I’m writing an email to Fr M. It’s contents is of no importance to you.
It is a “thank you, I love you” type email but it sounds like a bloody suicide note!
WHY oh WHY am I so emotional?!
I’m certain he has better more intelligent things to read than a little girl’s rambling.
dinner?
Today was pretty cool.
Mum left for Msia so I’m all alone. Which sucks. Because I’m at that part of my menstrual cycle where I am relishing company. Just right after the PMS and cramps sore boobies. Not that you needed to know that…
So… had a rally thing today. A bunch of churches coming together, ice breaker games, praise and worship, testimony then celebrated Mass where I almost died of an anxiety attack because I had to read in front of a Jesuit priest. (I’m sorry, Jesuit fetish XP)
Mass was… emotional. I think I’ve been taking to much Xanax. Or something. Anyway, made plans to join Gina and Jm for dinner but towards the end of Mass, decided against it because all I wanted to do was curl up in a pathetic little ball and weep. So after Mass, thought I’d follow the bus back to my parish and was invited to join L and his friends for dinner but I could not hold in the screams and tears any longer so I told them I’d go back on my own and I went to the adoration chapel and prayed. Cried. And then just… sat. Listened too, surprisingly. It’s pretty hard to get me to shut up and listen when I’m in a whiny self-pity mood.
As I started to feel better, I started thinking about what I should have for dinner. I had prawns in my freezer which I could eat. I didn’t feel like cooking and at that point, I was starting to regret having turned down two dinner opportunities.
Then, as I walked to the bus stop, I met a bunch of people from a neighbouring parish, some of whom I knew and they asked me where I was going. I told them I wasn’t sure and wanted to look at the board with all the bus routes. And they started chanting something that I could not understand and I went, “huh?”. Turns out, they were asking me to join them for dinner. Which I did. It was an educational dinner. A friend of mine, who sat next to me at the dinner table, was eating mutton soup. Sup Kambing. She asked me if I wanted to try, from the tone of her voice, I decided not to. Apparently she was eating mutton leg and tongue. And then, the person at our table told her, “Why don’t you let her try the brain?” and then I exclaimed, without any care whatsoever to hide my shock, “THEY HAVE BRAIN?!” “Oops, shouldn’t have said that…” he laughed at my exclamation.
My friend didn’t have brain in her soup but yes, the shop did sell brain. My toes did curl, however, when she was sucking the bone marrow out of the leg bone. There was a part of me which wanted to turn away but there was this other part of me which wanted to watch her suck bone marrow out of what used to be a goat with a straw. Yes, she sucked it out with a straw. My toes are curling just from recalling that memory. Lol. Alas, I make a lousy Malaysian. *shuderrerererer*
And then we adjourned to have yummy ice cream, ordered chocolate, nonetheless, delicious.
The whole bunch of them were just lovely. Met two Filipino guys who were trying to teach me tagalog. Pre means brother, I cannot get the “r” to roll right on my tongue. It’s like “pray” but without the “y”. So… “peace be with you, pre,” “Thank you, pre” “Ingat, pre” (Ingat means “take care” not “remember”) “Mahal kita” which means “I love you”, not certain of the spelling but that’s how it sounds like.
It was so fun and I’m so glad I went for dinner with them.
Later, when I found out my phone was being kooky and I switched it off and back on again, I found out that I Ty had asked if I was free for dinner too.
Which… makes me feel so… belong… I’m sorry, I don’t know the word for it. But you know how every human being, with the specific emphasis of post-PMS female adolescent human beings, have an untoward desire to belong… Today, I just felt like I belonged. My mother had left and I felt like I was left in a lurch with no one to have dinner with and it turned out that I had four different groups of people whom I could have gone out for dinner with.
Thank you God. *grins*
Oh well, overall, a bittersweet day which varied between the two extremes. But the sweets were delicious.
rape arrogance and ignorance
Woke up with a series of nightmares this morning and through out the night. I think it may have something to do with the fact that I went to bed extremely angry that I was in tears.
I was angry because I was reading a non-fiction book about the gang rape of four young girls by the same group of men, Muslim brothers. The book is entitled “Girls like you” by Paul Sheehan.A good book, I assure you. But that aside, what really got to me was (and I apologise in advance if I am breaking any copyright laws, I’m just trying to prove a point) the part where a sheikh in Australia (where these gang rapes had occurred) said that a rape victim had no one to blame but herself because she “displayed her beauty to the entire world. She degraded herself by being an object of sexual desire and thus becoming vulnerable to man who looks at her for gratification of his sexual urge”
I will not pretend to know much about Islam but I think we can pretty much agree upon the fact that Islam is monotheistic where the god they believe in is all good. And that is all good is directly opposed to all that is bad, sin. Dosa is what I know it to be called, sin, which separates a Muslim from God.
Temptation leads one into dosa, there is perhaps not much argument about that.
But shouldn’t it be in the person of the believer to fight whatever temptation that may come his or her way so as to not fall into sin?
This way the sheikh puts it, or, at least, the way I understand him to have put it, is that the rapist is in no fault of his own because all he did was rape a girl who was displaying her beauty.
I fail to see the logic in this. Because this can be rephrased. “The rapist was in no fault because all he did was succumb to temptation and committed sin.”
The world is full of temptations because, like it or not, the devil is more present in our world than most of us ever dare to admit.
Temptation is not just present in gambling, alcohol, drugs. It is also rampant in money, power, fame and yes, even skimpily dressed women.
To say that the rape victim has no one to blame but herself just because of the clothes she wears, clothes that are culturally accepted to be decent in her own country, is like saying that the banks have only themselves to blame when they get robbed because they were keeping all that money!
WHERE? I beg for someone to tell me, is the logic that a rapist is innocent and the victim, guilty?
More confessions
Yun lent me her CD with 200+ games and… I’m addicted. Well, not addicted addicted, just… a little addicted. I was playing worms just now, it’s the kind of game I like to play. No consequences, lots of explosions, mindless killing, lots of explosions… *grin* I sometimes believe it is the explosions that I am addicted to…
But I’m that type of person, y’know. The type of person who likes games that have no consequences, which is why I hate games with time limits and games which I can die in. Which is why I enjoy playing with cheat codes and just playing for the sake of it. Like playing sims with the cheat of having an endless supply of money for me to build my house till it’s pretty, and I don’t have to work then I’d actually have time to enjoy that hot tub I made. Or playing shooting games with cheat codes. Or playing Worms where all the players are me and I’m just blasting myself up for the fun of it. I especially enjoy kamikaze but let’s not get into that.
So yes, that is my confession.
Another one would be that I seem to be out of myself lately and by lately, I mean right now. Just feeling very listless, a feeling of surreality, it’s kinda like wanting to bounce off walls cross with wanting to jump off buildings cross with wanting to lie in bed endlessly. There’s just a certain feeling of unfulfillment in me that I seem to believe would be satisfied if I had a walk, specifically, a walk with a dog. I feel like running endlessly until I reach the other end of the island, or until I reach immigration. I also feel like leaving a note telling my mother I’m sorry but I’ll be back and then flying to Russia, just for the sake of it.
Instead, what I did was go to Holland V (not very near) 24-hours Cold Storage supermarket and bought SGD24 worth of food stuff I don’t really need. I tried to lay off the perishables so that I won’t waste food.
I have this thing about hoarding. And I need to have an abundant supply of what I deem to be staples. Staples include milk, of which I have two and a quarter 1 litre boxes in my fridge and eggs, of which I have 15 in my fridge (at the rate I eat them, that’s a lot). I also like having flour, sugar, chocolate, tomatoes, pasta, cheese, butter, biscuits (or chocolate chip cookies) and Milo, but these need not necessarily be in abundance. A general rule is that I must have enough to make pancakes, or a meal with protein and carbohydrate in it.
Ok, that’s about all the confessions of things that you never needed to know about me that I shall share for today.
I’ve stopped being able to cry on my own a very long time ago.
It feels good to have the control. But really, I don’t have the control. I can only stop the tears, I can’t make them come. Defense mechanism? Yeah, maybe.
It’s a matter of time before I implode.
Men are assholes. the world is full of assholes. Human beings in general are assholes. I’m an asshole.
F*** the world.
*seethes*
What can the world offer me that I don’t already own? But the consequences are a plenty. There is nothing I want enough to be willing to bear the consequences. Then why am I here? Why am I in this hell hole of a life full of the consequences of things that I’ve once chased for but now no longer desire.
But then again, maybe I do desire some things.
Take, for example, death. I still desire it, long for it, with much of my soul and heart.
Or, again as an example, peace. I do desire it, constantly ask for it from the Higher Power.
Joy. The Joy of seeing a child being born, the joy of saving a life, the joy, that can only be brought on by other lives. I want it, very much so.
But Nobody seems to be inclined to give me these things which I long for so much.
That’s the only was to explain it, isn’t it?
That the Higher Power is not inclined to have me leave this earth. That the Higher Power is not inclined to grant me peace. That the Higher Power does not want me to see new life.
Because blaming it on God is what we do best. All the time, constantly, we blame God. Blame blame blame.
Why did He create the forbidden fruit? Why did he bloody create the world? Why did He give me the parents that He gave me? Why did He mess up the chemicals in my brain?
Why, Father, Why?
That’s what we cowardly humans perpetually do, blame it on Somebody else.
Why did you not use the self-control I gave you? Why did you not love the world I made for you? Why did you despise the gifts I give to you? Why did you forget to take your fluoxetine?
But that’s irrelevant, fluoxetine has a nice and long half life, apparently. It’s amazing the kind of stuff you get off the internet and are inclined to believe.
Daddy, you’ve heard me before but I’ll say it again. Donna eis requiem. Please take me Home.
I won’t do anything to hasten the process that only You can decide how and when it should happen, but please, I beg you. I am done here.
I am sick of the beautiful garden you have put me in. Sick of the sheer happiness that is found in each of my friends. Sick of the love that is constantly showered upon me. Sick of the emptiness that I feel in this world. I just want to go Home, You and I, forever. Please?
This post was brought to you by Pee Em Ass
…
I started this post with a poem, but the poem is too emo and I pressed backspace till there was nothing left. Why do I do that? Why do I erase the sadness from my life as if it wasn’t there? Does not backspacing only delete the words but not the emotions?
“Wonder if she cried? =/”
I wonder too because sometimes, I’m not sure anymore.
I have a thing about disliking to learn new things for some things and windowslivemessenger is one of them. So bloody annoying, the advertisement crap thing at the bottom does now help either.
As if I don’t despise MSN enough, this crap really isn’t helping. Urgh.
Yahoo is better. Skype is better. Personally, I prefer emails and smses.
My patience is running short. Urgh.
I tried organising my contacts and it really doesn’t help that I’m a hoarder. I’ve had a bit of difficulty deleting some contacts whom I’ve not talked to in forever. One of the reasons why I never sign in to MSN much anymore. There are just too many people there whom I don’t care about.
Fine, I’m avoidant too. I’m not going to deny that. I generally dislike contact with people who care for me because I’m afraid of disappointing them, because I am certain I will disappoint them.
Bah, hate people.
Which is why I want to get a dog.
It’s evil, I’m telling you. The dog shelter people are evil. The dogs are virtually free, they put up pretty pictures of the highly adorable dogs that they have, they expect one to be able to choose which dog one wants. One wants them ALLL!!!!
*random note: urticaria is back *scratch scratch**
My mother’s agreed to the dog. We’ve both always wanted one.
The thought of the responsibility kind of daunts me but I am willing.
I have a need to walk a dog, like, right now. I am so tempted to call Cl and ask her if I can walk Baby, I just think it’s rude to want to see someone’s dog and not care about the owner. lol. *scratch scratch*
A dog needs to be toilet trained, walked, bathed, groomed, played with, kept company… Can you blame me if I think it’s daunting?
But I really want one and I think the responsibility will do me good. Make me a little less spoiled. Maybe then I’ll find the discipline to complete my studies, or prove to my mother that it isn’t about discipline. *scratch*
Was talking to a friend of mine, animal lover and knows a lot about them *note to self, keep in contact her more* *scratch* Which made me want to get a poodle. I’m not going to groom it until it looks like some alien God didn’t create, don’t worry. But she did say that poodles are friendly but at the same time, protective of their owners. That’s the kind of dog I want, y’know. The kind that doesn’t start playing with the robber that breaks in or the rapist who’s trying to rape me. (because I’m the kind of person who’s so naive that I would probably chitchat with the robber or the rapist) *scratch*
DAMMIT I’M GOING TO EAT A BIG FAT ANTIHISTAMINE AND GO TO SLEEP GOODNIGHT!
*scratch scratch scratch*
Too much alcohol for that much brain
My sis is in town, love her to bits.
Just came back from Clarke Quay, a little bit off after one little glass of Shiraz. Ok fine, the glass wasn’t little but so not my point.
Head already hurts, seems like I’ve got a hungover already. My excuse is that my fairly volumous brain has been sufficiently deprived of oxygen to hurt.
Shiraz is a bit strong, even for me who claims to love wine.
My sis’ boyfriend took my sis’ pink pashmina and compared it to my face and went, “Hmm… the same colour.”
I’m really glad that he and I click pretty well, I think we’re both geeky. We talk about cars, smartphones and the likes.
I should do that bbc brainsex id thing again and post my results out on this blog.
Went to Ikea today for my sis to look at stuff for her new home. She’s bought a house, with her boyfriend. I don’t condone it but I’m not exactly against it either because I can totally understand how she doesn’t believe in the social institution of marriage after witnessing the crap our parents went through. She’s so excited. She hasn’t moved in yet but plans are certainly on the way.
As for me, I’m just looking forward to being bridesmaid and aunt, the order of which I don’t really care about.
I may be Catholic but I’m not without my own scars.
Head hurts…
Neck kinda hurts to, a reason to which I’ve not quite come up with.
And I’m feeling ridiculously cold for a person who’s just had alcohol.
Y’know, I’d be an alcoholic if I didn’t think it was a form of idolatry. I’d have alcohol at every meal if my wallet allowed it.
Guess I’ll just have to stick to being a homily junkie for now?
Went for a briefing/training today for Archdiocesan Youth Day 08 today. Re-met some nice people. I find it kind of fun, to know Catholics of other parishes. Something I didn’t have back in Msia because I was never that active and towards my post-Confirmation days, I started to get more involved but it wasn’t long before I had to move to Sg.
If anybody asks, my answer will always be, “I’m from SFX but I’ve been called to serve in Sg for now.”
I don’t think my long term ministry is here in Sg. Although I am drawn to urban missions, I see Msia needing me a lot more than Sg. Although I have to say, Sg does need God a lot. It’s such a materialistic and individualistic society that I cannot see myself living here in the long term. I can’t even survive the JC system here, I’d go more insane if I stayed here long time. It’s not exactly the currents I want to go against. But again, it is up to Him to call me and I will go wherever He wants me to.
Fr O.C. SJ, celebrated Mass when I was back in Msia. I love him, I really do. And seeing him there, and listening to his homily, I realised how much I missed him. Believe me, the Jesuits here give really good homilies too but Fr OC’s homilies (and Mass, really) are always politically inclined. He talked about babi cina balik ke cina (Chinese pigs go back to China; the term “pigs” is derogatory especially in a country where Islam is the official religion). And how he was NOT going back to cina because “Msia is MY country,” in his words. I totally agree.
Many people do not understand why I want to go back to Msia when Sg seems to provide so much more exposure and opportunities. Truth is, I want to fight and I firmly believe that I’ve been called to fight the good fight. I think we all have. I will not sit by in a neighbouring country as I watch MY country go into the hands of narrow minded, corrupt politicians with no care for justice or equality. It is MY country and I WILL fight for His virtues in my own home.
…
Alcohol does lower inhibitions doesn’t it?
See, these are my thoughts with my inhibitions, fears, lowered.
On a completely separate note, I saw a Ferrari 360 Modena in Clarke Quay today. While I still hold by the Enzo as my ultimate Ferrari, the Modena is what got it started for me. A newspaper article about it and ever since then, I’ve been in love with fast cars. Almost had an orgasm on the spot. One could liken the Modena as my “first crush”, or even, “first love”. 
But alas, I do not believe I’ve been called to own a Ferrari. Drive one (or many), maybe. But not to own them. I don’t think my conscience can live down with owning a car that can feed a village for a whole year.
Besides, I’m a hybrid car type person when it comes to ownership. I love the environment too much.
Can’t wait for my parish to get recycling bins. Fr M was having a bit of hiccups with the authorities last I heard. Should be better by now. I hope.
Well, that’s about all the crap that shall be coming out of me this post.
With love,
