Restructure- on your own terms

Happy Birthday…

to Big Boy. Belated actually since I am a day late.

to Old Boy. Another year older today and perhaps a little wiser?

One in his thirties and another in his forties.

Surely I should be able to tell the difference?

But somehow, I still reckon boys will be boys.

Well, that was what I was being told eleven years ago by the good-looking ex-boyfriend while we sat on a small slope flying a kite.

That thought has since been stuck in my mind.

A Short Update


Recently, I have been somewhat distracted.

I have a thousand things to blog about, like some outstanding raunchy bits with Ted from my last Manila trip.

Then there is Nano whom I, too would like to write about. He too is becoming rather outdated.

Nano, a wealthy (which is understated) and decent boy who probably likes a girl like me for his wife. “Official wife material” as he put it. Smart, cute and gorgeous as he would say. I like Nano too from the start because he reminded me so much of Malc and Random George. That aura of aloofness and that cynical sense of humour that I see through as bravado. Also, he loves a good book. Like me, Nanoloves to paint too.

Nano could have stolen my heart a little without too much wooing. I spotted him and his aura in the crowd. Too bad, he decided to head for the beach and missed out by a day and Ted got himself lucky in my inebriated state.

He said he'll like to be given the opportunity to know me better pending my next trip in September.

I very much would like to say to him too that if I could sort myself out emotionally, I could prepare myself to his Mrs too. Think we make a fine pair!;)

Also, I didn’t do enough justice to the Windsor Boy. We had a good time spent talking , singing, partying and walking together. Pity that we didn't make it for the stroll down the beach on our last day.

Then there is the piece of “Being Ready” that I have been meaning to work on and arrange those words and put down my two cents’ worth.

Yes, a gentleman whom I called Old Boy has distracted me.

Old enough to know better not to fall for me, as he once said.


****
what came to mind was the 'fix my shoe' incident...but i didn't know whether you had a glass of wine or three or five in hand or not. all i can think about now is "can i handle it?"


perhaps, this is what you intended to do all along. to teach me a lesson. to show me that i can't handle it. perhaps it is your way of coming up with a self defense mechanism to ward off intruders into your life. i don't know...but i certainly don't want to find out either.


****
"I’m gonna lock my heart and throw away the key…

… hang a sign upon my heart, “Please don’t disturb”…

… I’m gonna lock my heart, I’ll never fall in love,
I’m gonna lock my heart and throw away the key…"

****

And perhaps I am young enough to know better (for me) too.

****

At least I know a ship always returns to its harbour. This much, I know.

Personal “Love” Notes to (self and) the Old Boy (as promised)

On (the rise of illicit) Love Affairs

“ Someone asked a question earlier today: ‘Osho, why does a harmonious love affair seem to be dull and dying?’ For the simple reason that it is harmonious! It loses all attraction for the ego; it seems as if it is not. If it is absolutely harmonious you will completely forget it. Some conflict is needed, some struggle is needed, some violence is needed, some hatred is needed. Love- your so-called love- does not go very deep; it is only skin-deep, or maybe not even so deep. But your hate goes very deep; it goes as deep as your ego.”

- “Understanding the Roots of Misery”, Joy: The Happiness that comes from Within, Osho


****

On (true) Love (and our divided loves)

“ When the heart falls in love with somebody, then there is no problem; then your love object is your only love object for you. The moment the heart has fallen in love with a woman, then that is the only woman in the world. Then all other women have disappeared for you. The heart is single in purpose. But if the head had fallen in love- in fact it has not fallen in love, it simply pretends- then it is difficult. Then any woman that passes on street attracts you, provokes you. Then any passing influence distracts you. Love knows single purpose because love is really of the heart. If you are here with me through the heart, then it is a totally different relationship. Then it is going to be eternal. Then I can die, you can die, but the relationship cannot die. But if it is only of the head, if you are simply convinced by what I am saying, not convinced by what I am… if you are only convinced by what I am saying- my logic, my argument- then this relationship is temporary. Tomorrow you will be convinced by somebody else. Tomorrow somebody else can give you a better argument; then it disappears.

… the pure in heart and single in purpose are able to understand the most supreme way.”

-“ In Accord with the Way”, The Buddha Said… meeting the challenge of life’s difficulties, Osho


****

On Passion (and our type with the wandering mind)

“A mind full of passion is a mind full of discontent with the present. A mind with passion, desires, hopes, but never lives. It postpones. It says “tomorrow”, always tomorrow; it is never here and now. A mind full of passion always goes on missing the present- and the present is the only reality there is, so a mind full of passion goes on missing the reality. It cannot reflect that which is, it cannot reflect the truth, it cannot reflect the dhamma, the way. It cannot reflect the real that surrounds you because you are never here.

Watch your mind. Whenever there is a desire, you have gone astray. You cannot be in the future, remember. You cannot be in the past, remember. That is impossible; that doesn’t happen the way things are; that simply doesn’t happen…

… This is the way of not being. This is how we miss existence.

… Living in memories, or living in imagination- that is the way of passion. Passion is a wavering- either to the left or to the right, but never in the middle. And the middle is the truth, the present is the truth, the door to reality.”

-"Reflections of Emptiness”, The Buddha Said… meeting the challenge of life’s difficulties, Osho

****

On Emancipating the (troubled) Soul

“Awareness cannot be in the past and cannot be in the future. Awareness knows only the present. Awareness knows no past, no future; it has only one tense, the present. Be aware, and as you start enjoying the present more and more, as you feel the bliss of being in the present, you will stop doing this stupid thing that everybody goes on doing. You will stop going into the past. You will not have to forget and forgive, it will disappear of its own accord. You will be surprised- where has it gone? And once the past is there no more, future also disappears because future is only a projection of the past. To be free from past and future is to taste freedom for the first time, And in that experience one becomes whole, healthy; all wounds are healed. Suddenly there are no longer any wounds, you start feeling a deep well-arising in you. That well-being is the beginning of transformation.”

-“Understanding the Roots of Misery”, Joy: The Happiness that comes from Within, Osho

FLASHER SPOTTED

Dear Readers,

I spotted a flasher today and that fucker tried to do it to me! Anyhow, I just wrote an email to a friend to describe what happened and my experiences with flashers. I have copied that email below to avoid having to tell the story twice....

****

Dear Friend,

Let me share with u something gross that happened today...

I was on the train on my way back home from gym and shopping. I happened to be sitting at the lower deck. The mid deck is where pp enter into the train or exit. There are some seats but limited; more for pp with prams, suitcases, lugguages if u get the pic.

I saw this rotund man with a big belly. He is probably in his late 50s and he was in sportswear in polo t and grey cotton shorts and he carried a sportsbag. I've actually seen him before on the train in a similar gear, come to think of it. He originally was sitting at the seats in the mid deck, then he walked towards the door.

Anyhow, I was sitting on a two seater in the first row (Miss Kiasu here is always afraid of missing her stop) and when I looked up this man was standing directly in front of me on the mid deck facing the door and adjusting his shorts lightly. So basically I was facing his side view.

Then guess what caught my eye? Then I noticed his big bulge from the side view. I averted my eyes and looked elsewhere. Then seconds later, my eyes wandered back since it was natural that I should be looking ahead....

Then I saw his erected dick which at this stage was pointing north about 120 degrees. Then it dawned on me that he wasn't wearing any underwear beneath his thin cotton shorts. There was a metal railing before the door (basically think is to separate pp coming in and going out and can also be used as a handle bar to hold on to in a crowded train) and I saw him then began hitting/ rubbing his dick lightly against the metal railing... I quickly looked away before he could catch me looking...

From my peripheral view, I quite believe he was looking at me and at least trying to catch my look. Then it was confirmed in my head that this sicko old man was a closet flasher!!!!

Then I felt it was quite obvious that he might know I know so I attempted to look straight ahead (careful to avoid looking at his dick) and then the sun shone in my face and my eyes and I used my hand to shield it, which further made me think that sicko thought that I was shielding my view from his dick, which then he might derive satisfaction that he knew I saw! So I turned my face away to the window again...

Then the fucker decided to sit down again and then he walked back to my front again (all this while he is still on the mid deck). Then an elderly couple stood by the door holding on to that railing (eeks which that sicko was hitting his dick against) before the train stopped for them to disembark...

This sicko stood behind them (and I thought he too was about to alight) and then for some reason decided to sojourn to the next cabin (which got me suspicious that he was indeed up to something) and then through the glass doors, I could still see him and I think he tried to pull a similar trick... there were women with young children sitting by the seats in the mid cabin....

I think when he failed to catch the attention of anyone, he came back to my cabin again and quite radomly stood at the mid-deck facing this girl. At this stage, there was only one girl sitting at the mid deck seats and all the other seats were empty and he could've sit down.

This confirms my suspicions that the sicko is a pervert and closet flasher! Plus he quite jogged my memory that I have indeed once seen him before on the train wearing the same outfit and I remmeber a similar thought flashed across my mind that his bulge looked rather offensive and that man should do something to cover up in a public place. He also held the same rather conscious demeanour of looking down at his leftwards pting dick and made some unnecessary attempt to adjust his shorts in a bid to attract more unwanted attention...

I wonder in such instances can pp like that be apprehended? How do we prove that they have an intention to commit indecent exposure or is it indecent exposure since that sicko isn't really baring his genitals? I mean, he definitely was keen to attract attention for his erection.... what do u think?

Which also reminded me of an incident long time ago....

I was thirteen in secondary one and had this habit of hanging out after school for a bit (although it was an afternoon session) with my friend where we would sit in the quiet backyard of my school to talk. There was a field there that is really acessible to the public...

I remember one day, there was this youngish (maybe late 20s to mid 30s) bespectacled man who was in sports gear (singlet and running shorts) who must've finished running as he was slightly sweaty....

He walked past my friend and then started doing cooling down excercises before us. Quite slowly and from my peripheral view I quite remember thinking that I saw his erected dick, causing a rather prominent opening for me to get a view from one of his leg opening...

Being thirteen and not having seen an adult dick, let alone even know much about erections, I thought it was my eye playing tricks with me since I thought an adult would have better sense to be wearing underwear underneath their shorts.

But even at that age, my mind seemed to be able sense danger before being able to comprehend it. After a while, I told my friend that we should head off to the basketball court since it was usually filled with basketballers who would stay back to practise and it was just a stone's throw to the bus stop.

We sat by the court and continued chatting. That fucker came again and stood on our left about 5 metres away. Again, I saw his bare erected dick from the corner of my eye. It was too much for me to fathom and I didn't want to try figuring out so when I saw that my bus came, I jumped up and ran to the bus stop to board my bus!

These guys are way too sick! Don't you think?!!!

P

On Youth

Every morning, I would take a train to work.

As creatures of habit involuntarily dictated by time and routine, I would always see the same group of four giggling school girls at my train station. They must be no more than seventeen. They exude the confidence of being part of a clique, gossiping and exchanging news about people, the camaraderie typical of girls from an all girls’ school.

Then there is also another Chinese schoolgirl, no more than sixteen in her short checked green school dress and little ankle socks. She would normally be at the train station with her father. A year ago, she used to tie her hair up in a ponytail. These days, she would let her hair down and tie it half way, ornated with a pink ribbon. I noticed too that she has taken a slightly more self-conscious effort towards her own appearance and her father no longer waits with her to board the train together. These days, she would “shoo” her father away and perhaps being well aware of his growing teenage daughter’s need for personal space, the father would exchange a few words of advice, hand over some pocket money and would walk onwards to the far end of the platform where they would board the train separately.

A few metres away, the Korean schoolboy and his friends would sneak glances in the way of this schoolgirl. Sometimes, this particular boy, a standout from his group no doubt, given the volume of his voice would strut past the girl like a peacock, trying to catch her attention. As girls do, she would take care not to notice his presence, flipped her hair light, blink and look away, while having plugged into the earphones of her pink i-pod.

My observations never fail to put a smile on my face or in my heart. I remember my days as a precocious teenager, me in my ugly green girls’ school pinafore, sitting on the railings of the bus stop with some of the other girls. The boys from next door or neighbouring schools would walk past and we would attempt to be cool and worldly, sometimes even having a can of jolly shandy (0.2% alcohol content) in hand. This is like the epitome of the coquetry routine within the Boy-Girl Relationships (BGR) mating ritual.

Age fifteen must be a time of flourishing Boy-Girl relationships (BGR) for many. For some, there were group outings with the neighbouring school boys. I quite remember always operating alone and encounters with boys have often been random and quite sporadic. Then there were also parties thrown at my house where boys from a prestigious boy school were invited as I quickly became acquainted with quite a number of them through an old primary school classmate that I was very fond of for two years between the age of 10 and 12.

Romance in my youth has always been somewhat hapless- me always being played out, like the boyfriend leaves for another girl and often ex-girlfriends or something along the lines. Or the worst incident, boyfriend and his girlfriend (hitherto unknown to me that the “cousin” turns out to be the girlfriend) have both sprung a surprise on me and that fuck ugly bastard got the girl to tell me that it was over between him and me. What a way to experience a first in being “in a relationship” at age thirteen when one is all young and innocent with a zillion romantic view of the world, me pining, thinking of him in bed (then sex or heavy petting wasn’t even on the fantasizing menu yet) with the moonlight shining through my window and onto my dreamy face while I re-enacted the scene where that bastard first held my hand in the dark at the cinema (we watched “Death becomes Her”) while my then best friend Bella sat on my right.

Shortly, I left for holidays in Malaysia and used up all my coins to ring him on his mobile from a public phone, my very first long distance call. Then there was also the time that bastard took a cab after his sports practice all the way to sneak a rendezvous with me during my break at dance camp. We were in a quiet stairway and he put his hand around my waist and I jumped at his touch, my heart raising a million miles per hour. But two weeks after, it was over. Finito! Well, not quite because how was I to know years later that the two evil accomplices were to re-appear in my life separately and continued to haunt or taunt me and the girl, too tried her hands at breaking me up with my then boyfriend. I would imagine that people would move on, even with their victims….

Then there was Elvis- the boy whom I gave my first kiss to. I was fifteen. It was truly beautiful to have happened at the far end of the breakwater at the East Coast Beach near Ford Road (a frequent hangout for gays) on a Friday evening where we cycled from our houses. Except that when it did happened, I didn’t quite anticipate it as a still very innocent schoolgirl and I was hoping to take it real slow. I meant to kiss him lightly on his lips and he stuck his tongue in. I was too shocked, my eyes wide open and he kind off ruined it with his words “You should close your eyes,” which as a very inexperienced and thus self-conscious girl (since Elvis had long before lost his virginity to a girl who looked like my best friend V), I complied and did as I was told.

Elvis has always been showy with money. He would woo me with gifts or a good dinner at Tony Roma (bearing in mind I was fifteen and he was sixteen), often bringing $200 in his wallet to take me out each outing. He would pay for my girlfriends and me. He was an Ah Beng who plays the piano and came from an English speaking home. It was the year where I first got into big trouble with the parents and would sometimes come home way past the stipulated time for my youth (alas, what unknown danger I was treading on in those days!). Coming home at 1 a.m (think it was the night he was probably hoping to de-flower me before his O-levels the next day) was the final straw for my parents and I was so grounded and was given strict orders to come home within a reasonable timeframe after tuition class (while another boy waited at the sidelines, visiting me while I had lunch at a nearby coffee shop before tuition hoping to take me to the movies).

Elvis was ever so crass, always needing to let me know how much he had spent on me. I quite remember the time he bought me a gold plated necklace with my name. It was rather popular in those days if you readers who happened to be in your high school teens in the early-mid nineties would remember that these necklaces would sell at Kalms’ for about SGD$16.95 a piece. Elvis, in his ever so boastful manner would emphasize that he paid SGD$48 for it. Again, as one who is old fashioned enough to feel embarrassed for a person’s faux pas (though the crime was committed on me), I let him off, taking care not to dampen his ego. Ironically, the day I wore the chain out on our date, it suddenly broke into half around my neck while we were on the MRT as if it was a sign of our precarious relationship.

The week I left for China for six days, he has got himself a new girl. Of all people, a junior from my school. He went to a party where he had proposed to borrow my funky Storm of London punk rock bag. Coincidently two years after, I met the acquaintance of Harry (whose then girlfriend, Adel is still my very good friend) and for some reason, we were talking and they mentioned they were at this particular party and re-enacted what they recalled of that party and confirmed seeing two people (namely Elvis and Felicity) snogging on the couch on that fateful night. See, no stones have ever been left unturned in my life. I often get the full story, albeit later.

Fast forward to age seventeen and there begin a turning point in my life. I met a boy, Mr. London (which will take me years to go on talking about that significant part of my life as many close friends would attest, which has since have a spill-over effect to my current life and beyond) and was to like him for the next eight years or so. If ever any story could so aptly summed up how I felt for this boy, one needs to go read “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens. I was obsessed like Pip for Estella and he filled my every waking moment and my mind and we have so many coincidences in the events of our personal lives. We were even born on the same day we found out. It was the day where I skipped school and was thinking so hard of him and his horoscope. I headed for the Far East Plaza in the afternoon before my private tuition class having a gut feeling I might meet someone, he was the first boy that I bumped into. My heart was pumping ever so wildly and then later when we shared a cab to our destinations, I asked for his birthday and realised that we were indeed born on the same day!

I thought I could never get over him for the rest of my life until Mr. London came to visit me in Paris. We were in the most romantic city in the world and have walked along the Champs Elysee for two consecutive nights and it sparked no magic- and half the world over and years on as we have progressed from our teens to being one quarter of a century old. As we sojourned to the Cabaret Club with my close male buddy Gof (who also came to visit and to give me emotional support), I knew that this was it. As Mr. London and us parted, I knew I had to kiss the past behind. I was already twenty five then and it’s been a long time. I have to let go, I told myself. In our semi-tipsy states, I had Gof in my arm and broke down as we walked along the Seine River knowing that this was it and that it was time to really let go. It was further re-affirmed when Gof and I later made that special trip to London to visit Mr. L and all Gof could ever proffer in advice and comfort after was, “Let him go.”
****

A few weeks ago when I was at Lan Kwai Foong, drinking cocktails with my other best friend, B and marvelling about our eleventh year friendship, her making a special trip to Hong Kong to spend time with me, we started talking about our youth. That starry-eyed romantic part of our girlish selves many, many moons ago- all the boys and guys that we have been with or fell so hard for and the silly things we did for them.

Then we were on the topic of lost innocence.

B mentioned about that “in love” innocent spark she quite recalled in my eyes whenever I met up with Mr. London. How he lit up my entire being and I looked like I was floating towards him. I conceded to her that indeed I did felt like I was floating, never felt like that for anyone again after that boy.

“Yeah, the feeling was so pure back then,” was all she ever said.

****

During my first trip back home this year, V and I were too reminiscing as we sat by the front porch of my house. We were on the topic of youth, fashion mistakes, bad hairdos, self-esteem/ confidence and re-calling gossips of old classmates in our high school days. V admitted she was always self-conscious and put on the bravado of worldliness with her cynicism.

“Was I ever a nerd like how some of you felt then?” I asked her.

“Far from one. I know you were someone different when I first saw you.”
Guess it helped when one has more pocket money to spend and a generous mother to preen oneself. I always looked with the times.

And always the first to get acquainted with the boys, kiss and tell to the girls about the wonderful world of snogging and all things naughty in precocious teenage heavy petting taken place in dark public spots. I was quite the pioneer amongst my immediate clique of friends.

Ironically though, I was the last to lose my first time amongst my friends and it only happened after many years later. I guarded it ever so fiercely.

When it did happen, I knew that it was the right decision. It felt right and I never looked back.

****

Some days, I still feel a tad like the school girls- still rather child-like and a tad innocent at times (and perhaps the reason why I get into some hapless random carnal involvement with some of the guys).

I almost feel that it was not too long ago where I donned a similar uniform, having a similar demeanour and bravado, basking in youth and a sense of streetsmart-ness and cynicism typical of a rebellious and precocious teenage. Me, not knowing where the dangers and traps lie and like a bold and reckless warrior, I learnt about the ways of the world through charging on fearlessly as my life journey took me on with countless adventures and misadventures where I have fallen and suffered a few bruises or even scars here and there for me to gain some enlightenment on some of Life’s lessons.

Strangely, after all these years, I kind of feel that my life did stopped at twenty, pre-Australia era. Or rather, my mind/ mentality or soul is somewhat trapped at that age. It’s akin to me holding a mirror to see the reflection of my soul and describe it. I would instinctively say I am around eighteen.

In reality, I think I can pass off as being age twenty-four or slightly younger, depending on the dressing, of course.

And when I snapped out of my day dreaming, it would then dawned on me in the utmost reality (as measured by the passing of time) that those uniformed days and sitting on the bus stop railings and all that innocent BGR days, losing that first kiss away, even hoping for that kiss with Mr. London before I die were days of yon and I have since been thirteen years older.

(Recently, I have just turned a year older and heading well into my late twenties. Yet again, a timed reminder of ageing.)

But have I since grown any wiser?

Personal Notes to that Old Boy (of a Gentleman)

“I sometimes feel that I look for other women only because of that spring, that momentum, that marvelous flight- filled with tenderness, desire, humility- bringing me back to my wife, whom I love even more with every new infidelity.”
- “Farewell Waltz”, Milan Kundera


****

" 'I don't know what I'm saving from detection, except perhaps that I'm guilty of several loves, of many loves instead of one.'

'That's no crime. Merely a case of divided loves!'

......

Sabrina grew frightened again. 'There comes a moment with each man, in each relationship, when I feel lonely.'

'Because of the lies?'

'But if I told the truth I would be not only lonely but also alone, and I would cause each one great harm. How can I tell Alan that for me he is like a father.' "

-"A Spy in the House of Love", Anais Nin

****

"According to the writer Jorge Luis Borges, the idea of the Zahir comes from Islamic tradition and is thought to have arisen at some point in the eighteenth century. Zahir, in Arabic, means visible,present, incapable of going unnoticed. It is someone or something which, once we have come into contact with them or it, gradually occupies our every thought, until we can think of nothing else. This can be considered either a state of holiness or of madness."
- "Encyclopedia of the Fantastic" (1953), Faubourg Saint-Peres

# posted by DilettanteP @ 12:31 am 2 comments