Watch me spew poison...Hell knows no fury

I have officially lost track of time and day. That is until Nic called me just now that it suddenly hit me tomorrow is not Thursday. It's only Wednesday, which makes the day after Thursday, which incidentally is also the last working day of the week since Friday is a public holiday. So good thing is Nic is coming back on Thursday night, in time to spend the long weekend with me, and I mistakenly thought he will only be back on Friday. Well the way my brain works flouts every law of reason.

How do you know for certain if someone is flirting with you or if it's just a show of goodwill and they are just being friendly?

Well Nic thinks time will tell. People reveal their true intentions over time, or at least those intentions become increasingly apparent to us.

Ok, the person in question is actually my boss. I may be reading too much into things. But do bosses address their secretaries as 'sweetheart and sweetie'? He even called me his Dear Princess last Friday, of course in the privacy of the two of us. I have never had professional working relationships with expats before, at least not directly, so I really don't have an idea if those terms are considered appropriate in the work environment. Nic and me are romantically involved so terms like these are fairly commonplace. But our romantic involvement also means that I don't have a sound basis of comparison for this situation that I have with my boss. Perhaps caucasians are just warm and friendly by nature. But Nic says he doesn't use such terms of affection with his secretary or any of his female assistants or staff. He would rather not risk underming the professional nature of their interactions. And neither was he so affectionate with any of his secretaries or his female staff while he was in the States too. So he feels something's definitely up with this boss of mine and his obvious show of affection.

I also noticed that he doesn't address me by those terms when there are other colleagues around. He limits them only to personal interactions with me, either on the phone or face to face. That's even more suspicious according to Nic cos that's an indication of his awareness that 'sweethearts and sweeties' are not appropriate forms of address in the workplace. When there are others around, he would just call me 'Chelle'. Initially he called me Michelle. But after the first week, I think he got more acquainted with me and decided to be less formal and asked me if its ok if he addressed me as 'Chelle'. I told him it's fine with me, so long as we both know who are referring to.

Nic says if I have more definitive proof of my suspicions, I can probably go to someone more senior to file a harrasment complaint against him. I told him that would be an over-reaction and it's harrassment only if it makes me uncomfortable, which I am not. It's more like a cultural awakening to me. I don't know if this sort of friendly behavior is typical of caucasian bosses or something that's only peculiar to my boss. And he always say it in a half-teasing, half-joking manner, so you can't really say it's inappropriate. It's something that triggers my curiosity more than anything. Moreover, he hasn't done anything way out of line or unbecoming of someone in his position. It could be his way of creating a more harmonious working environment to make me feel more at ease, given the adjustment issues I had in my first couple of days.

So in the meantime, there's only one way to find out. Wait for time to tell...

PS: Nic is travelling again. This time to Hong Kong and will be back on Friday. So it's me, the apartment and his car again.

If I could ask for anything, I would ask for the ability to not be able to cry. I am such a crybaby. Even Nic thinks so. He was mildly bewildered initially and found it whimsical in a weird way. He couldn't understand why seemingly trivial things can get me so agitated to the point I cry. Those were pesky stuff, he thought. The truth of the matter is I can't help myself. It's like a release of emotions for me. While others yell, shout or laugh or resort to violent behaviors or aggressiveness to dispel their pent-up emotions, I simply cry. My voice shakes, my mind shuts down, all my senses and logic abandon me, I start rambling and become incoherent, my overactive tear glands work doubly hard and waterworks start runnning full blast.

When I cry, it doesn't necessarily mean I am upset. I cry too when I am worked up or when I am too angry for words. When I am touched. Sometimes even when I am happy. But I hate crying. It's very exhausting, both mentally and physically and saps all my energy. And above all, it's a sign of weakness and puts me in a very vulnerable position.

Early on in my relationship with Nic, the first time he saw me cry, it freaked him out midly. He tried to pacify me quickly. But the thing is usually when I start crying, I am too worked up to listen, think or respond to affection in any sensible manner. The more you try to show me tenderness, the harder I will cry. It seems like crying was the only way for me to respond to anything. He thought crying was my tactic of trying to manipulate him or wriggle my way out of situations and he hated it. And when I feel the urge to cry, it's always a good idea I abandon all attempts at trying to talk cos it will only intensify my urge to cry. So before I end up crying uncontrollably, I will try not to talk and concentrate really hard on something else to distract my mind. Nic saw this as 'retreating into silence again' and 'closing all avenues of communication' and that by crying, I am trying to get him to accomodate me and do things my way. He thought it was 'immature and juvenile and high-school like'.

The first couple of times, he left me alone for a while (which I really appreciate when I am on the verge of tears), and came back when both of us had calmed down and we kissed and made up quickly. He did not pursue it further and we didn't really make an effort to find a suitable opportunity to talk about it.

Each time, he got more fed up with my 'games', as he called it, than the last. During one particularly intense meltdown of mine, he lost his patience after numerous attempts to pacify me and get me 'talk to him'. Now with the benefit of hindsight, I actually find it quite hilarious. I couldn't stop crying and he wouldn't let up on his attempts to get me to talk.

What happened was that he was very pissed that I disrupted his vacation plans by not going ahead with the leave that I agreed on. He had already made plans at work and he would hate to cancel the vacation. And I told him I was sorry but I really can't risk any absence from work. I really believed my job was in jeopardy. He said I 'screwed his plans'. I started crying soon (oh, what's new?) and no words came out of my mouth even if I tried to say something in between sobs and I just gave up trying and just sat on the bed and cried. He got quite worked up when he saw me crying. I still remember he said, 'there is nothing to cry over. Can we talk? I don't understand why you always have to cry.' In response, I cried harder. I was very upset and angry with the callousness he showed. As justified as he was, I couldn't help feeling upset. He was very persistent in trying to get me to talk. So of course, I had to cry more. He finally gave up and all I can remember is that I cried till I fell asleep.

When I woke up, my eyes were so swollen and red and I never looked more ghastly. He was reading beside me. When he saw that I had awaken, he put his book aside and took me into his arms. I didn't resist him. Just like that. Nothing else was said and all was mended.

Subsequently, maybe weeks later, on my own initiative, I opened the doors to a discussion on why I am such a crybaby. I told him it's not something that's within my control. I don't want to cry, but I can't help it. When I am worked up, I am just flooded with emotions. I can't articulate them and the only way that I am capable of expressing them seems to be through crying. I understand how this crying game can be construed by some as a 'tactic' to manipulate others, but I certainly don't mean it this way. I told him he doesn't have to give in to me when I am crying. I don't want him to either cos that's not my intention. Neither does he need to cajole me into stopping or attempt to talk reason into me. Cos when I start crying, I am totally impenetrable. He just has to leave me alone. But he said he has a better solution. He said he will just hold me, hug me and kiss me everytime I cry till I stop crying. He said he hated to see people cry and me especially, cos I look absolutely pitiful when I do. So that what he does now, well most of the time at least.

I had a rough week. First week of work was rough. My boss is pretty demanding, so is his team. I am still finding the groove. They are cranky and and curt. They have no patience nor tolerance for anything that's less than prompt and efficient. It's like a mad-house there. Everyone should be in straitjackets, seriously. The pace is so fast time seems to zoom by 10 times faster. Before I know it, it's lunch time. And soon it's 6pm. And taking stock of what I have done for the day, it's really perhaps only half or slightly more than half of what I was assigned to do during the course of the day. So work gets piled up and I end up clearing backlog from the previous day(s) everyday, struggling to stay afloat and on top of things and not get buried under. It's a battle everyday.

Battle with myself to drag my feet to work. I am so god-dammned tired at the end of the day, so exhausted that I could literally feel what's left of my energy just flowing from me. Perhaps after the brief hiatus of not working, I need to adapt to working life again. Luckily, Nic gives me a ride to work everyday otherwise I would be spending a lot of money on cab fares as his apartment is too out of the way for any mode of public transportation.

Battle with my boss and his team to manage and meet their changing priorties. Everyone wants a piece of me and my time. But there's only so much of me and my time to go around. I think my boss saw that I am not holding up that well and called me in for a little pep talk on Friday after work. He said the pace here is a little fast and it's understandable that I need some time to adjust to it. But he thinks I am doing great, which is a relief.

Like what Monk says / sings, it's a jungle out there...

And as if the battles I face at work aren't enough, I have battles at the home front to deal with. Yes, battles with my biological relations. What the heck about the blood ties that bind families together. It's frustrating for me. If you can't even count on your blood relations to support you during times when you need them most, who else can you count on? No one. We are biologically related. That kind of bond is the strongest and most resilient of any shared by others in all other kinds of relationships. The same blood flows through us all. Other kinds of bonds are fragile and they can't stand up to the test of time and adversities. No matter what, families are families. They should be your first priority. At least this was what I used to think, which is partly the reason why I found it difficult to open my heart to anyone. Putting my heart out there was unthinkable. But the silly and naive me hardly realises that such a concept is built on the premise of assumption of reciprocity. If you think about it, the only thing that's constant about relationships with families, is the biological association. But feelings are what matter most. What's the use of seeking apprarent comfort in a bond that offers no solace if the feelings of love and concern are no longer there? Constancy gives us a sense of security so I guess on some level, we are all desperate to hold on to something that stays constant with the passage of time. It's very superficial actually.

So now I have wised up. Other kinds of bonds are fragile only if we choose to let them be and we choose to think they are. They could be as lasting and enduring as we want them to be. If we cast our nets wider to include non-relations, we would be surprised. That's how others find soulmates in their significant others. We just need to open our hearts. It's that easy, Nic says. But putting your heart wholeheartedly into someone is a risk. You run the risk of your investment of emotions and time backfiring on you. It makes you feel vulnerable. I told Nic how now that I have opened my heart to him, it makes feel so vulnerable. He can probably use it against me in future. He said it's human nature to feel vulnerable and apprehensive about plunging yourself headlong into a relationship. That's why we tend to hold back our emotions as an pre-emptive attempt to cut our losses should they occur (have I told you he's a true blue finance guy?). It's a protective instinct. A defense mechanism, whatever you want to call it. It's ok to feel that way. And of course, he told me again and again he loves me. How sweet.

Correction of my previous entry on Nic's age... Nic is 37 plus. Won't hit 38 until 6 plus months later. That was how he corrected me when I told him he's only 38. And he added, 'Yeah, and you are only 25. You know we would be put in different age groups in market surveys and census.' True also. If it's any consolation, I would turn 26 faster than you turn 38. So during the time when you are 37 waiting to turn 38, we would only be, rounding down ages to the nearest integer, 11 years apart. I love teasing Nic like this. I know he has a couple of things in our relationship he obsesses about, so I try to rub them in to get him a little ruffled.

But honestly, men and women just age differently, in my opinion. That's largely due to our biological wiring. You get the drift. You know the oldest joke in the book. The gist of it is that with each passing year, men become more charming and charismatic. Just like a good bottle of wine, they get better with age. Most men can achieve that, with some effort on their part on personal grooming. However, with each passing year, women just get old.

*dives for cover before feminists start throwing rocks at me*

Yes, going on to 26 soon and that's officially past the mid-20s mark. I would be in the late 20s category soon. And I would be one category closer to you, Nic. Don't worry, you would still be in the late 30s category for another 2 years.

I cut my fringe last Friday like I said I would. Am very satisfied and I love the way it falls nicely to cover most of my forehead. And yes, I look sweeter and maybe just a tad younger (told you no hairstylist is that good). Only a tad younger, much to the relief of Nic. The fringe is pretty and somewhat easily manageable, but I do need to spend more time styling to maintain it so that it falls nicely. So it has become one of my nightly rituals, amongst others, to style my hair, my fringe specifically, after my shower, followed by some minor touching up before I sleep if necessary. Yeah, the lengths I go to to make sure that crop of hair right at the front of my forehead falls beautifully. Such is the price of perfect hair. So last night, again I was in front of the mirror picking at my hair with my fingers and some styling cream. Nic walked past me and gave me a scowl-like expression, presumably to mock at me for putting myself through all this styling hassle. I pouted and gave him a scowl back.

' Quit obsessing about your hair, Mich. If those few strands want to stay on the other side, let them be. Like it makes helleva difference.'

To the untrained eye, maybe. But the more discerning folks among us know better. Those few wayward strands have to budge!

Feeling much better today. It was sheer torture yesterday. Nic was very busy yesterday and couldn't possibly leave his work and come home to tend to a sick gf. He had asked me to call my mom, dad or sister to come take care of me and bring me to the doc's. But I wasn't inclined to do that. How is it going to look if I run to my family when I am down with a tummyache (it's more than a tummyache. But I assure you people are gonna think it's just a tummyache) after my numerous proclamations that I am all grown up? Sensing my reluctance, Nic came up with a brillant idea. He asked me to call the part-time cleaning lady to bring me to the doc's and take care of me. We would pay her extra money to do that. Good idea, except that I was in no shape to talk to the cleaning lady, explain my predicament to her, make arrangements with her etc. My puking pattern was becoming more and more erratic. If I tried to talk for extended periods of time, the puke would try and force its way up my gut. Nic doesn't speak Mandarin, and the cleaning lady speaks very broken English at best. Not wanting anything to be miscommunicated, he delegated the task of handling the arrangements to his secretary. Within the hour, she was here. Thank god. Luckily we have a common language (Mandarin, that is) that we both are reasonably fluent in. Apparently, something was still lost in translation afterall. She thought she was asked to come cos I was pregnant and having a tough bout of morning sickness. The faulty link in commmunication is yet to be determined, but I highly suspect it's all in the cleaning lady's own mind. Her brain processes information such that anything that's to do with with nausea and a bad case of vomiting is associated with pregnancy and morning sickness. We went to the doctor and he said it was a mild case of food poisoning. Mild case? I even vommited my bile juice!

I will be going to the salon for a haircut in the afternoon in preparation for my new job on Monday. It's for good luck and symbolises a good start. I am thinking about cutting a fringe (or bangs, as Nic calls it, but that word just sounds so wrong). Hopefully it will make me look younger and sweeter, I told him when he called just a while ago. And he said, 'Sweeter, yes. But younger no. Don't make yourself look any younger than you already are or I will start looking like a pervert with a schoolgirl fetish beside you. Don't increase our apparent age gap anymore.' The schoolgirl fetish joke never fails to crack me up. Ok, duly noted. But I really would like a fringe, perv.

And the weird thing is, he really does sound quite serious about it. But as I said, I really would like a fringe. It will make me look fresher, more vibrant and younger, but not young to the extent that I look like a schoolgirl. No hairstylist is that good. If such miracle stylists do exist, all the cosmetics and beauty care giants would be out of business. And I possess naturally the sophistication, elegance and rarefied style that schoolgirls lack. So it's going to be difficult to see a schoolgirl in me. I told you that so many times. And you are not that old. Only as old as 38 is and that's not old. At least not for guys. So fringe or bangs it's going to be.

I puked and puked and puked so many times. Started last night in the middle of the night. I think I even managed to vomit the breakfast from yesterday. What happened? Just started vomitting and I don't even know what triggered it. I am now scared to eat or drink anything, even fluids. Even scared to talk. Even scared to stand up or lie down. I just want to sit in a comfortable position. I feel so weak now. I want to go to the doc's but am too weak to do so. I dare not even swallow my saliva. I don't know how the stomach would react to any external fluids. I feel giddy. I am alone in the apartment. Nic is at work. Everyone is at work. I should probably call the doctor for a house visit.

I have good news to share today. As it turned out, the interview yesterday went well. They have just made me an offer for a 3-month contract, and I accepted it immediately, even though the outcomes of a few interviews are still pending. I am just tired of the whole job search. An apple in the hand is worth more than ten in the bush. I don't think secretarial jobs are all that different anyway. It very much depends on your boss and his team you are supporting, and there's really no sure way to know until you are in that situation. So might as well grab what's on the plate now. Salary is ok, of course, very much less than what I used to draw, but it's acceptable, given that the workload and job nature would be very different. And it comes with attractive fringe benefits, which is uncommon for most positions on contract basis. Yippie!

Just so anyone who's interested knows, I will be supporting the Associate Director of the Research Department of an Investment bank and his team of analysts. He seemed like a friendly enough person during the interview. But you can't really tell until you have worked with someone personally. That's what Nic said when I told him about my boss-to-be last night. His exact words were ' Most people in his position don't get to where they are now by being nice.' So true... Nic, I think that includes you too...haha. He laughed and said he tries to be nice, but sometimes, secretaries especially, seem to have a very bizzare perspective. I am sure the same thing could be said of bosses, Mister.

Just to digress a little, Nic and I had a rather interesting discussion about titles and designations last night. You really gotta love these fanciful titles people in the banking industry give themselves. AVPs, VPs,FVPs, SVPs, EVPs, Assoc Directors, Directors etc...I have always been intrigued by the level of detail of their hierarchy. But really AVP is relatively junior in the management hierarchy, VP even and especially more so for local banks. On second thought, this practice of conferring self-serving pompous titles upon oneself is not peculiar to the banking industry. Nic thinks that high power executives get to where they are because of the alpha type A personalities that they have. This group of executives are predisposed, genetically or otherwise, to take on politicking .. oops management responsibilities cos they are naturally imbued with a sense of self-importance and narcissim. Very penetrative analysis, my dear. Who says such high power executives aren't capable of self-reflection and have no sense of any self-awareness? My dear Nic does have and in fact he has a pretty important-sounding title too. Drums roll.... Regional Finance Director, Asia Pacific. Well, as expected he vehemently objects to the insinuation that he's not as important as he sounds and said ' I sound important cos I AM important.' Ok, considering his relatively long hours and frequent business travels, both of which are highly pertinent criteria in ascertaining the importance of a high power executive, he does seem important. And he reiterated his point by adding that he's the virtual head of the Asia Pac Operations, yes Nic but only because the position of CEO is still open and Finance is one of the most important functions in any organisation, regardless of industry, to which he said, ' that's why I am important'. And to be truthful, 'virtual' isn't particularly awe-inspiring. To that, he gave me lots of tickles. Yes, that's what I got for being a 'smart-ass'. Well given that he gets paid such a ridiculously high amount, I suppose it's not unreasonable and completely justifiable that he be required to wear one more hat if necessary.

Nic and I had such a great time last night, just talking and laughing. There was a point he tickled me so much and I laughed so hard until tears were at the brink of flowing. I am so ticklish, he always says. Even the slighest jab in the ribs can set me off. I can never out-do him in the tickling department. He has such huge hands and agile fingers to match. My little fingers are nothing more than just a buzzing mosquito on his skin. I should wear some kind of vibrating glove next time. I know such stuff are sold, in erm... adult stores.