October 3, 2008

on silence and tears

Posted in Love and Relationships, Poetry at 6:31 pm by meldee

Stwilight trolls.

Canon EOS Kiss, Arab Street, Singapore.


Last night after the strangest combination of Mama Mia! and A Love Song for Bobby Long (with John Travolta and Scarlett Johanssen) I fell asleep with the strangest thing in mind.

Perhaps not so strange, given how in A Love Song John Travolta’s character Bobby Long, a fallen-from-grace English professor keeps spouting random sayings from literary greats, and my (former) great love for curling up in bed with a fat book of romantic poetry and commit the ones I found most beautiful to memory.

I fell asleep with Lord Byron’s poem When We Two Parted on my mind.

An incredibly sad, poignant poem that seemed to echo my feelings completely through a previous breakup. Doesn’t help that I’m a bit of a sucker for Lord Byron’s poetry. I think I might look for a volume of poetry tonight and have that as my bedtime treat.

Ennio Morricone’s Cinema Paradiso piano solo isn’t helping my current mood (stressed, frustrated, upset, moody) very much either.


When We Two Parted – Lord Byron

When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning
Sank chill on my brow
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now.
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
I hear thy name spoken,
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o’er me
Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee,
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?
With silence and tears.




June 13, 2008

on fixing a broken heart

Posted in Love and Relationships at 11:44 am by meldee

My chipped-away sweet heart.

Taken with my Canon EOS Kiss, 50mm lens. In the plane, BKK-KUL.

My brother’s on a current guitar fad, so he’s been downloading all things guitarry and trying to play along.

Last night I heard a song I hadn’t heard in years, and it brought back such a gush of memories that made me smile and want to cry at the same time. Indecent Obsession’s Fixing A Broken Heart used to be one of the songs my first ‘boyfriend’ (I was 13, yes, I got an early start) used to love, and by extension I loved it too because he did 🙂

I remember the pain, trauma and days of pseudo-stalking that followed after the relationship ended when I was 15. I recall moping and staring out from my Form 3 class on Pulau Ketam (not literally, it was just the nickname for the block of classrooms marooned out on the field because the school was overpopulated) at his class on the third level of the building opposite hoping for a glimpse. I reckon I was pretty much a wreck, thinking that I could never, ever love anyone (ever ever) again, and that I should just curl up and die.

We’ve good friends now, more than anything. As I am with (most) of the trail of boyfriends that came after him. Ah, love back then was so simple and innocent; I remember those days when holding hands was a Big Thing and first kisses were dreamt about for months 🙂

Yep, one’s life views can be awfully myopic when one is 15. Thankfully I got over the moping each time and moved on (one of the rare occassions where I’m grateful for my goldfish attention span)…on to the next drama and romance and heartbreak.

And each time I’ve felt that my heart has been broken so badly it’d never be fixed ever again and that I’d be completely incapable of love for another human being, and am doomed to a life of spinsterhood with me and my hair in pink curlers in a dusty apartment filled with books eating cereal dry from the box…etc etc, you know my usual horror scenario by now, I’ve mentioned it so many times.

I’m a bit of a serial monogamist, and a romantic and idealist, so it’s safe to say that when I fall in love I do so head over heels (over head over heels over head..) and for a fairly long time…at least by the standards set when you’re in your teenage years.

But I’m glad I went through all that drama when I was younger, you know? Which is why I reckon I’d never be one of those parents who tell their kids not to date till they begin work.

Because heartbreak requires practice (having your heart broken, or at least cracked—not breaking the heart of others intentionally. I’ve been there before and it is so not cool, I don’t think I’m even over something that happened over two years ago) and the sooner you are introduced to it, you learn to recognise it and learn to cope.

I don’t think you can actually pretend that it doesn’t exist, and swear never to get into a relationship or take any risks because you fear your heart may be broken.

Because really, heartbreak is inevitable. Not just because of love, but because of how life is. Though I suppose you could argue it’s ultimately because of love, as when you really live, you love 🙂 As others love you.

I don’t think it ever gets easier, though, you just learn how to cope with it better as you go along. You learn to surround yourself with other people who love you, and to do things that make you happy. You learn that fixing a broken heart cannot be rushed, and everyone has different healing periods.

But most importantly, I suppose, you learn that the world doesn’t stop turning because of one person’s grief. And that the worst thing you can do is to remain bitter and close your heart to love forever, because if you do, love has no chance of coming back in.

In my old(ish, ahem) age, I have come to learn that loving someone, anyone, is like lighting a candle. The strength of one flame does not diminish just because it is passed on; if the flame goes out, you can always get it back from somewhere else 🙂 A bit simplistic perhaps, but it works for me. And to all those other folk who have used this metaphor.

One can argue that the first cut is always the deepest, but I reckon you can also spin it on its head to make it the sweetest. Because that first Real Love, the one where you imagine you cannot live without a person is often the hardest to let go of, too. But getting over it also makes you realise that you do have it in you to love again, and to love better than before.

Love gets wiser as it grows older, as one does. You eventually learn (and hopefully, I am at that stage) that to really love someone means loving them for who they are, even if it means they don’t love you back the same way. Even if it means they’re slightly deranged, fickle, overly efficient or smell bad. Even if it means you don’t get anything out of it.

And when you love someone you come to realise that just like events in life, there is a time and place for everything, for a certain kind of love, and there’s always a lesson to be learnt.

And when the flame dies out, it’s ok—you can mourn, you are entitled to weep, but don’t forget to move on and start falling in love all over again—even if it’s just with yourself 🙂

And if you ask me, that’s the best way to fix a broken heart.

November 16, 2007

10 years/ white ribbon day

Posted in Happenings, Love and Relationships, Malaysia, My Home, Social Responsibility According to Me at 9:46 pm by meldee

First of all. I have five (Five! Good grief) stories due soon, and a website to work on, but I have been procrastinating very successfully for the past two days. My time is running out (howled a la Muse) and here I am, blogging. La dee dah.

Anyway I swear this blogpost has a point, unlike some others.

First of all, I’d like to say how impressed I am with Fahmi Reza’s short documentary ’10 Tahun Sebelum Merdeka’ (’10 Years Before Independence). Read reviews and find out where you can download it (but for free, why of course, we only like free things) here, and take my word for it, it’s worth the watch. I myself only watched it because of Petra’s insistence (and I saw her name in the credits, along with other familiar names like Yeoh Seng Guan and Sonia Randhawa!

Watching the clips on Veoh TV (in 4 short 9 minute snippets), I could not help but shake my head at the similarities between how the British handled the then-opposition, the PUTERA-AMCJA and how the current government is handling the opposition and NGOs as well as activists. It’s chilling. I’ll leave the rest for you to decide, but I liked Reza’s background music choice (the Sex Pistols!) and the images he used to highlight the events of the time, especially for the hartal.

It makes one wonder, will things have to come to that? For the ones unfamiliar with the term, hartal is defined by Wikipedia as strike action. It raises goosebumps imagining a silent current-day KL, though I have my doubts this would happen. But I could be wrong.


Sometimes the boyfriend drives me nuts (literally—today he was eating pistachio nuts non-stop throughout our Skype conversation, needless to say I did not get much out of him but nut-cracking sounds and munching) but then he does something so incredibly sweet I forgive him immediately.

To distract me from being narky about his nut-crunching, he stuck out his chest and cheerfully asked me if I had noticed something pinned to his chest—he was sporting a white ribbon on his t-shirt. “Aren’t you proud of me? I support the elimination of violence against women,” he beamed.

Now as a self-proclaimed activist of children and women’s rights, I was a little embarrassed when he had to explain the cause it represented (he’s getting to be quite the activist too—he proudly groomed his ‘mo’ (mustache) for November, Men’s Health Awareness Month) , and after Google-ing and reading up about the International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women I am proud of him.

White Ribbon Day is officially on November 25, and according to the WAO website, there are Things That Men Can Do To Help, one of which my man is already doing 🙂 In the US/Canada it ends on December 6th, according to The White Ribbon Campaign office, but in Malaysia the WAO is extending it to December 10th which happens to be International Human Rights Day. Find out more about here at the WAO site.

I think it is incredibly significant, and I have decided to adopt a mini pet-project. Tomorrow, before going to the shelter (we’re gonna be dancing to the ‘I Like to Move It’ song from Disney’s Madagascar—unfortunately I could only find the techno version, and darn it, I can’t abide by the stuff! All I can hope is that the kids wouldn’t want to dance to it 20 times, but this is most likely a fat hope as they probably will, and we will have to indulge them at the risk of our limbs being tugged off our bodies by kids cajoling, “Akak, one more time la, please-la, one time only..”) I am going to buy a reel of white satin ribbons and I am going to make white ribbons for….well, whoever! I’m going to make my dad wear one to work, and give it to my male friends and relatives.

Hell, I will make sure I personally pin it to my dad’s office shirt every night when he leaves it out for the next morning. He’s grown up himself knowing what violence against children and women can do, I will be horribly mad at him if he shrugs it off. So ladies, get the men in your life to pin on their white ribbons (Make it la! For goodness’ sake.) and save one for yourselves; guys…! *waggles finger in lieu of nagging*

Why? The WAO site had a persuasive argument: “Wearing a white ribbon s your personal pledge never to commit violence against women. It is a personal pledge not to condone acts of violence, not to make excuses for perpetrators of violence, and not to think that any woman “asks for it.”

It is a pledge not to remain silent. It is a pledge to challenge the men around us to end violence.

Wearing a ribbon provokes discussion, debate and soul-searching among the men around us. The ribbon is a catalyst for discussion. It is a catalyst for change.

Working with children who are in hiding from abusive fathers, whose mothers have also been abused and as a result have to be apart from their children is heart-wrenching. Please don’t be apathetic towards this, if you as readers are bored by my political yibberings, fair enough so—but please don’t turn a deaf ear (blind eye?) to this. This is something really close to my heart, and we women and activists cannot do it without the help of men.

So girls and boys, women and men—All those for change, wear a white ribbon from November 25th! Better yet, wear it as often as possible 😉


I know it’s rather belated but I finally got around to reading the open letter to our allergic-to-challenges Prime Minister, as written by local author Beth Yahp, as posted on the blog of Elizabeth Wong.

I think it is brilliant, cogently argued and graciously put. Her points are good ones and as a journalist myself, I understand completely where she is coming from. But this is just my opinion. I know it’s a bit wordy (as most of my posts have been lately) but it’s worth the read. Your two sen’s worth is most welcome, especially since those coins aren’t going to be minted any longer, har har.

October 3, 2007

and so..

Posted in Love and Relationships, Random Ramblings at 10:28 pm by meldee

He’s coming here over Christmas and New Year.

And I’m so excited I can hardly keep still!

August 30, 2007


Posted in Love and Relationships, Malaysia, My Home, Random Ramblings at 10:05 pm by meldee

I’m always rambling about something-or-other, so I’ve noticed. Then again, I have added a disclaimer warning blog-hoppers of the perpetual verbal diarrhoea.

So anyway it’s Merdeka Eve, and I hear fireworks going off in the distance. I sit here in my old comfy pajamas; Elmo, Bert and Ernie on the front (yes, a cozy threesome indeed), a throwback to my halcyon days of youth (and because its terribly comfortable, who cares if I look about 5), listening to my Mushy Love Songs playlist (Jewel’s ‘You Were Meant For Me’ currently playing) and being an all-round grumpy puss.

What a way to usher in my country’s 50th year of independence? No mad drinking binge, or skimpy outfit donned, or having my body and about a gajillion others squished in a crowded space where anyone and everyone is susceptible to sexual harassment, or even a mamak session with friends to watch the fireworks on a wide screen TV?

Because honestly. I don’t feel it.

I’m sorry if I’ve offended anyone by saying this, but it all seems like such a farce, to participate in such pomp and pageantry when my heart is simply not in it. For two simple reasons:

1. I am lonely.

2. I am disappointed.

The first is because my gang’s dispersed—Jo’s gone across the causeway to see her boyfriend, Sush’s MIA, who knows where Mun Teng is, Dennis is probably busy, Josh is in Manila, Esther, Abby, Manda, Chien and Liss are still in Australia, and I’m feeling the need for the comfort in the presence of people I know and love. Family? Is busy watching TV, and I hate lying on those stupid park-bench faux-couches and watching the Idiot Box. I don’t even need to go into how much I miss Tim.

The second reason lies in the fact that I have been pondering over the big hoo-hah about the 50th Independence Day celebrations. Yes, I know it’s a Big Deal, and I appreciate the fact that the nation’s forefathers and all strived to liberate this land from the clutches of colonialism…at surface level.

I mean not to be one of those pessimistic, cynical souls ranting and raving and being ungrateful, but taking a slice of this moment in time, I really do feel regret.

Regret because while this may sound oh-so mean, I think we are too willing to celebrate mediocrity.

We are a nation obsessed to the point of it being mad with breaking records of a physical kind; prioritising the needs of one ethnic group over another; covering up deep gashes in society with cheap and temporary fillers (so, ahem, when it pours, leaks happen). We are too quick to shoot anyone down, who dares verbalise anything bad about the rulers, government, state religion or special rights of some of the ‘indigenous peoples’. More so if the voices of dissent belong to a certain fairer-skinned ethnic group.

We push important issues under the carpet in a childish gesture, as if it could solve all our problems. We create and modify laws, statues, policies, national icons/symbols on a whim. We eye each other with suspicion and act all buddy-buddy and muhibbah when in fact we are secretly backstabbing and badmouthing each other.

We pretend, basically, that everything is fine and dandy. But is it really? I think we are more racist now than ever before, to be honest. It breaks my heart, because I remember things were not like this when I was younger. Reading stories in today’s special edition of The Sun, with people of the older generation recalling a time when comments weren’t racist, history wasn’t rewritten at the drop of a hat, and food could be shared by all, I remembered my own childhood, where some of my best friends were Muslim girls.

I didn’t always view people by their racial categories, you know. A friend was a friend, simple as that. I think in a way the adults spoilt it for me, by pointing out that I shouldn’t mix too much with one group of people because I might get lured into their religion or way of life. This is something that I always think back on with much sadness and regret, and pity, for the ones who did not understand the concept of faith, that one’s faith could be so easily swayed or challenged that one should avoid other’s beliefs entirely.

My house is the only house in my entire row that is flying the Malaysian flag this Merdeka. Even then, it wasn’t because we bought it or anything; my dad went to go pay the cukai pintu (literally, door tax) and got it for free, and told my brother and I to put it up because it was there.

My uncle, upon seeing the flag out there as he came in over the weekend, asked me who put it up and why. As a former government servant, I was surprised to hear this from him, but perhaps, it’s not so surprising after all. He told me that many are avoiding flying the Jalur Gemilang because of their grievances with the current government, and that I should take the flag down because by flying it, it shows I’m supporting them in office.

I balked at this, and was quick to defend my actions.

I told him, my only uncle, almost 35 years my senior, that just because I fly the national flag it does not mean that I am a supporter of the government, nor am I an opposition sympathiser. I fly the flag not as a person with one political ideology, or a critically-thinking Communications student, or a female, or a Chinese. I fly the flag as a Malaysian, who loves my country, who wants things to be better, who wants a real paradigm shift, and not some whisper of a promise that will soon too be swept under the rug.

I just find it sad that this mentality exists, that a single gesture can be interpreted so narrow-mindedly. Perhaps I am contradicting myself, in my critique of pomp and pageantry, but this is one thing to me, that says “I am Malaysian, I love my country, please let things be better soon because this is my home”. Have a peek at this article by truly one of the country’s visionaries, Raja Petra Kamarudin. In this article, he made a call for ‘Civil Disobedience’, and some suggestions on how we as Malaysians can show our support, peacefully, to the Agong and remind our government that this country is ours. Seriously. Click, and have a read and a think.

I am honestly not trying to propagate any one view on this blog, so please realise that these thoughts are my own, and penned at a time when I am extremely tired. Physically, mentally, spiritually. So do forgive me if they are not entirely coherent or viable, I am not one of those overly intellectual and deep, ponderous bloggers because I am given to flights of fancy and fluff. So this is my stab in the dark, if you like.

What I do want to say is though, albeit wistfully, Happy Merdeka.  Because all those negotiations, the agreement to guided independence, the suffering some had to go through for that, that all has to be remembered. But we should not forget those in our country who are still fighting for fundamental rights, for women and children’s rights, for the rights to speak up and be heard.

This is my personal tribute to those who are still fighting the Good Fight for the benefit of us all. I do not need to name you, you know who you are.

This is for us who want to make a difference and are trying in our own ways, because even changing a mindset, or the way we react to another person, the way we reach out in kindness and understanding, this all helps.

This is for our parents and teachers, for telling us what we need to know, and things we didn’t, but are helpful in its own way.

This is for everyone we take for granted. The kakaks who keep our toilets clean, the ‘boss’ at the mamak who brings us our teh tariks, the taxi drivers, the clerks, the rubber tappers, the farmers, the fishermen…this is their Malaysia too.

For the country, and my fellow Malaysians, I have one wish.

It’s a quote Tim reminded me of almost a year ago, a tender wish born out of love. I quoted it in my article on youthmalaysia.com, found here. For those tho are too lazy to even click on the link, the quote in question is by Reinhold Niebuhr, “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I don’t need to be stuck in bad traffic or a surging mass of sweaty human bodies screaming to remember that I am Malaysian and proud of it. I will do it silently, with dignity, and great hope.

I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.

August 22, 2007

the emo post

Posted in Love and Relationships, Sad Stuff at 10:00 pm by meldee

Yeah, yeah, shaddap.

I know it’s really cliche and shit but long distance relationships really suck balls ok, even that’s a bloody understatement.

I miss Tim a whole lot. I get comfort at night from rotating my pillow and cuddling up to it imagining I’m snuggled up on his chest the way I used to always fall asleep.

In my mind we’re back together after a long day at work/uni, the dishes are all done and the washing’s out; our imaginary future puppy is asleep at the foot of our bed and we have the weekend to look forward to; of scanning catalogues and making shopping lists and going out and buying stuff, me being all “No, no, we have a budget” and him sweet talking me into allowing the budget to stretch across a few luxury items like some yummy chocolates or a better brand of coffee…of chilling out in front of the TV watching documentaries (because we are geeks like that) and eating every half-hour…*sigh*

I’ve done this every night for the past 7 months.

He told me of a song that reminded him of us, and watching the YouTube vid I obviously burst into tears—by the way, the world suddenly makes sense again, I have been cantankerous as all fuck because my period came! I forgot it was even due. Biological tickings aside, this one has to be watched/listened to by anyone in a long distance relationship.

Thirsty Merc – Someday, Someday.

The lead singer’s facial and mad hair remind me of Tim. Manly scruffy men, oh yum. Though clearly from my previous post I also have a thing for the clean-shaven, goody-goody….though I prefer the scruffy, suffering, passionate artist 🙂 I’m a romantic, so shoot me.

But oh gosh, the lyrics. My fave part?

“I know you gotta go to university and I’m just trying to make some cash to follow my dreams.
But please don’t say we’re too busy to give each other the time and support we need
I know we gotta work our jobs and make some money to get by in this expensive world.
Don’t let that overtake the fact that before all that, you were still my girl.”

Another LDR song has to be that Plain White T’s song Hey There Delilah, introduced to me by Jo and now playing on all local radio stations.

I’ve put on my Ranty Pants now, so brace yerselves.

I hate the distance. I hate the time difference and the international calling costs. I hate not having him here with me to expertly maneuver the terrible traffic, and make me laugh, and always know what to do when the shit hits the fan. I hate smug mushy couples who canoodle and cuddle and coo around me, I feel like whipping out a gun and wrapping a bandanna around my head and going berserk. I hate the fact that I hate not being able to be happy for others, because my heart is so broken that I just can’t—I’m too jealous.

Above all, I hate the fact that this may have to go on for another year or two while I get my work experience and save up enough money to be able to go back to Australia and while he finishes his degree so we can finally move on with our lives together.

Damn depressing ok 😦

Especially since we both want nothing more than to come home to each other at the end of the day and just be….because last summer was possibly the most perfect time of both our lives. It was such a sweet taste of what life together could be like, and we were both craving more. I know it’s not always going to be sunshine and roses, but we stuck it out through hell and high waters; there’s got to be something to be said about an emotional perseverance of that sort!

I miss waking up to his smile. I miss the impetuous hugs and kisses, the way he’d look at me and I’d feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. I miss the really really daft moments we had, and the couply things we’d do like to grocery shopping, or delegate things in the bathroom to clean; him with his bandanna and board shorts, and me with my Ah Lian hair and pink rubber gloves.


I’m sorry. Am Perioding. Not that I’m trying to make excuses for plain bad behaviour, but it has been scientifically proven that a woman’s hormones go wonky at this time of the month.

*scuffs shoes on ground and looks morose*

By the way I completely don’t want to work ok. Like, not at all. I want to be a housewife. Fuck this degree, I want to stay home and watch bad daytime television and compulsively clean everything and occasionally write pretty poems for fancy and do charity or social work and not have to worry about money or taxes or climbing that fucking corporate ladder (fuck corporations! Yaaaaaaaggghhhhh!).

I am a disgrace to all quasi-feminists and full-blown feminists out there and again, this deeply distresses me. I’m sorry, world. I’m sorry I got born.

*wallows in festering pit of self-pity*


By the way! Have been shortlisted for *snigger* wait for it, MISS MONASH. I think I’m representing the Arts faculty (bloody hell Rachel, I know you’re reading, this should so be you ok because you’re hot! The whole faculty thinks it, woman!), and will have to, wait for it again, campaign.

I have decided (with the added kookiness of Tems and Tasha) that if I am to perform on the night itself I shall read a deep dark poem critiquing capitalism and patriarchy and slit my wrists and have fake blood gush out and proceed to pass out on-stage. Or ok, maybe not, but something as equally as dramatic.

Even for those not intending on going for the ball, you can still vote for me in the weeks following up to it 😀

So make sure you do ok, because I am not only incredibly modest and intelligent, I am also in a Long Distance Relationship and thus deserving of all your pity votes.

And oh, also ’cause like I described myself in the interview (my God, yes, there was an interview to be shortlisted as Miss Monash!), I am totally not shy, ergo, not above asking for all Monashians to vote for me, me, me.

Also ’cause I want to have more stories to tell my grandchildren so I can be like my kooky Grandma 😀

And c’mon la, it’s my final semester. And I wanna win just cos it’ll be fun. Not because I want to wear a sash and crown and cry while I give my acceptance speech detailing how this is the happiest moment of my entire life, sob sob.

Anyone want to volunteer to be on my campaign committee?:D

Dammit this was supposed to be an Emo Post.

*scrawls on dark eyeliner and adopts apathetic expression*

Stop my breathing and slit my throat…I must be emo” – Adam & Andrew

June 19, 2007

the pieces don’t fit anymore

Posted in Friends, Love and Relationships, Strange Feelings at 11:05 pm by meldee

Listening to James Morrison’s velvety chocolate voice washing over me, it evokes feelings of melancholy. Hm, melancholic Melody, c’est moi. Especially this one song, a song so sad and wistful, and true—because sometimes things or people that you love so much outgrow you, or vice versa. And it hurts like a mofo acknowledging this.

It’s been something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately, how people change, and how friendships can get icky because one party cannot get used to the idea of their friend changing.

You know those last few episodes of Sex And The City, before Carrie followed her Russian to Paris? The scene where she and Miranda went off at each other? The fear and worry Miranda had for Carrie, wondering if she was doing the right thing, and Carrie’s own issues with the ceaseless questions that were no longer hers. The frustrations both felt; one wanting what was best for her nearest and dearest, the other wanting a chance to live her own life without answering to anyone elses’ questions.

Carrie accused Miranda of not wanting her to grow, in not too many words—as long as Carrie remained the same way Miranda knew her, it was like nothing would ever change; their friendship would remain evergreen. And obviously Miranda was hurt—those sorts of razor-sharp words from a person she cared so much about must’ve cut deep.

But enough fiction, back to fact.

Our bodies stretch and shrink to accomodate our fluctuating body weight. Similarly, some friendships stretch and shrink to accomodate changing personalities and life choices. Others, especially ones that care too much I reckon, are the ones that bring about these issues the most, because they find it hardest to stretch and shrink.

Some friendships have reached comfort levels that require no verbalisation—it is a sense of comradeship and understanding that transcends language and formalities. It’s like a pair of faithful comfortable old jeans—worn-in, loved-in, perfect for everyday use, comfortable, comforting, and will always make you look good. But sometimes, other occassions require the use of other apparel, and sometimes, just sometimes, the style or fit of your fave old pair of jeans doesn’t fit like it used to.

The pieces don’t fit anymore.

Of course, though, all these are figures of speech—I think friendships are clearly more than all this.

There’s the inevitable guilt, of course, initially, and the reluctance to let go. But I suppose at some point realisation dawns that while it hurts both parties that things were not what they used to be, nothing can ever change the past, and that that shared past will always remain in your hearts as glorious remembrances—because in all relationships, after the hurt has passed, I think we mostly choose to remember the good times.

In my short 21 years I reckon I’ve been blessed with many people who’ve touched my heart and changed me in so many ways. The primary school friends who indulged my girlish fantasies and thrills, whom I spent many hours giggling with over boys and pop groups; the secondary school friends, my Dahlings, who’ve been there for me through thick and thin; the nonsensical uni mates who make classes that much more fun to attend and who continually amaze me with their talents and unexpected pearls of wisdom.

And of course, the ex-boyfriends…haha oh man cos there have been not to say so many, but each of them have been a blessing to me, teaching me more about myself and my overwhelming capacity to fall in love so madly and deeply. True, some have been downright bastards (haha!) but still remain my close friends (emphasis on the plural–two of them in particular!), others I only say hello to once in a blue moon, one whom I hurt very much and very very badly who I suppose will never speak to me again…*sigh*

I wonder why we tend to mourn lost dating-type relationships more than friend-type ones? Is it because of the intensity and depth of emotion? Because I think at the end of the day the friend-type relationships that fade away are even sadder than that of the other kind. Because your friends were the ones who were there for you to let all of your guard down and open up all of your heart to–because not always are we entirely honest in dating-type relationships.

A wise person said that the only certain thing about life is its uncertainty. People inevitably change, they evolve, and arguably, they mutate, even. And while it may be a sad thing watching someone you love so much change so drastically, though it also hurts, it needs to be said that things hardly ever turn out the way we want them to; likewise, the people we love hardly ever become who we want them to be.

We hardly ever become who we want to be.

And sometimes, we need to ask—is this a bad thing? Is it so bad to not live life according to a blueprint?

Because, I’m sorry—I cannot live life according to what others have planned out for me. I need to find my own path and make my own history, no matter how stupid or illogical or grandiose or unattainable as it seems.

Raaaaaah 😦 This is such a sad post. I have no idea why I’m so mopey. Perhaps it’s got to do with the fact that I’ve been playing this same James Morrison song for the past half hour.

While I wish sometimes things didn’t have to change, I cannot imagine life without change. I guess I just have to accept that no matter how much I abhor the idea of certain changes, it is only a matter of time before I am engulfed in its viscuous, fluid, seductive grasp.


June 13, 2007

chasing amy

Posted in I Wonder..., Love and Relationships, Strange Feelings at 1:12 pm by meldee

Last night I finally watched Chasing Amy, a movie I downloaded ages ago while I was still living on Rez. It’s starring Ben Affleck and has cameos by Matt Damon and Jay and Silent Bob (I love Jay and Silent Bob–Silent Bob cracks me up. He’s so…well, silent..but when he speaks it’s always so profound and impactful). It’s basically about Holden (Ben Affleck), a comic book artist who falls in love with another comic book artist, Alyssa, who is a lesbian. She eventually crosses back over to the hetero side for him as he is ‘everything she’s ever been searching for’, but things aren’t so rosy in LoverLand because Holden finds out that she has a lot of….experience.

Being semi conservative and somewhat straightlaced (not unlike yours truly here), Holden reacts with shock and disgust. He ends things with her and spends his days being miserable. One day in a cafe, over a drug-related transaction, Jay and Silent Bob (mostly Silent Bob, who breaks the silence) and tells him about his own experience Chasing Amy—the one girl he loved and lost, because he couldn’t deal with her past.

He told of how he felt intimidated and threatened by her past, colourful as it was, complete with a full-on sexual repertoire, and how inadequate he felt. What he saw, in retrospect, however, was that that life did not satiate her—she was looking for love, which was something she saw in him.

Doesn’t that sound like your run-of-the-mill love story? What I love about this movie though was how ‘real’ it was—full of cussing, drugs, sex, unconventional jobs (hello, comic book artists?)…and how real the subject matter was.

How often have we felt inadequate in comparison to our partners? When it was younger it was because he/she had kissed more people than we had, or held hands with more people…we felt inexperienced and hurt because we weren’t their only one. As we grow older, the issues get more complicated. It’s no longer just about kissing, but about sex, about falling in love, about things we’ve done…

But the issues at heart remain the same. The same feelings of inadequecies, the same hurt (amplified tenfold), the same reactions, possibly. Tears, resentment, fear, as well as the twisted kind of feeling that you’d been cheated on although it’s in the past.

While it may have been a stoner’s version of a romance flick, it struck a chord with me. I’m in love with a man who’s…well, been around the block. Me, I’m a romantic, a little too naive for my own good, a tad bit conservative. Only a few days ago were we discussing issues of The Past, and yeah, it brought up a lot of hurt.

Now I’m not normally a superstitious person, but I do believe in signs. Signs, or coincidences, if you want to call them that, that indicate to me the choices I’ve made or are to make. I believe in serendipity and the science of signs (semiotics! Ferdinand de Saussure! ZOMG), and this is why I think, yeah, to my own twisted mind, Chasing Amy, a stoner love-flick, a movie I knew nothing about but just downloaded because it had Jay and Silent Bob, is trying to tell me something.

The Past is, literally, in the past. As Alyssa said in the movie as she’s yelling at Holden outside an ice hockey stadium, she searched for love, and didn’t rule women out as having the potential to give her the love she needed, but then she found him, and he completed her. She wasn’t going to apologize for her past, because those were her mistakes to make, and being an experimental type of person, she had to try because it wasn’t all cut and dry for her.

Too often I think we apologize for our past. At that time, the choice may have seemed the most natural to make because of various reasons—love, sheer stupidity, etc. But we always have to live with our choices, but we don’t deserve to be punished by the person or people we love because of our choices. God knows the internal suffering is punishment enough.

We spend a lot of out lives chasing that one perfect person, real or imagined, in the hopes of completing our lives. And yet, we have these sometimes unrealistic expectations that like us, they’d be unsullied (at least, emotionally), and have been waiting too for that One to complete them. When we find them, all seems wonderful until the Past comes back. What then? Leave the person we love because of the past? A past they had to live out in order to become the person we love, standing before us?

I admit I do feel the hurt, knowing he’s been through and seen a lot more things than I have. But at the same time, maybe he’s the best thing to happen to me, to guide me as I make my way though life. The past, while is still part of the present, has been rendered irrelevant. What matters to me is the here and now, and the future. So long as I have a place in his, I think I am content 🙂

Some saying goes, it’s all right to look back into the past, as long as you remember to keep moving forward. I think that is so true.

While I can’t wait to see what the future holds, I am cherishing the present 🙂 And that’s the way it should be, to me.

June 1, 2007

timing, timing

Posted in Family, I Wonder..., Love and Relationships, Strange Feelings at 7:30 pm by meldee

I’m afraid I’ve been thinking (a dangerous past time, I know)“- Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

Same applies for me la, but it’s not too bad, sometimes I do come up with pretty deep stuff if I may say so myself 🙂 Though yes, I also admit sometimes it is utter crap.

I was wondering, especially at this age–you know, late teens, early-to-mid twenties…when’s the right time to start following your heart even (or especially) when everyone else you know is against it?

It’s just one of those things, you know. It could be something as simple as buying a slutty top or dress just ‘cos you feel like it, or getting a piercing, or a tattoo–or getting a partner or potential spouse.

Family and friends will always want what’s best for you, granted. But sometimes, you are the main arbiter of what truly makes you happy. They will always say something along the lines of not wanting you to make the same mistakes they did,but I honestly feel that who qualifies a mistake as a mistake? Similar arguments apply to what constitutes beauty–as the old adage goes, one man’s meat is another man’s poison.

Taking this first step isn’t so much about rebelling, I feel, or ‘going against’ the wishes of those who only want what’s best for you. It’s about you, what makes you happy. And at the end of the day, doesn’t that account for more than anything else? Because it never will be possible to make everyone happy, the line of the oldie goes something like ‘can’t please everyone, so you got to please yourself.’ You’re going to be guilty of sedition anyway, might as well be guilty of something that makes you happy right?
More than anything, I feel this first step is a bigger thing than moving out of home. Because although you live out of home, overseas, like many of you are right now, you still ‘listen and obey’, more often than not, right? But it’s still such a big thing, I feel, being fully conscious of doing something you know a whole batallion of people will disapprove of.

That’s when I reckon you truly become an adult, the say you can say, “Thank you kindly for your advise, and I have considered all the options–but this is what is going to make me happy so I’m sticking to my guns”.

Now now, I’m not encouraging a full-on rebellion or burning people at stake–it’s far less dramatic than that. How often have we not done something for the fear of ‘going against’ the word of the parents, or friends, and then regretted it a few days, months, years down the line?

Life without making mistakes and learning from them is a half-life, I feel. I’m not saying we can entirely disregard the opinions and advice of others, just to know when to draw that line between what makes them happy, and what makes us happy–because ultimately, whose life is it?

But this timing, aah, that’s the tricky thing.

May 28, 2007


Posted in Love and Relationships, Random Ramblings, Strange Feelings at 9:23 pm by meldee

I shall profess that my knowledge of French is limited to ordering a hot chocolate or coffee with milk, and thank you, goodnight and…have a good trip? LOL. But there’s that word, l’amour, and phrase, je t’aime…I love you. Things just sound more romantic in French, no?:)

It’s been a while since I’ve blogged about love. Erm, a whole month, I reckon, at least. Now before you start rolling your eyes and think, ‘Goddamn, another one bites the dust‘, bear with me. I shall try to minimize the mushspeak and adoring gibberish.

Lately I’ve been wondering how people figure out that the one they’re seeing, or is engaged to, is The One. Has anyone found their soulmate yet, just you know, to compare notes? So I know what to look out for, and see if all the warning signs are there *grin*.

Does the feeling, bam, hit you one morning? Or does it sneak up upon you out of the blue? And if you have figured it out, when is the time to react to it?

There’ve been so many stories of people getting engaged lately, mostly from the Kiwi’s circle of friends and acquaintances. No no, not dropping hints, just ponderings. What’s the ‘normal’ age to be engaged/married theseadays?

For our parents’ generation I think the trend was to wed at what, 25 onwards? Hearing stories of people finding love and jumping headfirst into marriage kind of worries me. That’s not too far off from where I am now! o_O But maybe I too am jumping the gun.

But what I can say for sure is, I’ve found someone who fills my thoughts and heart; whom I blatantly adore with all that I am…someone who makes me laugh and whom I cannot wait to talk to every single day when it’s Bug Time (7:30pm, GMT +8–take note I am very unavailable on MSN at that hour!)…someone who makes me feel safe and comfortable, but not in a bad way…someone who I can forsee a very fun-filled, exciting and yet indescribably lazy future with 🙂

And I miss him so. Sigh.

Raaaaaah. I actually really have no idea where this post is headed. So I shall end the torment and abort this post here.


Edit: There’s this block quote from Paulo Coelho’s book The Pilgrimage (I think–I devour too many Coelho books for my own good)–I cannot remember what page exactly so bear with my half-arsed attempt at referencing.

“It’s good to get a second opinion on a lot of things but when it comes to matters of the heart, forget the rest of the world, forget expectations and forget the norm. When you decide to love, love with all your heart and love completely, for there is no other way to love…”

I think I have found my new mantra for living. And loving.