emptiness of my pockets and the heaviness of my bags are the best evidence to the shopping experience. I literally spent every single cent I had because I liked everything I saw.

Q: What’s interesting there?
A: Everything! I guess it really depends on what tickles your balls? But as usual, I found everything fascinating – the depth and mix of cultures as well as history in Turkey is not something one can fully appreciate or understand in 1 trip.

Q: Why do you go back so often??
A: Really? Very often meh? This is only my 2nd trip… (-_-)”

I answered them as diligently, dutifully, respectfully and honestly as I can.
Really.
I tried, unfortunately not all questions warrant in depth answers.

Now, because of all the unrest that have been erupting in various cities in Turkey, the conversation I had with this particular person took a more interesting (in my opinion at least) turn.

Q: Turkey is a Muslim country is it?
A: Nope. They are a secular state but a majority of its population are Muslims. They’ve been that way since the Ottoman Empire dissolved? The process to how it happened is pretty interesting, I’d suggest you go read up about since I am no expert in this area…

Q: Oh. Then what’s up with the protests and riots?
A: Umm.. The root of the resentments go way deeper than what is being told in the media I think.. Again, I’m no expert. You might have to go check it out yourself..

And the conversation goes on and on about the state that Turkey is in right now and blah blah blah..

I stopped listening after the last questions, and started planning my ‘escape’ from the conversation before I blew up in that little annoying piece of shit’s face.

Yes, I am actually exercising extreme self-control.

Little piece of shit then asked the killer question – Which side are you on? Will you go back again?

Which side am I on??
Am I even entitled to choose sides?
This isn’t my battle, I haven’t experienced what they have been experiencing.
What or who gives me the right to pick sides?

I am a bystander.
Watching the events unfold from what/ where ever I can glean information from, and the media hasn’t exactly been very helpful.
The information that was disseminated reflect their different interests in the country.

Most importantly, I believe a country should be defined by its people, and not by religion, politics or its politicians.

No offence intended but I think religions are just another political tool invented by power-hungry men as another form of control over the mass populous.

I refuse to pick a side because this is not my battle and it is not my right.
I did not see for myself if indeed the reports were true, that police violence against the protestors were what sparked the initial round of violence.

What I did encounter, however, were the people.

In the last 15 days that I’ve spent in the country, I have been constantly overwhelmed by their generosity with a complete stranger like myself. I have been overwhelmed by their generosity and willingness to share whatever they have, be it stories, shelter or food and drinks.

I did not witness the riots or violence, but I did witness the pride and passion the Turkish people have for their country.

Young and old, men and women.

There was an unmistakable pride and joy in their voice and twinkle in their eyes whenever they talk about their homeland.

I witnessed their excitement at meeting a stranger like myself being as in love with their country as they are. That unmistakable joy they have when introducing me to the different parts of their country, store and homes.

I will return because of these people I have met.

When I finally had access to international news, then did I realize how bad the situation had become.

I wanted to go to Taksim to see for myself; to understand the violence that the media was portraying.

I wasn’t looking for a thrill, an adventure or excitement.

The media was confusing me more instead of giving me the answers I needed.
I simply needed the truth, to understand and see for myself.

That night that I couldn’t sleep and decided to make my way towards Taksim.

The train services had stopped so I dropped at the furthest station I could go and decided to walk there. A dude dressed in slacks and with an Anonymous mask saw me and asked me if I knew where I was going.

Taksim. I need to see it for myself.

He didn’t say a 2nd thing and turned me around by the shoulders, and walked me back.
He told me it was getting ugly and that it wasn’t my battle.
I shouldn’t be there because I will get hurt.
To him, I was an innocent bystander and should not be involved.

Dude actually accompanied me all the way back to the hotel.

He told me what he was fighting for and why he fought.
And that sheer belief he had in his ideals touched me in a way that I could never have felt.

We grew up in a country that is clean and safe.
We grew up in a glided cage, with everything in black and white.
We were taught to pick sides a long long time ago and we no longer know how not to be that way anymore.

These protestors, they are different.

They are fighting for something they believe in, for a future they want to have.

We, as bystanders have no right to judge or choose sides.
No matter which side you choose, someone loses.

Right or wrong is matter of perspective.

Everyone that I have met on this trip were more than eager to help and keep me from harm.

You can say I’m naive or stupid for trusting strangers I’ve met so easily but I stand by my faith, that all men were born inherently good (except the dude who smacked my ass while I was shopping in Grand Bazaar..) and I have been very lucky and fortunate to have only experience the goodness of Turkey and its people.

So yes, I admit I may be biased.

But as I’ve said before.

A country should not be defined by its religion, politics or politicians but its people.

The Turkey I remember, will always be defined by the people I’ve met, by their generosity, pride and passion, and not the violence that has thrown it into international spotlight.

I understand that when I do go back again, it may be a completely different Turkey from what I remembered it as, but it remains to be seen if the change would be for worse or better.

I choose the latter.

I have faith in the people who I have met, that they would want to make their country, a country they love so much, better than it has ever been.

So yes, I will definitely go back to Turkey again for everything it has given and shown me.

Places and memories change, but I know the Turks won’t disappoint me.

I did not tell annoying little piece of shit all these in his face, or I might have slapped him instead,
I simply told him, with a big wide smile,

“Yes, of course! I’m not done with Turkey yet.”

He stared at me blankly and shook his head, repeating all that he said previously.

I continued smiling and switched off.

Some people are simply not worth my efforts.

Thoughts

27 Apr

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She sat at her table, staring blankly at the screen infront of her, while the so called discussion swirled around her as background noise.

She wondered what was wrong with these people, the answer was right there staring at them in their faces and yet, none of them saw it.

It was right there.

Everyone was just skirting the issue, typing furiously on their keyboards – the actual content of what was being taken down as ‘note’ was secondary to them sounding like they were busy doing something.

She didn’t get it. She couldn’t.

Why does one NEED to pretend like they were busy when they are not?

So as to appear productive, efficient and hardworking, when all they are doing was run around in circles?

Seems just about right.

She couldn’t take the so called ‘discussion’ anymore.

She bent down to pick up her bag from the floor and started chucking her stuff in it.

She could see the puzzled faces looking at her, wondering what the hell she was doing in the middle of a heated discussion;  she didn’t care.

After she had all her stuff inside, she swirled her chair to face the exit, stood up and walked out.

Someone called out to her, but she couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying.

Not that it matters anyway, she just wanted out.

She walked and she waited and she walked agin until she was finially out of the massive, cold, grey building that held her caged for a good part of her life and saw the sun for the first time.

Not that she has never seen the sun before, just not in that way.

It was exceptionally bright, warm and not to sound too cheesy, but the the sunlight hitting her face full on actually felt hopeful.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she could breathe again.

A smile slowly creeped across her face –  she was enjoying the moment.

And then, reality hit her.

She had just walked out of a job that she desperately needed to keep her home and to pay her bills.

The smile quickly left, replaced by tears of anxiety.

What was she suppose to do now?

Where can she go?

The tears wouldn’t stop flowing and she felt desperation again.

Maybe I’ll just call in sick.. That I had a nervous breakdown or something.

I’m sure they’ll understand.

Quiet nights and quiet stars

11 Mar

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She stares at the woman looking back at her in the mirror, and she realized she didn’t recognize that face anymore.

It’s grown wider, fine to be perfectly honest, fatter.

Lines were starting to show around her eyes.

And her eyes.

They used to look so bright and full of life but now, they reminded her of the fish she bought from the market yesterday.

Glassy, dull and lifeless.

It was only through the mirror that she was reminded of how much time has slipped by so quietly.
What terrible things time does to one.

She closed her eyes, and took in a deep breathe to shake off the memories that were starting to come back.

Time has taken away her youth, her litheness and her beauty but it hasn’t taken away her memories.

Memories.
Just as terrible as time.

She remembered a time when she was still young.
And he was still around.

How he would hold her hand as they strolled down the streets.
How he used to make her laugh so loud, the neighbours had to tell her to keep it down.

She remembered how they would climb up to the roof to watch stars on quiet nights.
Sitting next to each other, hand in hand.
Both saying nothing.
And they kissed.

It wasn’t anything spectacular, wasn’t even passionate.
It was an innocent, slightly awkward kiss that started it all.

That was more than sixty years ago

A smile came across her face as she gently touched her once supple lips.
It felt just like yesterday.

A certain sadness swept over her.

Wait for me, I’m coming…

She looked herself in the mirror one last time before leaving the washroom.

I’m coming.

She went into their bedroom and picked out his favourite yellow dress.
He called her his sunshine and loved her in yellow.
She lowered herself slowly on their bed to put on her shoes.
Tears started to fall as she remembered how he used to help her put on her shoes.

I’m coming.

She lifted her head and wiped away the tears.
She looked into the mirror on her way out rearranging her slivery hair, and took her coat with her.
The medication that she took was starting to kick in, so she took each step with extreme care as she went down the stairs into the waiting car downstairs.

Wait for me, I’m coming.

She sat quietly in the back of the car as children discussed the details.
Whenever they asked for her opinion, she gave a smile and said nothing.
The car quickly fell into an awkward silence.

She wound down the window to feel the cool night breeze.
The night was quiet and the stars bright.

Just like that night

She smiled again at the memories that came back and thanked the stars for letting her keep them.

They reached the hospital and walked her to his room and left them alone.

They looked at each other and smiled.

You look beautiful.
He said as she sat next to him on the bed.
You look just as dashing young man
Come lie next to me, I missed you so much.

She laid next to him, with his arms around her body.
Just like the way it used to be.
A certain smile came upon her face as she laid there.

I’m coming with you, don’t go too soon.

She knew it was it terribly selfish to leave their children like that but she couldn’t bear to live another day without him by her side.

She lifted her head and kissed him on his cheek.
His eyes were closed and he looked so peaceful.

Wait for me.

She held him closer and closed her eyes.
She could feel the medications’ full effects flowing through her body.

I’m coming.

And the heartache begins again..

18 Feb

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She sat across him, studying him.
She began wondering when did it all come to this.
They used to have fun, or at least she did, and still does.
This time, it felt different.
He felt different.
Almost like he couldn’t wait to be rid of her and go in search of new prey.
She could feel her heart swell, her chest getting tighter.
It was getting harder to breath, her heart felt like it was about to burst.
She wanted to reach into her chest and rip it out.
At least that pain would be short lived.
She told herself to let go and breath easy.
It was never meant to be anything more than this.
She told herself, that if she could overcome it once, she could do it again.

And she began questioning herself, if she really did overcome him?
Or was she just lying to herself?

It felt like an eternity had passed before he noticed her staring and asked if she was okay.

She smiled her sweetest she could manage and said yes.
That was all she could manage as the pain and disgust built up within her.

Disgust.

Yes, that was the word she was looking for.

Not just at him but at herself.
Disgust at the lengths she would go for him, at her own ineptness and his callousness.

She picked herself up and got ready to leave.

While they were in the lift, she looked at him for the last time and smiled.

He really is the quintessential bad boy.
That smile and the glint of mystery in his eyes…
Women are strange in that way; they all want a bad boy of their own – to love, to change.
She never asked to change him, she really just wanted to be with him for good or bad.

He saw her smiling and asked her what was on her mind.
She said – nothing, I’ll be fine.

And this time she meant it.

The disgust that was overwhelming her was slowly going away.
She knew once the lift doors opened, they would soon part ways.
She might not see him again for the next 2 – 3 months, or even forever.

Yet, this time she knew she’d be alright.

The lift doors part, and the (once)lovers say their goodbyes, with promises that they will see each other soon and sealed those promises with a kiss.

A poem came to mind, and as much as her heart was aching at that moment, she smiled at the thought of the poem.

Because this time, she knew she would be fine.

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

– Derek Walcott –

How we forget

25 Jan

staircase
 

You start innocently enough, forgetting how his skin feels under your finger tips.

You forget the contours of his face, his body and the textures of his skin.

You forget the warmth and the scent he leaves behind whenever you touch.

The scent so strong, it makes you relive each moment you’ve spent together in vivid memory.

But soon and eventually, you will begin to lose that scent.

You will forget if he smells of musk or leather.
Or was it sandlewood and cigerettes?

His scent will escape your memories, slowly but eventually.

You start to forget the colour of his eyes – a colour so vivid, you never had any problem remembering them before.

Was it a light playful shade of brown or that seductive shade of green you love?

The colours are meshing, they no longer stand out.
Its getting harder and harder to recall each day.

Soon enough, they look like empty spaces to you.

The last thing you’d forget is his name, his voice.

The name that brings a torrid of emotions.
They haunt you like ghosts of a distant past.

You will begin to forget how smoothly his name rolls off your tongue, off his.

You will learn to forget.

Because that’s what time does to people and their memories.

It slowly eats away and leaves you with nothing but hazy memories of what used to be.

And eventually, even that would fade too.

Leaving you to wonder what is it that you were trying to hold on to for so long.

Is it okay I be me?

15 Jan

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Is it really okay not to be okay?
Is it okay to be all broken and messed up inside?
Is it really okay to feel like you would never be loved?
Or that you’d be stuck in this rut for an awful long time?

Is it really okay to be like Alice,
Going down that rabbit hole and fully enjoy the experience?
Is it really okay to stick out like a sore thumb,
In the sea of beautiful long legged creatures?

Is it really okay to lose control,
And not live up to that expectation every once in a while?
Is it really okay to dream of being a diamond in the rough,
When all you are being told and see are running straight in the opposite direction?

Is it really okay to be labelled fat,
Because you the clothing labels says so?
It is really okay to you yourself,
That the world makes clothes for size 0 women,
But you are not and will never be that?

Is it really okay that I sing,
Even though I know I have a terrible singing voice?
It it okay if I stop pretending for a while,
Just so I can breathe and allow myself to be afraid?

Is it really okay to prefer living in denial,
Because reality can be so cruel sometimes?
Is it okay if the tears flow every once in a while,
Because I am not as strong or brave as you’d like to believe I am?

Is it okay that I be me, with all the baggage I carry with me?
I am trying and learning to let go, move on,
But somethings are easier said than done.

Is it okay I take off this armour,
And give you my mind and soul?
Will you promise to hold it tenderly in your hands,
And nourish it with all the care you can manage?

Is it okay if I just want to lie here for a while,
To feel your warmth and scent while it still lasts,
Without any thought about the future?

All I want, is to be okay for once.

Just once. Continue reading

Her Apollonian lover

15 Dec

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He sat himself across from her, against the window.

The lights from the street lamps below casted beautiful shadows across his face.

It was a sight to behold.

Indescribably haunting.

Inscrutably beautiful.

There was a sense of woefulness in the strong confident face she had grown so accustomed to.

She would do so much to be able to gaze into that face everyday.

He was her Apollo; her bringer of light, redemption and healer.

Like many gods of antiquity, he was a complex character.

He was one, and he was many.

She sat up amongst the sheets that were tangled around her body so she could get a better view of him.

She could sense his eyes following the movement of her body.

His muscles tensed as she sat up.

He reminded her of Bernini’s Apollo, fluid yet intense.

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She reached out to touch his face, and she never want to be without this tingling sensation running through her finger tips from the touch of his skin.

He looked her straight in the eye, and she could see the storm brewing in them.

He looked away and told her to cover up.

He told her she looked disgusting, fat and disgusting.

That she should learn to cover up her flaws more; not everyone would be able to look at it appreciatively.

Not him for sure.

It hurt.

It hurt really, really bad.

Like her heart was pierced a thousand times over, with arrows from all directions.

It was a pain she has never known before.

Especially coming from his lips.

It hurt so much she wanted to die.

She swallowed hard and kept her cool.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, she didn’t want him to see her weakest point.

But the tears.

Oh, those darn bastardly tears were threatening to fall.

 She avoided looking at him, in case they fell.

He picked up her clothes and threw them at her, telling her to hurry up.

They had to leave before anyone else woke up.

He didn’t want anyone to see her; or them together.

The hurt he had caused her with those callous words were undeniable.

She sat at the edge of the bed putting her clothes on as he strolled towards the door to wait.

Again, she could feel the tears welling up, and his eyes studying her movements.

This pain was worse than death.

She looked up at him, hoping to find a sign of regret for the hurt he had caused her.

But he looked away before she found his eyes.

He strolled out of the door impatiently once she was done dressing.

As they rode down the lift, he told he was her worst habit and that she should get rid of him.

She took a deep breathe and told him she thinks so too.

That was the only lie she told him the whole night.

She watched his back as he headed upstairs after leaving her at the lobby.

It only made her heart ache for him more.

She wanted to run up to him and tell him she knew he didn’t mean everything he said.

But her feet wouldn’t move.

Tears started rolling down her cheeks as the doorman hailed her a cab.

Whatever dignity she had wanted to preserve came crumbling down as she cried helplessly in the backseat.

The driver asked if she was okay, she said no.

The driver asked where she was headed to, and she didn’t know, she told him to send her to the furtherest hotel from here.

She just wanted to get away because she knew this was a vicious cycle.

Her Apollo would call her in a week or so and ask her out, and she would say yes.

And the cycle begins again.

As the tears came rolling down, she could feel her heart aching and dying away.

She didn’t ask to fall in love with a god, but she didn’t know how to quit.

She wondered when, and if this cycle would someday end.

A moment of epiphany

9 Dec

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I had a moment of epiphany the other day; half high, in a loud crowded club.

You know something isn’t quite right when your much anticipated moment of epiphany comes to you when you are half imbecilic.

Imagine this, you (me), in a crowded room with loud music and alcohol pumping through the speakers and your (my) system; men and women surrounding you (I), all lost in their own thoughts and agendas.

The moment of epiphany comes, and I stood there like an idiot (for about 30secs I’m guessing..), in the midst of the gyrating bodies.

I thought about you.

And me.

And then the room at large.

I began wondering what it is that keeps us coming back for more; do I really like being squashed in this room with my ears half deaf from the music.

I was quite sure I enjoyed the whole physical aspect of dancing like an idiot on the floor, and I wondered if I’d like it just as much not intoxicated.

I probably would..

Aries people like being kept physically and intellectually busy.

So that was one dilemma out of the way.

Next, I thought about the other girls in the room.

Were they really enjoying themselves or were they busy trying to look good while tiptoeing about unsteadily on their heels that they were obviously uncomfortable in.

At that moment, I wondered if I looked like that too.

I doubt it. I’m way too awesome to look or be that stupid.

And my thoughts shifted to you.

I though about this relationship we have.

If you can even call it that to begin with.

A dude bumps into me on his way to the slutty looking Chinese girl on the dance floor, I snapped out of the moment.

I still haven’t gotten the answer I was looking for but this is a start.

I wonder when the next moment of epiphany would come.. I’m hoping it gives me the answers I’m looking for.

in the meantime, it back to the loud thumping music and crowded dance floor.

Stuck in transit

30 Nov

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Sometimes I wonder if life is a series of flights, bringing us from one place to the other until we reach the final destination, where ever that may be.

Like on every other flight, we disembark at certain points to take in the sights and sounds that the place has to offer.

How long you stay really depends on how much you like that place.

And how much love that place gives back to you – we all know love, cannot and should not be a one way street.

Sometimes you get a really shitty flight, where the crew is rude and turbulence abound on every turn.

You really don’t have a choice but to stick through it.

Unless you are the sole passenger and happen to have a parachute.

Which isn’t quite possible because, somehow, no matter how you try and avoid it, we are not alone.

By choice or by fate.

And then, there are those flights with long transitions.

I define long as 6hrs and above.

There are 3 kinds people in transit – the kind who hangs ard the bar nursing a couple of drinks; the ones who find a comfortable spot and snuggle up wit a gd read or sleep and the ones who opt to check out and explore the place outside.

Life can be a series of transit stops.

We either get stuck in that transit self pitying or we get too comfortable and decide to stay that way until discomfort sets in again.

Or, we could make full use of our time and explore our options.

I’m currently stuck in that transit lounge, deciding what to do before my next flight arrives.

I wonder how long this transit would take.

I’m hoping there’s enough time to check out and explore the place a little.

This inactivity is getting boring.. My legs need a stretch.