The End of the Affair.

Yeah. I think its about time, really. But don’t worry, because this is the end, I’m giving you plenty to read. And think. And wonder. And grieve over wtf.

Note: Please don’t hesitate to click on the links. This post links all the wonderful things that has happened to me while I have been here. Play the videos, click the links, all of it contributes to this post in the end. The Sociologist did mention that it might distract from the original post but please, feel free to do so. If you’re a newcomer to my blog, welcome. I’m afraid that the first post you read is the last one. But rather than have you start from the very beginning (a very good place to start, though), you can just read a condensed version, right here.

I talked to the Sociologist over the weekend and told her that this blog is going to end. And she asked me:

Is it because of the French Lady?

I can’t say it isn’t.

So this blog ends.

I started this very blog, chronicling the day I graduated. I started typing out my very first entry at 12.20a.m. on the 6th of December, 2008. Feel free to browse if you wish.

I applied for my first job interview and I got it, with much relief. Truth to tell, I was panicking quite a bit especially because all my friends were getting jobs and I was the only one still unemployed. Me and the thought of an empty bank account scared the shits out of me.

I arrived in Wangas, went for 2 runs in my running shoes, blogged about my trip up to Wangas, and blogged about what I would do if I wasn’t afraid.

I wrote a bit of fiction, wrote a little more, and pondered what love really is. I also got all cynical about the subtitle for this blog and posted heaps of pictures as I was travelling to Palmy on a weekend basis to practise with the RedHead.  And I wrote a poetic blog post that got raving reviews and won 3rd place in a showcase performance where both of us were NOT teachers.

I went up on the wards and wrote about the loony bin that is the wards, wrote a controversial piece in response to everyone wanting to do Earth Hour, had my blog reviewed by a merciless panel of blog judges, and attended my first ballroom dance competition, and made my first mention of my wish to die at 40.

Work continued to stress me out, I had a mention in the local newspaper, celebrated my birthday, and I started the Soft series as well as found a modern female version of Julie London that is oh-so-hot. You just gotta love jazz. Honestly.

I then again appeared (but front page this time!) in the local rags, decide to go for a random run, pondered a lot of things regarding my job and about everything else in general, and then decided to turn pro euthanasia after reading the provoking “Killing Me Softly” book by Dr Death himself. My tailsuit bits arrived and I also got myself my then pride and joy of an iPhone.

Had a few predictions about what’s going to happen in my life, my iPhone crapped out, a favourite patient of mine decided to go home to be with the Lord, bought myself a bike and put it together, and continued the Soft series. I also had my first serious callback which was at 6.24a.m. in the morning, joined Facebook for real, wrote a befitting entry regarding Malaysia’s Independence Day, and decided to show myself half naked on my blog. Uh huh. I’m a rebel, that’s why.

After having joined Facebook, I started getting those random invites from people to be their friend. I attended my first competition as a registered amateur dancer and voila! won my first latin dance. Latin Lady and I were the talk of the town for a bit after that. I also got more random friend invites and I took sweet revenge on someone’s profile picture for a misdeed done to me in the past. Then I got myself in a twist when I found out that I got trapped in some sort of dance dilemma where I wasn’t sure if I could have my cake and eat it too. Explored Wangas on the bike on a fine afternoon and figured out that at some points, this town is actually really pretty. However, I didn’t like the fact that everyone knew EVERYONE in this place! And then I wrote my famous “Dear you” letters addressed to everyone and no one in particular using pictures from my awesome Samsung phone. I shot down a doctor who came up with the stupidest things ever with my random awesome theories and a nurse comes up and tells me that my fate would be changed by a woman. Unable to tell me who, but just that it was going to be a woman. And maybe had problems sleeping after that proclamation trying to figure out who the mystery lady was.

Things started slowing down a little in September, probably because I got busy at work and I had to start storing blog topics on my phone so that I could blog about it later. Then I appreciated the simple things in life, my new bling for my tailsuit and the one picture of me in my tailsuit +D

I went to the Hospital Ball and got recognised as well as talked with a couple about starting a ceroc business. Also got the routine with the Redhead done ready for the Showcase Spectacular. And then wondered about what I looked for in a partner/girlfriend/wife. Coincidentally, this was a question mentioned recently by Pharmacist M and I honestly could not give an answer. Or an answer satisfactory to myself or her. And then I got sick of dancing. Yeah, I know. Me, get sick of dancing? Oh puh-leez.

Attended the Simply Ceroc 2009, performed, danced, went on so many different workshops, went to the ball, yeah. The usual. And then I wrote what I would call one of my best stories. Rivalling even the Blurred series, if I do say so myself. Or dare I say it, Suspended in Midnight.

I wrote about the time I was so depressed in my final year of study, and then decided to write an electronic copy of a letter to my 13 year old self  in the event that if he read it, he would have more sense to take control of his life rather than just go with the flow, like I did.

Went salsa crazy for real, and blogged about the effects of alcohol on me and then on a party I attended. And I wrote a piece of wisdom on a napkin. The day before I met the French Lady.

I still like this picture. No matter what has happened.

This was the first post that she was ever mentioned. Of course, at that time, we were still friends and nothing has happened.

December’s entries weren’t really worth reading. But that was the month that the French Lady and I decided to give it a go. And give the phrase “Would you like a cup of tea?” a whole new different meaning so that whenever I hear someone say it, I smile quietly to myself.

But this. Oh this post makes me smile.

Looking back at how often I posted at the beginning of the year, my entries grew less and less. I guess I was preoccupied with the relationship and hence, my decision to blog less. Well, less rubbish from me, right? That’s always a good thing.

It was only in March that suddenly, I started blogging again. And my entries weren’t just the usual eat-shit-sleep entries. They were full of pictures, descriptions, thoughts and conversations that the French Lady and I had.

Then it happened.

I wrote entry after entry, trying to detail what was going on as apparently, some website told me that writing out my feelings would be good for me.

I got a few rather fervent replies in terms of comments towards my reactions post break up. Instead of getting angry, I took all these comments in and dissected them and for everyone who commented, there was truth and there was the ugly blunt end of the stick that I didn’t want to voluntarily look at. Stupid me.

From kevral_79 to Monica, they all had something valid to say. And I can’t doubt the wisdom behind their words.

Heard this song on the radio and it made me think of what’s happened. Its a nice song too, though.

Went to friend’s house the other night and all they had to play on the stereo was Michael Learns to Rock. And it was awesome. And this song caught my eye.

It’s a pretty darn catchy song. It plays on my phone like 24/7 now. +D

I appreciate: Shaving my head.

The feeling of a buzz cut. Honestly. The feeling of the clippers vibrating softly in the palm of my hand as I run the sharp blades over my head, removing hair. I’m standing at the white sink at the back of the house, my mirror propped up on the windowsill. I plug the clippers into the mains and turn it on. Then I start on my head.

I do this for an hour. The resultant mess is a me that I don’t recognise.

Its a me that seems tougher on the outside than the one on the inside. But I’m getting used to the profile now and I like it. I think I’ll keep it for a bit.

Hm.

I talked to the Dreadlocked Princess and she asked me about you.

Yes, you.

I said that we broke up. And she kind of looked at me and said, “To be honest, I expected that you two wouldn’t last.”

You two were too incompatible. You two could not last because you two were too different. There was nothing that held you together. Why did you even bother trying?

Well. Thanks.

She also said something along the lines of that I wasn’t happy with myself and hence, I bothered to get into this relationship.

I personally don’t think that’s true to say that. I was quite happy with myself. You completed the rest of the puzzle.

I believed we were happy, you and I.

You know, after writing all of this, reviewing this blog day by day, week by week, month by month. Dang, year by year. I end up at this point in time where this blog deserves to die.

I’m closing this chapter of my life. I’m closing it right here, right now and this is probably the end of it. I’ve had my good times and I’ve had my bad times. There’s plenty of moments in between when I’ve been writing this entry and man, I just look back and smile, aye.

My excitement of getting my tails. My love of salsa now, when I talk about it, its second nature to me. Its something I do on a daily basis, if not more often. My dancing and my writing, two things that have always been important to me. And oh yeah, my job. Its still okay. It does what it should do – pay my addictions. +D

Read this while browsing through the internet and hm. I guess there’s a bit of truth to this after all.

I must confess that I feel a bit sad that this will be the last post. I’ve blogged a lot on different computers, from different websites, from different mediums. And all these posts, these pictures, all have a little bit of my life attached to them. In a weird kind of way, because I’ve never been able to maintain a paper journal, this was the way I wrote. This was the way I chronicled my life and put it down in words and pictures, hoping to remember one day in future that I could look back at my past and sigh at the amazing things that have happened.

I want to thank my readers who have dropped by on this blog without fail ever since Day 1. Some people, I’ve told personally to come to this link. Some people, I’ve sent them an email. Some, apparently, stumble over it and end up becoming quite loyal readers. And some are referred by the people I’ve told personally.

Truth be told, I was always afraid that this blog would become public to the people I would hate to have read this blog. Namely, the Higher Authorities. I don’t think I’ll ever blog and allow them to read it, though. I don’t think I’ve become that insane yet.

I’m not one of those really good bloggers that you stumble upon and want to end up reading every single entry. Sure, I’ve met some people like that. But I’m not one of them. I’m just your average joe blogging about life, love, dance, and everything else in between.

But thank you, readers. Thank you because you’re probably the reason why I blog so much. I read other interesting blogs and this gets me going, knowing that I blog to an audience that usually remains silent, pondering my words on the other end of the internet, looking at my rants and my theories on an LED screen and not choosing to say anything but perhaps, you’ve gained a little something from this. You might have been entertained and as an entertainer, I’m proud to have had your attention. I’m honoured. Truly. If you’ve learnt a little something about life or love or dance or you have been inspired by this, by all means, go and make that inspiration come true. Whether its to blog or to dance or to even become a physiotherapist (I actually hope not!) I have been honoured as a silent writer to have been able to encourage your dreams to become a reality.

I thank you. And I am proud to call you friends. People whom I only know by IP addresses from all over the country, from as far as Greece and France to as close to here as Wellington and Auckland and Dunedin to as close to my original home as Kuala Lumpur. Some of you, I have never met. Some of you, are true and dear to my heart, every single one of you whom I have talked with, laughed with, shared a coffee or a meal with, shared late nights together just enjoying each other’s company. You have provided me with the actual reason to life itself.

Been reading a a graphic novel series simply entitled “Flight.”

These books feature different stories all relating to the idea of Flight. Whether its literally flying itself or the idea of escapism (which I seem to be fascinated about, no matter what age I am), it covers it all. Written by comic artists who otherwise will never see the light of publication, I’ve been fascinated late into the night with stories of love and lost and flight and wings and fables that tell more than a story.

Funnily enough, I can’t actually say that I’ll stop blogging. You might be glad to hear that.

I’ve always enjoyed myself whenever I come onto Microsoft Live Writer. This box demands nothing less of me and as of late, I’ve been more than happy to contribute. Pictures, videos, songs, whatever. My life is laid out on the line and here I am, lying sated and satisfied at my achievements.

So who knows. One day, if you stop by, you might see a little link saying hello and whisking you off into another wonderland of the [D@nc3R*]’s mind.

And so, it ends.

To all the pictures I’ve taken in the past, to all the friends that I’ve entertained and inspired and given a reason to come online in the mornings or the afternoons or nights before work or study or WHATEVER, farewell.

Fuckin’ hell, I’ve had a good time.

Love,

Paul/Poet/[D@nc3R*]

[D@nc3R*] – Chapter Life Prologue

R.I.P.

6/12/08 – 26/4/10.

May this flippin’ blog never come back to bite me in the arse. LOL!

Say it all.

This post says it in the simplest terms ever. Coincidence that her name is the female counterpart of mine? I think not.

And I was bathed in sunlight I could not care less for.

I need this. Dear deity in heaven, I need a rest day.

Just managed to read through an old story I wrote from wayy back when. I think I could have done more if I nurtured this talent. Mind you, this was a submission I did for the BNZ Short Story Competition in 2008. Of course, I heard nothing back for it and its only those people who know me and understand me that will fully comprehend this story but nonetheless.

I’m coughing, blocked nose, and ready to cark it if need be.

So tell me.

I’m blog surfing with the “Next blog” button on Blogger.com and I keep coming up with mummy blogs, blogs about homeschooling kids and daddy blogs, recipe blogs and some random blogs that seem to want to talk to me about Malaysia and everything that I’m missing there from food to cheap electronic goods.

I thought a lot today.

I think I thought a lot more than I usually do. I sat down and I pondered about a lot of things and I wondered about some of the things I’ve done and the things that I’ve regretted.

Hm.

In terms of what’s going to happen to me at the moment, I think I’ve decided to stay. I know. Sorry, Monica. At least I’ve grown up. And I think I’ve grown a pair.

Salsa class is continuing to grow, slowly but surely. I’m writing emails trying to advertise it a bit more now and hopefully, classes are going to continue to grow.

I also taught a class today, learning more complex moves. I’m hoping everyone is going to get it and get it well because I would hate to suck as a teacher.

Today, I thought about relationships and I thought about my stance against marriage and against kids and I wonder if it was wrong to think about having a girlfriend but not looking at carrying on with the marriage/kids plan. Apparently, not many women would want that. Most that I’ve met anyway seem to want to have to squeeze a rock melon from a hole with a circumference the size of a carrot. The joy after supposedly takes away the pain. I’ll take their word for it.

I’ve also been reading this blog and thinking about her. Yeah, her.

Since She Left…hm.

I’ve been tired tired for the past week or so. I can barely keep my eyes open at work and my coffee intake has gone through the flipping roof. I can’t wait to sleep in and completely crash when I find a suitable time.

I also found my old tumblr blog that I used once and never used again.

And I’m thinking of closing this blog down for good. Maybe its time that I put this behind me. And it’ll probably be for everyone’s good and wellbeing as well.

Dear you,

This dance was ours.

Bachata.

This music was ours. The 4 beats that pounded through our blood, our veins, that came to life with the sway of your hips and your arms around my neck.

This music was ours.

I don’t think I ever expressed enough how good you were at this dance. The movements of your hips was as natural as you running your fingers through your hair as you smiled and winked at me through half-closed eyes.

Call me sentimental. Call me foolish for holding on to things that will never happen again. Call me stupid. Whatever.

But this dance is ours. This music is ours. When the bachata starts, its you and your warmth in my arms and your hips moving beneath mine and you felt so right in my arms.

This is ours. Maybe not yours but this will always be my dance with you. No matter how good a dancer I come across to do this dance with me, its not the same because they won’t have the sway, nor the smile, nor the hips, nor the come-hither look in your eyes whenever you dance the bachata with me.

This dance is ours.

Funny how this genre of music was called amargue or “bitterness or bitter music.”

Its subjects are often romantic, especially prevalent are tales of heartbreak and sadness. – Wikipedia.

How apt. Honestly.

Sincerely,

Me.

I appreciate: Worship songs.

This is something I can truly appreciate with every fibre of my being.

I was brought up in a Christian family. Church was pretty much my second home. My social circle revolved around church and church activities. From the first moment I start to remember, I’ve always been a Methodist through and through.

I loved music. And I loved songs. And that’s when it all began.

Starting from traditional hymns, I branched out into the beginning of Hillsong’s albums, found the less mainstream artists like Brian Doerksen’s “Remember Mercy”, started co-leading worship at Sunday School and then I continued to expand with my guitar and my keyboards.

Its been a while now.

Sometimes, I’m not sure why I’ve started listening to Christian music again. Maybe it brings back that part of my life back in the early ‘00 that this was what my life revolved about and how this brought back the familiar memories and how….secure things were.

And some songs never fail to bring a tear to my eye.

Or there’s something about the whole picture that never changes.

And in this life, this existence where things are constantly moving/changing/shaping/mutating, I’m glad that there’s a constant and its not me.

I appreciate: Sunset skies.

Note: As part of my conscious effort to bring optimism back into this blog, I’m going to start writing an “I appreciate” series. This reminds me that there’s always joy and happiness out there, even if I have to dig through the pits of Hell itself to find it. =D

Ignore, if you will, the brightness of suburbia. Ignore, if you can, the bright street lights and the constant glow of incandescent lamps.

And just look at that beautifully blue sky. The sun melts away in the distance, like an ice cream slowly dribbling its way down over the wafer cone lip and there is a peace, a stillness, a calm in the way the rest of the sky darkens and decides to call it a day.

Unlike me, who stumbles home, tired and cranky and wanting whatever food to be on the table after a day of work and too much coffee powder, the natural order of things is to relax, take it easy [Cue Mika] and just let it all slide away. I think there’s a lesson to be learnt here somewhere.

I used to live on the tropical paradise of the islands of Vanuatu. The family and I were fortunate as we lived on top of a hill overlooking the sea. On your normal average day, the sky and the sea was so blue that when you looked out into the horizon, you could hardly tell where the sea ended and the sky began.

Something akin to this. But imagine that you can hardly see the separation.

And in the evenings, the family and I would sit down and look at the sunset. Beautiful, glorious sunsets, just like the ones you see on telly whenever they show you a tropical island. The warm sun nibbling away at rest of your body while the sky puts on a display of reds and ambers and soft oranges and in the distance, a light purplish lavender hue starts to play.

I’ve always loved sunsets.

It reminds me that life starts and sets a little slower than the norm of running around like headless chooks trying to get that last grain of feed.

But sad to say, I spend most of my time looking down rather than up nowadays. I’ll get there. I promise.

Was staying back late at work yesterday when one of the nurses stopped, looked at me and said, “You’re still here.”

Yeah. And?

“It’s late.”

I know…

“Are you trying to impress someone?”

Um…not that I know of.

“Are you trying to get a promotion?”

Haha…definitely not.

“Is there trouble at home?”

Not where I’m at.

And she walks off, shaking her head. I guess staying back at work and doing a little more isn’t quite normal over here just yet.

Tonight, there’s a salsa party and I’m looking at dancing the night away. Yay for salsa!

May you all have pleasant dreams and remember that wherever you are, someone loves you. Heaps.

Little things.

After seeing this appear on my Facebook news feed, I decided to follow the link and see where it lead to.

It appears that people want optimism back. And I think that’s a great idea. Especially after writing such a frickingly depressing blog, I think its time that I brought back some optimism.

I liked this one that was outlined on the blog above.

I remembered the Sociologist telling me about how when she looked at me and the French Lady, she could tell that we really really did care for each other and I agree. That, perhaps, was one of the best outings we ever had together, bar the sucky Lone Star Meal.

I had a phone call from my potential employer today.

I didn’t get the job.

I felt quite…bad. Initially. I had wanted so much to leave and then suddenly, I’m in the lurch because the job I was pinning all my hopes on was taken away from me. But they had their justifications and I didn’t answer the clinical scenario questions adequately and to their satisfaction.

Its okay, though. I’m supposed to be positive, remember?

So this is my positive thing.

A picture taken on a camera phone that isn’t supposed to look like anything extraordinary but it did. Refer to photo above, please.

I think I captured the solitude of the lamppost and the lights in the distance kind of lead up to it. I really like this picture. It was a cold night and I had gone to a work colleague’s house for dinner and Asian food which I had not eaten for AGES. Dinner was good. Conversation was good.

I like.

And as much as I feel like I’m being trapped here due to the fact that I didn’t get a job down south, I’ll like to turn it around and see it as an opportunity to branch out and look at all the other things that I’ve not been able to look at and see. I can go elsewhere. The world is STILL my oyster.

Just talked to the parents back home and they’ve been nothing less than encouraging.

And come to think about it, I guess I can still continue with my salsa dreams on this end of the spectrum. And I just realised.

I can cancel one of the things off my “Snapshot Moments” list on the right. Booyah!

I’m glad I’m making this one happy. Because I sure need a bit of cheering up right now whether its self inflicted or not.

The sun’ll come out.

Tomorrow.

Just a short entry right before work.

I’m back here again at this point where I’m considering what’s going to happen next. Sure, I’m attempting to live life again and that’s going on….okay, I think.

I still think about the French Lady. I can’t deny that fact. Just being here makes me think about her. And although I knew EXACTLY where I went wrong, I can still sit here for hours thinking about what and why and whether things could have been different.

Well.

Once in a while
Will you try to give one little thought
Though someone else may be
Nearer your heart?

Once in a while
Will you dream of the moments I shared with you?
Moments before we two drifted apart

’Cos I know that I’ll
Be contented with yesterday’s memory
Knowing you think of me
Once in a while

Anyway. I’ll see you later.

Ganjil, kan?

Walaupun aku rindu padamu sampai hatiku hampir berkecai, aku hanya rindukan padamu saja. Dalam mindaku, hanya kami berdua wujud di dunia ini. Aku tidak pernah berfikir tentang sesiapapun kecuali engkau.

Hanya engkau sahaja.

Haven’t heard this song for AGES until latin ballroom practice the other day. +D  Awesome song that brings back memories.

Seek.

No, I’m not going to burst out into biblical verses just yet.

Ah. Welly.

So I have always maintained my argument that as much as this place rocks for shopping and dancing, etc, I also maintained that I will never work there due to all these reasons and things that occurred to me when I was there for a year. Well, nine months to be precise. My first foray out of the comfort and familiarity of Dunny for the last 4 years and suddenly, I was hit with all these things that I was not aware of. And to learn the nuances of human nature. Bliss indeed.

So while I’m still trawling for opportunities, guess what turned up?

Click picture for a bigger, more glorious view.

How IRONIC is that?

But let’s see what happens first. I don’t think I’m desperate enough to think about headed back to that place to live just yet.

Open your hand.

And let it go. – Stephen.

“Okay.”

Its funny how many times post a relationship that I have to tell myself that ad nauseum but I sometimes think the idea of it all tends to hit the person a lot later.

I’m back listening to love songs again. Yes, Sociologist. I really should share my playlist with you. +D

I listened to this song in 2004 in the middle of the night with a CD and a stereo when I couldn’t sleep. In the middle of winter, I huddled beneath my covers and fell asleep to the familiar lyrics and the rise and fall of voices and how all the pieces fall into place and that this was all written in the stars.

Had a good ballroom latin practice with FreshFaced Girl this morning where we spend around 3 hours tearing each dance to bits and trying to work out how a dance works. And we did an amazing quickstep and ended up flying across the floor. Good times, definitely.

While taking a bike ride around Wangy today, I thought of how little I appreciated nature. And the little things. Its hard to stop and smell the roses if they’re the least things on your mind.

I stopped to appreciate this sunset a few days ago. The sky was wayy more magnificent than this picture can every portray.

I could go on and wax lyrical about it but I think the picture justifies itself.

This place has offered me so much. As much as I’ve always complained about how I wanted to leave this place, I can’t forget to count my blessings. I’ve been lucky. For a while in time, I enjoyed my job. For a moment, dance became the fulfilling point in my life. For a candle flicker, the French Lady made my world whole and gave me a reason to stay.

But this has ended. Like the sunset to a day, my life here has ended and its time for me to go.

Had a discussion with the rest of the Brood and they all talked about moving away from the family home. I guessed I’m going to be heading down there for a good seven years or so, it seems. I’m not particularly sure what I want out of life at this very moment. But I think that I need a change.

Its 12.21a.m. and I’ve got work tomorrow.

This year promises a lot. The big wide unknown is out there and I am afraid to head out into it. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know whether I’ll ever make it through or whether I’ll survive the onslaught. I don’t know whether its worth it. I don’t know whether I’ll regret my decisions. I don’t know. I can’t say.

Its full of negatives, isn’t it?

But I guess that there is a time and a place for it. So I’ll stand up and face it. Put a happy smile on my face. I walk towards it, knowing that I was meant for this. No matter what it takes.

Whatever it takes.

This week is going to be an interesting one. Let’s see what happens.

Day 24.

I’m going to be sappy. And cheesy. And all of the above.

I miss you. I really do.

I miss the familiarity of you. Your scent. Your hair. Your lips. The way you move with me one the dance floor. The way you always feel so warm no matter what the weather.

I miss our hang out times together. The movies. Our weekend trips away to places that I’ve not been to.

I miss watching your face light up at Lone Star ribs.

I miss the way you give me a back rub.

I miss giving you hugs and kisses.

I miss hearing you talk about how much you love Spike and vampire movies.

I miss hearing you go on and on about how Twilight is not a book.

I miss waking up with you.

I miss having breakfast with you.

I miss holding your hand.

I miss having chinese takeaways with you.

I miss giving you foot rubs.

I miss looking after you when you’ve got the flu and making chicken noodle soup.

I miss the way you tousle your hair to try and give it more “volume.”

I miss the way your scent clings lightly to my sheets.

I miss how you lean in against the crook of my neck and you breathe in and you mumble, “You smell nice” even though I’m all sweaty.

I miss how you smile when I introduce you to people as “my girlfriend.”

I miss how you hold on to my hand when you’re driving.

I miss how you text “Hey” to me even though I’m right next to you.

I miss us.

I sure do.

But all this…doesn’t matter. I just wanted a chance to write it because I know I can’t say it anymore.

Whatever it takes, right? Because I want you to be happy.

Happy.

Day 23.

Whatever it takes, Paul. Whatever it takes.

Didn’t expect that randomly seeing you would be so heart-achingly painful.

Day 21.

I love being controversial.

Apparently, I’m now getting that many more readers or people who’re actually willing to hit the comment button and add in their two cents.

So if you’re having trouble reading, click the above and you’ll get the comment in all its glory.

In short, I’ve been told to grow some balls because I’m that depressing.

So bits of advice that I really should take on board:

1. Grow up.
2. Grow a pair.
3. Get those contacts.
4. Stop lamenting over French Lady.
5. Move.
6. Stop the depressing crap.

She says some pretty true things in that comment box. I can’t actually say that this is wrong.

Although I’d like to quote the First Amendment in some form of self-defence.

And her following comment regarding “never seeing anything as depressing and STALKERISH like this again!” might mean that I’ve managed to nab a steady reader of sorts! YAY! I don’t usually get to do that very often.

But yes, Monica. I’m doing ONE of those things on my to-do list.

Got this just this evening after coming back from work.

This just means that my dancing dreams here will have to be put on hold for the mean time. As much as I would love to be able to expand the world of cuban salsa and spread the love here, its not meant to be, I guess.

I’m sure that you’re doing this for your support of the French Lady, Monica. She’s lucky to have a friend like you. Not many would do what you did.

Hm.

Day 20.

I get a little nostalgic after a while. So here’s a song from wayy before I ever had a girlfriend.

Playing this song repeatedly, I wondered how it would ever feel to sing this song to myself post heartbreak.

Now I know.

And work decides to call. On a good note, weather’s good today. Yay.

Day 19.

I wonder if you still read this blog.

I wonder.

These entries are taken from my notebook that I scribbled in during the Salsa Congress 2010. Pictures and videos that followed were part of my thoughts that came along when I was walking to workshops, salsa parties, performances, meals, eating out, the like.

And as much as it is emo, I should mention that I like marinating in the idea of being emo.

Some people have mentioned that after reading my posts, they feel quite depressed. I think I have that effect on people. Plus, if you look at the title of this post, this is less than week 3 post break up. I’d appreciate it if you find it depressing reading my posts that you don’t read. I understand and acknowledge the fact that things posted online do get read and they also do get commented on but please. This is my outlet. This is my release. This is my way of rehab and counselling. This is my way out. As much as talking to someone about it does help, I still sit here at this computer, hunched over like the proverbial sage writing his long pondered words of wisdom except for me, this is not wisdom. Its just words.

And words are all I have
To take your heart away.

Hm. 

Enjoy.

***

I try not to remember.

Being here, being in the familiarity of it all, and to think that our last road trip down here was the last time we went anywhere together.

I couldn’t quite walk down that street where we spent the night at the motel and where I took you for “authentic Malaysian food” and I took you to meet my friends and we were still the good ole’ still-very-much-into-each-other kind of couple. But I guess that was then and this is now.

<italics>We walked too many roads together, you and I. Too many that you are too deeply engraved in my memories of this place.</italics>

I rushed out after salsa class to take this photo. Remember how you and I would look up at the stars and I would pick out Orion’s belt and you would point out to me all the other constellations. Every time I see a clear night, your arm around my waist while you point at the moon and say “its upside down” comes to mind. Remember we walked the waterfront one night with your friend and we held hands while you two chatted away? Yeah. It was a starry night.

The French Lady and I had a conversation a while back post break up. At that point in time, I thought I had somehow miraculously recovered from post break up emotional trauma and I told her that I was going to do whatever I could and that was in my power to make the whole process of getting over each other easier. “Whatever it takes,” I said. “Whatever it takes.”

What a <fool> I feel like now.

One thing did make me laugh out loud, though, over this weekend. Like seriously, laugh out loud.

You know one of those things that sound dirty in dance but isn’t?

So this is the advanced styling dance class. The teachers weren’t particularly proficient in English and they relied on a translator who spoke a different language but could translate somewhat.

So, try and picture this in mind.

Guy stands facing away from the girl, his left hand behind his back.  Girl stands facing the guy’s right side, her right hand holding on to the guy’s aforementioned left hand behind his back.

Now, the crux of the matter.

Guy is supposed to duck under the girl’s right arm that’s holding on to his left arm to end up facing her. Girl would do this style move where they stand with their feet apart and shake their derriere a la Ricky Martin’s “Shake Your Bon Bon” video.

So HOW DIRTY CAN THIS BE, RIGHT?

The teacher’s instructions on the CRUX OF THE MATTER?

<QUOTE>

While the guys go down, the girls open their legs and vibrate.

<ENDQUOTE>

OH YEAH, BABEH.

This can be taken in so many ways and my mind can only think of ONE way to process this.

So after you finish laughing, please continue. And if you don’t get it…sigh. What can I say. A picture says a thousand words but I’d rather not. Not on my blog, anyway. HEE.

But back to the serious stuff.

You know, readers, (and I hate referring to you as readers as though your day job consists of reading things or newspapers or whatever aloud) this has been a year.

Sure, its only a quarter of the way through but I think I’ve had enough of this year by now. I want a December 31 and the psychological ability to wipe the slate clean and try to start afresh. Anew. From the beginning. From a clean piece of A4 paper, unblemished with mistakes and crossed out words written in dark ink so that no matter how much you try and “twink” it out, it’ll still be readable on the other side.

I keep telling the Big Man upstairs not in official prayer but in informal bursts and in between salsa classes and dinner and brushing my teeth and all that I seem to be saying to the Big Man is, “please don’t give me a reason to stay. Please don’t give me any more reason to be here. Please let me leave this behind me. Please let me leave this bit of my life behind me. I don’t want to have to try and live with the memory of this anymore.”

But I keep thinking of that old adage that “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

I’ve had some hard times in my life. I have to admit that. I’ve gone through some things in my life that I’m not proud of. There are some things that I will think of and I will look at it and see it as my personal cross to bear. Or crosses, for that matter. Lord knows, with the sins I’ve committed, I’d have more than just the one stigmata in my palms and soles. 

So here’s the question.

How often do you tempt fate to kill you just so that you become stronger?

***

I’ve been listening to the radio a lot. And its sometimes almost ironic what gets played.

At this VERY INSTANT, I’m listening to this tune that has the repeating chorus of “Look what they’ve done to my song.” Weird, I know.

But this song really caught my attention. And apparently, by a NZ artist too.

And funnily enough, as much as I wanted to erase all traces of the French Lady from what I can humanly remember, THIS song by her favourite artist caught my half deaf ears. Sure, I’ve heard the song before. But I only HEARD it now.

Yeah. Who knew?

Its 12.04a.m. on Wednesday morning. I know that I should be asleep but you know, I don’t really write these posts very often. Well, posts like these. With links and pictures and videos and whatnot. I think this makes wayy more entertaining reading.

The weekend was a good one, I must admit. I met a young American guy who’s only 21 but already owns his own computer fixing business. And he inspired me so much and was such a genuinely nice guy that I’ve pretty much been inspired to see what I can do from a business perspective. Especially since he’s only 21, has never gone to university but yet his business has survived the economic recession thus far. What the hell, right? Makes you think you’re in the wrong profession, sometimes.

It was a busy weekend, full of dancing and workshops and my trusty notebook that I filled with notes from dancing and diary-writing and just general things that I found interesting on a daily basis. I fully enjoyed it and I met people there who actually danced for a living. When asked whether they ever got sick of the job, they shook their heads and said, “We’re dancing. How do you get sick of that for a living?”

They’ve got a point.

And imagine having your dance shoelaces tied up and thrown around your bag strap. Talk about dedication to the addiction, man. I took this picture on the way to town for lunch and I looked down and noticed my leather shoes wrapped around my leather bag strap next to my leather jacket. And all black too! I guess my colour blindness does work in my favour sometimes.

And how ironic.

This looks familiar.

But after all’s said and done, nothing is ever that easy. The way is always going to be fraught with mud and wet pools of water. It just depends on how you cross it.

This week, I await the email of a confirmation position down in Dunners with some trepidation. Do I get excited? Do I get anxious? Do I get nervous? Do I get relieved? What am I supposed to feel?

This is my first job that I’ve ever resigned from. Well, proper job, that is.

Guess its just a waiting game, isn’t it? Its a game of change and where the wind blows and you can choose to resist or follow or whatever.

But talking about change.

This is me. Graduation ceremony 2008.

Nerd looking. Still that naive. I thought I was ready to take on the world. I was bored stiff of the whole shebang about graduation. What the hell was the big deal about? I wanted to earn some moolah. Get going. Get my paycheck. Get things done.

But after everything that’s happened post 2008?

Amazing just what a few changes to your appearance can do to you, isn’t it?

Hm.

I’m thinking of closing down this blog. Like I may have mentioned before in a previous entry, sometimes, I end this blog when something bad has happened. Sure, I usually regret after I’ve closed the blooming thing down but sometimes, I purge and I purge clean. Bring on the bleach and the stainless steel wool because there is going to be blood.

Good night world. I hope this keeps you read and fed. May your life continue to be full of wonder and may you never stop looking for the end of the rainbow.

Drained.

The world so totally drags today.

I mean, after all, I’ve just come back from a weekend where I spent my days dancing rather than having to bother about work and patients and all that stuff.

Learnt heaps, made two really good acquaintances (I think I’ll call them friends now) and I’m apparently being dragged around with the salsa team so that’s looking quite interesting as well.

I wrote in a little notebook during the Congress as I knew that I wouldn’t have ongoing access to a computer. Very old school, pen and paper style. In fact, it was so addictive as I could pull it out of my pocket anytime I want and write a quote or two that I found funny, take a picture on my phone and decide that it’ll go on my blog later and then write that into the notebook as well. Maybe its time for a netbook again? Heh. I think I spend too much.

Got heaps of photos (well, not REALLY) but I’ve got enough to keep me entertained somewhat and to keep you readers on your feet. If I get home soon enough this arvo after work, then I’ll be writing it up. But then again, I’ve got salsa class and I’m excited about what’s happening on the dance floor so that might occupy my time as well. We’ll see when the next update is.

I felt tired yesterday but it was good to get home. It was good to get back into my own bed and know that there’s a shower there when I want it, a toilet there when I want it, no swipe card access to get into a room full of 12 other people I’m not familiar with, no having to run out for dinner at night, no having to walk half an hour for dance lessons and workshops. None of that.

And as much as I talk about leaving. Damn.

Its good to be home.

It is done.

I throw my fate to the hands of God and I kneel here before the executioner’s block.

Do this quick and get it done and over with. At the very least, I deserve a warrior’s honourable death.

Day 14.

Feel the burn.

Feel the burn as it courses down your throat. The sweet sickly taste of cola masking the sharp aftertaste of bourbon as it makes you turn your head to one side as your eyes squeeze shut, hoping to staunch the “pain.”

Feel your skin warming up, just slightly, as you lift the bottle to your mouth and you take another sip, another gulp, and you wipe the last drops away from your lips. You pretend to be manly, you belch. You act as though you’re tough, what with the new hair cut and the tight-ish t-shirt and the alcohol in hand. You’re strong. You’re better. You’re bold. You find it hilarious that they still ask you for ID even though you’re wayyyy past the drinking age.

Then a friend comes to you, pats you on the arm and mouths the words, “Are you okay?” during salsa and all you really want to do is look down, bite your lip and murmur, “No. I’m not okay.” Because you don’t look okay. You’re not boisterous. You’re not your usual laughing self. You’re quieter now. More reserved. But that’s you, you tell yourself. I’m not boisterous. So what now?

“No, I’m not okay.” Those words linger at the tip of your tongue. Wanting. So. Bad. To. Let. Go.

But what do you do?

You pinch your lips together in fear that they will tremble and you raise your eyesbrows and the corner of your mouth and your shrug your shoulders and you pretend as though yeah, I’m okay. I’m coping. I’m surviving.  

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

It becomes your personal mantra. It becomes the reason why you wake up in the morning, why you throw yourself into work on a daily basis. Why you decide to do all this. Why, why, why.

FSCKING why. You’re just justifying EVERYTHING, aren’t you? You’re just wanting another reason to forget, just like another cigarette or another McKenna but you can’t forget quick enough. You suck in the smoke with the avid enthusiasm of a chain-smoker and you POUR the alcohol down your throat like a fish out of water but yet. Yet. YET.

It doesn’t work.

You wake up with the mouth of an ashtray and a headache from the bowels of Hell and your heart pounding through your chest and you swear off it. It doesn’t remove the memories. It doesn’t take away the pain. It does nothing more than add physical insult to emotional injury.

And so the dream ends. Right here.

And everyday that passes by that I wake up and I’m not surprised that my bed is empty and that your gray green eyes aren’t the first thing that greets me in the morning, I salute the day and call it a victory. Another day to breathe. Live. Learn. Forgive. Forget.

I’m feeling like a breath without the air. I sure do.