Lost, And Not Yet Found

Hello La Fiamma,

We have been quiet, haven’t we? One can’t help but wonder…

Where did we go? Did I blink and miss something?

My over-analytical mind has come back to stay, because at moments when the issue is a baffling one, you take out your tools and start the elimination process.

My charred senses tell me I’ve just been burnt again. No matter how many times I tell myself “never again”… my stupid self-will collapses on me.

I’m a terrible judge of character, each time thinking it could be different. And I’m always wrong. Always.

At this point, only you can tell me if I’m wrong about you. “Judge me not by my words but my actions” you once told me.

Going by that, your words have been nothing but cold, distant and emotionless of late.
Actions? What actions? That I’ve been reduced to "enquiries desk" in the span of two weeks?

I have a high tolerance for funny characters, trust me. It’s a trait one picks up in advertising; to put on a smile and soldier on despite the worst insults and humiliation. In this scenario, I can understand that you need space just as I need mine. But it’s not logical to completely cut one off cold turkey. In the chaos of your life at the moment, I have been tolerant and waited on the sidelines for the dust to settle. I told you the truth, that I still cared for you and thought of you constantly.


Where did we go, la fiamma? Did you take my heart, with all its feelings for you – and just crumpled it like you would a scrap of useless paper, and trashed it along the highway somewhere? I’m missing something in my chest, it’s cold… I’m feeling lost.

Have you suddenly realized that I was right about me? That I am complicated and indeed, a challenge? That I’m not worth the trouble after all? Or was it the opposite, that since you’ve figured me out, you felt I was no longer exciting?

If you were “just a friend”, I wouldn’t bother, la fiamma. I could go on for years without so much as a pip. But is that what you want? To be put in that basket with the others? That’s not what we started out with, did we?

Maybe there’s a side of you that I don’t understand at all. And unlike you, I don’t make it a point to read too much into a person’s character. Unlike you, I don’t want to figure people out, because it’s all about accepting each other for who we are, warts and all.

Maybe you need to teach me. Maybe you need to tell me to calm down, not to be so stupid and melodramatic. Maybe I was right about me all along.

Whichever it may be, I believe it’s time I said something so that you know what I’m going through. A whole lot of turmoil in my head and heart. I’m moments away from slicing my heart and burning it so that it will feel its final pain and then be silenced and feelingless forever.


I was wielding a weapon around my heart when we first met, and you coaxed me to put it down. Now, weaponless and defenseless, I am suddenly left alone in this vast jungle, longing for the sanctuary of my dank, grey, cold, hard cave.


I’m looking for directions, and you’re holding the map.



A friend, an acquaintance, a passing fancy,
Me

Face Behind Tha Blog (yyechh!)

Verne tagged me. I have no idea what this means, but it's some kind of ploy to get people to view our sites and everybody else's sites so that we can "network" on the 'net and give our sites some net worth.

Note of caution: I hereby declare that I will not be held responsible for the loathing and hatred, sudden gush of nausea and outbreak of rash that might occur as a result of reading my unintelligible utterances or just by gazing at my face. Sympathy is welcome but preferably in a physical form of an able-bodied, straight, age-compatible, straight, loyal, straight, devoted, straight, single male.

I think I'm supposed to follow what he wrote in his entry, so I copy paste ok? Tharr goes it:-

Blog Title: Fab, Mad and Bad Addie
Description: Online diary for my very censored and private thoughts and feelings, edited for the safe consumption of the pubic. Er, pubLic.
Why: Because sometimes I'm fabulously lovable; most times I'm mad - sanity wise and temperament wise; and in essence, I'm just a bad sod... :(

Name : Adeline
Country : Malaysia
Occupation : Advertising Slut
Birthday : November
Fav Color : Black, white, purple
Fav Drink : Coffee
Fav Fruit : Mango, papaya, watermelon, lychee
Fav Dessert : Ice-cream, brownies (limited to 1 intake in 2 months... sob sob)
Hobbies : Falling for the wrong man. Otherwise, it's Working My Ass Off For Pittance And Not Getting Anywhere In Life. Sometimes, I read, listen to music, watch movies. I'm such a bore.

Having done all that, I swear I did something similar some time ago... let me see if I can find that useless entry... OK, found it!

In every blog, there’s always one entry that is a waste of anybody’s time to read…

Anyways, Verne also said sumfink about posting pictures. I don't have many pics and I look absolutely horrigible terrigible veggitible in photographs, no matter how much I try to pose and "show my good side". That can only mean that I don't have a good side and I'm oreful all around. Heh, surprise, surprise.

You still wanna see pictures ahh? Vhat lah u all??!! OK fine, here goes. *Important: Please read "Note of caution" above before proceeding.

Now that I've caused a bubonic plague, I think I should make like a zip and fly. Or was that "make like a fly and zip"?

140807

August 14th 2007.

The day I screamed, bawled and howled like a banshee at 1.00am in the morning.
The day I ripped my heart open for "them" to see.
The day I uttered unintelligibly into the quiet, open darkness.

What-the-fuck.

What do you actually want from me?
How many times have you seen me like this?
How many times more do you want to see me like this?
Are you trying to teach me something?
Do you want me to learn something?
You want me to learn to be tougher?
How tough do you want me to be?
Do you want me to be smarter?
A better judge of character?
How much better?
Till I trust no one?
Till I am able to sniff the good from the bad?
And when I meet the good, that I still cannot like them?
How hard do you want my heart to be?
Till I cannot love anymore?
How many times do I have to get my heart ripped out?
How many's that again?
How many's good enough for you?

Are-you-not-entertained?

Am I still not smart enough for you?
How come there are so many more not so smart ones?
Why don't you pick on them?
Does it make you laugh to see me cry?
Does it amaze you that I always bounce back?
Does it upset you that I always bounce back?
Do you want to see me broken?
Do you want to see me beg for mercy?
Does it tickle your fancy to see me worship you?
Who are you?

Fuck you.

Fuck your gifts and teases and taunts.
You want to see how tough I can be, let's see who gets to the finish line first.
The finish line? That's the day I'm finished.
That's the day I die. In being.
There is no way my spirit can die, I'm sorry... tsk tsk tsk...
So as long as there's still a breath of life in me, then the finish line's not reached yet.

You're twisted.
And because of that, you've twisted me.
Because you've toyed with me. You made me.
Don't come round and tell me I'm not merciful.
What's mercy when I have known none from you?
Fuckhead.

Remember, remember.
The day I screamed, bawled and howled like a banshee at 1.00am in the morning.
The day I ripped my heart open for "them" to see.
The day I uttered unintelligibly into the quiet, open darkness.

The day I threw his gift out the window.
The day I wiped out every memory of him.

Read me now.
Read me again. And again.
Read me always.

Precious.

Read me till it cuts.
Read me till it's inscribed in your memory.
Like an open wound.
Bleed, bleed, gush, gush.
Slice it again. And again. Slice it raw.
I bleed. Warm blood. Nice red.

So beatifically beautiful to be without feeling.

Ever again.

Long Live The Storyteller!

Malaysia has her heroes. From corporate stalwarts to merciful messiahs. But if there was one superstar to emerge from this lot, one to have her very own star on Bukit Bintang's Walk Of Fame (if ever there was one), one to have touched every Malaysian's life either in a good way or bad through her works, it has to be ...

Yasmin Ahmad

We have to admit, her stories and films have touched us in ways we never thought it could. It has incited disbelief and anger, and drawn tears from our eyes through reflection and humour. There is a fervour every Hari Raya and Merdeka for "what will the Petronas ad be this year?" True, in this advanced day of creativity, every corporation which has the moolah to spend on a tearjerker TVC will try to outdo each other with stories dug deep from the attics of our minds and cellars of our hearts. Each in an attempt to awaken lost loves, hope and inspiration in each of us.

But I ask - do you remember who started it? Who remembers the MAS commercial which started the ball rolling with three boys who grew up together, through the Japanese Occupation (voiced over by Ali Mohd, Chairman of Leo Burnett)? And the 3-minute rockumentary featuring Frank Sinatra's "My Way", heralding Malaysian heroes? Did those not leave your eyes moistened? Or at least made your hair stand at the back? How about Petronas' Hari Raya commercial about the trishaw puller whose son had forgotten him? That had many people saying how un-festive it was, that instead of bringing cheer, brought reflection and depression. Well at least it had people talking - and I know that some of my friends actually canceled their holiday trips just to be home with their parents after watching that commercial. If only it sold more petrol though... And of course, who can forget the uproarious Sepet, which celebrated inter-racial love?

Yasmin Ahmad might not be a Scorsese nor have Spielberg's indecent budgets for a movie (she has been known to personally fund some of her films), but she has put Malaysia and Malaysians on the map. She has made Malaysia famous for its people, and made the world see that besides two very tall buildings and some funky coconut-flavoured rice with sambal, there are walking, talking, feeling, thinking, crying, laughing, funny, tall, short, fat, skinny and coloured human beings that mobilizes the country behind the name, behind the "Malaysia, Truly Asia" jingle.

I left this comment on her blog:

Selamat petang, Yasmin.

This comment is not a showcase of intellect, but rather, it is a simple note to record my highest admiration, respect and support for all that you have done and are doing for the everyday Malaysian. Thank you for reaching deep inside and bringing our insecurities, fears and beliefs to light, making them all seem totally human, forgivable and acceptable.

Once upon a time I worked in LB (02-04, on the BCB account). No we never worked on the same accounts, but nonetheless, I was star struck from the very beginning, from the first email we received from you, telling us the sights, sounds, smells and smiles you saw on your way to work. Honestly, I'd never seen Masjid Jamek in such a romantic light!

Anyway, abashedly I announce that I have watched all your films, and that Mukhsin made me cry. I listened to Schumann's Traumerei Op. 15 over and over again with renewed zest!

Congratulations on all your achievements and accolades. There will be naysayers, but know that here is a bunch of people who love and adore you and your work. Unconditionally.

Long live Yasmin The Storyteller.
Adeline Law | 08.13.07 - 8:53 am | #

And here's her reply:

oh adeline, that's just the sweetest, most reassuring thing ever said to me. i hope never to disappoint you with any of my films, inshaallah.
yasmin | 08.13.07 - 1:28 pm | #

Long live patriotism, beautiful cultural differences, funny misunderstandings, beautiful weaknesses, ugly idealism and national petroleum!

Now You See It, Now You Don't

I was right. I AM complex. Now he can't figure me out and he's given up - or is at the brink of it. What happened to the "bring it on" rah-rah-ism? But thank you to all my friends who wished me well. Thank you Chris (you read my blog??? why???) and thank you JC who has heard me out through my "funny" episodes. "Funny" - because having been an observer from the sidelines all along, one notices all the classic mishaps, miscommunication and misunderstandings that couples go through. And you think you've seen them all, and you think you'd know what to do if you were ever in that situation. And you dole out advice like you were Oprah, the strongest woman on earth who don't need a love life to make it in this world.

Or so you think.

There's something my mom told me about feng shui - don't start, because once you get into it, you can't ignore it. And if you did try to ignore it, you'll live the rest of your life worrying about it. Same thing with this crazy little thing called "love". It's easy to tell someone to "walk away". But when you're in the eye of the whirlpool, your mind is mangled and logic is yanked from it. **And you can't be holding on to all you've got, when all you've got is hurt...

To all my friends I met during the weekend who asked me where he was and how he was doing, I'm sorry that I don't know. I'm sorry to have to tell you that we had a quarrel on Thursday night and we haven't communicated since. I tried, but it was non-reciprocated. Please don't ask me what we quarreled about; just know that people quarrel about things and words get spoken and egos get wounded and regret is always the aftertaste.

The weekend is come and gone. And all I've got to show is silence. My hands are sore from my sitting on them, all in the name of "space". I have no idea when this Cold War is going to end. The one between US and the Soviet Union lasted fifty years!!! All I do know is what I feel. But my guess is that he's given up. And I'm back to status quo, status solo.

If things don't turn out well, I'm gonna heed the fortune-teller's advice and go down south and find me a gweilo, get hitched, run a spa and get a daughter and become a queen. If God decides to be nice to me, then I'll probably delete this entry as it would hurt too much to read it again in future.

So really, in essence, "let's see how long this will last".

** Thank you Bono and U2 for those words