So there I was, surrounded by a gaggle of girls (and two aunties?), all reminiscing and exchanging private war stories.
Though we laughed and chided our inadequacy, pettiness, and girly tendencies, I saw the strength and maturity that the days, weeks, months and years had instilled in us.
The Past can be a difficult pill to swallow. But good girlfriends make it that much more palatable.
Yum seng at yum cha!
After securing my part time job at Juice Works during the hols, I was on a high, thinking this was God’s way of telling me I’d get a job back in Melbourne. After all, this was the work experience I needed since I had my sights on Boost.
Suffice to say, I never landed my Boost job or any other for that matter. Not quite what I had in mind, and truth be told, I was a little confused. Why would He drop a job in my lap, build up all this great hope in me, only to burst my balloon and deflate me back to earth? I now realise that maybe God didn’t intend the Juice Works job solely for me, but for someone else. A friend back home was apparently on the look out for a casual job and thanks to my connections with the owners of Juice Works, he is now gainfully employed.
How selfish I was to think only of my own needs and wants. Focusing so much on myself, I fought to gain something I thought was for me, only to humbly fail and fall. Today, God gently reminded me that my plans may not always be His plans.
And I was brought down my pedestal.
The days just seem longer. And I realise that I don’t look forward to the nights as much as I used to. Simply because it marks the end of a day, and the inevitable beginning of a new one.
Perhaps I am being pessimistic. Perhaps my PMS-driven hormones are causing me to be cynical. But truth be told, I am not looking forward to the uncertain days ahead of me once everyone comes back. Past events that have occured before have put a damper on my expectations of life and I find myself spiralling deeper and deeper into anxiousness and fear. Cracked friendships of yesteryear, superficially patched up with breezy conversations and false cheeriness linger in the sidelines and pose an awful threat to the start of the semester.
I AM afraid.
Of what I can’t see and can’t anticipate.
And the feeling is distressing at best.
I need to find rest in Him again.
Some people don’t realise I have a limit when it comes to caring and giving a d***.
And when the limit has been continually pushed, hopped, skipped and jumped across, I don’t particularly care for lame excuses or sorry apologies.
In fact, I begin to drift away and not really pay attention to your opinions anymore. It’s sort of like turning a deaf ear to a broken record.
Fix your problem, then come to me.
Until then, stop taking your “angst and griefs” out on me.
***
Pig headedness and immaturity in a person who is supposed to be older and wiser really throws you off balance in your perception of things.
I am peeved off beyond words.
Chicken liver cookies, potatoes au feline, doggy cheese twists.
They actually have recipes dedicated to pets.
Right below pasta and pie recipes for you and me.
Me thinks this website should be adhered to with caution.
I made the most sinful double chocolate pudding.
While I tried to reduce the guilt by using a tiny teaspoon, he opted for the scoop-up-the-pudding-with-cappuccino-Kit Kat-sticks method.
:)
Whatever works.
Talk about instant gratification.
A day after drooling over and craving for good, home cooked, Nyonya food, I was invited over to Ben and Annie’s Chinese New Year do to satisfy the rumblings in my tummy. The spread was amazing. His dad is. an. AWESOME. cook.
After an hour of nonstopfoodshoveling, we collapsed onto the carpet (we even did away with the chairs for goodness sake!) and lay like happy, satiated beached whales. Despite the bloated tummies and empty “I’m-sooo-full-I-can’t-eat-a-thing” promises, fingers still crept across the table, picking at leftovers.
I am happy.
Heck, even my wish for yee sang (home made mind you!) was fulfilled.
What more could I ask for.
(Another round, perhaps?)
Sharing Emporer chicken, sambal bendi and fried garlic bok choy with an equally surfeited girl friend, a jaded-tongued chef and a shy newbie on a Friday night purges the vexation of the day/week/month.
All-night-long conversations extolling the the decadent virtues of Baba Nyonya cuisine can be exceedingly excruciating for the deprived taste buds.
But golly, was it good! I gained a pound just looking at cook books.
Yummylicious! :)
Insensitive you.
Insinuating
Incriminating statements.
Irritatingly obscure.
I’m choosing to
Ignore.
***
Distasteful and thoughtless words, whether voiced or penned, cut deep to the core.
Oh, grow up.
Fragments of memories
Hidden
In the recesses of embryotic cranial corridors
Linger like a bitter taste
And cut like shrapnel into flesh
Thoughts turned rancid
By continuous images
Which taunt the mind’s eye
I’m trying to forget
The things which I have already forgiven
***
Like the certainty that time can never be reversed, memories will irrevocably haunt. But I’m learning to let go and to let the past take its rightful place - in the past.
Dreams of forgotten alchemists
Leave yesterday like a wrinkle on your forehead.
***
I wish I could give you
A panacea for Life
