Watch me spew poison...Hell knows no fury

I think I have lost you forever, haven't I? You have probably moved on. What must I do to make you come back? I thought this festive season would be a good time for us to get in touch and make contact with each other again. The festive season is drawing to an end. In fact, it's never really begun without you around. If I don't hear from you before the start of the New Year, I don't think I will ever hear from you again. This is it. I have been in denial hoping this can delay the inevitable. I think I have lost you for good. You, do you hear me?? Make him come back.

I was so angry yesterday that I slammed my cell phone on the table. Not sufficiently appeased, I threw it on the carpeted floor. And I threw my keys on it. I almost stepped on it. Luckily I marshalled control over my emotions in time. I don't want to have to pay for another phone.

Angry with things in general. Myself, most of all. Luckily no one was around. Life is not fair. I want to cry foul. I want to throw things and break things. I want to cut up stuff and hurt people. I want to slap her, spit at her, tear her hair out, throw her into boiling oil. I need a shoulder to cry on.

If your purpose is to punish me, you have accomplished it. Now please come back. It's so corny to say this, but if I have you, the world can go to hell. I hate the holiday season. Why don't this world just disappear?

I have been very busy with christmas shopping lately. Bought 3 musical boxes yesterday, of different designs but all in the same color. My favorite color - Pink. Someone commented (out of good intentions, I must say) that I should get at least 2 of them in blue and 1 in purple cos those are the favorite colors of the receipients of the gifts. Conversation went as follows, while we were selecting:

Someone: You should buy either blue or purple.
Oddball: But I like pink.
Someone: They like blue and purple. They are getting them as gifts.
Oddball: Yes, but I am paying for them (the musical boxes).
Someone: I just feel that if you are going to give them as gifts to others, you should get something they will fancy, in the right color at least.
Oddball: I feel that if I am going to give something as gifts to others, they should be good enough to be given away as gifts. Blue and purple aren't good enough, at least not for me. Pink is.

The design is great. It's something they will go nuts about. I am paying for them, don't I get to choose the colors I like at least? Gift-shopping is as much about the giver as it is about the receipient. If it's something from me, it is almost a certainty that the receipient will like the present. That's how much I expect from the gifts I give. I get something that I like and which I think the receipient will also appreciate. Every gift from Oddball has to meet these two criteria. (Now you know why gift-shopping is such a tedious process for me. I absolutely dread it.) Sometimes, it's difficult to get that elusive perfect gift. At times like these, a compromise between these two sometimes competing critieria (especially when the receipients' tastes are not closely aligned with mine) is necessary and they have to be balanced against each other. So in this case, great design in pink is the point of acceptable trade-off. I think they will like this particular item and the design, notwithstanding the color, and I like it in pink. So pink it is.

I am breathing fire today, like a ball of fire, a loose cannon waiting to explode. I feel like throwing myself off a building. Nothing is going well. I hope the world disappears when I wake up tomorrow.

Why the fuck am I so unlucky? The fella has been sitting around jobless for months and just when he's offered a position from one of my clients, he mysteriously and miraculously "just received an offer with more attractive terms". Don't let me find out you are lying to me. Anyway, I hope you fall out of the job soon enough so that you will be floating in the job market just before christmas.

Thank you, my Anonymous Commenter (5.50pm, 8 Dec).

For being the first ever commenter on this blog, it is my pleasure to extend the privilege of being a VIP Commenter to you. Not that there are any tangible perks...but the honor of being the first commenter to be conferred VIP status must count for something? Ok, it doesn't. But just indulge me...thanks really for taking the time to read and comment. And thanks for the compliment. Para Schizo I may be, it goes to show I do have my moments of scintillating wit too. But apart from those far and few moments, I am not sure if I am nearly half as insightful you give me credit for.

Knowing how sometimes I can be such an emotional basketcase ( and I have a strong hunch this is going to escalate into one of those moments if left unchecked) , I think I will spare this blog and not go on and on about how grateful and touched I am, how kind you are, how sweet the world is, how blue the sky is, how there is hope in human decency, how there are still kindred spirits out there etc, though I feel exactly all of the above (ok, maybe just the first two). I know fellow members of the blogging community must be screaming 'damn it, it's just a comment, stupid!', but as cliched as this may sound, I am truly happy.

Aside from the fact that it's highly complimentary (that of course is very flattering...) , the fact that you decide it's worth your time to read and comment is a compliment in itself. It's a sweet gesture, like leaving a note for someone. If it's positive, it's just icing on the cake.

I have told no one about this blog and I hope no one I know in real life reads about this. Yes, it's one of those 'if I tell you, I will have to kill you' secret. I decided that if I can't get their approval and validation in real life, I certainly don't want any from them on my blog. I don't want them to read my thoughts and feel obligated to say anything that aren't necessarily true just to make me feel better cos it doesn't. All those pseudo-validating remarks they give so freely are self-defeating. It makes me feel worse, especially since I am such a proud person. I understand they do it with the best of intentions. While I can't say I am not guilty of that at some point of time or another, that doesn't make it right. I admit sometimes I can't handle the truth as it plays out in real life and lies are comforting at those times. But they only provide momentary relief and simply makes the truth more unpalatable over time. I have told myself so many lies and heard so many variations from others that after so many years of being in denial about so many aspects of my life, I think it's time I start working to wean myself off from this constant desire for validation (pseudo or otherwise). I want to learn to handle and accept the truth about my life. Families and friends are comfort, but sometimes we have to rely on strangers who have no sort of history or any emotional baggage with you for that dose of reality and truth, and the comments section on this blog seems to be a viable avenue for this.

I wonder who messed with my settings. Or maybe I unwittingly hit some buttons. Now the blogger homepage and the dashboard that appear on my screen are in Chinese. It's so difficult to read those Chinese characters. It's because they look somewhat more complicated than what I learnt in school. Luckily, my brain associates the relative positions that they occupy to the functions they represent as I remember them when they were written in English. But it still looks very weird. Please change it back, someone.

I love the weather now. So cool, sometimes cold. But it's great and augurs well for my complexion and my hair too and my hands. My hands feel so soft and my hair looks glossy and healthy. A hiatus, as brief as it may be, from the hot and humid weather is always welcome.

And I have about 30 christmas cards on my table, all beautiful cards, better than the ones we had last year, 6 of each of the 5 designs, waiting to be personally written and signed by yours truly to clients, a task I have been putting off for 1-2 weeks. But I don't think I can procrastinate anymore, since Christmas is round the corner. I have to get them out quick if I want them to be delivered before christmas. If there's anything worse than not sending your christmas greetings, it's not sending them on time. This is one of those situations where late is not better than never. If it's late, it comes across as an afterthought. And that diminishes the sincerity of the wishes, regardless of how well-intentioned they may be.

I hate writing on those cards. My handwriting is only passably legible. And I always feel the need to come up with original lines, cos for some reasons, I think an original line of greeting speaks volumes about my sincerity. But do they really matter? Do the clients really care? Do I really mean to be sincere about my wishes to them? Do I really want the year ahead to be a rewarding year for them? Answers are no, no, no and no. So why do I bother?

The same logic extends to presents too. Do I want the receipients to be blessed? Do I really want them to be all well and good? I don't bear ill will on them. But I certainly do not want them to be more successful or happier than me. I will be sad if they keel over and die. But I do want their existence to be as ordinary as mine or worse. So why bother to shop for the perfect gift? It's damn time-consuming.

Once upon a time, I considered myself pretty altruistic. Not the epitome of altruism. But quite. I prayed for my sisters to do well in exams, literally got down on my knees to pray. Prayed to god to let them do well, and if I remember correctly, even asked god to take away some of my grades to give them. I was such a sweet girl. I loved myself then and still do when I think of the person I used to be. So sweet and giving. So generous. So selfless. I downplayed my own success in school and music out of consideration for my sisters' feelings. I comforted them when they were scolded. Was gracious enough to congratulate them on a job well done.

I wonder what changed me. I can't put a finger to it. It happened gradually, I think. It became the world against Oddball.

"Ambiguity has never been my thing, so I can't tell if you're being genuine or not, Oddball." Some commenter on another blog said to me last week. My instinctive response to him? Frankly, I still have not quite figured this out too, which is why I am the oddball that I am. Ambiguity basically encapsulates pretty much the essence of who I am. I am such a contradiction sometimes.

I used to root for people to succeed, now I root for people to fail. But when people do actually fail, I empathise with them. I comfort them to make them feel better, and I do this with utmost sincerity.

When I do comment on blogs, I generally mean what I say. And more often than not, I only have good things to say cos I think I choose to see the good side of things. I know it's easy and somewhat reasonable for people to construe my too-good-to-be-true comments as a display of hypocrisy and I won't say they are entirely unjustified in drawing that conclusion. Perhaps the lack of intimacy over the web creates an imaginary bond and a false sense of solidarity with the person. Perhaps I am just desperate to get in touch with that compassionate side of me that has been obscured by the side I choose to show others in real life, before it becomes totally obliterated. Perhaps the person is nothing more than a virtual person over the web, thus I don't perceive him to be a threat, which is why I feel secure enough to speak truthfully since there isn't an iota of a chance he will ever materialise in my life. He's not in a competition with me. No sort of defence or aggression is necessary. Hence, whatever compassion and empathy I withhold in real life, I let them show through my comments in the virtual world.

Sometimes I wonder. What's with people? wtf? What is so difficult about being upfront about your thoughts? If you ain't the least interested in my position, say so. No doubt it's a pretty specialised position, but I am very sure you're not the only candidate out there. It may just take me more time to find another but it's not an impossibility. If you are fucking not keen to explore the option, fucking say so. Do not avoid my phone call. It's very bad PR. And PR matters alot in recruitment, which is a very personal affair, as professional and objective as we would like to believe it is or try to make it appear to be. And you can expect repercussions. Ever heard of inter-office grapevine? Yes, that's how extensive my grapevine is. It goes beyond inter-office boundaries. You have crossed the line. This is personal, and I don't claim it's otherwise. And when things get personal, my priorities change. You will be black-listed. I will give some feedback to everyone I know. When you find that you are not in a position of favorable bargaining power, you will want to call me. Let's play some hide-and-seek then, bitch.

An observation that I made about myself long time ago, and one that was validated by one particular incident last week. One fool-proof way to get the better of me in any debate or discussion is to spew vulgarities.
It doesn't intimidate or upset me. Instead, it disorients me and amuses me, which is actually quite laughable cos it's not supposed to. They are meant to inflame and agitate the person to which they are said.

And I am continually surprised by how creative some people can get when they incorporate expletives in their words. For me, 'wtf, screw you witless, fuck off , bloody' or any combination of the aforementioned are about as creative as I can get. So I find it amusing when I hear very creative ways in which expletives are combined or the clever use of words (which we don't normally find offensive) with expletives to form highly offensive phrases.

This is what I find funny. That I actually try to figure out what it means and try to form a mental picture of the 'acts' in question. In the middle of a rather vigorous debate, and someone spews a string of swear words and for a couple of seconds, I am completely thrown off balance and become disoriented as I try to conjure up images of the obscenities said. I lose my train of thought on the original discussion and am thus vulnerable to any attacks on my arguments.

Very effective diversionary tactic.

I realised that if I read something at night before I sleep, it helps me to sleep better. I have been doing that for the last couple of weeks. I know it's time to hit the bed when my eyes read the same line over and over again and still, it doesn't register in my mind. And I am knocked out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Better than any sleeping pills. Not that I take any for that matter. As a matter of fact, I don't even take pills of any kind as far as I can help it. Not even for colds, fever or sore throat. Cos I read somewhere that every pill that's ingested increases the load on your kidneys by 10 times or so. Instead, I put my faith in the natural healing process that our bodies initiate at the first sign of any discomfort. And wait for our bodies to work magic as the natural healing process proceeds slowly but surely.

But I am not sure if falling asleep as soon as you hit the bed is a good thing. At least for me. Cos it has been a habit of mine for as long as I can remember, when I spent some time at the end of each day reflecting on any significant events. Taking stock of the day's happenings. It makes me feel I am in control of my life. It allows my emotions to settle, so the next day can start on a clean slate. Downside to this is that I lose precious sleeping time, sometimes intellectualising about trival things that don't matter.

I hope you don't stop posting. Cos anyone who's any lesser might stop. There are people out there who genuinely enjoy your blog, as hypocritical and insincere as they might sound. Wtf is wrong with everyone? If you enjoy it, read it. Otherwise, click the 'X' button. I think I believe there is some truth to whatever that's in the blog. Whatever happened to basic human goodness and decency?

Sweet sweet dream I had last night. Of my secret crush JJ. The schoolmate whom I secretly admired all through high school.

After my long entry about him couple of weeks back, I thought after the self-administered psychotherapy, I would have purged him from my system or at least suppressed any surviving traces of my senseless infatuation with him, if not eternally, at least for a few months, before the remnants of that silly girlish crush start rearing their heads again in my dreams again. Or start manifesting themselves in the spiteful and mean-spirited side of my personality. Not that I necessarily dread seeing him in my dreams. Quite to the contrary, I quite look forward to dreams with him in them. Ok, it also very much depends on the content of the dreams. I hate those dreams where the gf guest stars in them and I am yet reminded of the fact they are an item. Give me a break, this is dreamland for pete's sake, where we are allowed to be in as much denial as we want to, where we are allowed to weave fantasies and live them vicariously. It is as close to reality as we can possibly hope for.

I think for about 2-3 weeks, the psycho treatment was effective. And to be frank, I was scared when I stopped dreaming of him for the last 2-3 weeks. I didn't want the self-help to be so effective. I guess I wasn't ready to let go of him just yet. That infatuation has been a part of me for such a long time and you can't just cut it out of my life like that. It should fade gradually from my life, so slowly that I finally forget that it even existed in the first place.

Something like a real-life break-up, where you first detect signs of incompatibility, and the quarrels, the tears, the exchange of harsh words, the cooling off of passion and finally everything culminating in the break up. We need time to prepare and brace ourselves for the inevitable. The human spirit is vulnerable, fragile. It's not indestructible. We need to see that it's coming before we can convince ourselves of the reality of the matter and accept that it has happened. In other words, kill me softly. Wean me off my thoughts of you slowly. Well, with Guy, I saw it coming. It didn't make it any easier or less painful, but it made the reality easier to deal with because I understood how we wind up where we did. I am in control of my emotions. They don't explode in my face, except for times when my crankiness acts up ...like now.

Anyway, it was a pleasant enough dream. We were very happy and the gf got really jealous. She can be in those dreams so long as she's made to feel like the odd one out. It's such a thrill.

You see how any mention of Guy upsets me...