moody meanderings

There are days when I just think, "fuck being nice! fuck being good! fuck being helpful! fuck being generous! fuck being patient! fuck being gentle! stop letting others fuck you around!!!" Pardon my language. Oh wait, fuck that too! Sometimes, I see myself standing out on the frickin' street and screaming at the top of my lungs "FUCK OFF!!!" Am I crazy? There's just no one to trust. No one to talk to. No one to cry to. What the fuck am I doing here??? At the end of that imagined tirade, I see myself crumpled in a heap on the street, sobbing. That's why I don't go out and scare the wits out of the poor, unsuspecting working class of Hong Kong. Not that they'd be surprised because there are enough loonies in the city to keep the people unperturbed at the sight of lunacy. The same can be said of poverty. The fact is, I am not prepared to let myself become a crumpled heap of tears in front of anyone. Period.

It is raining again. I wonder if I can blame the weather for my erratic moodswings too.

I am pretty happy most days but today really sucks. "Don't go out of your way for someone because that's not going to stop them from giving you a hard time." Another one of the myriad of negative thoughts floating in my head. I call it negative because somewhere inside or outside of me, I know these thoughts are not the stuff that life's happier moments are made of. But this moment, now, this is truly how I feel. Call me victim, call me poor me, call me pathetic. Hey, just call me! No one else does. hahahahah!

Not a good day today. Had to present the termination letter this afternoon. Even though the individual was already expecting this, I still anticipated some objection to this or that point. And so it was.

But my mood was already rather low starting from yesterday on account of a dream I had the night before. I guess that moodiness lingered until today. It was a silly drea,m that I chanced upon him doing some girl out in an open field after he'd told me he couldn't meet me because of work or something. I did say it was silly and I did ask him to promise not to laugh if I told him. And telling the dream was by way of explaining my moodiness which he seemed concerned about. And yet he laughed, and to add insult to injury, he quipped that it wasn't his fault that I am perverted. As if that wasn't enough, he added that he was expecting the dream to be a bit more "crusty", meaning he had expected more stuff to the dream than that. Who understands "crusty" to mean that anyway? Why should he get irritated that I didn't understand his meaning. So, instead of getting the warm hug that I was after when I asked him to meet me, I got an irritable "What's wrong with you?!" parting shot.

the bubble bursts *pck*.

I finally have my tele hooked up and my DVD plugged in. Was planning on shopping for household stuff today but got sidetracked into a DVD/VCD store and ended up with Friends Series 7, Vanilla Sky and something else, I forget what. Had to get Friends cos I don't have cable which used to provide me with my nightly fix on StarTV. Maybe I'll get cable. Not a priority right now though it means I'm limited to just two English stations that run a mix of English and other language programs.

I really should get out more. I've decided to go check out Saturday night salsa. I should meet more people even if it makes J jealous. I don't belong to him even if in my heart I seem to have made myself so. That's a bad habit I need to break. I'm such a candyfloss-cottonfluff-butterfly.

Geez, I was pretty out of it last night, wasn't I? Thanks for responding to my rambling rants.

Was speaking to Sam, my colleague, and something he said really made sense. "You've got to take back your power from him". He's so right about that. I've always been the dominant partner in a relationship and often the more abusive too. My past partners have always been the more submissive ones, tolerating my emotional abuse and blackmail. So, there you have it. The kharmic visit. Or is it? I guess I've just tried to balance out his impatience with martyrdom on my part. Silly.

Today hasn't been easy. This morning, I've had the unenviable task of drafting a termination letter. My company has recently been acquired by a French public listed company. There's that French again! Can't seem to get rid of them. In fact, they're everywhere you turn in the heart of Hong Kong. But back to that lette. It is the first I've had to draft -- well, sort of, if you don't count the sorry-we're-not-gonna-renew-your-contract letter I helped to draft for a colleague in China -- and it is no fun having to think of the best way to tell someone he doesn't fit into the new organisation. It gets worse on Monday. I have to hand him the letter! I need luck. I need courage. I know I'll need patience. I add the last one because he can get so agitated and has no qualms about shouting his disgruntled-ness.

Sometimes I just come to this page having a great urge to write something but having really nothing to say. So I end up with some insignificant mundane ramble. That is happening on most days now that it is becoming depressing. It is like there is so much happening in my life and yet none of them seem to be of real significance to the rest of the world to write about. And I start to doubt that it should be significant even to me. Like what is my life about anyway? What does it amount to? Who cares that I'm all sappy about some bloke who is probably not in the least interested in a relationship with me but just enjoying the adoring attention of a love-struck fool? Who reads me anyway? And why on earth are you reading? No offense to all of you who do read. I am grateful for the traffic. And of course, there are the few friends and the solitary family member who read out of interest and genuine concern for me. However, I should add that the original intended audience was really my family and friends back home. Yet only one family member reads me and this was a recent occurence, too. Funny how things turn out.

I've been thinking of removing the comments link. Even though I make a joke of it, it is really depressing. I mean, I don't even make enough impact to warrant even 10 comments over a period of three months. And one comment was more a scathing observation at how "really really plain" my "boyfriend" -- meaning J, of course -- looks. Did I ever say he was drop-dead gorgeous? I said "attractive" and since when did that mean only physical attractiveness? And why am I on about this anyway? It is enough that I think he's cute, sexy, whatever.

So I send this out to the world : Who are you? And why do you read me?

Today, I got a call from my brother-in-law's sister in Hong Kong. She called to find out when I'd be visiting them again, now that I'm just a five-minute train ride away from them. And she reminded me that the dinner invitation covered every night of the week. My faith is restored. The world is not a selfish place. There are people who care enough to open up their homes and their lives to others. So what if one French chap retreats everytime a teasing strikes a sensitive cord, or when he lashes out like a cornered tiger when you try to get behind the ten-feet high walled cage he lives behind? For every one closed door, there are two or more open ones. (I just made up that ratio off the top of my head, in case you're wondering at the validity of the numbers).

So once again, tell me, tell me, tell me...

Do you believe in Kharma? I never used to but things that are happening with J is making a believer of me.

J has many buttons just waiting to be pushed and I seem to keep on pushing them. He'd suddenly lose it with me and then later apologise for snapping at me but it would be immediately followed by a reminder of what I shouldn't do to bring about his wrath. Stubborn! And that got me reflecting : so this is how it felt like for P while we were together. I used to bite his head off for every little thing he did or said that didn't fit my controlled little space. One misplaced word would set me off. I would construe hurtful intentions to things he did or said (even if I knew he couldn't have intended it to hurt) and then I'd regret my ways later and offer a half-apology which always managed to end up being a way of putting the blame back to him. So it seems it is all kharming back to me now.

Yesterday was a sad day in blogland. I discovered that Mary T had, over the weekend, decided to discontinue her page, indefinitely. Her stories were nothing short of daily inspirations, insights, poignant reminders and the occasional melancholy. All neatly packaged in her very natural style of writing from the heart. She was such a light to all spinsters in our half mad constipated deliberations. Read her parting post which is but a glimpse into the depths of her soul. Such a loss to blogland but I'm sure she's off doing more great things. Good luck, Mary T!

Today, in my search for another blog to feed my need for constancy and flux, inspired observations and rambling rants, I latched upon Textism, which I had read on a couple of occasions months ago before my computer crashed and my bookmarks were lost. Dean is a compassionate writer with an engaging style I so enjoy. And there's Oliver, the doleful-eyed canine with a personality and a fan to boast about. Funny.

November 1, 2051. Mark this date in your PDA. You are invited to my funeral.
According to a deathtest which Al discovered, I will live to a ripe old age of 82. And if I don't die from cancer, I will probably have been abducted by aliens. How comforting to know someone might still want me at 82.

There is a bunch of quotes around simple vs. true friendship that is circulating on email. I received one from my sis-in-law just a few days ago. One line reads, "A simple friend, when visiting, acts like a guest. A true friend opens your refrigerator and helps himself." But I might go so far as to say, "A simple friend, when visiting, would admire how nice your place is. A perfect friend, when visiting, would admire how nice your place is after she's picked up the mop and cleaned it with you." This is what Jane did last night when she arrived. She specifically requested that I not take the trouble of cleaning up the place specially for her arrival but to wait for her so she could clean the place with me because it'd be more fun doing it together. She is a godsend. Jane is on her way to Macau for a business conference and stopped by HK just to spend the evening with me because we didn't manage to catch up on my last trip back. After cleaning up, we spent the rest of the evening talking about kids, little Miggy, pregnancy without epidural (yes, she went through hers au naturale, brave woman!), her wonderful husband, singing (I sang, she listened), Johan, Johan and Johan. I didn't really have much else to talk about.

Confession
I have stopped counting the days. And it isn't because I have fallen out of love already but because I've decided that counting just keeps me focusing on the hurt. It does seem rather poor me and melodramatic to be counting the days the way I was. But here's the confession ---
We've started to meet up again. It began with French lesson over a coffee (mint tea for me). Then another coffee later in the week. Then a late Saturday afternoon of shopping for dive equipment (he's off on a dive trip in two weeks). Then a Sunday afternoon at the Art Museum. I figure life is too short to be thinking and avoiding. This guy could be the one and I'm not going to miss the chance of a lifetime by stepping back and waiting for the next one to come along. And even if nothing comes of it, at least it wasn't from want of trying. Maybe I'm just making excuses and justifications but something about it feels right. Something about him feels perfect. And I don't care about speaking too soon or tempting Fate. Nor do I care to make excuses for why it isn't going to work out. Something feels right and I'm gonna give it a shot without closing other doors or burning other bridges.

a lot in common
I've observed over the past weeks that J and I have a lot in common. We :
- love red
- love red and black in combination
- love wood furniture and stuff
- don't care for chinese painting
- love the chinese green glazed ceramics of some ancient dynasty I forget which
- love browsing in bric-a-brac stores
- enjoy visiting museums but are easily distracted
- love summer evening outdoors
- love dancing and reeling while walking down a busy street or in a quiet museum...
- love showering a million kisses on our partner
- love The Corrs
- took long baths to pass the time when we first arrived in HK
- don't enjoy large group gatherings
.....

Do they mean anything? Probably not a whole lot. Just an idle observation of a hopeful romantic....

Day 8
Been sick. very sick. the worst kind.....stomach flu....bleurgh!
Was doubled over in pain on Wednesday. Tolerated the pain since Monday thinking it was just some minor stomach upset. By Wednesday evening, I could barely walk. Was out shopping for a mattress in anticipation of Jane's visit this Sunday and scared the sales assistant as I sat, near catatonic, grimacing in pain, pen in hand poised over the order sheet. Then, quickly (in between spasmodic attacks) made my way to the MTR station. I was a sack of sickness slouched in a corner of the train for the fifteen minute journey that seemed to go on for hours. Another attack came just as the train pulled up at my station and I thought to my horror that I would not be able to hobble my way off the train in time. By sheer will, I did. Went to Mannings pharmacy (that's what "Guardian" is called in Hong Kong and Australia) and tried to get some Buscopan but to no avail. By then, I was doubled over, pale and breathless. The poor shop assistants were panicking and nearly called for an ambulance! Finally, at my insistent request, they stayed the ambulance and wheelchair and escorted me to the nearby clinic where I received the much-appreciated Buscopan jab.

It is quite scary to be so ill in a foreign land with no kith nor kin to turn to for support. All through that terrifying experience (though I have to say I held myself bravely and thankful to the staff at the mall and Mannings), I kept recalling how P used to rush over to take care of me. And if he could not be there himself, he'd get his friend to send me to the clinic because he was himself in a meeting at the time. I had taken all that care and concern for granted. Assumed it as my right and his punishment for wanting to be in an ambiguous relationship with me. But two nights ago, when I had no one to call on, to seek comfort from, it occured to me just how much I had taken for granted.

I'm much better now. The spasms are shorter and less intense. I survived. Of course.

Day 5
My 1000th visit came from Hong Kong! (no, not you, HL. But it could have been you ;-))
I know so few people in HK and even fewer (just two or three) have my url. How ironic that it is the infrequent visitor to make the difference.

Now, when I receive my 1000th comment, I shall have a HUGE celebration event. And at the mind-boggling rate that the comments are pouring in, we could be having a party in 2030. I wonder which would come sooner : 1000th comment or marriage proposal....

Hey, why choose? Send me both!

Day 4

If you're reading this a second after I've submitted this post, you're probably my 1000th visitor. YAY!!! Yipppeeee!!!! Hooorah! And a BIG thank you for making the difference!

Day 3
Woke up really early yesterday morning despite tired, tear-ravaged eyes. Didn't really want to get out of bed but there was so much packing to do and it didn't help that I went for a drink on Friday night instead of getting any packing done. It is amazing how much stuff one can accumulate in so little time in such a small space. By the time I was done packing it was nearly two and I was looking like Sneezy, teary eyed and red-nosed from all the dust I that had settled in over the last nine months.

Finally got to my new place around five-ish because the movers spent an hour looking for my flat in the next tower! DUH!!! And then more dust-kicking as I unpacked some essentials because there was no storage space to unpack everything else into and I had managed to lock myself out of the bedroom where the wardrobe was! DUH! DUH! Good thing the bed was in the other room. It's a cruddy ole metal-framed single bed with a flimsy paper-thin mattress. I could feel every bar of the bed frame. Felt like the fairytale princess without the pea. Woke up at the crack of dawn with a crack in my back! Tonight I sleep on the floor!

Today, we had a group of ten Hawaiian youths visiting our church. They did a kind of dance which was really sign language which they gestured to a song they played from a CD. It was beautiful, graceful and looked so much like a Hawaiian dance. No grass-skirts but they were dressed in uniform resort colours. The song and 'dance' moved me to tears. But I wonder if that's not also because my tear ducts are just looking for any excuse for expression.

These tear-ducts have had a lot of exercise in the past 48 hours. I surprise myself. I certainly didn't expect a one-month romance could wreck so much emotional havoc, especially when I was prepared for the inevitable heartbreak. No matter how well you prepare yourself for a heartbreak, you can never be prepared enough for the ache of sudden alone-ness and wanting. I think the worse thing is those questions that will remain unanswered: was any of it real? Did I imagine the look of love in his eyes that last Friday night? or Sunday afternoon when he showed up at the Apex? Did any of the things he said mean anything? or were they only words that served their mood-inducing purpose and no more? Or perhaps I imagined them all. Maybe all I was was a notch on the wall. Another conquest. Maybe that's all I've been in all my past relationships too. Who knows. They'll never tell. Maybe people aren't inherently good afterall. Maybe we are all selfish beings out to serve our own purpose with no regard for the pain we inflict on others. Maybe he's right and maybe that's true. But I want to believe, no, I need to believe that there is good in all of us and that we all act from either love or fear. Maybe I should shut up now because I'm rambling and no one really cares two figs what 'maybes' and 'perhaps' swim in my head. Maybe it is time to leave the office and get a drink and a bite to eat.

Maybe.

Friday night and I'm at the office....crying.

What is it about men that give them the right to think they can possess a woman without a commitment to her??? How dare he think to ask me if I've met up with Terence? How dare he ask what we talked about? How dare he ask if I we have plans to meet again when he is making 12-month plans with his girlfriend whom he said he was having relationship troubles with?! Doesn't he know how a woman can hope beyond hope? I feel so foolish. So gullible. I guess it is my fault for not spotting his game earlier. Didn't he say that my "innocence" and faith in the good of people is what appeals to him? Or did I make that up too? innocence = easily toyed with, lied to, led on. And still I didn't see it coming. Didn't see the conquest for what it was. Fool!

Things to be grateful for :
In a conversation with a colleague this morning, I was reminded that yesterday a year ago, I had lost my job in a mass layoff. Today, one year later, I have moved to an unfamiliar land for a job with the same company. I am grateful.

Day 1
If it takes less than 30 days to fall in love with someone, how many days will it take to fall out of love? I'm going to start counting from today. The day it stops hurting when I think of him is the day I stop counting. Or the day I stop counting is when it stops hurting? Just a matter of perspective.

Exerpt of email from Etienne :
"Well, the only thing I would challenge you about (you know what I'm going to write) is to find yourself a boyfriend, a 'real' one who's not already attached ;-) ...Maybe you like challenging relationships, but it's important to give yourself chances too. You have all the assets it takes, it's a matter of determination..."

Ok, so I'm off to find me a "real" man. One who isn't already involved. But not because he's commitment-averse. One who is in-between relationships. But not fresh on the rebound. It is beginning to sound like a tall order already...

Over coffee and bottled water this morning, J and I decided to stop seeing each other. Continuing the way we've been doing can only bring more hurt and confusion to each other. I have no tears but I can feel them in the back of my eyes.

Last night, I began packing my apartment. I had the tele on and Ally McBeal was running. This is the episode where Josh Groban guest stars as a teenaged boy dumped by a girl just before Prom night. As he got up on stage and belted out in his incredible tenor voice "You're Still You", Ally began to cry. And I cried with her.

Today is exactly one month since we first met.

I've got you under my skin
I have got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart, you're really a part of me
And I've got you under my skin

I have tried so, not to give in
I've said to myself this affair it never would go so well
But why should I try to resist when I know so well
That I've got you under my skin

I would sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of having you near
In spite of a warning voice, that comes in the night and repeats in my ear :
"Don't you know you fool you never can win
Use your mentality, wake up to reality"
For each time I do, just the thought of you makes me stop before I begin
Because I've got you under my skin.

- I've Got You Under My Skin, Diana Krall 1998

I signed the lease to an apartment last night. I saw it yesterday afternoon. Before I even went upstairs, I had a strong feeling that was going to be it, just from the surrounding area around the block. I don't know how or why but I just knew. Must be the Holy Spirit's prompting huh? ;-)
Then, I went upstairs and everything was as I wanted. It was perfect. It was just waiting for me. Then there was the matter of price and I wanted it at HKD8,500 and for the owner to throw in a washing machine and refrigerator and she agreed later that afternoon but at HKD8,600!! (I suspect the extra 100 was the agent's doing rather than hers). Then when we met that night, I learnt that the lady we'd been dealing with is nearly seventy and she speaks fluent English, is married to a Singaporean and lived there for a year! She was delighted to learn I am Singaporean. And she threw in a set of four leather dining chairs when she heard I had to buy all the furniture myself. Christian charity indeed! She is an active Anglican despite her age and multiple surgeries, including one for cancer removal. To top it all, she took me out to an expensive Singapore restaurant for dinner because I said I missed Singapore food!!! I am so blessed! and I am grateful.

I want to move in this weekend but I think it would be a real challenge to get packed and moved by Saturday when it is already Wednesday today and I am working late tonight. Still, I think I'm gonna try. I suspect my landlady would be pleased if I decided to move in earlier rather than later. Actually, Aunty Lily isn't the landlady. She was just acting on behalf of her doctor daughter.

Serina's last weekend this week too. I want to spend the Sunday with her so it would be an even greater challenge to move by Saturday! We'll see...


Email to my sis :

"I got the apartment through an agent. Three of us met last night at MacDonald's in Times Square and Aunt Lily and I just hit it off as soon as she said "hello" in English. We just jabbered on and ignored Benny-the-agent, who insisted on interrupting our chatter with this or that contract detail. By the time we were done, it was nine and Aunt Lily hadn't had dinner and offered to take me out for Singapore food. She is such a saint! Benny-the-agent was panicky when we wanted to exchange telephone numbers in front of him so we didn't. Imagine how much he was sweating, knowing that we were having dinner together! He actually said to me, "Let's go, Karen" and I was wondering where he thought we'd be going together. When I said Aunt Lily and I were dining together, he looked positively constipated! Hahahah!

The reason he was so anal about us getting on was because we hadn't signed the agent's contract yet that guarantees him his fee. That won't happen until the keys are handed over. Teeheehee! Anyway, Aunt Lily and I were too engrossed in our conversation and didn't end up exchanging phone numbers during dinner. Which makes it a challenge now that I have to make arrangements to get the keys to the place earlier if that's even possible.

It is not possible to move in bit by bit because of sheer distance. And extension at HPRC comes with a hefty weekly rate. I haven't checked that rate yet but I suspect it is exorbitant. I guess if I started packing a little tonight, a little tomorrow night, a lot on Friday and the rest on Saturday morning, I'd be ready to move by Saturday afternoon, be unpacked by Saturday evening and off island hopping Sunday afternoon, hopefully, having found my swimsuit and sunblock from amongst my packed boxes."

Liane's mother has passed on after months of illness. Stop by and say a prayer for the family will you?

I'm in the office really early this morning. Got in before eight thirty. Good feeling but I'm groggy from lack of sleep. What a way to start the week. Stayed over at J's last night after our first "fight" over Friday night. He wanted to know if I "hooked up" with any guy after he left. I hemmed and hawed and played dumb like I didn't understand. He pressed, I begged not to talk about what I do outside of our "relationship". He accused me of being "full of crap", preaching total honesty in a relationship but not practising it myself. We were on a bus on our way to my place. He got off the bus in the middle of nowhere despite my impassioned appeal for him to stay and talk. I've never done this in my life. Never held on to someone and begged him not to leave. It was too much drama for one afternoon. Especially since I hadn't been dishonest about the whole thing. I just didn't think it appropriate for us to discuss what I do with other men when he's with his woman.

We spoke later. Told him that I'd danced with some guy. Spared him the details and in doing, told a lie. *sigh*
I've never been good at telling outright lies. I would dodge and evade answering difficult questions but lying is just something I find hard to do. So when I went to see him last night, I just took the risk to tell him that Friday night dancing with a stranger was suggestive. What the heck! If he threw me out of his apartment, I'll just check myself into a hotel for the night. Losing a relationship because I was honest is easier to live with than the alternative. Thankfully, he didn't throw me out. He was gentle, loving and playful. Everything was near perfect until...

...this morning, when he asked me to leave the building ahead of him to avoid being seen together. I deserve more than this! More than just being treated like some clandestine affair or a bloody whore. We didn't avoid being seen like he'd hoped. The security guards were standing at the gate so there was no doubt that we were together as we boarded the same taxi just outside the gate. Duh! At least we know he's not done this sort of thing before or he wouldn't have made such a blunder.

Moral of the day : Sundays are better left to more sedentary activities like watching tele alone. Zzzzzz.......

People in love do stupid things. People in love who are terrified of being in love because the person they're in love with couldn't possibly love her back do even stupider things. I KNOW!!!

It is so pathetic.

He's spending the weekend with her while I'm here blogging...thinking of him...of the tender look that lingered and the torment in his eyes as he left me at a bar in Lan Kwai Fong. He had to go meet her at the airport. What I did next is going to sound really terrible.

I set my eyes on a tall, thin chap in a suit at the bar with his friends. He wasn't especially good looking and must have been in his early 40s. He was convenient because he was facing my way and appeared to be watching me. I couldn't be sure as I had taken off my glasses. When his friends left for another bar, he reached behind my chair to pick his pack. I flirted with him. Sam persuaded him to stay. He stayed for "one last drink". And then proceeded to declare that I had "a damn good looking arse" that he'd been watching all night. Brit! He went on that way for the next hour or so ogling as I danced, and raving about my "fucking great arse" and went so far as to kiss it through my jeans several times!! Swore he was taking me home and even hoisted me onto his shoulder ala fire rescue hero. Luckily for me he was sobre enough to heed the bartender's shouts to put me down. When he asked about the guy I'd been "busy" with earlier, meaning dancing and kissing, I just said he'd gone. As if it explained away and justified my slutty behaviour towards tall chap. I guess it was enough explanation for this once-abused-by-his-punching-Spanish-broad guy who grabbed me each time I danced close to him and pressed me hard against his dick. And we girated through the night with his dick sticking up my perfect arse. All the time, I kept telling myself I needed to do this for my own sanity. Hah! J was screwing his woman. I should be doing it with another man. We left soon after midnight. I went back with Sam and his girlfriend. I didn't give the bloke my business card which was outdated anyway as we've just moved office. I just yelled out my cell phone number as I got into the taxi. He didn't call so I guess he was too hammered to remember. The same chap who swore he was going to date me. Not that I care anyway. Because I'm just thinking of when I'll see J tomorrow.

This is so pathetic.

I'm blogging in the middle of the afternoon when I'm in over my head with overdue deadlines and the impending office move tomorrow! Am I crazy? Actually, my laptop has gone on strike again and I've decided to stop a while while the computer is being scanned for viruses....

Last night, I went for Salsa night at Club Ing again after a two week break. There were lots more men this time than the previous weeks now that the World Cup fever is over. But most were happy to just hang around and wait for the one-hour lesson to end before they took to the dance floor with their pick of students. While talking with Jim, an Irish IT bloke based in Singapore, we both observed at the same time, how gorgeous, shapely and trendily attired Hong Kong women are. Jim remarked that the women at Singapore salsa venues aren't nearly as sexy or flamboyant though that says nothing of their dance skill which is on par with Hong Kong. So, having made that observation, I suddenly felt self-conscious again. I felt plain and clumsy next to these graceful beauties on the dance floor. I am grateful that I still get asked to dance despite!

I've decided to step up my dance activities which has been sporadic since I began 6 weeks ago and tonight, I'm going to another salsa and latin night which conducts lessons with one drink included for a mere HKD40! J says he'll come tonight. He's not been dancing since we met three weeks ago. I am not hopeful he'll actually make it but we'll see. I'm still undecided if I want him there. I wasn't planning on telling him about tonight but did anyway. Reason being, I met a Tunisian last night who thought I was "special" because I am easy-going and fun to talk to, and he'll be there tonight, I'm sure.

Had lunch with J today over a bit of honesty. We shared his reasons for feeling awkward and hence, his recent aloofness; as well as my erratic behaviour in response to my fear of walking down the path of heartache. At the end of the conversation, we laid out the options we're battling with but made no choices about how we were going to move forward. One thing was clear though -- he is going through some serious stock-take of his current relationship (they both are) and has decided that should they go separate ways, he will live alone for at least six months to give himself space to re-think his future. Errr...did he think I'd want to live with him???? Anyway, it doesn't say a thing about where that would leave us and for now, it is a moot point.

Al is in New York again and he has some incredible pics of the colourful city and some really startling images of what remains of the World Trade Center. A must see!

Highlights of my trip home...

BBQ at sister's place on Saturday.
Why didn't anyone mention that the bronze game was kicking off a half hour earlier than usual???? I was out on the road playing badminton with my niece when I heard the commotion accompanying the first-minute goal by Turkey against the co-host, Korea. For some stupid reason, I still hadn't worked out that the game had begun despite the uproar. By the time I came in, it was ten minutes into the game and I walked in just in time to witness the second Turkish goal.

At the church choir loft on Sunday.
A bunch of little angels (rachel, andrea, germaine, ariel, gillian...) from the many married couples in our choir swarmed around me waiting for their turn of hugs and kisses. Their endearing little upturned chins and impish smiles made the best welcome greeting anyone can receive. And I mustn't forget to mention how big and handsome Miggy, my best friend's little ten-month old bundle, has grown. Still chirping and squealing like a little bird demanding to be heard above the liturgy and hymns.

Watched the finals at sister's again. I probably should have gone to a pub like I had originally planned because neither my sis nor her husband were terribly interested in the game and if not for my screams of anticipation, they would have dozed through the second Brazilian goal.

Massage at T's.
mmmmhhhhh......

Back to work today. Not really in the mood for much. Computer infected by a not-too-malicious virus provided a convenient excuse. Met J to pass him a Diana Kraal -- The Look of Love --- CD I got him. Background : he sang it to me once as he gazed deeply into my eyes and I nearly drowned in his.