Meeting the Other Half

A sign that you’re getting older – or growing up, if that sounds more appropriate – is that you meet the other halves of your loved ones in an ‘official’ manner. As in, your loved ones’ love lives are becoming a part of your life too.

Recently, a friend has suggested that one day I meet up with her and her boyfriend. Another friend, who is in a long-distance relationship, also suggested that when her boyfriend comes down I should hang out with them sometime.

I have gone out with a friend and her boyfriend several times. Her boyfriend is a friendly person, but he mostly keeps his focus on his food. Which was understandable, since my friend and I mostly talk about things that he is not involved in.

See, that’s the awkward part. When I meet up with friends, it is usually in a small group and everybody knows each other and have some sort of common thread. When the boyfriend comes into the picture, the common thread is somewhat skewed.

I feel a little bad for keeping up topics of conversation that does not include everybody at the table. It is not nice to exclude someone like that. When I had dinner with that friend and her boyfriend, I tried to include him in the conversation, even though it’s my friend I’m more interested in, conversation-wise.

I haven’t a boyfriend to ‘officially’ introduce to my friends, so I don’t have expectations of my significant other and close friends getting along and ‘approving’ each other. I mean, in the event that neither likes each other, that shouldn’t jeopardise my relationship with either but I guess it’s perfectly natural that you want the people you love to like each other too.

(If I ever have a boyfriend, what would I do then?? I’m not sure if I want do this whole ‘official’ introduction… I keep my social circles (to borrow my friend’s term) ‘compartmentalised’; that is, when I hang out with my ex-classmates/schoolmates, we don’t bring other friends along during our meetings. I don’t know if I want to bring my boyfriend home ever or have him hang out when I’m with my friends.)

Right now, I’m on the other side of the fence, where I’m meeting my friends’ boyfriends and getting to know them. While I’m very interested in my friends’ love lives – “How did you guys meet?” “Why do you like him?” “Are you guys serious??” – it’s another matter to meet these men and know them better for myself, rather than through second-hand accounts. I mean, I guess on one level I do want to know them because they are my friends’ boyfriends. On another level, my social anxieties make me feel, well, anxious about these meetings. What do we talk about? What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him??

How do people fit in their significant others’ social circles? Do you have personal stories or opinions about your love life and mixing them with other parts of your life?

tuO dessertS

I probably seem like myself after some rather emotional posts early last month, but I don’t think I’m my happy self. At least, not in person. When blogging, I feel happy. Other than that, I’m at this level where if nothing bad happens, I’m stable. But once the tiniest little thing goes the wrong way, I get very frustrated. I snap, I cry, I repress.

It’s not like the workload at work is piling on. If you noticed, I haven’t really talked about work since the last one about my first week at work. That’s because I realised that it’s not very ethical to be talking about work. The problem is that, work is a big part of my life and it affects me, whether positively or negatively. If positively, I guess I could contain myself from blogging about it, but if it’s not positive…

I feel like I’m repressing how I feel about work and how it makes me feel. It’s not the job; the job is nothing I can’t handle, just a matter of getting the hang of it. It’s the environment that makes me unhappy. I don’t look forward to going to work every single day. I punch in a few minutes later than when I should be in and I punch out the moment the clock strikes six.

I still haven’t managed to fit in, and I doubt I ever will. And because of this, I feel isolated at work. As it is, my job hardly requires me to speak to anybody except the manager and my supervisor. I can’t exactly be making small talk with them if I ever want to do a little chit-chat, can I? The only person who actually talks to me at work is 9. Through text messages. It’s so ridiculous, isn’t it, that the only person who talks to me at work doesn’t even work at my office??

I’m reserved by nature, but I need company nonetheless. I need to enjoy working beside my colleagues, even if they don’t contribute to my job scope. I need to feel belonged. And I don’t there. And that makes me unhappy.

I want to work in a place with like-minded people. People who appreciate my talent(s). People who I look forward to seeing because work isn’t like work when I’m with them. I want to be inspired by my co-workers, to put on my thinking cap and come up with creative ideas or concepts. I want to have brainstorming sessions. I want colleagues who will watch my back, as I will theirs. I want colleagues to share the latest gossip with me. I want to work with people my own age.

When I think back to my previous part-time jobs, the ones I didn’t enjoy were either one-month stints or paid very well but working hours were short. The ones I did enjoy had a minimal wage or a place very far away, but my colleagues made the job bearable. And even if I didn’t feel like working, I looked forward to working with them. When there are no customers, we talked and bitched about one thing or another. We try on the shop’s products. And that’s what I want. I want camaraderie.

My situation is making me stressed. I’ve been snapping at my family more than usual. I don’t feel happy unless I’m in my blog or reading a book. I haven’t been eating very healthily and I’m sitting down far too much for my own good. Yet I feel so horribly tired after work each day.

I crave real friends. (Not that you aren’t real, I mean that I need to hang out with people physically… socialise with people who actually knows the real sulz and what she’s really like… not the quiet wallflower image she has perpetually imprinted on her in new places.) I haven’t been out with anybody except Angel and Sesat. Or alone by myself. The only guys who even give me the time of day is if you happen to be male, reading this and leaving a comment. (Dee doesn’t count.) Not that I’m looking for guys for romantic prospects (well, I am, but not only for that lah!) – I mean, I enjoy being friends with guys because my friendship with them has a different dimension than it is with girls. (Hmm, should do a post on that.)

I feel really pathetic lor!

You Lied To Me, July… Julyer.

Thank you to everybody who has expressed their concern in regards to my previous post.

Because you made yourself look so promising back in June and the months before you. I was about to embark on my maiden coming-of-age trip, I expected to have nothing but the time of my life.

Instead, my trip shaped me bitterer and more cynical. That’s not to say I didn’t have good moments. I did, and I treasure those. I also grew up, but in an unhappy way about it.

Then, you read my previous cryptic post and that happened in you, July… Even more unexpected than how my trip transpired.

And on your last day, July… you really have to hit the nail in the coffin, haven’t you? Bad things come in three, after all, huh?

On your last day, you took away from me someone so precious, a girl who lights up my Saturday mornings, a little girl I love as if she were my own daughter, a girl I hug and kiss every day that she comes to me… You took her away, just like that. No warning, no time. (No, she didn’t die, lest you get the wrong idea.)

I still remember her on the last, unexpected day I had with her. Her hair has grown a little long; I always thought she look most fetching that way. Never a day would I look at her without marvelling her beauty, her china doll features.

My happiest moments with her were taking her out to the mall the moment it opens. I would always take her to the bookshop first – the children’s section, of course. Then we would move on to Toys R Us. Then it would be time for lunch. When she was younger, she’ll always choose to eat at McDonald’s. On our more recent visits, however, she chose Pizza Hut. Even though it cost more, I could never say no to her. Those outings were purely for her happiness, but I bask in her happiness and that makes me happy too.

How can I ever bask in her happiness again? She’s gone… (No, she’s not dead.)

Rats!!!

It’s the year of the Rat, according to the Chinese zodiac. It’s the year of the Rat in my house, literally.

Early in the year, as Chinese New Year was approaching, we saw a rat scampering about our home. Set the rat trap, caught it after a couple of days, and was taken care of. (Don’t ask me how it was taken care of, or the animal lovers will be at my throat, even though this is a probable-disease-carrying rodent we’re talking about. Anyway, I didn’t take care of it, so I have no say on how it was to be taken care of, so there.)

Then we have another rat in the house. Maybe it’s a reincarnate of the first rat, because this one is more aggressive and smarter than its predecessor. It managed to wreak havoc in my bathroom – shitting all over the place and knocking over the toiletries, get caught in the rat trap (I swear it was caught, M saw it in the trap and she made me go see it) and in the next moment, escaped from the trap.

We didn’t see or sense its presence anymore after that, so I assumed that it found its way out of our home. I started to leave my room door open (because the last time I did that when there’s a rat in the house, it went into my room and I went to bed with the door closed with the rat with me, OMFG my skin is crawling remembering that time) and stopped being paranoid.

Today, today… I was minding my own business, checking my blog at six in the morning (I know, I’m crazy, I love my blog, sue me!) when a fuckingasshuge rat charged towards me. I screamed blue murder, at six in the morning, when everything was still quiet and life hadn’t really begun yet. Not that it forced the rat to change directions. It went under my chair (luckily I had my feet up on the chair!!) and under the shelf next to my computer table.

Is the fucking rat stupid or what??? Why would it go towards the direction of a human, and also where the source of light was coming from?! And there was no food anywhere near me!!

I sat frozen on my chair. I wanted to leave, but I wanted to stay at the computer. Then I remembered my room’s opened door. I scurried upstairs to close it, then I went down again. I was hoping that it might have run off to hide somewhere else in the house so I could continue with my blogging activities.

I stood at the staircase, staring at my computer and where I think the rat was. Good thing I didn’t go back, because a couple of minutes later, the rat surfaced from its hiding place. I shrieked again, and it saw me and stood where it was. I shrieked again (I tell you, I’m not a screamer but man, rats just freak me out, especially one that charges toward your direction for no goddamn apparent reason. It’s a tribute to my primitive ancestors, my animalistic shriek.) and it hid behind the table where my CPU is.

That was it. I ran back to my room and hid until M came back from her morning exercise.

I’m traumatised!!! 😥

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Got tagged by MarG to write about my life in six words. Crazy! Anyway, here’s my attempt to write about my whole life thus far in 6 words:

Eat, sleep, shit, read, sweat, love.

Yeah, mind-blowing. I know. 😉

A Single Life Looks More Attractive From This Point of View

There is talk of marriage in the house. Some people want to get married. Other people do not want some people to get married. So soon, at least. Among the questions thrown into this issue by several people are:

1. Does the future son/daughter-in-law make you feel proud for entering the family?
2. What has he/she to offer as a spouse to your child?
3. Are they financially capable to get married?

The third question was one of the main reasons the impending marriage was objected by other people. They are currently engaged, and planned to get married in a few months’ time because it is considered an auspicious time to get married – Chinese beliefs and all that.

That’s a fair reason. While marriages can work without a strong financial background, it would make life much easier if you do.

The second question isn’t really directed at the couple in mind, but just a question thrown into the discussion about them. It got me thinking, though. I’d like to get married if I find the right guy. But do I have anything to offer?

I can’t cook. I’m quite lousy at ironing. While I love babies, sometimes I can’t help but spank them. I’m extremely moody at times. I’m not very presentable; you can take me to your company’s annual picnic, but not your dinner gala. I’m not very sociable either; my conversation skills are atrocious outside of the blog.

The first question also hit me at home. What it meant to the people who uttered the question during the discussion was that, is the girl/guy presentable enough to be presented as your daughter/son-in-law during the wedding reception?

Am I too fat for my future parents-in-law? Am I presentable enough because I don’t want to wear make-up? Would my future parents-in-law feel ashamed of the way I look? Would my own family think I’m “too fat” to be presented as a bride?? (As a matter of fact, they do think I’m fat already.)

I thought marriage is a union between two people. It’s more than that. You’re not just creating your own family. You’re joining another family. And you have to meet their expectations as a spouse for their child. If you don’t, you won’t be accepted into the family.

…

I don’t think I want to get married. 😦

Who gets more pleasure from the blog, the blogger or the readers?

The blogger’s argument: Readers, obviously

1. They are the audience of the blog, so the blogger is responsible for entertaining them. Therefore the readers as the receiving end gain more pleasure.

2. Because Blogger wants to entertain Readers, he will try his best to post something that relates to Readers and prompt Readers’ responses. Readers have the power to decide if what Blogger writes is good enough to earn the their responses. So power is a kind of pleasure.

3. Readers can boost Blogger’s confidence by leaving comments that affirm and compliment. So the pleasure of giving pleasure is bigger from the giver’s end than the receiver’s.

The readers’ argument: Blogger, of course

1. The blogger gets more pleasure of out his blog simply because he gets to write what he wants. Us readers lap up whatever he has to say. So that the blogger has a ready audience to read virtually anything he writes brings him more pleasure.

2. Blogger is one, but Readers are many. So Blogger collects pleasure from all Readers through comments and stats, while Readers have pleasure of reading one Blogger.

3. Blogger can gain loyalty among Readers by affirming their comments and providing positive interaction in comments. If Blogger practises selective interaction, it can only serve to encourage loyalty readership among the selected. Therefore Blogger’s approval can bring more pleasure to Readers than Readers’ affirmation of Blogger.

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If that sounds like utter bullshit to you, it is! Don’t ask why did self post this in the first place.

After all, the beauty of blogging is the symbiotic nature between blogger and reader.

(The blogger in her still insists that you readers give her better blogasm than she gives you! )

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On a separate note, went to do some grocery shopping with Dee. While lining up at the express lane, he discovered he had forgotten to take the set of car keys with the car lock. Don’t ask how could he have locked with the car lock if he doesn’t have a key in the first place.

Fortunately, the hypermarket isn’t that far a walking distance from home, just over half a kilometre. Unfortunately, this girl who hates being sweaty was the one who had to walk home to get the car lock key because Dee is old and he was complaining about his hurting toe. Grrr…

After trudging home, just as was opening the door, the handphone trilled in the house (did not bring along with self). It was Dee, saying that after he tried many many times he had managed to manipulate his car lock into opening. (Don’t even ask how he did it.) So have walked home for nothing.

GRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

Murphy’s Law tricked self into fulfilling daily requirement of exercise.

… It could’ve been worse, couldn’t it! 🙂

(Lots of don’t ask in this post, hmm? Don’t you-know-what! 😛 )