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Love does not envy

I want to be the bigger person :)


Conversations with gramsie

I called home to tell my granny I wasn't going home for dinner...

Me: Hello... popo I am not going home for dinner
Gran: Hello... who are you?
Me: Michelle!
Gran: HELLO? WHY SO SOFT? Who are you?
Me: Michelle! Something wrong with my phone.
Gran: Michelle ah.. tonight eating?
Me: No not eating.
Gran: Tomorrow leh?
Me: Tomorrow yes, I'll drink soup only (I go to gym on Wednesday and refrain from eating too much before combat classes)
Gran: Tonight also got soup. Come and drink la.
Me: *chuckles* No no, not tonight.



I used to have this friend I considered my best one during my primary school days - let's call her XX. I believe she would know who I am referring to if she ever lay her eyes on this page.

Anyway, as it often is with foolish younglings, I ignored my family's advice to sever ties with her as we always hung out after school at playgrounds and eat plenty of Mamees and other tidbits instead of going home for dinner.

My granny would come to hunt me down nearby my school and I would be somewhere playing zero point with XX.

There were occasions where she revealed herself to be not-so-nice a person but I laughed and shrugged it off.

I remember she visited me at my house one day and since I was at home and being a primary school girl, I did not dress up nor make up. I mean, who does that?? It was just a girl friend visiting, right?
When I opened the door to let her in, her first reaction was to comment on how disheveled I look :\ OK fine. Maybe I looked really woebegone.

Another time XX came to my granny's house (which is just 2 units away from mine), some of my relatives were at home. She saw the back of one of my aunt who was quite plump at that time - she has since lost a lot of weight - and XX simply gasped and covered her mouth in disbelief and looked at me wide eyed, as if she has never seen anything so obscene. It was plain rude of her to do that. She didn't even bother to hide her astonishment since she was a guest in MY granny's house! WTH.

I still remember all these because her actions stung (and stunk). Let's give her the benefit of the doubt then, and pretend that she was too young and insensible.

When she moved away - she used to stay at the opposite block from me - we drifted apart. But she invited me to her birthday party at a chalet years later. Since I regarded her and loved her deeply as a friend, I decided to attend the party even though I didn't know anyone there. I felt left out and left shortly after, I think.

She invited me to her wedding a couple of years ago via Facebook invite. Nothing wrong with FB invite, but there was no follow up/ whatsapp message and I was just one of the many random people being invited.

I do not hate her of course. In fact, I loved her very much. I am grateful for the many hours of adventures and laughter that we shared. This is something special that I will never forget, and I did enjoy her company immensely. It's just that I know better now, and therefore see my current circle of friends and "friends" in a whole new light.

This I firmly believe in; that people who come into our lives have a role to play and these experiences mould us into who we are to be.

J in hospital

It's been 7 hours since we arrived at SGH. J is sleeping off the after effects as  I type. Thank God it's only a minor op.

Being in a hospital and looking at J's pale lips that have not touched water for so many hours make me sad. I am brought back to the day my late grandpa, lying in the hospital bed and thirsting for a drop of water. The nurse could only dap a soaked cotton ball on his parched lips and he was trying to suck in as much hydration as he could  it broke my heart then and breaks my heart now thinking about it.

I know J will recuperate in good time. But I will never get my grandpops back and I do miss him so.

Letting go

And so from this day forth, I am letting go of whatever is out of my control - which are aplenty actually - and I am going to remain contented and happy and not worry/wonder about things so much anymore.


Little is BIG

Who we really are is reflected in the little actions of our everyday life.
You could be a famous celebrity of sorts who make appearances at charity events, but it says a lot about the real you when you don't even bother to say "thank you" to cleaner auntie who holds thee door open for you.
Or you get angry and indignant about someone who is 'inspired' by your dress sense, and yet you readily become a copy ninja.

We are so caught up in the superficial of this world and we pretend to be holy chaste angels in front of the audience while we are really no more than a hypocrite.

No one is perfect, and there isn't a need to be. I am far from my ideal behavior. But above all, I despise the fakery and pompous ass.


The strong and silent type

I remember when I was in Literature class xx years ago, my teacher told us that while we young girls fall for the boisterous boys now, we would eventually develop a preference for the strong and silent type. She said so with dreamy eyes - I remember it so vividly.

Fast forward xx years later, her prophecy came true - for me at least. Though I like my man to be cheerful; J is far from a quiet mouse, but I have never fancied the drama king.

That is why I really appreciate J for his steadfast attitude towards building his career. Sure, he tells me a few things, about his frustration with people he faces at work sometimes, but he has never really complained about having to OT and he completes the extra last minute work delegated to him quietly.

He definitely has flaws, but I do admire this particular quality. Because men who keep whining about their jobs are a big turn-off.

Enough said.



Flames to dust
Lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end?


Wedding bells

So, my only sister is getting married next January.

I only found out because my dad handed me an invite to be passed to J. How ironic.

I feel happy for her, sad about our relationship all at once. How did things come to this?

I guess I have to bear a big part of the blame but as we cannot turn back time, I can only look forward.