Living between Realism and Idealism

January 19, 2011

[415] Begging for time and hoping to be found

Daddy, yesterday was the first time me and Mum lied about your passing, and it stings horribly. A random lady who was visiting a neighbour stumbled upon us while we were doing some gardening. She was chattering up with us and when she was about to leave, she asked Mum, "Where is your husband?" Mum answered with, "Oh, he's not back home from work yet."

The truth sinks deeper knowing that my Daddy won't exactly be coming back from work that day, and the day after and the days which come after that.

Three weeks passed by, and the void is still here, there, everywhere. The silence that I deal with everyday when Mum leaves for work is just unbearable, slowly eating me up by the minute. I see you at every corner, Dad, and that is not easy to deal with.

Things would get back in its order when you were around. Taking it for granted that if I were to leave the scissors on the dining table after using it, the scissors would get back into the container somehow at the end of the day. Nowadays, I realised that I would intentionally leave things around, hoping to see it back in its original place the day after. But nope, I would have to pick up things from where I have left them.

If Death were to give me some time with my Daddy, I would not plead to have forever with him because I know someday, Time will take everyone. All I want is some time for me to ask him things which he would want me to pick up from him. Being away from home for so long makes me a perfect stranger at home, not knowing where to get things, find things or place things. There are so many things in the altar which I do not know of. And I have yet to rummage through his drawers, cabinets and wrapped stuff all around the house. What do you plan to do with them, Daddy? Tell me please?

The feeling I have now, is the exact same feeling that I have had before when I found myself lost in the shopping mall when I was younger. There I was, in the middle of nowhere, everything towered above my head, and unnoticeable by everyone. I have to find my way through, playing the guessing game with myself, hoping to bump into a familiar face. I guess I was much luckier then, since I was found eventually by Daddy. Now, I still can't find my Dad and now I am sitting at the corner, hoping to be found.

| mood | lost

Filed under Daily Dose | 1 person vomitted

January 13, 2011

[414] Who?

by chenyenggoh | 12:56 PM

Dearest Daddy, Rinchen sits at the front gate every evening wondering when you would come home. When night falls, she will be attentive to the creaking sound of the master bedroom door when it is being opened. She pines for you, in her own way. My heart aches as I see her behaviour day in day out, wanting you to come home and greet her with a very loving, "Rinchen darling ..."

As I left home 3 and a half years ago, I was very homesicked. The only consolation I gave myself is that I would be staying at home with my family after I have pursued my degree, all I want, as long as I want. Being at home , I was just Daddy's little girl, forever pampered, without a single care in the world. I was sheltered from all the bad wolves outside, nevertheless was given the luxury of innocence.

Daddy, I do not want to grow up now and go through paperwork after paperwork just to tell the world that you are no longer around and that the material possessions that you worked all your life should not bear your name any more. I do not want my name on the house, on your car or even on your scooter. All I want is for you to be home and take care of everyone. I want my Daddy.

Who is going to be the person who scolds me when I leave the coffee cup on the table? Who is going to nag me for not keeping my room prim and proper? Who is going to call me in the mornings and greets me with "Hello Mei-Mei, what are you doing?" Who is going to hawk-eye the arrangements of everything in the house? Who is going to buy decorations for the house for CNY in years to come? Who is going to ask me what I want for breakfast and whether I want coffee for tea break? Who is going to come home in the evening with my favourite laksa? Who is going to fight for the newspaper with Mum? Who is going manage all the errands of the running expenses for the house? Who is going to fix the house? Who is going to do the gardening? Who is going to do the filing of everything? Who is going to meddle with everything in the house during the weekends? Who is going to meet up with me and Mum during lunch? Who is going to guide me in the Dharma? Who is going to be my Daddy?

As people ask me "why", I have different answers for them. The mere reason is that, I do not even know what exactly sent you away. It aches me even more if I were to think that I could have done something to prevent everything from happening. They ask me if I am okay. Here's a question for them, "Do you think I would truly be okay?"

Daddy, the house feels too quiet at night. The homely warmth that I come home to last time is just not really here any more. The house used to be glowing so much, but it is now just dim and cold. There is just a void in me that makes me feel so hollow.

I am not strong at all, Daddy. This is just a shell that I give myself. You have been the anchor of the family for all these years and the house has been rock-solid ever since. Now that you have left, who can keep the house in the same manner as you did?

| mood | gloomy

Filed under Daily Dose | feeling sick?

November 20, 2010

[413] The profoundity in drinks, or at least in mine

by chenyenggoh | 03:06 AM

I believe by now, most people would think of me as someone who drinks like a fish, if I were to be given a choice. Yes, I admit that I am, not because that I am an alcoholic, but merely because I associate drinking with something much more profound.

Here I am now, sitting with a glass of beer which I poured from a can, accompanied by one of those very electrifying episodes of Ghost Whisperer since this episode is nearing its end in this season that I am watching. But then my mind strayed.

Drinking is not something I would do to numb myself, neither it is a resort I take to shut my mind. What justifies this glass sitting right in front of me now is that I miss home and I miss my family.

I would usually drink with company, solitary drinking is far much of a torture than an enjoyment. Every now and then, Dad would buy a bottle of something back, usually whiskey, and everyone would just sit together in the living room with a stale movie, which perhaps some of us had watched it, and still, we would sit around and drink and laugh and be merry. I loved that feeling and I enjoyed every bit of it.

Mum used to restrict us from this habit and strongly discouraged like any mother would. But somehow, she has loosened that and likened the fact that we shared the same passion for drinking with Dad. As much as stigma has impregnated the society with that it does more harm than good, I digress.

I don't see how collecting and storing bottles of wine and whiskeys would represent any state of wealth or perhaps in portraying any sort of hobby with regards to that in particular. IMO, you have to enjoy drinking as much as collecting them. The value of that bottle would only be justifiable if there is a purpose to it.

The bottle of Hennessy sits with me every day since the day it arrived here. It has been opened and I have shared some laughter with it to some friends. There is still some left and I still do not see any reason of pouring myself a cup at all because there is no company, there is no one to drink it with.

I gained more and more clarity on the significance of drinking, the significance of alcohol and the significance of my family.

So what exactly is that profoundity that I mentioned earlier on, you may ask? That is the meaning of holding that drink in your hand and laughing it out with someone around you. That is all that I need to last me through all the pain and hardships in life, as of now.

If I have shared a drink with you, please do not assume that I am a mere feisty less-than-an-adult girl who have a burning passion to drink. I drink because I live like that, that I drink with companionship, and read me, good companionship.

I have been doing much thinking of late, mainly rooted from the dilemma of where to land my first milestone in life. I have to forsake so much and yet, I still cannot put my mind to it. Everyone (those whom know that their say would matter) knows that I am more than capable of making my own decisions because I, for one, make do with whatever I decide, whether it's for the better or worse. Not because I am a strong person, it is because I have a gargantuan ego which would suffocate anyone. I'd rather die than to admit that I am wrong in the first place.

I am willing to give up everything to drink with my parents and my siblings now. And I mean, now.

| mood | indescribable

Filed under Daily Dose | feeling sick?

November 12, 2010

[412] Dead knots of frustrations

by chenyenggoh | 03:59 AM

Why is that I have to wake up everyday knowing what to do, when to do and how to do things? It is understandable, sometimes, because I am not exactly the best follower. I would much rather make my way through things and most of the time, it is an unpredictable pattern. I do not box myself, never.

I exclaimed to a group of friends a couple of days ago that smart women are mostly in their singleton - either by choice or the lack of it. But coming in terms with myself, I feel that it is an awfully painful truth, knowing that I spend every waking moment appearing to be nonchalantly sharp at almost everything I do. To my own defense, most of the time, it is not something that I pride myself over, but more towards on surviving per se.

So yes, hello, welcome to this side, see the world in my eyes. I look over to the people surrounding me and they need me one way or the other. No, I am not trying to fleet over everybody else, highlighting the high degree of centrality of this individual typing this. I spend a reasonable amount of time out of my twenty-four hours to please everyone, to try and make everyone happy. I do not don a clown suit and hop around with balloons in my hands, most definitely not. But, what I do is those little little things which keeps the moon in orbit with earth.

I cook everyday, or at least try to, because I know everyone wants to save money by not eating out too often and that they enjoy the stuff I cook. I know that one of them dislikes onion so I skip it out on most dishes, I know the other one likes a lot of gravy on her rice, so I try to make lots of them in at least one dish. I remember which cutleries were whose and I know how much rice to dish out for everyone. I know everyone's favourites and would make a mental note to make something for someone every other day.

I always notice strands of hair on the floor after my roommate is done with her daily shower routine. So, I would sweep them up with my bare hands. It is okay, even if I do it everyday, it's okay because we share the room and as long as both of us are happy, why not? They do not put things back to where they belong after use, it is okay, I can place them back as I am working in the kitchen, as long as it makes everyone happy, why not? On the 5th day after the last wash, the bathroom would start to have pinkish-orangey stains everywhere. I can wash the bathroom on a weekly basis, it's okay, I take it as a workout and as long as everyone is happy, why not?

There are so much of things that I don't mind doing for other people, as long as it for their betterment. I don't ask for any reciprocation, I don't need a huge thank-you badge on my wall of fame. I just ask for good companionship during rainy days, the sunny days I can live on one after another by myself.

Someone has to be willing enough to walk the extra mile to keep the glue within that circle, and here I am doing that much of painstaking work and yet nothing stays the way I expects it to be.

Please, please, please, please do not confuse my intentions in writing this out as a bitter ramble of someone who is unappreciated. I am not a mere superficial bitch with no better thoughts in mind. I may be bitter, I might ramble and rant, I am obviously unappreciated, but I am certainly not superficial.

I have too many a thought in my head, too much of dead knots and I do not know where to begin.

Hello there, I am looking for someone who listens, never judges and most importantly, someone who would hold my umbrella for me on rainy days. So yeah, I am pretty selfish, but I guess I am most definitely rationed to some every now and then, no?

| mood | blank

Filed under Daily Dose | 1 person vomitted

February 17, 2010

[411] Habit.

by chenyenggoh | 02:23 AM

To be honest with myself, I sense too much awkwardness between us. There were raw moments between us, feeling that we have not known each other long enough. But that is just the way you define "long enough". We share just as much as everything and we know things between each other.

Probably we communicate more in texting than the time we actually spent in talking, I always felt those moments of silences popping up every once in a while when we're in a conversation. So, most of the time, the situation will end up by having me listening to him talking and only needing me to chip in a say or two occasionally. It's fine with me, but is that really fine?

There may be this oddness between us, but I am getting a feeling that he is growing to be a part of my lifestyle. Not my life, just my lifestyle - but that is major enough to me, atm.

I don't know what is he thinking. He does not know what am I thinking about. So, what exactly are we playing at? Am I supposed to be holding onto something which is worth waiting for? Is he waiting for something to happen?

I am so full of questions at times and I just don't know where to start. I would rather shut myself completely and evade everything.

He is my habit.

And that is a label I willing give him as of now.

| mood | drunk

Filed under Daily Dose | 1 person vomitted

« Newer · Older »