Where do I begin
To tell a story of how great a love life can be
The sweet sweet-and-sour love life story that is older than the sea
The simple truth about the love life she it brings to me
Where do I start
It’s been way too long! The guilt of not finding the mojo to post has become quite unbearable. I don’t know what has gotten in to me on this whole blogging thing. I have plenty of things to blog about but no desire to put it all together into a post. Maybe the problem is that I have too much going on for it to come out as a coherent post.
That’s when it hits me. I’m not really an “anonymous” blogger, not as much as I’d like to be at least. I don’t know the people who read my blogs, and it frightens me to death that my families, my neighbors, my colleagues and future or potential employers might one day stumble on my blog and find that I’m not really as angelic as I try to be.
But really? I’m not perfect. I’m only human. Putting all this out there is a big deal for me nowadays. I find myself lacking substance to put here because of this perpetual fear of being judged or whatever.
My life is pretty much mundane, nothing exciting about it. So I ain’t got much hunky dories to share. But really? Life can’t be that hunky dory all the time right? Sigh!
It’s my blogging identify crisis I suppose.
So, that pretty much explains why it is my Urban Notes not my Blog who has been capturing all my thoughts, confessions and observations lately.
Life has become so predictable lately. I wake up at 5:30am, drag myself to drive to work, and by 7:15am I would have passed through Jalan Duta toll to beat the traffic heading to my office. I would slave myself doing whatever it is that I am getting paid for, slope back exhausted and agitated, and by 8:30pm I would have reached Jalan Duta toll again heading back home. I would stop somewhere to grab something to eat, reach home by 9:00pm, freshen up then vegetate in front of the TV, and before I know it I would have fallen asleep on the sofa.
The morning routine would start as early as 4:30am if I were to head to another project office of 200km away to attend meetings at 10:00am. By 6:00am I would have checked in KLIA and board the plane heading to my destination. I would still be sulking when the steward/stewardess serves the pathetic peanuts and juice for the 45 minute journey, for losing an hour of beauty sleep.
I must have been too tired or still too sleepy to sulk that particular morning as the plane was about to touchdown, when I looked out the window I suddenly felt so free like a bird; home, home and dry; like a homing bird I’ll fly; as a bird on wings…
Ah, my mundane life is indeed beautiful!
You know you are almost stretched to the maximum…
When, you didn’t realize you were wearing your scarf inside out (the lovely embroidery was hidden by the plain stitches), until one of the waiters of the mamak café sheepishly pointed that out while serving your roti telur and Nescafe breakfast.
When, you didn’t realize you had put on a mismatched pair of shoes when entering the bank until the teller smilingly pointed that out while transacting your ASB account.
When, you can’t remember the last time you shopped for groceries and prepared home-cooked meals or even hot tea/coffee until your sibling who came visiting pointed out that there’s nothing in your kitchen that seems edible.
When, you spent most of your evenings with Anuar Zain instead of the legally wedded spouse lately, where the former without fail would patiently wait, accompany, serenade and woo you with his melodious and romantic dos while you were finishing your work very late alone at night in the office.
When, you can’t differentiate whether it was just a dream, a nightmare or indeed a real instruction coming from your superiors to prepare a special report explaining to the newly appointed Group CEO why we indeed need to extravagantly spend millions on ‘the project’ while the rest of the population in the company have to tighten their belts cutting costs.
When, of all the years having the external auditors breathing on your neck in Dec/Mac, you finally (semi-consciously) had the guts to snap at them (Wahoo!), wrapped them around the fingers and pointed out what they themselves could do in trying to dig any little dirt or possible hidden skeletons in the closest in all the projects executed.
But life is good, I am not complaining. And Thank God I still can remember my wordpress.com password.
It’s hard not to jump into the bandwagon of talking about the subject matter when the word is sprawling all over the blogsphere today. But it is rather harder to fake a similar lovey dovey entry after the attempt for some candlelit dinner plan with Himself felt flat on my face.
“Yang, let’s have dinner at KLCC XYZ tonight. I’ll wait for you there after your seminar. My treat!”
“Sounds nice. But not today, I gotta rush to Low Yat to buy ZYX. I will see you at home at 6:00pm.“
Oh well! Giving him some benefits of doubt, he should notice the many bouquets of red roses which suddenly bloomed ferociously throughout the city center today. But because he was so preoccupied with his business, he might have thought that the roses were just dumped in the city because of the invasions of snow storms in the west or the bushfires in down under.
Being the occasional melodramatic queen that I am, I video-called him at 4:00pm and I could hear and see the brisk business over at Low Yat. And, his car entered the gate at 5:30pm, with (only) ZYX in hand.
Ah, he is indeed my Valentine!