Hoes and Such

At about 70% of the clubs here, one can feel an atmosphere with a certain degree of Orchard Towers concentrate. So even at the regular clubs, you get plenty of working women. Happens less like this in Singapore, even if Attica now so I've heard has a couple of Thai working girls showing faces there.

I'm actually cool with prostituition. Well at least in the purest sense of a business transaction - money in exchange for sex. I'm not okay with the tarnished version - which I see a lot more, where now the transaction just doesn't involve sex per se, but in it the allowance to treat the lady with disrespect. Which is still not that bad, if the effects are contained within the transaction. There's however also something known as a spillover effect, where the many many men take it to mean that all the other non-working women around can be treated in the similar manner. Now, I have a major issue that.

Last night, we get this Cambodian working lady - who was quite beautiful in the dark. Then the lights flashed and I saw a pizza- like face under the lights and cake foundation. Her "boyfriend" was this overweight, greasy, drunk guy in his 50s. If you want a mental image, you could think Bam's Uncle in Viva La Bam. Or Borat, Borat's manager in the movie. You see this beautiful enchantress was trying to get a girl for a threesome. And she starting hitting on a friend I was with. ( In my opinion, she's was really cute - her apppearance was slightly andro-femme way, but she's straight - maybe my type, less lipstick lesbian) Which was flattering to her, till Ms Cambodia got a little to persistent this resulting in my friend making a disappearance to the toilet for a while). Ms Cambodia would be the femme fatale type, she would probably pick a less conspicuous girl so as not to steal the thunder in the bedroom. Again we were dancing in a group, and the annoying twat kept edging herself in the middle of our friends.

Okay, most my Viet girl friends are all shorter than me ( standing at 5'5; 5'7 in heels) which makes me the body guard when ugly foreign old men start fancying themself fanciable them to. Of course if the guy is hot, I step back discreetly as anyone in the secret service would know :) So yes, there I was warning off ( Tapping one of them on the shoulder glaring at him and motioning for him to move his fat ass) 2 separate instances one night fat old men last night - Korean, White dudes who were getting a bit to close to my friend. She's a couple years older than me, but I think she looks younger because of her size.

Sometimes I think, maybe it would be more fun to be at a place that was less "meat market". Plus the Music sucked ass. Oh yeah, meat market alright - I even saw 2 guys haggling furiously over price. He was getting worked up, screaming "fuck, this fucking that - I'm not going to pay that amount". His other friend was happy and already settled the price with the other girl. So I saw both of them ending the night with another pair of ladies.

Its an interesting place though. I lost key keys last night. And had to wake up early for work this morning. But I have a 2 hour spa treatment coming up. I'm happy.

I Judge Thee Not

My General Sentiment

Of course, I’ve gone past the whole idealized, almost smug-state of “ I don’t judge”. Growing up, you finally realize that if you don’t make judgements, you would be living as a dunce in a constant state of flux and indecision. Oh come on, you need to judge whether people are good for you, worth your time, trust and love. You need to judge the cords need to be severed with a particularly heinous person/entity. Its completely acceptable and necessary to pass judgement. Pre-judgement as well. So the word prejudice really isn’t that big a taboo. Judegement, prejudice is mostly fine as long as you’re able to be flexible enough to re-evaluate your judgement when contrary evidence comes to light. It’s the rigidity in any sense is what that should be censured. I’m also not above passing a casual, albeit callous judgements on people I don’t care for or know that well. Rotten maybe,er so effing what?

The Problem

So really, the dilemma surfaces when you’re in a situation where you have to try to resist judging those you care about and “Others”. The latter being a grey area which is a little more than complicated – when you don’t necessarily love or care much for them but feel some sort of obligation, urge albeit unnatural not to pass such quick or harsh judgement on them. See, today I had lunch with an aquaintance (P) – the use of the word friend is strong, and in here used lightly. I would call him an acquaintence of affinity for. Let me qualify, nothing in a sexual or romantic sense. I recognize some sort of myself in him, or maybe maybe 3 or 4 years ago where I was honest bold and a lot more forthright – and naïve. Yes, now I’m a deceitful lil bitch who delights in releasing her pandora’s box of mind-fuck games.Okay,okay - not quite, but I’m not the same person.

But I’m resisting trying to pass judgement on his character, since he has honestly told me so. Plus, I did say – nah, don’t worry I don’t judge ( It shot right out of my mouth automatically, didn’t have time to stop it), when he said now you think I’m a bad guy.

Here’s some background. P is from the States sent here to work. P is shagging 2 women here concurrently, excluding the girlfriend he has back home. We’re having a discussion on women, men and getting laid in Saigon.He’s already told the 2 girls his situation, so he’s honest, he says. He describe the first girl. Small, cute, no tits, great kisser. Dodgy. Because she’s able to fly to Singapore and stay at the Mandarin 2 weeks straight. We speculare that she’s an escort or kept woman. Girl 2. Decent girl, your built, maybe more meat, big ass – I like big asses. Great tits,bad kisser. His words.

He’s an open book, he says. Meaning he’s honest. Well he’s been up front to them – I respect that. Till I heard he had a girl back home. Still not fazed. Open relationship, I ask. No, I don’t know, maybe she does. I glad he’s honest with the 2 girls here. But I can’t help but feel irked that its on a don’t ask, don’t tell basis.

Just a side comment/side note but not the main suhject of this entry. My stand on cheating – I understand and won’t judge if the cheating was done when relationships were strained. But cheating because you can (repeatedly), it’s a different story.So to the above title, in this case it does not hold true. While I won’t treat him differently as a friend and person (used loosely), sure as hell glad that I’m not his significant other – and would always remain on my platonic list till the end of the universe. Is that judgement passed? Er I don’t know. How terribly grey.

Little Nuggets

Nugget #1:

I realized my initial attempt at avoiding all kinds of street food has come to naught. Always thought it was great that I have breakfast prepared for me at the guest house in the mornings. You know, having covered most of not all grounds of exposing myself to potentially tummy churning foods. Till I found out the pho-like noodle soup that I have some mornings, was actually bought from the old lady vendor at squats near the pavement outside the alley that leads to the guest house :O

Good thing news - I have a fairly resilient belly then. Not about to think I'm all invincible, I still skipped all the raw oysters and other kinds of seafood. Last night one of the dishes they ordered was frog's legs - nothing wrong, given that frog leg porridge is a commom dish back home in Singapore. And that white, skinless frog legs are available at NTUC. Somehow my brain never made the translation where frogs had green skin in the Frog and the Princess story books and the white skinned-frogs in my porridge. So imagine my surprise, when I see 3 frogs in their full mossy greenish glory, engraved with the dark lines from the grill on the plate. :

Nugget#2:

Zebra crossings on the streets are mere decorations, as properly enlightened by a friend yesterday. One way you could tell a local from a foreigner assuming both are asian, is the way they cross the road.

Nugget #3:

You know the surgical face masks people took to wearing in the 2003 SARS crisis in Singapore - they make and wear cloth versions here, with floral motiffs and the like. Well, they're known as Ninja's here.

The First Weekend

Well, it was pretty good, that I'll admit. Managed to meet up with a nice girl Huong - through an internet friend who put me in touch with her. Thank God for the wonders of the internet. Also had dinner with a relatively youthful "yuppie" crowd down here in HCM - met 2 other interns with a local fund. Headed on down to several clubs after that. Wasn't too bad for the first weekend. A fine fella caught my eye - this young Viet-Australian lawyer. He had a near-shaven head, you know how I dig that. Well, he sure wasn't interested in me. Psssh. And he left early too. Bummer. But two of the very nice interns made sure I got home safe. Eh. One of them even held my hand at the end of the night - cute too. So sweet, but moi knows a practiced fellow when she sees one.

But other than that, my life remains relatively ripple-free. Work got slightly better today, hope it lasts.

Babysitting

Usually, I’m on the otherside – the babysitter. Now, I’m the baby sitted , in the office that is. When I was in India, I struggled hard to be taken seriously, and had to keep pushing before I eventually was. Its looks like its going to be this way here to. Don’t get me wrong , from a social perspective the people are kind, generous and welcoming. Even, if people are kind, generous and welcoming its not going to be help me learn if I hardly even get hands on work. Perhaps its my first week and the work isn’t rolling in just yet. However, things like the fact I’m not going to get my own email account – and that I can use another person’s account if the need be, sounds suspiciously like I’m just being baby sitted. Additionally, the fact the I didn’t need to key in the bookings that just came in, because it wasn’t the usual type and was “complex” and no invitation to watch and learn, plus the fact that I have time to write blog entries, monitor my stock portfolio continuously, know the details of the VT Shooting. Sheesh. Don’t know.

I’ll give it till the end of this week before the bull-dozing starts for me. Diplomatically, of course. But I refuse to let this turn into a Vacation for me. 3 months is a lot of time in terms of opportunity cost – had I another internship instead. There are times when you need encouragement and advice, and I did email my former team leader in India. I hope he replies me.

Things I dig about Vietnam

The people :
They're probably the most sincere and warm people I've met. I'm quite amazed, this coming from Singapore - land of the paper pushers. My colleagues, one of them - Judy took me to one of the markets during lunch to get a thick quilt I could sleep on ( not under) on her motorbike. Another Ahn, volunteered to send me home after work and she also took me for dinner today, at this fabulous duck vermicelli store. Another Thien, volunteered to show me around. The lady that runs the guest house, Tham, always warm and helpful. And many others.

The Food:
Love it, love it love it. If anyone of you think that Viet food stops at the O in pho - You'll be in for a treat.

Transport:
Its affordable to cab around , and hailing one off the street is easy peasy. Well, living in Gurgaon, India for a while, one year ago - I can say that the accessibility of the city is so important and I value that. Its relatively safe too, in India I didn't feel too safe by myself out at night.

Ah, more to add to the list I'm sure as I'm discovering. There's the bitch list too, but you know, I don't need anymore negativity now - so I'll save it for later .

Well, it good that I'm out of my comfort zone, pushing boundaries. I like to think what doesn't break me would equip me better to deal with situations that would confront me further down the road. Yeah, its true - its not easy making friends, but you know what, I be damned if I sit and whine and not do anything productive about it. Well, speaking about comfort zone - I did make myself take the motorbike, people who know about me know its no easy feat trying to coax a Singaporean out of the stereotypical "scaredy-cat" mindset. I'd have reconsider if the bikes are zooming at 50 km/more per hour, but they usually go around 30km/h here.

I'm feeling good :)

Time Does Tell

(Currently in the office, with some free time – well time seems to past a lot faster if I do something rather than just surfing, so I decided to write)

Not necessarily with laser- like precision, but a fairly good indication I say. Just before a left for Vietnam, “Coffee” was arranged with a certain individual. Some history, this individual was what I would term a Mild Flirtation - I met at a friend’s party more than 2 years back. We met again at one or two other occasions at mutual friends’ gatherings with brief hellos and finally met again about two months ago at another friend’s birthday. Then he randomly asked me out to catch up over coffee about a week ago.

I was curious, because I wondered what we had to catch up on since we really had absolutely nothing to catch up on; I had not even talked to him for an extended period of time. Also thought there was some kind of flirty undertone his part, so my curiosity was piqued. By the way, I find the TOA (Term of Affection) “Sweetie” terribly revolting. Stomach wants to lurch out of its designated biological address.

So after 10 minutes after the arranged time he returns my 2 missed calls and says
“You’re there already? Oh, I’m running a lil’ late, be there in 5 minutes.”

So I wait.
And wait.
And wait for 20 minutes.

There were 5 things unacceptable to me.

1. No reason was given for being late.
(I’m not unreasonable, if it was a dire emergency – explain and I will try to understand.)

2.No apology was given for being late.
(I’m not unreasonable, if 1. was a half-baked reason, apologize or put up a show to indicate how contrite you are groveling not necessary though it might help)

3.Call was made after the arranged time.
(I’m not unreasonable, let me know before hand so I won’t be hanging around looking stupid and wasting my time, let me know before hand)

4.Call was made in return only after I called twice after the arranged time.
(I’m not unreasonable, but don’t you think if someone is going to be late, the onus is on the late-comer to let you know?)

5.He sucked at math. 20 is not equal to 5.
(Look, I’m really not that unreasonable, its okay if you do the above 4, I’m not going to get mad if you can’t count =) So okay, maybe 4 things that were unacceptable.) The common decent courtesy line was already violated.

So at the 30 minute mark, let him know I was tired of waiting and was out. Then I left. Well, he got there as soon as I decided to leave. But I’m glad I left anyway.Later he texted that he was sorry, that he just wanted to let me know that he didn’t ditch me, but he was “caught up with getting a cab” and thus was 30 minutes late. (Please translate, funny because I got the strange feeling he got on the cab only after I called him). Oh yeah, and please forgive me hun, we’ll do it better next time.

Okay, first things first issue was not the fact that there was a possibility that he would blow me off – that should not have been a possibility save a good reason. Then I would be pissed. Well, if he did, he should probably burn in hell and get raped by a horse. ;)

So the issue that bothered me was the lack of consideration as demonstrated by the above 4/5 things. But no, I’m not pissed. I was mildly annoyed because it was a waste of time. Though it was not exacerbated because I was already in town and just finished a late meeting with project mates in school ten minutes away. Annoyance does go away fast. After that it was simply really an automatic analysis that one of my best friends say I’m fond of doing.

Is this guy interested in me? No, if he were he would considerate and early. If he was, he would have been a lot more considerate and called with good reason. Drill down : Extreme case scenario, even if he were really interested and did not demonstrate some semblance of decent courtesy much less gentlemanly behavior, would it be good to waste time on a person, considering this characteristics will probably show up time and again. Two Cases: (1) Someone I would go out with : Big fat no. Okay, eliminated. (2) As a friend: Well, not if I have to meet up with him (2a) individually, because my time will be wasted. (2b) in a group: Yeah maybe, because my time won’t be wasted since there would be other people on time.

Do I dislike/abhor him? Nope, nothing personal but yeah would still talk to him if its within my comfort zone. But no, will not go out of my way to associate with him because it would cost time and effort which could be invested in other meaningful relationships with old friends, new friends and the ones that are worth the time with a reasonable rate of return; just a judgment call following a simple cross benefit analysis there everyone should habitually do =)

Greed & Fear - Part 1

Very potent motivators. No, no – I’m sure as hell not going to launch into an entire textbook’s worth of psychological behavior . Me no expert. The only part I could identify with in terms of this entire body of study is psycho ;) In two days flat I’ve run through the entire depressing gamut of greed and fear two times over. Wanna sit down hear?

Cycle One

The first is pretty darn straight forward. We all know the Singaporean Stock market has gone a lil’stark, raving, mad the couple weeks. Well, I’m generally for safe investing – I’m not one of those risk-embracing-come-to-mama boys in Uni that contra-trades an entire years tuition income on a single transaction. Nor am I one of those that would buy a fast, low car with my winnings- um I mean returns.

So far so good. My safe type of investing has generated about a 30% return on average. Being around fast macho talking boys, that spout charting techniques by the milli-second does admittedly make you feel like - #1, a geriatric-type – too safe, too dull a Singaporean as they come. #2 Bloody Envious, #3 Impatient and Restless. I have to waiting over 3 months to actually see any kind of significant returns. So get this, I decide to trade on impulse. Don’t do my homework and decide to buy a stock, based on the flimsy ‘tip’ if you might want to call it - a day after the STI hits an all time record high of about 3150 points.

Well, I just wanted a quick buck. It would be thoroughly awesome to indulge in a new pair of skinny jeans or a pretty dress – or simply contribute to my tour-the-world fund. Plus, I figured that I could probably beat the granny investors, till I realized to my utmost chagrin that I was one myself. You know the kind the institutional investors whack to a juicy red-purple pulp.

Yeah – so I got whacked. It nose dived 5 cents down these two days. I could pull a pseudo Warren Buffet and go, “Oh no, this company is severely undervalued” and hold it till it rise again (if it EVER does rise) and claim tremendous skill and foresight in stock picking then. So I sold the piece-of-sh*t-lots of shares off, upon reading 2 days after I bought it that last year that people in this firm were hauled up for accounting irregularities. Also found out, that this was on of the market anomalies. The unexplained huge rise in stock price year wasn’t fueled by robust fundamentals. So that leaves irrational exuberance by the speculators and those that think they are.

So in great, trembling fear. I sold Auston off today.

In all repentance, I confess I’m nothing but a low level gambler.

I’ll Take a Little Less.

I was idealistic, naïve and had a lot more goodness and warmth in my heart then .I had previously written about how selfish and ugly the adult world is – when I saw how first hand, how some of my older acquaintances constantly, played musical beds with their friend’s exes, how cheating is rampant and making use of others when clearly at their expense. I simply couldn’t reconcile how humans could do that to one another, much less friends.

Over a waffle brunch at Dempsey, some girlfriends and I talked about it. The source they said was due to the certain seduction of forbidden fruit. I saw it as a mere manifestation of an aging disorder, as the needs of Me, Myself and I slow became supreme reason for mankind’s existence. It wasn’t a specific malice, but more of a hardened callousness for an all-consuming drive to fulfill self-needs

In a slightly warped but valid perspective, I felt the stirrings of how it could very easily happen. Especially when one hurts emotionally and is hell-bent on compounding the affliction, which pretty much results in a certain kind of bitterness. Eventually, it translates into a misdirected anger. I don’t care, I’m just going to take, take, take – because people have taken things at my expense. If I’m hurting, why should I put others in consideration when no one has even deigned to do the same for me? So there we have it, I felt precisely like that in the last few months. I even declared – for every time I got my heart broken, I’ll break 3 hearts. In my short young life, my heart has been in the trauma room about twice. Which pretty much leaves a to-do-list to shatter 6 hearts.

So young, so angry – a wise old sage would say.

Well, until a week or so ago when I – (said slightly sardonically) saw the light.

It goes like this – the mother of the kids I teach, basically does not treat their domestic helpers well. Unfortunately, I witnessed an incident which really would have evoked a outrage when I was younger, but which showed up in a kind of inner muted indignance/ sympathy. She was annoyed and one of them, and basically ordered the maid open up the letters – and in show of vindictiveness, dropped the pile of letters deliberately, on the floor with an obvious intent to slight her. It was shameful – nothing short of that. I pretended I didn’t see it continuing to teach. At the end of the lesson, I caught the maid’s eye – in that moment, so much was transmitted in the visual contact. I looked away almost cringing ( not to my credit – reluctant to get involved in any kind of drama), but she saw it in my eyes – was it pity? Was it indignance? I don’t know.

Tearing up, she said “Its hard being a maid, you know. Madam is always right, you are always wrong. ”
In that same moment, I felt ashamed for wanting to scoot out as fast as I could. Something deep down, which has been dormant for a long time now – the open ever-willing to help humanitarian spirit made a brief, almost involuntary appearance.

“She’s like that. (I bore the shame of both myself and the mother at that moment) Be strong.”
“Thank you, for your words.” She said.

The next lesson, again – the reluctance to be involved in any drama that could jeopardize my rice bowl, surfaced again. This time, I shoved it away – looked her in the eye and asked her “Are you okay?”

Later on, she slipped me a post it saying “Thank you for your kindness, it makes me happy. May God Bless you all the time”.

It was so gratifying; I haven’t felt like a nice person in so long. All I did was say less than ten words to her (qualifying that it was contaminated my own selfish reluctance) and it made her feel better.

If so little can be done, to make someone feel slightly better – why the HELL am I going out consciously to hurt others?

Well, growing older and more cynical – I’ve pretty much burnt my cape that I donned while being the crusader of the victims of injustice when I was younger. I’m not saying I’ve miraculously, decided to make another one, but you can be sure about me making a concerted effort to be a little less selfish.

I’ll take a lil’ less.

Hello again.

I have sat myself down and basically ordered my fingers to type something - so as to revive my till-now defunct blog.

Updates heart-break wise:

Obviously the long distance didn't work out. Made the silly decision to go on a holiday with the former significant other, the long-awaited (prior to break-up) scheduled reunion. Ended with more tears. Threw myself into the to-do-lists, and really worked the productivity level. The overwhelming rush of the last one month was my own band-aid for emotional wound. Now that it is slowing down, memories return afloat, much as I've tried to force them into fading by deleting photos and by deliberately not taking a camera along. Bottomline, I still miss him like I sometimes miss the one before him as well. But hey that's life, I'm a strong girl. I should be a brave one too, I'm not going to avoid him online anymore. 'Nuff said, I won't venture back to this topic anymore. Just thought some closure was in order, in light of the previous post.
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Other Updates:

Uni-wise

Was a pretty good term productivity wise - had my fair share of group mates from hell but was otherwise successful. Only one more paper to go.

Random Funny Incident:

A random number messaged me " Happy Thanksgiving!"

I messaged back " Great, time to stuff yourself with turkey."

Random number messaged back " When are you going to sleep with me again? "

I scratched my head, wondering if a phantom rapist had made an unnoticed appearance in my life of late. I messaged back " Not anytime soon, who is this by the way?"

Random number messaged back " The guy from last week la! We made love."

Hmmmm. I messaged back. " Well, that's not possible, I'm a guy and I'm seriously not gay."

No reply. Gee, I thought there was room for fun if the random number person replied.

Not-so-funny Incident

My bunch of gay groupmates from one of my finance classes played a somewhat malicious prank on me, that I didn't find quite so amusing. Stark contrast they hysterical hyena laughter when they saw me. I felt - BULLIED. I really quite liked them till they sprung this on me.

I mean after all, these were the same people that pointed out that I had cellulite, that I should lose weight because 50kg was not the optimum of 47 kg for my height of 1.65m - all for my own good. They also kindly educated me on the different alternative - classifications of gender - transverstite, transgender etc etc.

Today/Yesterday was the deadline for the final project. Got scared shitless because I hadn't heard anything from the other person (not-gay-boy) who was responsible for compiling and doing the rest of it up.So I asked them kindly for that guy's number got mostly dismissive non-replies. Moi sent out a reminder email to burn the stuff on the CD, I got a reply from one of the gay boys next morn, that I was going to do it. I didn't know what the F*** was going on and I rung them in panic, only to have them laughing. This was one project I felt impotent in, joining an already established group is dificult, because I felt unwittingly left out of discussions and decisions. But how was I, to assert opinions without sounding redundant/irrelevant or self-important then I thought, what the hell anyway. So then obviously a sitting duck.

It wasn’t a very nice thing to do, period.

Ciao now,

I'm out

Seriously -

The date that I went on went alright - the dude - the Cancerian - horoscopes are pretty accurate. Well, I read his zodiac before this, and throughout the date I was puncturing him with some (I thought)cleverly asked questions, trying to read and analyze his character.My conculsion - yeah, I do think horoscopes do hold a certain degree of truth.

Another conclusion I came to that night - men don't think much of younger women( I refrain from the word girls ). Well, as expected alchohol does loosen one up, by that I don't mean turn me into a loose slut. But here I am trying to pin-point the exact moment when the fucker, decided that he should change the casual dynamics of this date to a sexual one. Mathe-sexually, they take open-minded to equate to open legs.

Note - I don't put first moves on guys. This is something I've learnt in time. Let them do most of the work. Happily, ( with my the third eye at the back of my head watching him carefully, while the rest of me projected a rather excited,exuberant, absorbed self) discussing options,equity and marginalized Red Indians in America, I never thought the topic would gradually inch towards something sexual. I think the lewd jokes that they display on flat-screen TV in Crazy Elephant had something to do with it.

I consider myself open to discussing sexuality, so I answered whatever questions he asked until he got to " What's your favourite sexual position?". Then -it came to my attention, that his prior probing questions - were to test the waters. ( ie, what's your opinion on One Night Stands?, to which I nonchalantly replied I haven't done one yet - though I probably would in the future, just for experience's sake, plus I don't want to make a habit out of it, because the fear of walking STDS aren't just monsters under the bed )I clammed up at that. So I decided to ignore the question.

He was borderline engaging, hard-to-read (plus I wanted to see if there was evidence to prove my Zodiac hypothesis) and from a different culture. He wasn't your typical expat-Attica-flashyeverything-obnoxious-type. Farmboy from Montana who digs extreme snowsports. Thrift tendencies. Not your typical smooth operator. A little roughshed,grittier. I found that rather appealing. Backpacker as opposed to Mr. Frequent Flier Upgrade.

Much as he had several favourable factors to his name, you'll come to realize that the majority of men, become what we call sweet-talking-assholes when it comes to their libido. So he does that the rest of the night "trying-to-be-funny", but here am I thinking he's really trying to be funny - maybe its his offbeat valley boy humor. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. Because aside from a few hiccups,I'm rather enjoying myself.

He got a tad annoying midway through the date, when he decided to be a bit childish and declared that he wanted to " embarrass me" his words. I'm thinking, I thought this belonged way back in Secondary school. Seriously, I'd enjoy being wined and dined as much has having fun prancing about doing silly things - as long as its not at my expense.

After dinner - we made a stop worth mentioning. We walked and ended up at Boat where we stepped into this sorta Bhangra (Spelt correctly?)place. Now that was a surreal experinces. Very small pub/club I couldn't tell. You then has rather pretty Northern Indian girls dancing to Bhangra music. I was the only female there. Several other Indian expats as well as a Japanese business man. Its like geisha-culture, Bollywood-style. I quite enjoyed the the novelty of it.

We later headed to 2 other bars later another bar,totally desolate except for the two of us. One whisky dry, 2 brandys later and I'm a tad woozy. I don't mind him attempting to hug me and enjoyed dancing a bit. But I get very,very annoyed when he decided it was ok to attempt to put his hand up my shirt or down my pants. ( Get this, I know 3-4 drinks is my maximum before I start making dubious decisions - so I don't drink anymore ) Despite, my apparent slowed mobility, I still managed to swat and fend of his groping attempts. Mobility is certainly slowed, but I still mantained a semblence of control at the back of my head.

Dude tries to kiss me like what maybe ten-fuzzy-times, but he never manages to get a full kiss. Part of me likes the unbridled fun I'm having, part of me wants to get the better of him. Make him think that I'll go home with him ( badgered me at least 4 times, even picked me up hauled me on his shoulder ), and of course declined finally. That never wavered in my head. I was of course a slightly scared, almost a impercetible wave of panick to me, when he grabbed my hands twice throughout the night in an iron grip. I realized that I could probably get myself into a lot of trouble. Think is, I've always thought that the female's feminine charms could probably get her eased out of a tight spot, I think I'll make a revision to that unsound declaration soo.

Suddenly, about one - I got tired of his advances, and I got tired of teasing while trying to fend him off. Then he packed me off in a cab to send me home. One of the great tests when I go out with a guy, is to see how he would respond if I supposedly woozy. Whether, he'd try and sober me up or attempt to have his wicked way with me.

In hindsight, I'm not sure if I'm offended or should be. Well, I think I am - slightly. Normally things, don't get this far on the first date. I'm quite sure its the last date. Because, darlings, he didn't get what he wanted out of me. He probably realized I wouldn't budge any further. Then again, this date - from an objective perspective, has been quite an interesting experience.

I got to:
(1) Test my Zodiac Hypothesis
(2) Add to my growing encyclopedia of notes on menkind
(3) have a surreal experience in the Bollywood bar( did go to Eski Bar as well)
(4) Take my mind of things
(5) Have some girly,flirtatious fun (which stopped at the amorous advances)
(6) Meet a new person - despite the fact that I'll probably never see him again *laughs*
(7) Eat decent Nachos

It was quite a productive night.

Stunned, disoriented and ... hurt.

Gnawing,clawing suffocating pain. I can't believe it. I'm so choked emotionally that I need to write. Something which I haven't done for a god awful long time. One can sense virtual weed growing on my blog.

Well, I found out he slept with someone else. It shouldn't hurt, at least not this bad - but it does. All our emotions have always been underplayed - mine more accurately.

Previous time, it was " When was the last time you got laid?" So casually put. So carefully answered. Well, I did sleep with someone other than him then - I was relieved I did. "A month or two ago", we both responded. That was earlier this year.

Since the last time, we met I hadn't slept with anyone since. He had. I wish I hadn't asked the damned question this time around. Flippantly, with some vague sense of curiosity - I asked where how he got laid. "Friend's friend." Then I uneasily, move onto the topic about how I don't sleep around because I'm scared of getting STDS, while trying to decide how I feel. The conversation ended soon after to my relief and anguish, but on a very placid, very put-on friendly note for me. He probably never felt the undercurrents.

I grew breathless, teared - clueless, panicked. Crying on the bathroom floor, with the shower beating upon my neck. First squating, then with my arm propped against the tiled wall desperate to find refuge from the blasts of emotions. Swollen eyes, sore.

Broken. My illusion. I don't know what shattered me. Was it my ego? That I held off getting involved with someone. Not wanting anyone to over ride his imprints on my body. That I can't believe could replace me. I don't know, I don't know.

I just hurt so bad.

Yesterday I was talking to a friend about him (annoymously). How I thought that no one could understand what we shared,despite the continually fucked-uppedness our circumstance. He described it twice as an inextricable link. I described it as en. An eternal karmic bond. Justifying with vehemence. How yes, I loved him. Well, even though he never said he loved me - I knew he did in his own way.

So hollow now. I can't justify it anymore. So many muted questions I want to ask, but the resultant truth any more than I can bear this angony? Maybe I'll talk to him, maybe I'll just go sleep with someone, just to level the playing field of indifference again.

That layer of false indifference. My fabulous acting - everything is swirling around me now. I can't think. I want to call,him,ask him,beat him,slap him ...hold him.

In preparation of Halloween...

My options were :
(1)Policewoman
(2)Courtesan (a.k.a whore)
(3)Mob Queen

I went to the costume shop, searching for choice(1), the fortyish sales lady nodded vigourously and showed me an NPCC uniform. I blanched. I was even willing to settle for a French Maid costume, but the the low cut bustier rack would be a tad too airy, because of my failure to fill it up.

First line of attack were your party costume stores, after spending a day scouring them - I gave up. Then on to my second line of attack, online adult lifestyle stores, most which were situated overseas. The corsets looked simply divine, especially with the enhancements C-cup bombshells. It was glaringly obvious that I wouldn't fill the pockets, as splendidly as they did, still I pushed that unfriendly thought to the back of my head.I was still willing to ship a corset set ( notice that the quest for a costume had become more like bedroom lingerie shopping trip, if I was going to spend money, I should be able to use them again right? ) but 2 weeks of shipping time weren't enough.

So I turned to the local fetish shops. Overpriced,lousy variety, musty due to unmovable stock - I felt I stepped into an 80s time warp porn show. Mullets, bad hair, platinum blond chicks with scarlett lips and black roots on the head and in the nether regions, except for appropriately placed stickers were placed to cover their genitalia and save their modesty.

Also, I suddenly realized that my cashflow wasn't exactly like last Christmas'Tsunami. I visited Tang's lingerie boudoir dressing room, and was absolutely charmed by a pink and black corset set - until I laid my eyes on the price tag. Believe me, it took a considerable amount of control not to react distastefully. I flung it away in contempt, ala Ally Mcbeal style.

Then I realized that I had a perfectly nice lingerie pinstripe lacey camisole set at home - yes, it was a devastating blow to my ambitions of donning a corset. All I had to get now were a garter belt and lacey stockings. Fish nets are too walking-the-street-corner for me.

Which I did, at a perfectly decent lingerie store.

Before this, I was thinking I'd should do Masculine in Mob, in a singlet,suspenders,pinstripe pants ( Which I have), toy tommy gun and a federro hat. And cigar for good measure. Which I'd probably be more comfortable in - then I wouldn't have cabbies leering at me. Cost wise it ranked second, but I decided to be prudent and leave that for next year.

ALERT: Girls, La Senza's has very reasonable and affordable lingerie.

Though for the stockings, I had to get it from a fetish store. I felt bad about going back to the store, because I never bought anything the last time. The sales girls obviously remembered me - but the pressing and thoroughly urgent need to complete my costume, banished all thought of embarrassment.

Last part to be completed. Satin gloves that my friends are supposed to pick up for me at traditional costume store - like, right about now :)

Its a Miniscule World.

I've sorta done the online personals before - though I've only actually managed to get really invovlved romantically once.

Its a great way to meet people of all spectrums, you do manage to at least tailor them to fit the traits that make you quiver,yes, I admit I exagerate. Well, in truth at least you can tell that they are of relative intelligence.

Disclaimer : Not an ass-swipe filter.

Its just getting really scary, because I was talking to one of the guys I went out with for a while today, and I asked if he had any links to anyone working in a certain bank.

( Its just me being a lil' resourceful.I attended a career talk by a certain investment bank, that got me really excited. I cornered, the recruiter at the refreshment session later on. I felt I was being a little pushy - I felt a sense of nauseous abhorrence overwhelm me for a bit, because I was playing out the exact caricature of what I NEVER wanted to come across as. After talking to me initially, I got a bit too pushy, dismissed me but not before giving a pointer not to email her my CV, but to use my own resourcefulness.)

This guy I used to go out with, then sent me the Friendster link over MSN re, his friend who was working in this particular bank. I was like HOLY SHIT, this guy had messaged me before, but somehow I never responded. He was hot, in a mature way I guess.

Of course I never mentioned anything to the guy I went out with.

The same guy, I unwittingly hooked up with his Mother's best friend's creep of a son. Rebound - hardly lasted two months.

Funny thing is that, this guy I went out with - I've never truly gotten over him. If he ever hooked up with any of my aquaintances. I would feel so physically sick, I'm postively sure, I would feel faint and vomit.

The world's way too small.

It must be karma, Darling.

You haven’t lost your touch – you still manage to propel me to the highs and wrest me from them in seconds. Just over a week ago, souls bared – reliving our little thing that we’ve kept on for a while. No one chases the gloom away as effectively as you. What deep comfort we seek in each other. What I would do for you. How our lives seemed to be intertwined in such a contradictory mix of pleasure and pain for the rest of eternity,in your words? Still, I’ve become accustomed to your rejection, my callused heart taking unhealthy but desperate refuge in non-expectation, because disappointment blows. That’s why I’m hard sometimes, so I filter out most of the disappointment. I don’t trust everything you say.

How you promised to stopped smoking on my account, I never even prompted you to – I don’t see why you made that promise when you never meant to keep it. Layer upon layer of the dirt of disappointment. I already took heed not to have any unrealistic expectations otherwise. Your flippancy is at my expense. Fuck you.

I have been semi-successful in conditioning myself to believe that I’m not made for a relationship – which so far has been a self-fulfilling prophecy. Brief recurrent moments of passionate entanglement with you over and again over two years, somehow have never strengthened me enough to leave our history behind. Always for a period of time, then weakness strikes – and I let you back in my life again. Fuck you.

Those sporadic dalliances always leave me happy for a moment, only to kick me deep in the gut when reality sets its foot down. Fuck you.

I’ve gone way past the point of dreaming of a life spent with you till we grow old, where I can spend extended moments on lying on your chest, fingers entwined, our bodies, length to length – while I lie content simply listening to your rhythmic breathing. I wanted a relationship then – I was still a youngin’. Now, I’m just thinking of ways and means to lessen the pain whilst I keep you in my life.

I’m not meant for relationships.

My hopeless myth has obviously been shattered by your own cynical scorn. I might have laughed with you back then when I was younger, joining you in scoffing at the naiveté of the romantic love of others, when I myself had no clue then of what your sardonic cynicism really entailed. Even with the logical, rational equations of unhealthy unrealistic ideals.

I fancied myself in love then. Oh no, don’t get me wrong you’re still the most beautiful man in my eyes - I still love you, part of me always will.

I just think its goddamn fucking ironic that someone in your past had caused you so deep a pain, and you in turn have continuously inflicted it on me. Now, when we talk of the painted illusion of someone else’s romantic love, your pointed, resigned cynicism – I know exactly where you’re coming from. I taste the bitterness first hand.

I must have owed you a great deal in our past life, because I’m paying for it dearly now, Darling.

And fuck you.

You still can make a cold, hard bitch cry.

Doh.Blue ears.

Every month or so, I re-dye my tresses blue black. Yesterday morning, was one of those occasions.

So you know, its nice to be looking your best at the start of the week. Plus, I was dressed rather spiffily because there was a talk re:treasury careers which required a corporate dress code.

Had my extra-ebonied tresses up, high in a ponytail,pearl stud earrings, black linen shirt,pinstripe pants and pointy toed shoes. So (I thought) strode into the city campus looking quite debonaire.

All the way up to marketing class - then it came to, too abrupt an end. First thing of my friends said to me was " Your ear got something." Self-consciously, I was like - what?, I touched them in reflex, and noticed a blue-black residue smeared on the tips of my fingers.

My nimble,quick mind sought to make sense of this peculiar occurence and I came quickly to the conclusion that,yup it was the hairdye. The sinking feeling grew heavier as I turned to my friend and asked him " Is it very bad?".

Barely concealing his amusement, he said " Quite obvious." Guffaw,guffaw.

Taking a deep,deep breath this was what I did - pop a mentos,let my hair down and feign a brave nonchalance.

We-eell,that's the truth sans the mentos part.

Was relating it to another friend today and she said comfortingly " It happens to even the best of us."

So there.

(If I could capture this singular moment, my chin would be jutting out. And if you're observant enough, you'd also probably notice that my chin's wobbly - and my lips curled into a pouty,pursed defiance.)

The Eye of the Storm ...

is a lonely place to be.

The pace of life is so hectic. With impending deadlines looming in the horizon - both short term as well as long term.

I choose the kind of life I want to lead. I set my pace. Sometimes in a desparate bid not to lose ground to emotional turbulances, I have this incredible knack for throwing myself in mind-numbing work.

Wake up - I have this to do, that to do, with the ultimate purpose of tiring myself out to the brink of exhaustion so that I can sleep immediately without having to live the moments of melancholia, that seem to plague me, especially in my solitary state.

Efficiency and effectiveness are my rule of thumb, I'm especially disclined to spend more effort that it is worth. I'd rather forgo the task, and be penalized for it. I get immense peaks,when the full bloom of my effectiveness is realized.

When everything is swirling around you at break-neck speed, I'm sometimes amused,fascinated and almost dazed as I watch the atom-like people in my surrounding collide. Colliding and forming a new type of matter. Vivid interactions begin to make me feel nervous. Nervous because an unnatural jealousy brews that I'm not part of it - eventually it does lose its momentum and fizzles out to an acute and crippling sense of emptiness that not even your friends can fill. It launches me into a pensive mode, where I can't quite function efficiently until I get it out of my system.

Like now - when I'm supposed to be doing some quantitative models.

It's catch-22 all over again.

By the Way

When I become ultra successful, when I've reached my peak given all that I can - enough to take care of my Mom, Dad and sister comfortably for life -

I think I might commit suicide.

Its such a seductive idea, to die at highest point.

Interruption at its finest.

Coitus interruptus.

How beautifully tragic.

What an exquisite waste.

There's a flaw in my perfect plan - Insurance companies don't payout to the beneficiaries of policy holders that commit suicide.

Bullshit.

Bah, I'm resourceful enough, I'll find a way round.

Glazed Eyes.

Patpong,Bangkok. I did go there for a reason.

Of course, I didn't expect to attain the same enlightenment equivalent to the Nirvana that Buddha did.

Here,the strip/live-sex shows also known as "Tiger Shows" are noticeably shoddier than the strip club I went to in Melbourne last year. The Star of the show was a Nordic Blonde with long,long leg's that would put Jack's Beanstalk to shame. The carefully choreographed and perfectly executed moves were stunning enough to put a Russian Olympic Gymnast to shame.

We've heard quite a bit about the sex shows. Taxi drivers solicited us, them gesticulating,wildly in hope that it would be descriptive enough to whet our interest. When all that failed, they took out a card with the goods/services up for sale.

" BOY MAKE LOVE GIRL "
" GIRL MAKE LOVE GIRL"

And of course when they played their trump, with the nearly completed transexual masterpieces, known as katoeys. Their description, " Snip,Snip" pointing to their chests, and groin.

We didn't go with them, but instead headed down ourselves. The streets were lined with girls, sitting by the roadside. It wasn't long before a crowd of live-show pimps, zeroed in on us. We were taken to a dodgy place, with the same menacing air that one might associate with an illegal underground gambling den. Grubby and sinisterly smokey.

It was a small place, slightly reminscent of the clautrophobic clubs along Mohamed Sultan Road. Club III, if you guys remember.There was a round stage in the middle. With 3 poles. The bulk of the main acts came from girls pulling objects out of their nether regions. From glow-in-the-dark knooted latex hankerchief types ( the sort magicians use), strings of pseudo mini-osh-koshs,ping pong balls (which one of my friend thought was a certain demonstration on how to concoct a Lychee Martini/ to smoking a cigarette/drawing with a marker using their birth canals). Admittedly, I vaguely fascinated, but soon got bored, as with all things repetitive.

I was more interested in watching a pot-bellied Aussie, fondle the boobs of one of the women there. Teasing him with a slightly calculative air. His leer also of a similar calculative edge - knowing that he could grab all he wanted without paying, as long as he decided not to shag her for the night.

Soon,a rude specimen of man, that of countrified calibre who seemed to be of Chinese/Vietnamese origin,was openly gawking and pointing. If actions could be directly translated into sounds - he'd be positively squawking. He opened his eyes so wide, I really couldn't help but feel like poking them out with a fork. He even tried to take a picture with his cell. When I thought his eyeballs couldn't pop out further, I was proven wrong again - when couple on stage started having sex.

It was mechanical. Every two thrusts,they turned like 25 geomentrical degrees,just so that the audience could see - perfunctory customer satisfaction policy. Finesse didn't make her appearance in any part of the acts.

Hip Hop/ RnB tunes not alien to that of a Uni Bash blasted, while they wiggled their hips. I found it amusingly ironic, that the setting minus the explicit acts, would be like that of the JC parties I attended couple years back. How different.

One of the women struck me. Though,I wasn't surprised. I had never seen a jaw so strong, nor eyes so hard, her lips curled into a sneer, as she slowly detached her mind from what her body was doing. Older of the lot - the other girls, younger - still had a bounce in them, trying to squeeze out a certain degree of appreciation(absolutely interchangeable in their terms with superfluous lechery.)from the audience.

The audience was mostly made up of curious tourists,and a small portion of actually lecherous men. Couples in the audience, the female counterpart, squeezing their eyes shut, or looking away in embarrassment as the night progressed. One of them even walked out.

Later in the night,a hairy Indian man became the object of my attention. Wedding ring noted. I think Pfizer would have a field day could milking Viagra essence concentrate from him. He was so amorous, that the moment he sat down, he was pawing the same woman ( with the aussie ) so vigorously that I became alarmed.The same vermin also wanted to take (unwelcome) part in audience participation - when another white college kid at the performer's request had to stick a ping pong ball up her fanny.

Like a Doberman let loose in a SPAM factory.

The nudity didn't faze me as I observed the different behaviors that were on display that night, nor did the explicit sexual acts. I was far more concerned in processing the scene going round me. Almost surreal.

I don't think I pitied/sympathized with any of the women.I don't think they wanted to be sympathized/pitied either. Though the thought of entertaining with the purpose of being a circus act, wrankled me. Irony being - that I also came with a degree of curiosity. I almost hate myself for satisfying that curiosity.

I watched them impassively as they watched me.

Glazed eyes.

That I remember quite clearly. I won't forget either.

Rebounds and Ricochets.

About this time last year, I was shattered – the devastation muted only by (in hindsight) a misplaced hope. Delusion then was a life buoy; it kept me going for a bit. Up till the point, when I made the realization that, “Look, it really isn’t going to happen.” By that time, I’ve recovered a bit from the trauma, and can handle the bitter pill of truth, marginally better. So how do actually get that buffer time zone?

Yeah, it’s a dirty word – smacks of selfishness.

R-E-B-O-U-N-D.

Had 2 or 3 of those going on– some even concurrently.

But if you asked me then if I they were my rebounds, I would vehemently declare indignantly, “REBOUND? MEEE?”, “No – no way.” And probably chuckle quite uneasily, and unconvincingly. Firstly, I wouldn’t believe that I- paragon of selfless virtue, would be capable of such an inhumane sin of selfishness. (Oh, yeah the self-delusion does go that far, I’m afraid.)

Secondly, I was in denial of my own weak, vulnerable, crushed state. I would have easily scoffed “I mean like - Hellooo? Why – would I NEED a rebound?”

[Disclaimer#1: annoying adolescent bimbo speaking is a persona.]
[Disclaimer#2: Rebounds do not help you get over the individual in question, but they’re useful in their distractive qualities]

I really did try to convince myself that I was trying to get to know them better, and perhaps … you know … things might work out. When you’re emotionally vulnerable, it’s a lot easier to undermine rationale. But by the second/third week, I was panicking and hyperventilating like an asthmatic on steroids. I was dropping hints, had explicit clear cut talks that I wasn’t in it for the long run. I have this annoying thing, called conscience a.k.a integrity hemorrhoids .None of them of course had a problem with it, because I’ve got (an unwitting) built in radar that detects people that aren’t looking for relationships. (It’s all destined, I’m afraid – even the signs showed back then)

You know what I find ironic, quite a number ongoing romantic occurrences between individuals actually are an inter-connected network of rebounds. I might have been rebounded for my heartbreaker. Other times when we’re both reboundees together in commiseration. It did happen once. Other unfortunate times, not. Then one person gets hurt, then he/she goes on another rebound, sparking a domino effect. It’s a vicious, vicious cycle.

Damn, as I’ve said before – God must have failed at theatre studies because he’s gotten the genres of tragedy and comedy mixed up.

I find myself in the position of potential reboundee. The individual in question has just gotten out of a relationship, and is probably missing the companionship that a relationship brings. Despite obvious signs of interest expressed towards me,rebound is written all of it.I don't quite mind getting to know the individual better. If things do take a turn for the romantic, I won’t quite object – it’s nice to hold someone once in a while. After so much heartache, I’ve been conditioned to handle such messy situations, with an almost callous air. I don’t fall in and out of love that easily.

While I'm more inclined to something short-term, I consider myself still open to something more serious, if it feels right, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

But for now, morphine flows in my veins.

Meaning for a brief moment of hugs, intimacy, my emotions are dispensable.

One day, this might come crashing down on me – all this baggage, that I’ve currently stemmed with a dam.

But what the hell.

Soul of a Nomad.

I've moved back here again. I've shifted - like what 4 times?

These couple of days have been a bit of a bummer. Family finances and all - it seems like a never ending source of grief, as with my own emotional baggage.

Was trying to work out my own cashflow, in light of a trip up to Vietnam, in December - what I didn't forsee, the tight finances. Meaning, no more $200 allowance from my parents. I've gotta rely on the rest of the income, from giving tuition.

Which also means, no trip to Vietnam, unless I:

1)Win the lottery.

2)Whore myself.

3)Win the Marketing Team Competition,which might give me a $600 leeway.

( In ascending order of likelihood )

I feel overwhelmed - and its not the Vietnam trip. That's the small stuff - I don't sweat the small stuff, its a small sacrifice. I loathe that we're in such a vulnerable position. Here's the sole reason why I'm trying to graduate as fast asap -then I'm empowered. Then, I'll be in a position to take care of the family.

So before I throw a pity party of myself, I'll write and think of my future. Its good motivation.I've refrained from ranting to any of my friends. Some things,are better handled by yourself. Even if it does get a little heavy to bear, sometimes.

Writing helps.

Here goes.

I'm going to adopt a kid.

After, I graduate and kick/lick moneyed butt in the corporate world.

Been thinking about this the entire week, and have come up with a tentative hypothesis that I'm one of the few "not created for romantic relationships". In the same way the Orwell fella says that some are more equal than others, I think that I'm one of those that function/live life better, without the complexities of a romantic relationship. You know the shit where people go, " I don't need relationships", I don't even think I can go there.

Nothing's cast in stone, its still tentative.

So marriage would be quite out of the question. Yes, I could probably go round in search of willing partners to help in my dream of procreation ( I like the process by the way ) - but I don't think I'll have the kid myself.2 reasons.firstly, if I do, I'll have to allow the father parental rights. It simply wouldn't do to deprive him of seeing his kid, skirmishes are bound to come up from close associations. Worse still, if I feel even more than affection for the father - then things get messy. Secondly, why bring another child into this world, when so many out there need willing and able parents?

Surface-wise, I'm not Mary-Poppin material - a certain few, have called me hard.

But you know what, despite my apparent clumsiness in that arena, I would love to be able to care for a child that needs a parent.