Leave 2.

This holiday doesn’t really consist of much. I guess that as part of the holiday thing, it is really all about doing nothing. Chilling out on my computer, trying to review dance moves in my head, hanging out with family and having good food and late nights night after night after night.

Mm.

We’re heading down to good ole’ Dunny today.

I’m still contemplating recreating a new blog template. But at the moment, I’m not really getting around much. Meh.

I need to get a manual on HTML write up and start from scratch.

Okies. We’re off.

Leave.

This is my first longer-than-2-days leave in a row. Man, this feels really good.

I think, in a way, I’m still getting used to the idea of working and only having 4 weeks annual leave. I’m trying to make it up with you know, actually doing work but man, it does so suck to be only having that 4 weeks and nothing more.

Its been fun with the family.

But first of all, lets enjoy things from the paddle steamer ride I had earlier in the week prior to leave.

Went on the Waimarie, one of NZ’s last remaining paddle steamers, from what I think I remember. Grand boat.

As we were leaving the jetty. Smoke billowed from the steam engine and the horn tooted. Apparently, the captain of the boat recognises me as a physio. Scary. I didn’t even know he existed.

Don’t mind the hair. Scalped one of my colleagues while trying to take this picture. As you can see, it was a relatively cloudy day but it was warm enough that I had to take off my hoodie for a bit while the steamer picked up speed.

Boat and waves. We did pick up a pretty decent speed.

This was stuck to the back of the bench. I was taken by this sign because I didn’t know whether they were going to throw the bench in the water if anything happened. The doughnut thing behind it seemed only big enough for one.

We travelled upriver for about an hour. And they were getting ready to anchor the steamer so we could go and stretch our legs.

There was a pretty cool technique of looping it all around the beam by using a hooked pole and throwing the ropes but I didn’t manage to get it down.

Visited a small St Mary’s Anglican Church whilst the steamer was tied up. Dropped by a bar that I didn’t take pictures of.

So while getting back on the boat, I took a picture of the red chimney and decided that the picture didn’t quite do justice to the magnificent machine that ran the boat.

This was just the top of the contraption itself. There was a lot more going on that I just could not see.

Standing at the helm of the boat with the breeze in my hair, it felt like one of those Titanic moments where I could spread my arms out wide and yoo-hoo at the top of my voice.

And the elaborate anchor thingie that didn’t get used. Pity. It looked like a harpoon of sorts.

Welly in the evening. This was a different perspective from what I was used to looking at when I lived there.

Same view, shot three hours later when the sun had set. Its amazing how cities always look so pretty at night with all the lights sparkling.

Salsa party 2 weeks prior.

Trying out the night scene shot. A lot better in terms of colour but man, it sucked big time for movement.

And experimented with the sports shot. Even worse lighting-wise but I got a clear movement shot. I might need a dSLR camera.

Further pictures in the next post. But until then, good night. I’m off for a bit of socialising/and having a bit of fun with the brother.

Smile.

Smile, and no one will know the difference.

I remembered writing this statement a long time ago, when I was in one of my emo moods and I knew how true this statement. As long as you smiled and laughed, no one else knew what was going on deep inside. No one else would know what turmoil brewed beneath the surface. Everyone thought that all was fine and dandy.

I nearly adopted this statement as a life motto about a year ago. Actually, yeah, it would be a year ago. One of those typical emo teenager moments, I guess.

Hm.

But this post shall not be one of those posts that moan and gripe. Well, not all of it, anyway.

I had a very “happening” weekend. Pictures to follow in another post but things that took place included salsa workshops for 5 hours (OH YEAH, BABEH!), meeting a new friend that I can now drag (or attempt to drag) along to salsa (I’m looking at you, RandomGirl!), and coffee and a ride on the paddle steamer up the river to a small settlement named after a Maori female warrior who had her head chopped off to preserve a dignity after death. Yeah….

So after such an exciting weekend, work dragged.

Yeah, it dragged so bad yesterday I felt as though I was about to die when 5p.m. came around.

Due to admin stuff, orientation, sorting out where the new girl was going on wards and me going on leave (woohoo!), I was desperate to flee the wards after 5p.m.

I got home, tired, grumpy, and a right fuss to be with.

On Facebook, I updated, saying that I was tired enough to actually turn down an opportunity to dance. Which is rare and incredibly stupid, in my right frame of mind. I would never ever give up a chance to dance. Work and life in general is boring enough as it is and its dance that keeps it alive and interesting for the better part of it.

So I grumbled, chatted to Tofupuff, grumbled some more, went online, played Cafe World, and ate dinner.

And at about 8p.m., half an hour after salsa began, I thought to myself, “Look, I might as well go. Worst case scenario, I’ll just slowly recede from the salsa scene. Back to ballroom and latin nexdt year anyway.”

Another thing that I perhaps failed to mention was that the salsa party, on the weekend although good to some extent, sucked balls. A lack of experience, a fear to dance, and the general unusability of dance moves made it incredibly hard to actually have a good time. And elite dancers being elite dancers…..yeah, I have this problem as well. I need to loosen up and start dancing with a wider range of people.

But yeah.

But last night, I had one of those “AHA!” moments like what I did with my ceroc last night at a bar. Coincidentally, this was exactly the same scenario. Freestyle. At a bar. And I got it.

And perhaps this thing was more towards enjoying myself. As with all freestyle dancing, I put too much effort into what I wanted to do next. So I thought, “Heck, I’ll smile, enjoy myself, do my own little steps, have a laugh, mix it up, and fsck it, if I don’t enjoy myself, I’m not going to come here until  I learn to do so.”

And it was brilliant.

Abso-fscking-lutely brilliant.

Funny enough, I’m still living on the high of it right now.

Heh.

Anyways.

Work time. And breakfast.

SpOnSoReD

The mimic bands the keyword opposite the given earth.

Napkin wisdom

Copied this off a little book I found about growing old and growing wiser and about life in general. Good quote but no paper so I grabbed a napkin and wrote frantically.

Look, I don’t want to wax philosophic but I will say that if you’re alive, you’ve got to flap your arms and legs, you’ve got to jump around a lot, for life is the very opposite of death and therefore, you must at the very least think noisy and colourfully or you’re not alive. - Mel Brooks

Beautifully put statement, I might add. I don’t think I live enough, nowadays.

Night night.

Whoosh.

Now, if I snap my fingers….watch, closely…

BANG.

Let’s disappear..

Shh.

1000s of words.

It’s been a while since I’ve done a picture post. And currently emptying my phone, I’ve been finding heaps of awesome (well, not exactly awesome) pictures that I might as well use to blog with.

So let’s begin, shall we?

This arrived at work a few weeks back and it shocked me to think that its nearly the end of the year.

Man, I’ve survived an entire year in Wangy. Shocker.

A vintage carriage from the Hospital Ball photos. Man, the things I find after I start browsing through my photos.

In desperation, after my iPhone jammed up, I decided to put it up for sale on Trademe. Sure, I lost about $100 from what I initially paid for it but good times while I had it anyway.

Had a quick chat with the new physio who’s going to be taking over from my ward soon when I go on leave next week. Yeah, I know. LEAVE!!! HOW COOL IS THAT!!

But yes, we were both discussing how and why we got into physiotherapy. And I think I’ve found a kindred spirit.

She, like me, said that she “fell” into physio rather than having it set as a goal for her. I totally understand what she meant and where she was coming from with that comment.

Saw the above in the newspaper insert and for a second, I wished I had ultimate job satisfaction. Really.

This reminded me of Robert Frost’s poem about the road not taken. Beautiful, isn’t it?

But as mysterious as it looks, this is just the driveway to one of the most majestic houses I’ve ever seen in Palmy. Imagine driving along this road to your mansion. *drool*

When my Latin shirt was being ordered, I diligently tracked it all the way from…..China. I know. I paid US dollars for it and it originated from a factor in China. What a buzz kill.

This was taken the night of the Ceroc “Enchanted” Ball. We stopped off at Mac’s Brewery where I ordered a ginger ale as my alcohol tolerance absolutely sucked balls. But that was fine. I love the feeling of not going completely red like a baboon’s bottom.

My top hat next to it. +D

Now this was funny.

I was working the weekend and I had to top up both my cell phones (Vodafone and 2 degrees) as both of them were running low in credit. So I bought two different top up vouchers, topped both phones up and proceeded to shred each voucher into all these little pieces.

And then on my 2 degrees phone, I get the message, “The number you entered was not recognised. Please re-enter your top up voucher number.”

And the first thought that came to mind was, “Oh, fsck.”

Managed to piece it back together though and got the right number, so all good.

This was a surprise lunch I got for myself the other day when I went down to Palmy for a bit of practice and dance.

I went to this Chinese restaurant that I knew served buffet lunches. I was pretty hungry so I was looking forward to the huge meal and the overwhelming feeling of fullness that you get with buffets.

So I went to the restaurant and told the guy behind the counter, “Lunch for one.”

He sat me down, gave me a piece of paper (pictured above) and a pen.

“Just fill this in and we’ll take your order shortly.”

Unknown to me and I ended up finding out a lot later, I had sat down for the normal luncheon yum cha. I have never ever ordered yum cha before in my entire fricking life.

On the plus side, I spoke a lot more Mandarin than I was used to. A lot which consisted of “Bu yao. Xie xie.”

Yeah….I know.

Anyway. That’s my verbal diarrhoea for today. Tootles.

Kissing Eyelids

He adds, "There's nothing more vulnerable and more erotic than kissing someone's eyelid—you have to really trust someone to let them kiss your eye.”

So, according to these experts, kissing an eyelid is one of the good ways of defusing an explosive moment in a relationship.

Its been a while since I’ve actually written up a blog post for people to read. I think the combination of work/dance, sleeping later than usual, not really exercising, and what not probably contributed to the fact that at the end of the day, I can’t really be bothered to even sit down and type out thoughts for the day. Probably why I seem to be doing it more in the mornings now.

The Higher Authorities are arriving with the rest of the gang next Wednesday. Love ‘em all, don’t get me wrong. Just that sometimes, I feel as though there is a huge tendency to drag. My life, I mean. It dragggssssssss. Ugh.

And plus, no one on my Reader list is blogging anymore. Very very sad. +(

I still get the occasional post but that’s it. Nothing more exciting than that, really.

Anyway. Work time.

On the edge.

Today was slow.

 

Which was great for a Monday, especially since I've had a lazy weekend doing absolutely nothing apart from lying at home in my bed, surfing the net, playing Cafe World on Facebook, semi-attempting to tidy up my room, doing dishes and laundry, and just relaxing completely.

 

Returned some library books, borrowed some movies, watching salsa videos on Youtube, and hoping to be able to bust out even more moves at social salsa tonight. KindEyes is going to be pleased. +D

 

Work was interesting today. Had at least three different members of the team on edge today because someone made an innocent comment regarding not talking about work issues in the staffroom during lunch. And then everyone just pounced on her and ate her to bits. Completely unfair, really. I apologised to her from everyone's behalf and said that it was unfair that people are so on edge today. Not too sure why either.

 

And today, I had my source of inspiration from a man who was a semi-paraplegic.

 

30 years ago, his glider crashed and he fractured his spine. He could not walk properly and had to use walking sticks in both hands. Recently, he had spinal surgery which decreased the pain in his back but left him with a virtually floppy leg due to some nerves that were impacted on by the surgery.

 

He also lost control of his bladder and bowels, which can happen as a result of spinal surgery.

 

But every single day, he would cheerfully get up, not minding in the pain in his legs, and we would joke and laugh and wander our way down the corridor just as though nothing was wrong.

 

Truly an inspiration. Me, I would have given up and died a long time ago.

 

Oh, and just to return to my morbid me, give me suggestions on ways you would like to see me die. No, really. List a method of dying that you can imagine me dying. And I'll try and write a story on that. I've got itchy fingers, see, and I need to scratch a long-ignored writing bug.

 

 

 

NAAAAA-TING 2

So what did I do on my day lazing?

Read the title as of above.

Oh yeah, I watched several movies, of which I returned shortly after and I got dinner.

And then I watched this.

Oh yeah, pure geek heaven. This is revolutionary stuff, I tell you.

And because I’ve been watching too many dance movies as of late, let me outline to you what most dance movies are. Excluding “Shall we dance?” where it focused more specifically on a non-dancing man learning how to dance, most dance movies consist of….

1) Lead character – a dancer (dance movie, duh) experiences some distressing event of sorts that put him/her in a situation.

2) Said lead character gets a lucky break – gets into a dance school, learns a new form of dance (usually hip hop/a more expressive style of dancing compared to something formal like ballroom/ballet)

3) Said lead character meets…TADAH! A potential hot smoking rival/love interest. This can be inserted into number 2, really.

4) Plot development, lead character + love interest development, some subtle love/sex scene involved as this is not a porn film. We can only show faces gasping in ecstasy, some undressing but nothing actually worth watching to warrant a stiffie.

5) A dance performance of sorts IS going to happen. Everyone practises like hell for it. Cue in scenes in front of mirror or on the wooden dancefloor, spinning, practising moves and include cheesy/hip hop music as required.

6) Something drastic happens. Love interest cheats/a twist in the plot/lead character gets kicked out of dance school/the dance doesn’t go well/a tragedy occurs to either lead character or love interest.

7) Another lucky break. Maybe love interest wasn’t cheating after all/lead character gets invited back to dance school/friends make up and decide to all jump into the dance crew.

8) The performance rocks the joint. Everyone celebrates, happy ending. Usually, there is a single performance by said lead character, love interest looking from the sidelines with googly-eyes or jumping in and dancing with him/her, you know, sexing it up.

9) Credits.

As much as I like watching all these dance movies, they are so incredibly predictable its Yawnsville. And all dancers know that this kinda thing does not happen.

All REAL dancers, anyway.

For example, if I was to do a movie on my life and my life as a dancer, it would bore the crappers out of everyone who watches it.

Paul earns money through part time work/full time work. Paul goes to dance class. Paul dances with said dance partner. Paul dances with said dance partner week after week after week. Paul goes for a few competitions. Paul has a performance. Paul practices with dance partner week after week after week. Paul goes for performance. Paul does performance. Paul gets congratulated for performance. Paul goes home.

Uh. Yeah. That’s it.

Exciting, no?

What I’m probably lacking is the two lucky breaks that the lead character seems to get. And I won’t need the tragedy in the middle either. Let’s get that out of the way.

But watching Save the Last Dance 2, guys, this is the sure fire way to get some booty. Show that you’re sensitive and touching and that gets the hormones raging. Here’s proof.

Miles Sultana (played by Columbus Short) puts on a tape recording that he’s taken of the ice melting after weeks of freezing temperatures that he lets Sara Johnson (Izabella Miko) listen to. She listens to it and unsure of what she’s listening to, she asks him.

Miles: New York City, East River, February 27, 1989. After 5 weeks below freezing, the ice finally breaking.

Izabella Miko then proceeds to jump his bones. And in that movie, she’s got a face to die for. I’m a face man. Then I work my way down. +D

Sue me.

NAAAAA-TING.

If you don’t get the title, just say it out. Loud, preferably.

I’ve been lazing in bed pretty much all morning. Got up at about 10ish, played a computer game and then kept dying so I got pissed off and decided to watch my movies instead. Finished two and now, I’m looking at having to go and return them soon. Oh yeah, I need something for dinner.

Today is a lazy, lazy day. I’m still in my blue and white checkered jammies (yes, Sociologist, the ones with the hearts and cute little animals all over it) and a pair of pale green trackpants. I’m not going to win any awards for fashion anytime soon, I can tell.

The weather outside is interesting today. Its been alternating itself between a bright sunny day and suddenly, within 5 minutes, its overcast. Completely and utterly overcast.

Its one of those days where you know, you’re lying underneath your blanket and you don’t quite feel like you want to get up. The duvet traps body heat (the best kind, I swear) and you’re just lying under and soak. Ooh. La. La.

KindEyes is on Facebook and she’s calling me scardy-cat/wuss/wimp/chicken and assorted names for not agreeing to go to the salsa party in Palmy tonight. I’m deciding not to go because I feel like a slug in bed right now and plus, I’ve got my room TO tidy. Not that I would actually tidy my room but you know, lying and sitting and doing stuff in my room surrounded by the mess makes me feel just that little bit better about myself. Its like I haven’t abandoned it. Um. Weird, I know.

I haven’t got a hangover, thank goodness, from yesterday’s loony antics. Probably the fact that I stopped drinking at about 10pm and refused all attempts from people to get me to drink tequila shots helped.

But it still feels like a lazy day. Meh.

Rightyo. Another movie for me to watch and then I’ll return them and start getting my lazy bum out of bed.

Ethanol Logic 2

As much as I exalted alcohol and the effects of rising temperatures and the world turning quiet in my ears, tonight’s little gathering at a friend’s place turned that perception of alcohol pretty much upside down.

Tonight, I drank a certain quantity of Screwdrivers – a mix of vodka and orange juice, at least 2 to 3 paper cups of it. I also tossed back a Chocolate Eclair – a mix of chocolate and coffee liquer – and a few Coke and vodka combinations.

I felt sick to my stomach.

At first, the alcohol took a bit of time to start rushing to my head. I’d eaten first, a very smart idea, which allowed to to have that many Screwdrivers in the first place. The Chocolate Eclair was the last finale of the drinking bout and the Coke and vodka combos were the last sputtering bits of the phase. 

I turned red like a beetroot, the people gathered there mocked my Asian flush, I went to the toilet, came out and then felt my heart beating through my chest. As it usually does. I also felt unusually sick. It’s been a while since I drunk alcohol to that extent. And I never liked the feeling of being completely smashed anyway.

I tried balancing a few more drinks and topping up with water in between but that just made me completely ill. It felt as though the water was floating on top and it was close to the base of my throat. I had to keep it down. Literally.

Oh yeah, I did get a few dances in between. But people were smashed and oh dear lord. Sigh.

The hostess disappeared to throw up and change into something more comfortable as well as wanting to lie down as she felt she has not chucked enough yet.

One of the older ladies turned verbally abusive and poured out her sorrows to me while sitting at the dining table, mentioning how she liked working night shifts and she lived alone in her house with her dog and that was it. She was happy that way. Oh, yeah, she tossed in a lot of “Fsck yous” as well in between. I’m not too sure why.

Another one turned horny when drunk. She started making out with a guy she just met at the party and another one took photos. Yeah, that’s true, apparently. The hostess was NOT pleased. One of Miss Horny’s friends quietly whispered that Miss Horny would hump anything if there was no male in sight. So not cool.

A middle age lady sat outside on the driveway, puking her guts out and having people crowded around her, patting her on the back, holding a plastic bag in front of her and offering her mouthfuls of water to clear out the bile. In between pukes, I heard mention of her being hated by everyone and how she hated being like this.

Why the hell would you want that kinda party?

And just before I left, the hostess had managed to convince Miss Horny’s friend to take her home as the boys that were there were doing a truth or dare thing which involves Miss Horny being used as a pair of lips. And it was blatantly obvious to everyone in the room what was going on. Miss Horny herself, being pissed off her face, wanted to sleep with one of the boys in that house. She was NOT pleased when her friends managed to drag her away.

From now on, I think I’ll stick to having the odd rum and coke at the bar whilst doing some proper dancing.

Huh. Honestly. Whatever. It is amazing sometimes what you end up seeing in other people.

And I don’t get the hype about alcohol.

Last day.

“My best friend gave me the best advice
He said life’s a gift and not a given right” – Nickelback

This song, interestingly enough, seems to be made of cliche after cliche. But damn. There’s some powerful stuff in there.

On a different note, Sister Pharmacist is leaving today. Feel a bit sad for her as her future seems so uncertain and she can’t be sure what’s going to happen. But I guess we’ll keep in touch through Facebook and the occasional texts.

But somehow, I envy her.

I guess, sometimes, it seems a bit of a thrill to know that tomorrow, you’re not going to wake up. Makes like all that more worth living, I think.

Huh.

Dory caught up with me recently on Gmail chat and mentioned that I’ve been a little quiet lately. Which is true. And she also mentioned that I seem to fret about physio and dancing. Which is true. I can see the honesty in those statements because hell yeah, if there’s one thing I do best nowadays is to fret like crazy. Because I have nothing better to do.

There’s a salsa party this weekend down in Palmy. I can’t quite justify the reason to go for the party. Especially since I’m going to have nowhere to stay and I’m going to end up effectively stranded. Unless I book myself in a motel and then catch a bus back the next day.

Of course, I can take the easy way by asking either KindEyes or someone to give me a lift there and back. Or I could get a bus down and then get KindEyes to give me a lift back. Huh.

Thing is, me being me, I don’t like asking favours from people I don’t really know. And the trip to Palmy is 45 mins. I’m not going to sit next to someone in a car and blab on for 45 mins because I feel uncomfortable with the silence.

And funnily enough, at one stage in life, I told myself that its okay to be quiet. And I guess I ended up enduring the awkward silent moments rather than venture to say something. And me and someone else will end up sitting there steeping in all this awkward silence. Ugh.

I guess the easy way out for me then would be to take a bus.

Or heck. Just not go.

I’m not exactly going to be enjoying myself especially since the moves I know are limited. Let’s just wait until I’m more advanced, anyway. There’s always a chance of a good rueda but I’d rather not hold my breath.

And besides, I was longing for a weekend here just doing nothing in particular. I might just do that.

And besides, I’ve got a few blog posts that I’ve been thinking of crafting for a long time but have never done.

It shall be a day of website tweaking, designing and blogging. Woohoo!

I know. I don’t have too much of a life.

But Hellgate: London will keep me occupied in the meantime. +D

Ethanol Logic.

Yesterday, I imbibed a whisky and coke and a pint of shandy – a Tui mixed with a Sprite at the local pub quiz night.

It did help that I had eaten a full meal before then. Took me a while to realise that the alcohol wasn’t kicking in as quickly as it usually does.

And then as the “Asian flush” as people call it crept across my face, it looked like I had been sunbathing in the 12 noon sun without sunblock, looking for all the world like an overcooked lobster.

I bathed in the warmth. The heat of the flush, as slowly, the questions the quiz host read and the chattering from the Pharmacy girls on my table faded into the distance and it was just me in my t-shirt and jeans sitting at the table writing the clues for the puzzles on a piece of discarded paper so that Lord Pharmacist could look at it later if she wanted to.

For those of you who didn’t really know, I’m an introvert.

I have my “HAHA!” days and my quiet days where Tofupuff gets really worried that she’s done something wrong because as she tells me, “I’m usually really talkative. Unless I’m pissed off about something.”

But sometimes, its nice to just soak in the quietness.

I can see now why for those alcoholics who love their silence, they head for the booze.

It seems as though the entire world quietens down. Everyone and everything goes to a whisper. I’m sitting there, clad in only a t-shirt and jeans and I’m feeling warm and cozy and I don’t even need my jacket on. I would like to knock off and sleep but I can’t, really. And besides, I don’t quite need to sleep either.

Huh.

I love the night.

***

I’m again contemplating changing blog layout, making my entries more scarce and thus, more thought provoking because as of late, I tend to write a lot of rubbish.

Well.

We’ve got 8 hours of work and then we’ve got NeoZouk tonight.

I’d like to learn how to move like you.

Salsa Craze.

Tonight was amazing.

I may or may not have mentioned that I have a slightly obsessive compulsive streak regarding the things I like. Girls, a certain subject in school, dance, etc.

And right now, all I want to do is jump onto Youtube and watch salsa videos the rest of the night. Honestly.

Who wants to go to work and get stupid hip and knee replacements up? Pfft.

Lets dance and find the one and five beat.

This was my update on Facebook today.

2.5 hours of salsa tonight. Check.
3 hours of salsa tomorrow. Check.
5.5 hours of salsa the night after. Check.

OMG. I can’t ask for more or anything cooler.

You know, I can’t wait to bust out some salsa with the BigSister this coming holiday. And PLUS, there’s a booming salsa scene down south. Awesome. I know how I’m going to keep myself busy.

KindEyes keeps dragging me onto the floor for bachatas and merengues which I struggle to hell with. But I’m all right for salsa. I’m getting there.

And in the end, I was actually salsa-ing through one entire song. Which was pretty awesome for me, considering. Makes watching that one salsa tutorial video all worth it. Especially after watching the moves 40 times…….

HEH.

Good fun.

All right. Its late and I should shower and head to bed.

Adios con la hermana! (Dory, please translate for the readers who have NO idea what that is…hehehe)

Ambition.

Its funny how a simple comic can say so much with so little.

I think for the majority of us, this is what life is all about.

We start off with a dream and at the end of it all, you’re in a better position but happiness is an option. Not a guarantee.

*comic courtesy of www.explosm.net.

To my 13 year old self.

You know how sometimes in life, you look back at what you’ve done and what you’ve achieved and you may think to yourself, “Gosh, what I would have told myself if I could go back and visit myself when I was 13 (insert age of choice here).”

This is what I would have told myself if I had that chance. Of course, I would write it in a mysterious letter and left it on my study table tucked in the top right hand drawer.

Ah…the melodramatic me.

Dear Paul,

I find it funny that I would have this opportunity to write to you like this. Of course, this is probably a complete and utter fluke that I even have this chance to communicate with a younger version of the current me.

I, having graduated university and whatnot and having worked one year of my life, think that I am wise beyond my years and thus, wish to impart this wisdom to your white fat ass as you may or may not want to be me in the not too distant future.

Ah, but look at you. When Shirley was the only girl you were interested in because she resembled Sizuka from the Doraemon comic. And plus she could swear like a sailor and sang with the most amazing voice.

You were 13. You ran around in your tight green shorts when everyone thought that they’ll all grow up and wear long green pants. You actually wore stubbies when you were 13, for goodness sakes! But that’s all good.

You know, Paul, one thing I would tell you right at this very point in time with your life, is that you were made to perform. Oh yeah, you did win that singing competition and you brought home a huge ass trophy. You cross-dressed and played a fainting mother with yellow paper curls and lipstick smeared across your cheeks as blusher. Good on you. But man, you were made for so much more, little dude.

Remember the little partner dancing thing you did with Jamie and the rest of the class for the end of primary 6 graduation party? Yeah, that was just the beginning.

In about 3 years time, you would be doing Para Para Sakura with your then new found friends. Not only that , you would be teaching the rest of your juniors how to dance it as well.

Fast forwarding 6 years, you would be doing ballroom. And latin. And ceroc. And argentine tango. And salsa. And all these dances you thought only existed in films and competitions far far away. But no. They’re there. And you get to be an awesome part of it.

You will teach a bunch of people to dance. And when you step out on the dance floor, people will comment. They will take notice. They will keep an eye on you because hell, you look damn good out there. You know it, they know it, and you thrive off the energy and the knowledge that people are sitting down in awe at what you do and how you do it. Oh yeah, babeh. That’s right. You will amaze. Trust me.

Not only that, you’ll even have a mature-ish lady trying to end up flirting with you on the dance floor one night. And as much as it kinda grossed you out, you’ll be seriously flattered. +D

And you thought that you were limited to singing with your keyboard and your guitar. Can’t blame you, though. You were never much of a solo dancer, anyway.

One thing I must comment on was the fact that you grew up so….enchanted with the idea of finding a girlfriend. Truth be told, you were slightly obsessed about it, I think. You would look at your friends who did have girlfriends and you would wonder what was wrong with you, what you weren’t doing right, that you did not have some girl clinging on to your arm as they do back in secondary school.

What if I was to tell you that you would meet her 3 years from now? That you would meet her at a camp and you would shake her hand and you two would walk away and that was that until another three years when you found the funniest, rebellious, self-assured girl on the planet after you two exchanged an MSN conversation and ended up texting each other like crazy.

So don’t fret. After all, Val sure was tempting and her mum thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. Especially after she rang you to ring her daughter to ask her what was wrong. And you ended up on the phone for about an hour listening to her cry when her boyfriend broke up with her.

Good thing for your mother, though. She was right about Val. And guess what? You wouldn’t guess who Val would end up dating in the future. Honestly. You wouldn’t have a bloody clue.

And while you’re still 13? You had some pretty good habits drummed into you. You should keep them up.

Sleep at 10.

Wake up at 6.

Prepare everything the night before.

Accept responsibility.

Work hard and revise constantly.

Man…..you should keep that up.

Because me? Hehe. I was lucky to have passed my papers.

Now, I know that you weren’t exactly a top scorer. Apart from English, that is, but yeah, you struggled to make it into the top 20, I’d say. And it used to get worse. But hey, you worked hard and I would like to encourage you to keep up with that, okay? It’ll become really important in life later on.

The Boys’ Brigade? I know it was a huge thing for you. And you loved the discipline, the fact that the boys in blue were different, everything. Plus, not to mention the fact that there were some pretty cute girls in the Girls’ Brigade. Heh.

But looking back now, I would tell you to get out. Join something lame like Scouts or the Police Cadets or something. Just something else.

I would hate to tell you this but after your promotion to Lance Corporal, you would be woken up one night along with all the other NCOs and you lot were made to pick up rubbish left by the recruits and other Privates. And as you’re doing that, you looked down at your field rank bracelet with the one chevron on it on your left wrist and believe it or not, the first thing that came to mind was, “Is this worth it? Is this what the promotion was all about?”

Yeah, you were always quite a softie. No offence. You did become quite lardy in Form 5.

One more thing.

I know how big church was for you back then. How you poured your heart and soul into Sunday School. You and the Twin and the Sports Jock and Ginger revolutionised worship by adding all these different songs and you guys started the trend.

But I would question your motive for doing that.

See, when I did it, I felt at times it was for my own glory rather than for God’s. Perhaps it was the performer’s streak coming through again. And Lord knows, I loved being on display.

But before you fell head over heels in love with the new lyrics and the fact that you could actually put drums and electric guitars into worship, again, I would ask you to walk away. Because 4 years from now, there will be one night where you would utter “FSCK” in the main sanctuary, slam your guitar down on the floor and march out of there. And then you would lead a worship service where in a hall that could seat 400 comfortably, you only had 5 people attending and 3 were your friends. And you would walk home and announce to your mother that you were quitting worship for good.

Oh.

And before you walk away thinking this is a load of crap, in future, if nothing changes and I guess, life continued as it does, you’re going to end up as a physiotherapist.

What’s that, you say? Look it up online. Yeah, I know.

You know what?

I’d recommend that you end up doing something dance related. Honestly. You won’t regret it. And with the amount of money and time you’ll end up committing, you’ll find it the best investment of your existing lifetime.

So who knows, you might change your future.

Tootles,
Paul (2009)

First of May

When I was small
And Christmas trees were tall
We used to love while others used to play...

 

It was some time in May last year, I remembered.

I was working an early morning weekend shift at the petrol station. BP B|tch was on duty. And I was standing outside filling up the empty water containers for customers to fill their water tanks with.

 

It was slightly cold and the work jacket that I wore smelt musty of too much sweat and too little ventilation. There seemed to be a slight greasy sensation to it all.

 

The fluoroscent lights were harsh and it shone on the cold concrete floor.

 

As I stood there, waiting for the containers to fill, I suddenly had to choke down my tears and pretend that I was stronger than I looked or felt.

 

It was a bad time for me.

 

I had failed my placement assessment by my tutor and had to redo a test. I had been called in to my clinical educator's office where she explained my....deficits and then proceeded to ask me to sign a document saying that if I did fail again, I would not take legal action against the school for my utmost failures.

 

I hated my part time job. I hated what I was studying. I hated it completely and utterly. I even wondered why I was doing it.

 

Here I stood, at 5.45 in the fricking winter morning, filling up water containers while across the street, my flatmates slumbered, unaware, unknowing. I'm not a morning person but desperation got me up. Desperation got me here. And I despised it for what it was.

 

The sudden sensation of "Oh shit, I have no idea what I am doing with my entire life" suddenly came to mind. No doubt, I was studying a "professional" course and that I was going to graduate with a job didn't quite matter. I imagined myself there, working at the petrol station, and finally cracking under the pressure. I'm sure the explosions would have made headlines.

 

It was perhaps the fear that drove most of the feeling. Like how a little boy loses a balloon or a lollipop and unable to do anything about it, stands there and cries.

 

I felt exactly like that little kid.

 

I felt that my hands were tied, my feet were bound, my mouth gagged and there was nothing on earth I could do about anything.

 

Fast forward 3 months.

 

I was working underground in the hospital kitchens. And I actually enjoyed my job. I had good colleagues. Apart from the fact that I had to quit soon after, the money was made and I didn't think too much about having to push trolleys and do food platters all the time. I had fun.

 

I had one more placement to do and by God, I had survived pretty much the entire year.

 

***

But just yesterday, the same feeling rose in my throat again.

 

I stood in the empty and dark treatment room, carrying foam collars and a pair of scissors and strapping tape and I looked down at my uniform and my full hands and the first thought that came to mind was, "What on earth am I doing here?"

 

"What part of this makes sense?"

 

"What the heck am I doing making life and death and discharge decisions?"

 

"Why?"

 

***

I wonder what I would write to my 13 year old self if I had a chance.

 

Huh.

Heartbreak

Good morning, Mrs P. How are you?

"Oh, I'm all right. They've just taken out the drains so I guess I can start moving now. These here are my kids."

Oh, hello. So shall we start moving?

"Okay, mum, I'll be back this afternoon."

"Don't worry about it, you've gotta take care of your father."

A brush of the curtains and it was just Mrs P and I.

The husband's not doing too well, is he?

"No. He isn't."

And her face crumples up like a piece of old newspaper.

"He's got cancer."

And she breaks down in tears.

"He just got the news last week. He was told he had a tumour in his bladder and lung and next thing you know, he's just gone downhill ever since. Kids reckon he's talking to himself now."

I'm sorry.

"No, no, nothing to be sorry about. He's not allowed on his medication because he's going to have a biopsy tomorrow."

Oh, I see. Would you like to speak to the social worker? She's really nice and she can probably be able to offer you and your husband some assistance...

"Yeah, maybe. But he's slowly dying. And I'm not sure what anyone can do about that."

***

Sometimes, I hate my job.

You know, with working in the healthcare sector, people think that you are able to do anything and everything. Even bring people back from the dead, occasionally. But sadly, we don't. And when you're standing at a patient's bedside, patting their shoulder or putting an arm around them to tell them that its okay and that something can be done about it, you kick yourself in the specials for telling lies.

Because its not all right. The poor man's gone delirious. He's turned yellow and he's dying as the hours fly by. What is okay with that? Apologies don't do nuts. It's not going to save him.

Darn.

She's a really nice lady and sometimes, its just unfair the things that happen to good people. Whereas all the bad people seem to get off the hook.

***

Was feeling a bit quiet yesterday and last night. Probably stress, I would say. I'd blame it on stress and take it easy. But sometimes, I'm even wondering what is truly the matter.

Tummy ain't really feeling comfortable since yesterday and I'm not too sure why. By right, I shouldn't even be here right now. But then again, it might be stress. Was talking to the Receptionist and she thinks its stress that I'm dealing with plus, this is my 10th day of working in a row, after all.

But interestingly enough, the quiet is just something I need at the moment. Even salsa yesterday, learning some really cool moves and whatnot, after the three hours that I was on the floor, I left the congas and the cowbells and the usual noisiness of it all to head back to silence and a quiet that seemed to just settle into me.

Did get a bit grumpy at a poor girl yesterday and for that, I apologise. Me soweeeeeeee *pouts*

You know what I want?

I want to be able to just shut out the world right now. Leave. Travel. Blog interesting blog posts from different spots and different times and places and live vicariously like I had planned to do when I was finally out of university.

But instead, I'm stuck working a 8 to 4.30 and then sitting down and playing computer games until my eyes rot.

Truth to tell, I kind of regret quitting ballroom now. I know, I know, I'm not going to be dancing exams end of the year and neither do I need to spend that kind of money especially since the parents are coming over soon and they're probably looking at me saving up and stuff.

But its cut down my dance time from 5 days a week to a pathetic 2 a week and I'm dying to get a bit more practice in but honestly, I don't know how I can do that. Ugh.

Nannyway.

Lunch.

Action and reaction.

Maybe some of you don’t think so, but I was stunned at some of the answers I got back regarding my previous post on the Eulogy.

I got told off by one person, another one emailled me saying that she would be angry if I passed on, another person told me to get my head checked, and then some. A lot of people responded in the more negative sense of the word. And in a way, I kinda wonder why.

In a way, the Eulogy was kinda how I imagined my imagined 40th birthday suicide would be like. I think it’ll make a great movie.

Although for those in the know, I drew inspiration for sending Gorgeous out for eggs while I (Snuggle) *snicker* gave myself the Beretta blowjob from the classic Scent of a Woman. That was one great film, I tell you. Honest to deity.

And with me being melodramatic (as per usual, duh), I thought that the fact that she climbed into the coffin with dead me and her killing herself would be one of those “awwwwwwwww…..*sniff sniff*” kinda things.

Instead, I’m being told that if I’m going to kill myself at 40, I better forget some friendships, I’m being told off that life is important and precious and how the heck can I waste life like that, and several referrals to psychiatrists.

But why?

If I have lived my life to the fullest prior to my timely demise at 40 and I don’t think I’ll miss seeing what happens after that, is that such a crime? Is that such a boo boo?

Why does everyone believe that we should ALL live to a ripe old age? Sometimes, its better to go, I think.

I’ve seen so many patients with age-related diseases tell me (who probably think that I’m only like 15 because of my young-ish looking face), “Boy, don’t grow old.”

And this is my reply.

I know. I don’t plan to.

I don’t know who quoted the whole thing about living fast, partying hard, dying young but sometimes, that sounds like some pretty damn good advice. Why would you want to live slow, live a mundane and boring life and then end up dying of something stupid like acute renal failure or an undiagnosed skin carcinoma? Why on earth would you want to do something like that?

People talk about enjoying life, don’t they? So do it.

On a different note, I quit ballroom for the rest of the year last week.

And now, it feels different to only dance the requisite 2 nights rather than 5 nights a week. It honestly feels very odd. But the thing is, I’m not sitting exams and I can’t justify $240 a month for ballroom classes. Not when I’m doing shit-all and not winning any medals/certs like the last comp I attended. Sure, its part of the learning process and no one ALWAYS wins certs but for the best part of the year for all the comps, I’ve always gone home with at least 1 certificate. The last Federal Pre Nationals Comp was a fscking joke.

Oooh. Apparently, there’s a lot of hidden grief in the above statement.

But I’m definitely looking forward to salsa. And another 3 hours of joy on Tuesday.

And just a little observation, I seem to blog better now in the mornings rather than at night. For some weird reason. 

But here, I need to get ready for work. Man, I’ve ended at least 3 posts like this already!

Ta.

Awwww….

*comic courtesy of http://www.xkcd.com

This made me melt just a little.