The sound of you sleeping

I can see how it'll end, but since tonight's a dark moon night, I shall endeavor to keep that voice and those thoughts away, out.

It'd prolly be a better idea to put them down when I'm in a better frame of mind ... Even though I'd be less inclined to, once out of this frame of mind.

Something more trivial: I spend so many hours a day typing with my elbows resting on my desk that I've managed to cultivate a little blister on my right elbow. =|

Watching you sleep

Because of a miscalculation on my part, I think I'm in for a much longer wait than I'd anticipated. Obstacles of my own doing; shoulda known ...

This Monday onwards, I'll push harder to clean up the database - I really don't like sitting around feeling like I have no control at all (which is what waiting for something makes me feel).

I promise I'll tell the boss when I receive the approval I want and need, although how I could broach that topic is something I need to plan. (The whole truth and nothing but the truth, or partial truth mixed into a generous amount of vagaries, or a complete white lie?)

The sound of you sleeping

5 hours apart now ...

The sound of you sleeping

I seem to have lost my appetite. I mean, I get hungry and all, but I never know what to eat and don't know what I feel like eating, which makes eating a chore because then it becomes something you do for the sake of doing and not because you enjoy doing it.

Still, it's a timely - if annoying - thing to happen. It's official: I'm fat; have put on around 5 kilos since Jan this year. Those I've complained to so far have parroted one another - "It's muscles, not fats" - but I don't wanna look beefy either ...

=(

Watching you sleeping

2 more things, and I'm getting a trim ... And maybe a new pair of speccies.

Suddenly, I'm rather sick of the layout and skin of this blog. There's that itchy feeling again - of discontent (or something else?) - and it just begs to be scratched.

Maybe I'm bored.

The sound of you sleeping

... it really just struck me that I listen to you sleep a lot. A lot - like, every night. Sometimes I even get to watch you sleep(!).

Maybe you're right - it's almost as if we're dating our cell phones and laptops and Skype - but, right now, with 4 (5 next week) hours and a few thousand-odd miles between us, I'd rather have you breathing into my ear through the headset than falling asleep alone. In silence.

Is that a little bizarre?

The sound of you sleeping

Things seem to be at a sorta lull at work; maybe it's because in the part of my life that's not-work, I'm back in the waiting game. Wait wait wait, is all I do.

Wait.

I need a trim. Sooner rather than later.

The sound of you sleeping

Actually I managed to get into a headstand via a side split without my usual spastic twitch/jerk yesterday after several tries and 1 video recording.

Today I ache - neck, shoulders, head. Was caught in the fucking traffic this morning thanks to the F(ucking)1 road closures. Some lady fainted a stop before Suntec; the rest of us (including the bus driver) gave up the wait. Those working at Suntec walked nearly one bus stop's distance to work. And you know what it looked like? A mass exodus.

But no leader to part the bloody steel (still) sea.

I dread tomorrow's commute. I'mma try my luck with the trains.

The sound of you sleeping

Somebody not in my phone book sent me a text tonight that read: Hey I remember you love the White Rabbit milk candy - remember to throw them all away!

No idea who it was, yet I was too embarrassed to ask. Here you've somebody who remembers what I like to eat, yet whose number is somehow not in my phone book?

I texted back saying I in fact have a couple of those candies left but would prolly just eat the rice-paper wrapping; whereupon the reply was a resounding "NO". So I texted I'd prolly just keep 'em as souvenirs, and got the reply, "As long as they don't end up in your mouth [...] take care!"

How sweet - and I don't even know who it was!

(Although I think there's a 75% chance it's a girl - guys don't remember such stuff.)

The sound of you sleeping

Funny how it goes: I find myself tidying up around my room as I get (more) stressed out by the tideous and obstacles-ridden task of formsformsform - as if putting things away, tidying up, physically, will somehow tidy up and put things in their places in my mind.

If only things really worked out that way ... But, no, the things in my head have to be done physically too. They're sorta like Loops of Zen - things are somehow connected; to solve the puzzle, you need logic, and to work out the knots in the right order.

Sigh.

Last pole class, then a break of one Sat (stupid F1). We learned the jazz dismount and hanging side split today - not a lot of stuff, admittedly, but some of us were still struggling with the stuff we learned in previous classes.

Am addicted to this game currently. Despite the 'Zen' in its name, I feel anything but like my name playing it.

Now attempting to solve a level 26 puzzle (my "best level ever"): ARGH.

The sound of you sleeping

So stressed out by forms. =(

I try to tell myself, they're just forms - just fill them up, submit them, and you'll get what you want ... which you will.

But I know better: Something will screw up somewhere; there are always obstacles, and Thurday's child has far to go.

Why is it so difficult?

The sound of you sleeping

I don't wanna jinx it, but I think I caught a relatively high wave - and it still being a relatively full moon and all - so I'm gonna ride it out for all it's worth, use it to get things done, put myself on course. While I can.

Likewise, these couple of days my mind has been endlessly - almost prodigiously - spewing sentences ... But always too fast for the hand to record; too fast, even to trip off the tongue or trip it.

Still, that's not gonna keep me from trying to make a note of them somewhere - never know when these oases/mirages of words/sentences start evanescing, leaving me back in my barren desert.

The sound of you sleeping

I want to be able to call you. I want to be able to knock on your door. I want to be able to keep your key and to give you mine. I want to be seen with you in public. I want there to be no gossip. I want to make supper with you. I want to go shopping with you. I want to know that nothing can come between us except each other.



Winterson, Jeanette. The PowerBook. Great Britain: Jonathan Cape, 2000.

The sound of you sleeping

This quote from Kate Bornstein's Gender Outlaw is always lurking somewhere in my mind:

But there’s always one of them who looks at you
      with longing.
And that scares you the most,
Because if you let that longing into your heart, you have to
      accept yourself
      just the way you are.

It's taken out of context, but it rings true - at least for me.

I've seen me, my secrets - skeletons I buried so deep it'd take years of excavation to unearth them - the depth and darkness I'm so susceptible to. I haven't seen all of me, but that's enough for me to realize ... I can't accept myself the way I am - and I don't think anybody should.

What scares me the most, I think, is the person I look at with longing looking back at me with the same longing ... I'm afraid for the both of us.

The sound of you sleeping

When TC found out the year I was born in, he asked, "Do you want me to introduce my brother to you? He was born in the same year as you!"

Bizarre reason, that.

I'm spring-cleaning at work. Putting aside my database for a bit today, I worked on tidying up my boss's personal file; a couple of hours tomorrow oughta be enough to complete that.

I keep remembering Doreen's (I think) words (which goes something like): Nobody is indispensible; if you are a truly efficient worker, even if you weren't around, everything will still be able to go on seamlessly.

Suppose I'm working with that now.

The sound of you sleeping

After the boss left today, the financial controller asked, "Your boss is going away for the rest of the month - will you miss him?"

I will - not that I'll ever admit to any of my colleagues that I'm really quite fond of my boss: He's the paperweight of logic and reason; without him around, the slightest breeze will cause the loose leaves of my thoughts to scatter.

The bigger and brighter the moon, the more her beauty stirs the calm surface.

The sound of you sleeping

Tonight in the park: Hordes of Chinese people (especially children) with (mostly) paper lanterns, and three Indian guys plays cricket without the benefit of wickets.

And an overweight middle-aged woman who tsked in annoyance at me when my dog ventured within 5 inches of her for a sniff: "Tsk! Why your dog liddat one?"

I heard her, even with headphones on, and I almost wanted to demand of her slighter husband (who was trailing three steps behind her), "Tsk! Why your pig liddat one?"

No, dearie - fight with a pig at her level and you'll both get dirty - and she'll enjoy it - so be good.

The sound of you sleeping

Exhausted. Something somewhere hurts ... again. But we were taught 2 other variations of the spiral and also two variations of an invert, the star.

Good practice.

I've got some patches of broken veins (I think) on my cheek bones, it seems. I can't imagine how I got them (they appeared after pole prac).

The sound of you sleeping

I don't want a pillow I want your moving breathing flesh. I want you to hold my hand in the dark, I want to roll on to you and push myself into you. When I turn in the night the bed is continent-broad. There is endless white space where you won't be. I travel it inch by inch but you're not there. It's not a game, you're not going to leap out and surprise me. The bed is empty. I'm in it but the bed is empty.



Winterson, Jeanette. Written on the Body. London: Vintage, 1993.

The sound of you sleeping

The first of what (I fear) would be a series of stumbles and obstacles: My doc has taken over a week to complete my medical report ("It's not urgent, right?"), and when I went to collect it today, I was told he'd forgotten a blood test; which meant I needed to give more blood (the doc-on-duty used a different vein and had problems drawing enough blood, which meant I'd get a bruise from the needle); which meant another wait for another test result.

I can only grit my teeth and soldier on ... I have to.

Tonight'll be awesome - I've just taken 2 different types of pills that are drowsiness-inducing - but tomorrow will be really fucked.

The sound of you sleeping

Re-started on Written on the Body, and made the fastest and farthest progress I have in all the time I was reading it. Call me biased, but, so far, it's been nothing but wondrous and beautiful.

Was tempted today in Borders by the books of poetry by Charles Bukowski, but I didn't buy any. I don't like buying books without having read them; I want to be sure I like a book (or that it's good) before purchasing a copy for myself.

There are no guarantees in life, but if it could be helped, I always like to buy myself a little certainty.

The sound of you mumbling =)

It's such a treat when you watch a truly gifted dancer perform before your eyes, even without costumes or whatever - showmanship transcends the need for those frills.

So Linna showed us the choreo for the second module and I was in awe, because seriously, I've never seen a better dancer live.

So it was really a treat ...

And, I think I might retire my dance shoes tonight.

Sigh.

=(

The sound of you sleeping

Good news: It's muscular after all.

Even better news: I only need to take about 5 days off to rest it.

Best news: I get Norgesic to relax the muscles - which might also put me to sleep! (Woot!)

My doc's a funny guy sometimes. Asked I, "So I only need to take 5 days off, right?"

Doc: "Yes; don't over-exert the muscles."

"5 days from now?"

Doc: "5 days from when you want to stop hurting."

=/

The sound of you sleeping

I bought medicated plasters (a pack of 3) before dinner yesterday and I've been using them ... to no avail. Scarily, I think that might mean my injury is not in fact muscular ... =(

Hopefully it feels better tomorrow.

Sigh.

The sound of you sleeping

Jen and I finally did dinner at Les Bouchons, and we walked past Toca Me a few times. She thought the crowd (on the outside) looked very young, so we didn't go in and ended up at Loof for drinkies.

My side hurts pretty bad now; not sure whether I'm hoping it is a pulled muscle (and not, say, cracked ribs) or not. I'm unwilling to stop pole for even 2 weeks for it to heal - and whatever it is, it sure as hell will take more than 2 weeks to go away.

=(

The sound of you sleeping

It occurred to me as I was showering just now that this unusually busy day for me reminded me of the crazy EoQ's I used to have with my previous companies, tallying and compiling and what-not - and I kinda missed them.

Was so busy today I didn't have the chance to communicate with anybody about anything other than work.

Even the boss - I prolly spoke less than 5 words to him today. He asked his usual, "Are you okay?" and then proceeded to tell me he was feeling better (I didn't ask - I never do), etc.

I won't see him for most of next week; I think I might miss him ... just a little.

Crash day. Stomach is back to feeling weird. The older I get, the more fucked up my insides are ... never mind the outside.

My colleague (for the second time in as many days) alluded to something the CNHK MD said about me - to other people. I'm curious and wary. Ol' boys, fish wives - bah.

The boss called in sick today, ending off with, "... don't worry - I'll survive." Had to ask him to repeat that last part because I wasn't sure I'd heard right. Does he want me to show more care and concern than my usual indifference?

The sound of you sleeping

Was impeded at pole prac by terrible cramps in my lower body (butt, legs, feet, and toes). Two girls have told me to eat bananas and I shall have that fruit for lunch tomorrow.

Still couldn't manage birdnest even though I had a spotter. I have to start visualizing doing it, plus a shoulder-mount to chopper combo.

Also, finished with intermediate 3 today; no news on when there'll be an advance class I can sign up for. Guess this is as far as I can go in salsa for now ...

Def Leppard - 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'

Album: Hysteria



Have been obsessed lately with the database I work on. It's written in-house and still evolving, so it's very buggy.

I sit at my workstation up to 5 hours at stretch (yes, I do worry about DVT) working with the database, the reports it generates daily, GIMP, Excel, Powerpoint, and my email, earphones plugged in. Today, I decided I'd like to see the records for the offices I'm responsible for rid of errors before I go.

Never let it be said that when I'm obsessive, I'm not compulsively so.

Like how I've been listening to this song on repeat, 3 days and counting ...

The sound of you sleeping

It's been a terrible Monday: Screwed up the boss's flight out of SIN today; it was only through his infallible good luck with all things concerning travel that I managed to get him not only in the class he wants, but also his preferred seat.

In his harangue, he cited, once again, The Devil Wears Prada, which, to him illustrates the epitome of what P.A. should be, but which is a caveat against selling out and losing oneself to me.

It's obvious I'm really not cut out to be a P.A.; prolly will tender when he returns from Milan next month.

Doc drew 10 cc today, remarking I have "good veins ... unlike other girls", but that my blood is so bad "[a] vampire won't want it". =|