Horse and carriage, love and marriage?

Yet another friend of mine is subjecting himself to the age-old tradition of marriage. I may appear indifferent to this, but this was the same friend who used to call me every single day in Form 5, and chatted till the wee hours of morning. This was the same friend who used to express his admiration towards me, and we spent hours upon hours debating over many problems and issues. We used to see eye-to-eye on so many things, but as the years passed by, we seemed to drift further and further away. And today this is the same man who is soon to subject himself to a life of commitment and responsibilities.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against marriage, really. The only problem that exists within my horizon is the fact that whenever someone mentioned the word "marriage" or "wedding", I try sometimes to close my eyes and imagine how the day would look like, and would always come up empty. I often hear girls commenting about how they want their wedding day to be like, how their dresses should look, how they want to do their hair, even the song(s) they want to be playing on their wedding day, or the colour scheme of their wedding. It's funny, really. I knew since young that I always wanted to be a mother, but my inclination towards becoming a wife is so much less, if it ever existed at all.

Again, don't get me wrong. I have nothing against ending up with one person for the rest of my life. In fact, if anything, I'd be happy to be able to commit to one person for the rest of my life. But the deal is whether there will be such a person who would want to accept me for everything I am - warts and all. Men have always liked me for these reasons - independent, confident, crazy, weird, smart, articulate, but these are often the reasons that turn them away later on in the relationship. Independence + confidence + craziness + weirdness + intelligence in a woman who talks a lot spells disaster for most men. Let's face the fact: men find it difficult to handle women like these, not to mention most men are INTIMIDATED by women like these. And those who do often start it off by taking it as a challenge that they often fail at, but men and their ego's... they just shrug it off by saying, "Well, I've tried, but...".

I realise it may be commitment that I'm afraid of, and not marriage. But I am in a relationship that is coming to its third year, so logically speaking, I shouldn't be afraid of commitment. Perhaps it's the idea of permanence that scares me, which is the same reason why I hesitate getting a tattoo. Having something stuck to you for life can be pretty terrifying. Imagine having a wedding and inviting the entire world to celebrate the day with you, and then 10 years later the marriage ends with a divorce and the same people who congratulated you before are now feeling sorry for you.

I do think marriage could be a very beautiful thing. I love weddings, I honestly do! I love hearing stories of marriage proposals, and how the guy/girl cried their heart out. But I also know this will not happen to me. A practical girl like me will probably attract only practical men who will not resort to any special gestures to even ask for my hand in marriage. I can imagine the guy going, "Eh let's get married", and I'd probably go, "Oh, okay" (if I was serious about it), and we'd get the deed done in less than an hour. Very much like Britney Spears, minus the alcohol (and hopefully the divorce).

It's not that I do not want to get married. I think it would be absolutely wonderful to be able to be with someone you love for the rest of your life. But I just do not want to plan my life around it. If it happens, great. But if it doesn't, then I suppose I would just find other things to do in my life. I'd love to be a mother, and since I'm unsure about having children of my own anyway, I'd probably adopt.

It's interesting how the people your age that you knew since young were so different 5 years ago, and now. Yesterday, a childhood friend called me and upon finding out from me that most of our friends are married, she commented, "That's what life is about isn't it? You finish studying, you find someone and get married." Instantly, I said, "What bullshit." It's never supposed to be this way. Marriage is good and all, but there is certainly more to life than just meeting someone and marrying that person. I think I shocked her a bit; coming from a small town she would've probably expected me to be more like them and her, but I suppose something went "wrong" somewhere.

Why do we easily subject ourselves to an institution that has only a 50% chance of success? My point is perhaps that since youngsters mature much later these days, perhaps we should wait out longer before settling down. I have met young men who flirt with me (and mind you, I'm not talking about harmless flirting), and later on I would find out that they were married. I wonder how their wives would've felt about that. Immaturity is perhaps one of the causes of the failure of marriages, because they shouldn't have gotten married in the first place. And besides, the real issue behind marriage should not just be about starting a family and reproducing. The real deal behind marriage should always be commitment, and commitment can easily be given without the promise of a ring and a simple signature on a piece of paper.

Money's Only Shiny In A Rich Man's World

It is unfortunate, really. I'm fast running out of $ and I won't be able to fund myself very soon. With rent increasing and the prices of everything being hiked up by the day, how do I survive? No, I mean, really.

The numbers in my bank account are steadily but surely decreasing by the day. I have to take into account the cash I spend on food (at least RM10 to RM20 per day), petrol (at least RM160 to RM200 per month), parking in college (RM2 per entry/day), rent + bills (about RM350 per month), and medical fees, since I'm always sick. Realistically speaking, I need a rough estimation of at least RM1,200 to survive, and this is just to survive. There will no room for excess luxuries, like watching movies or catching a play, or shopping or good food. Or that dance class I'd really like to enrol for. But I'm willing to live with that for another 4 years or so of my life. The major problem right now is in finding a simple job that pays, and even less so in finding a job that pays well.

I've tried almost everything I can think of, really. With a degree in Media Studies, one would assume that I'd be able to do freelance writing. But NO. I've e-mailed plenty of editors out there. Some have replied, some did not. Those who replied would like me to work on article ideas and proposals, etc. And let's not even talk about payment. The truth is, freelance writing can earn you enough to survive IF and only IF you are somebody in the publishing world, i.e. you have been around long enough, or you know somebody in this industry, to propel you to a certain status. It's quite similar to photography, really. There are too many writers and photographers to go around.

So I thought I could do some teaching. But NO. No vacancy around town, and even if there are any, they are further away from where I live, so if I were to throw in the transportation costs, it would mean earning so much less. Most part time jobs pay you a maximum wage of RM500 per month. I'd be damned.

Events, you say? Yes, you could earn up to RM120 per day, I know. But you'd be required to clock in every day to earn enough to survive. If I were to work only on weekends, the calculations would still be inadequate: RM120 x 4 = RM480. How do I work every day when I have classes on?

I've asked around, asking if anyone needs someone to work part-time in their office. Of course, I'd like to be able to utilise my degree, or to watch it go to waste, but at this rate, I would even make coffee for you every day if you'd pay me enough to survive in a month. But who the heck would pay you at least RM1200 just to make coffee? In terms of human resource, it would be even more resourceful (and money-saving, so to speak) if they hired a full-time staff.

I'm so depressed I'd rather die right now. What's the point of going after your dreams when you're left with nothing to even survive?

The missing :)

Yesterday, while waiting for time to pass and the rain to subside, I was sitting inside my car in the KLPac carpark area. With the sound of the gentle drops of the rain providing a certain melody to my aching ears, I silently looked out for that whisper. Sometimes, when it rains, the winds will blow a sharp breeze - a high-pitched sound generated by nature and difficult to be emulated by any other - that will sound like a whisper when you truly listened to it enough.

But the whisper never materialised.

I took my notebook out, sang some songs to entertain myself (I hate the rain), and started writing.

Dead, I was
It was all but one
My life died before my eyes
Grasping the threads of reality
As you walked away from my sight

Blinded, I was
Too much to see in too little time
Although it felt absolute was necessary
Giving you my life felt ordinary

With an odd mix of sorrow and joy
I allowed you to walk past me
Slithered beneath my feet, and
creating larger footsteps than before

You were but a reality
All but one
And I died, I cried,
I was blinded with joy and sorrow
A cannonball of emotions
for me to swallow

Though this seemed less poetic than any other pieces I've written before, I know one thing's for sure - those words reflect how I felt exactly.

It's funny, and I realise it myself. The "me" I supposedly show the world is not the person I really am, deep inside. I'm not the happy, crazy person everyone thinks I am. I wonder how everyone will think of me once they know the truth, and how they will handle this betrayal. Unfortunately, that's not for me to say. I know that even he can't handle my sorrow any further. But I wish they would understand that I wish not to be sorrowful as I am. I want to be happy too.

And I think I deserve just as much as everyone else to be happy. Sadly, it feels easier to depict sorrow in my appearances. Any other emotions/appearances always seemed easier than to depict joy. What is joy to me, truly?

I'm often reminded of what a friend said the first time he met me, after reading my blog for a few years. "You're very different from the way you portray yourself in your blog," he'd said. I asked, "How different?" And he said, "You're so spunky, in real life. But your blog is always so sad." Another friend commented on how I would have deceived people into thinking I'm an emo freak who doesn't laugh or smile with all my sad entries.

But maybe THIS is what I really am. Maybe when my face is putting on the greatest smile, maybe my heart just isn't. There's a missing smiley sign there, and I don't quite know how to put it back.

Only Hope?

There's a line from the song "Only Hope" by Mandy Moore from the movie "A Walk to Remember" that goes, "When it feels like my dreams are so far, sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again."

I'm sure there are many reasons people may feel compelled to believe in God, or to have faith in a Higher Being. Faith is a magical thing, truly, because without it, most of us turn into bitter, stoic human beings with no sense of duty towards self and even less duty towards others. Losing faith is an even more dangerous thing; we turn into cynical human beings with no real purpose except to torture others with our dry sense of humour at the expense of everyone else.

I, too, want to believe in God. Many times when I feel extreme hurt and bitter disappointment, I find myself staring into the empty skies at night, and wondering who, if anyone, was watching over us. My sense of hopelessness often reflects the feelings of emptiness as I whisper silent words of hope, and to receive nothing from the other end. Some people call this praying, and yet, even prayer itself manifests itself in many forms. But whether we do it kneeled beside our beds, or on carpets, or with our heads bowed down, aren't we all praying to one same being, this being we call God, to whom we entrust our lives to, hoping for salvation?

If there was one word I could use to describe what I truly wish for, and what I would often pray for, in my very own way, the word would be "happiness". I've been asked many times: "What do you want in life?" "What are you aiming for?" "What do you strive for?" "What are you looking for?"

Simple. The answer is simply "happiness". That was, of course, the easy part. The difficult part is in answering the how's.

In my final year in university studying my first Bachelor degree, I came to the realisation that it was difficult to ignore your true calling, and that your dreams will always find a way to haunt you even when you least expect them to. In my effort to comprehend, and to digest my understanding of my dreams in a better manner, I decided to write them all down. Writing. Dancing. Singing. Performing. Acting. Making people laugh. Making people happy. Helping people. Becoming a lawyer. Speaking in public. Becoming a counselor.

What appeared to be a long list was turned into a simple masterpiece. There were three major dreams in my life, each with a special significance or meaning, and each with equal importance. I couldn't possibly choose one over the other. And although they were personal to me before, nowadays I eagerly share these dreams with others, perhaps hoping that it would serve as a reminder to myself that I am not letting them go just yet, and that there is still hope. And hope, the "maybe one day" hope, is what keeps me going on each day.

My first dream was something I realised to be my calling since birth. Often a misunderstood child, I was fond of being friends with those who appeared to be outcasts, or those who struggled with many issues in life. Somehow, I loved to listen. I somehow understood them; their pain, sorrow, underachievements, sadness, disappointment. So I decided I wanted to help others, and I wanted to make others happy, to right their wrongs. I was 11 when I decided I wanted to be a counselor. As I grew older and made it into the debating team (by chance), I realised I had a knack for public speaking and acquired some oratory skills, and as a result, at the age of 16 with the advice of my debate coach, I decided that I wanted to be a lawyer, to fight for the rights and justice of others. In this dream lies many other "satelite dreams", like one of wanting to serve organisations such as Amnesty International.

But of course, to reach this dream seemed a billion years away. I obtained a CGPA of 3.83 out of 4 in STPM but was refused entry to the UM law school. Instead, 4 years after STPM and 1 year after graduating from UM, I enrolled myself in a private college to read law and am currently in my 1st year. A painful journey, but nonetheless interesting.

My second dream involves writing. I remember how much I enjoyed writing since young, and the silly foolish stories I used to write about. I often contributed to the school magazine, and enjoyed "karangan" or essay-writing immensely. About 7 months ago, I was thrown with a predicament of writing for a publication that did not reflect my personal goals. With the advice of many who said, "You have to start somewhere", I decided to take the job, and ended up being bitter about my writing skills when told by my boss that I couldn't write. I was dejected, and even worse, I died. A part of me died that day, and it took me a lot to reconnect with that part again; for it to be resurrected. I almost heard the signal going *beep* for the longest time before I heard a slight static of myself going back to life again. But I continued writing on my blog (the old blog then) and received many comments and SMSes from many others who said that I should continue writing, that they enjoyed what I wrote.

I have yet to give up, and I believe I will not. I love writing, and I hope to be able to contribute to various publications, and to one day publish a book.

My third dream, alas, is even further away from me than I expected it to be. This was the dream I was basically "born" with, because from the very beginning, even as a timid child, when I was put on stage, I changed. I shone. There is great appeal in being a performer because I want so much to invoke emotions in others. Even being a clown or a stand-up comedian would be wonderful, because if I could make people laugh and forget their sorrows, I could forget my own. Deep, deep beneath this calm exterior of mine, lies a broken soul that will never be healed. I add up the days of sorrow in my life and turn them into entertainment for others. I love making people laugh, because I find redemption for my own sorrow in return.

I remember reading a comic book series when I was much younger called "Topeng Kaca" (Glass Mask). This series was a product of a Japanese artist and translated into the Indonesian language, and my cousin and I eagerly devoured them day after day as a source of entertainment. One of the reasons why I loved this comic book so much was because it told the story of a teenaged girl, Maya, an ordinary looking girl with no special characters or features. An orphan, she has no proper education nor a home. But her one and only talent - acting - brought her to places she never knew existed. And when she was on stage, she could, and had to, ignore her own pains and to truly be the character she is playing. I wanted so badly to be like Maya. But in the real world, I also realised that someone like Maya may never make it. A cruel world this is, and I realised that I did not possess the looks, body, or height or the many other features that many girls do. And to make it worse, I have no real talent. Nothing. Zilch.

I, too, wanted to dance. Enrolled myself in a ballet class at 11, I stopped at 14 when my knees started hurting. Until today, my greatest regret: stopping dancing and giving up on my dream too early in life. I thought of such things too; that I was too short, too stubby, too fat, too ugly to be a ballerina. I thought I had no talent, even when I passed my exams with High Distinction. Nothing was ever good enough for me.

Last week's audition has just proven me right. When I realised I made too many mistakes, I gave up. When I noticed we were all singing the wrong keys, I became frustrated and stopped singing altogether. When I noticed I couldn't stop turning to the left when everyone else was turning to the right, I became frustrated and stopped dancing altogether. In my mind I could only think of one thing, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I was, in fact, holding back frustrated tears throughout the entire thing.

Right after it ended, I walked away. I could hear some of them shouting, "Sharon, where are you going?" but I continued walking down the stairs. I cried. I knew I wasn't going to get through but that wasn't the point. The point was that I made a great mistake - a blunder - and I couldn't face it myself. I couldn't face myself. I knew that even if I had gotten through, I will still continue blaming myself, and right now that I didn't get through, I still do.

It hurts to wake up every morning, and in the moments of rubbing my feet and my bruised knees against the comforter in the cool morning air and staring at the ceiling, to constantly ask myself, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Perhaps I have come to the saddest realisation that I will never be happy. I've struggled to find reasons for happiness, but every time I did, I was crushed. I had my share this time around; it lasted a week. ONE WEEK. And then to have my hopes and dreams crushed all over again, that was it for me.

What crushed me this time is actually the matter of time that I am fighting so much against. Not only am I 24 (and a loser with no achievements for that matter), I am pursuing a 2nd degree that will take me another 4 years, and by the time I graduate I will be 28 and only starting out when everyone else has perhaps established a place for themselves in society. And in all honesty, what crushed me about the auditions is that I know I could do so much better, but I didn't. I used to be very good in hearing (I did so well in organ exams), but what happened? I couldn't even judge the notes anymore. I realise that the more I wanted something, the more I would fuck up, and the more it will get away from me. Law of attraction, someone said? What rubbish!

September next year I'll be off to the UK. I have slightly more than a year to do something about my dream of performing. If nothing happens till then, I'm afraid I will have to give up, and see a part of me die. Whether I will survive this death, I'm unsure. Because to have different parts of you die more than once is essentially suicide.

Maybe not physically. But definitely emotionally.

Earring Stand To The Rescue

It was about time I got my earrings organised. So I decided to get an earring stand, similar to the ones they use in stores selling earrings and accessories.

Behold, my collection of earrings!


I tried organising them according to colour but failed due to the differences in length for most.


There are still some empty spots so this means I could still get myself more earrings ;).

I believe the total pairs of earrings I own come up to 50 or more as the stand is supposedly able to hold up to 96 pairs of earrings and they filled up more than half of the stand.

Unfortunately, there were also two pairs which had missing sides :(.

To Begin At The Beginning...

Dear reader(s),

If you somehow found your way here, I believe you must have been well-informed of the moving of my blog to this current URL. To those of you not in the know, I've decided to move my random rants to this blog from now on. I've decided to make a new home for my journal to secure my thoughts with greater peace of mind.

As some of you may have known, for very personal reasons, I am unable to continue usage of my old blog, but if you'd like to have a peep at it, just let me know who you are and I'll send you an invite, provided it's safe, of course.

P/s: To you, if you happen to find your way here and are reading this, I hope you understand that I am not trying to run away from you. But we both know very well that it's for the best; that we do not keep in contact with one another. I hope you will respect my privacy and accept that I deserve the right to move on from a dark spot of my life, and I deserve every right to obtain happiness as well. In my search for that happiness, I think having you around will not do any of us any good.