Irony.

Life is full of it. Everywhere you turn, the situation that presents itself always includes a good measure of irony. Such that one cannot help but wonder if the lives we lead are merely to entertain some unknown cosmic entity, who then relishes in observing our varied reactions to the irony of it all.

But I don't come to philosophise or theorize. It's ironic, how the Sister who looked set to remain a veritable spinster at least for the next five years or so, just very recently got attached to a reg (Registrar - the medical not the legal kind) three years her senior and your truly, who for all intent and purposes, had envisaged living the rest of my life with that someone, is now single and very much unavailable.

The irony of the fact that she got attached just about the time I broke up is not lost on me either. Or that she's now the one who locks herself in the room wherein the sounds of animated conversation and peals of laughter issue forth. But like any decent sibling, I'm happy for her. Firstly, as she's mellowed considerably, no longer so anal retentive over retarded things and more inclined to do pleasant things like baking her formidable array of cakes and desserts without so much as a request. Secondly, because I'm such a nice brother. Really.

Personally, I'm not too sure what to make out of it. I've never been a "Let's pray and see whether God wants us to be together" kind of person, even in my most devout days long long ago before I actively sought the "joys of cock" as that butch bartender from Little Britain puts it. Nor does it help that the relationship has an element of drama and potential tragedy that would be right at home in any weepy Korean love drama series.

The aforementioned element can be briefly described as thus: boyfriend (hero) suddenly discovers that he has a pre-existing medical condition which strongly predisposes him to the chance of suffering a severe stroke and dying. Heroine/sister decides to stick it through with him regardless. *Cue -lots of tears and professed declarations of godly love* So ya, that's it in a nutshell. But she looks happy, certainly sounds happy and if it means she's happy and not always in my face ranting about retarded things, hey I'm happy for her too.

Next thing. You would think that being single, I'd have a lot more time, to pamper myself and/or do the things I really want. All of which seem to require a considerable sum of money but no matter. However the irony is that ever since the breakup, I haven't been able to find the time to do the above. Between work and WoW (World of Warcraft), I hardly have time for anything else. Work is heavy but bearable, WoW still incredibly fun but much too little time to maximise the enjoyment.

And speaking of work, it's ironic how the PM and the bunch of LAs think I'm a pussy chaser and persist in attempting to hook me up with random girls from different departments when as you all know I'd prefer a lean hard body to play 'Daytona' with anytime Pity there are no attractive candidates in the Firm. Though on hindsight, that's probably a good thing after all.

I've been getting rides back home from a colleague who stays nearby. He drives a nifty car and comes over like clockwork everyday, checks if I want to have dinner with him and another colleague then comes back just before leaving to see if I'm done (or gone for that matter). And the irony is not lost, where once I would meet up with Sean, take a train back up to his place before he sends me home, I now get lifts from a nice albeit straight and wholly unattractive colleague and talk about desirable qualities in a female partner.

I want dick yet I don't want to find anyone just for dick. Ah, the stupid idiosyncrasy of human nature. Anyhow, here's a music video of a song I've always liked, yet it remains, as of now, totally inappropriate. Ah the irony. Betcha didn't know good old Paula Abdul could move like that. Look at that footwork. Woo!

Straight Up - Paula Abdul


Lost in a dream
I don't know which way to go
A-let me say, if you are all that you seem
Then, baby, I'm movin' way too slow
I've been fooled before
Wouldn't like to get my love
Caught in the slammin' door
How about some information, please?

(Chorus:)
Straight up, now tell me
Do you really wanna love me forever
Oh, oh, oh
Or am I caught in a hit-and-run?
Straight up, now tell me
Is it gonna be you and me together
Oh, oh, oh
Or are you just havin' fun?

Time's standing still
Waiting for some small clue
A-let me tell you now, I keep getting chills
When I think your love is true
I've been fooled before
Wouldn't like to get my love
Caught in the slammin' door
How about some information, please?

(Repeat chorus)

(Bridge 1:)
You are so hard to read
You play hide-and-seek
With your true intentions
If you're only playin' games
I'll just have to say
A b-b-b-bye, b-b-b-bye

(Bridge 2:)
Do, do you love me?
(Do, do you love me, baby?)
Do, do you love me?
(Do, do you love me? A-hey, baby)
Do, do you love me?
(Do, do you love me, baby?)
Do, do you love me?
(Do, do you love me?)
A-tell me, baby

I've been a fool before
Wouldn't like to get my love
Caught in the slammin' door
Are you more than hot for me
Or am I a page in your history book?
I don't mean to make demands
But the word and the deed
Go hand in hand
How about some information, please?

Chronicles of the Lost.

Down this well worn path we tread.
Monstrous antiquities of stone, spying from ancient ruins that stretch endlessly into the horizon.
Silent sentinels that observe in stony disapproval, their grotesque grimaces scant encouragement to the tired traveller.

The weary seek solace in familiarity, that the path most trodden must be the best indeed.
They scry the path ahead, for signs the long departed have left, for portents of things to come.
Examining the notches in the sunken paving stones, deciphering their groans, envisaging ghostly manifestations of heroes long gone.

And these schemes they bedeck with great import, the ritual of their days, solemn and severe.
Eyes never wavering from the path ahead as they continue their endless scrutiny.

But my vision is not so privileged and all I see,
is an endless sea of grey and the bones in ghostly motion.
The bones who are the slaves and they weave your every scheme,
with every stride you take.

Intermezzo.

Solitude is a strange paradox.
In it you find solace, yet because of it you are painfully reminded of the sharp stab of loneliness.
No one to wake up beside to, no one to share a heartfelt laugh with, no one to snuggle up to.

But my heart died that day, barely a fortnight past, and with it the ability to love, the urge to care and the need to elucidate along with any attendant feelings of tenderness. I could probably knife someone who annoys me without batting an eyelid right now.

Funny how the end of an intimate albeit tumultous at times six year plus relationship should evoke emotions no greater than jaded resignation and detatched contemplation. But the memories remain.

And no matter how I resist or turn, in my mind they continue to burn. Forgetfulness is not a balm for the heartless for the cold of heart neither forgive nor forget. But I do not seek convenient amnesia or its fickle embrace for to remember is to live, a silent penance I shall pay for the rest of my life

A testament to love found and lost, of laughs and tears, a folly six years in the making.

Chinese New Year.

With each passing year, the festive mood diminishes for the usual festive holidays. Chinese New Year, unlike Christmas and inspite of all the garish commercial klutz, never failed to get me to get me into that festive mood as I looked forward to a few days of unbridled pigging out and racous interaction with the cousins and relatives. The key word being 'used', cause unfortunately for some reason or the other I'm totally devoid of any festive joviality for this year's lunar new year.

I blame it on work. It kind of puts a damper on anything remotely festive, or perhaps it's just a lack of what aileen so aptly calls it, 'dong dong chiang' music. We'll see, my dad always plays his ancient Chinese New Year tape without fail, during the yearly last minute frenzied spring-cleaning session on the eve. I doubt so.

And yet it's rather weird that I'm in so fey a mood, this artificial high and lightness in the spirit probably induced by the prospect of the upcoming long weekend and the ability to go berzerk with no reservations at the annual gastronomical reunion dinner. After all not everyone gets steamboat with DIY barbeque as well as a whole host of other cooked dishes to choose and pig out from at their reunion dinner. Granny as always is such a chum for being able to feed her ravenous brood of kids and grandchildren. Ooo and the booze!! Ha ha.

About time to pack up and call it quits till monday. With this, my dear readers, I leave you to your devices. Enjoy the drunken revelry and gastronomical debauchery which so oft precedes the eve of a festive holiday especially one as mammoth as Chinese New Year. And for what it's worth, Happy Chinese New Year.

To the celebrants, food, drink and the astronomical chance of sex (for most people seem to want to do some celebratory 'loving' on the eves of festive days) await, so enjoy. Adieu.

For Play

Play wasn't bad, the music was decent, the company good. Even if I didn't booze up half as much as I would have liked to (1 Gin tonic, 1 Black Russian and some champagne - meant I remained woefully sober), I still enjoyed myself. But that's not what I'm blogging about. The night would have been a lot better if not for someone. That someone being my ex, W.

I'd lost touch with W. some years back. Not that I was particularly sorry. As I've mentioned in my earlier entry, during the short time I was together with W., my impression of him was always of an intensely passionate but brash, flirtatious and downright egoistical chap. Which obviously proved to be a toxic cocktail for any relationship.

So anyway, we were just getting started on the drinks when I noticed W. walking by and talking to a friend (whom he later disclosed nonchalantly was just a passing fling) so like what any normal person would do to someone (who isn't a hated individual) whom they haven't met for a long while, I tapped his shoulder and called out his name.

Upon which he turned around and calling out my name, proceeded to get all touchy feely with startling alcarity. One would have thought we were newly attached lovebirds and not distant exes from the way he groped. So naturally, I pushed him away. After all, what kind of guy just goes up to an ex he hasn't seen for what 2-3 years and goes all physical and expects him to accept such advances without batting an eyelid.

But he was obviously high and would not be deterred, going on in that brash obnoxious way of his. Ranting on how about how he missed me yada yada yada. On hindsight, a tight slap would have been in good order. Though that would have pretty much ruined the mood for the rest of the night. The dancing was nice but that was about it. And caving in to his constant badgering to share a cab back with him was probably the stupidest decision I've ever made this past year.

Whatever. Just talking about him makes me ill. I've always been a very physical person myself, I thrive off physical contact. Being touched by and touching a person one finds attractive is always to me an incredible turn on. Yet it's strange how totally turned off one can be upon receiving the aforementioned physical contact and advances from the wrong person.

There's a good reason why exes remain exes after all. And that night at Play, just reminded me why nine years ago, I ended the relationship with W. Brash, shamelessly flirtatious, over-confident, egoistical, obnoxious. Bye bye W.

My Favourite Poison.

I must agree with J. , this quiz is surprisingly accurate.... Never liked lychee martinis, though between a martini and a Black Russian, I'll usually go for the latter first. Yum. Still rather partial to my gin & tonic though. At least I get to slake my thirst this weekend, haha. Play, anyone? ^^

You Are A Martini

You are the kind of drinker who appreciates a nice hard drink. And for you, only quality alcohol. You don't waste your time on the cheap stuff.Obviously, you're usually found with a martini in your hand. But sometimes you mix it up with a gin and tonic.And you'd never, ever consider one of those flavored martinis. They're hardly a drink!

What Alcoholic Drink Are You?