When Everything Is Nothing

I have everything.

And yet… I feel like I have nothing.

How is that even remotely possible? I mean, I don't think it's dissatisfaction. I don't think it's discontentment. At least it doesn't feel like it's any of those. It's just… unhappiness. Yeah. Unhappiness.


I'm just having one of those days, you know? I hate these days. Days when I get hit by unexplainable bouts of loneliness and sadness. Days when I mourn, but for what and whom, I do not know. Days when I just feel all alone and all forlorn. Like I have nothing and no one.

But that's not true. I know it isn't. I have everything and I have people around me who care for me, who love me, and who miss me. Yeah, I say it. But why is it so difficult for me to believe what I say?

I get a feeling of hopelessness. Like everything we do eventually becomes yet another futile attempt at correcting and righting the many wrongs in our lives. We exhaust all efforts even with the full knowledge and awareness that the Game of Life we play is actually a pointless, purposeless, and an ultimately vain attempt to do something to fill our time, as we watch the years creep slowly by. It's a pathetic way to go through life but we do it anyways, for it beats sitting by doing nothing at all.


I feel forsaken and forgotten. Could it be that I have been? I hope not. Hah. Hope. How ironic that that word popped up just a paragraph after.

Sigh.

I dunno what it is. I'm just not happy. And it's not Dark Queen's struck back. It's nowhere near anger. Just... sadness. I feel... Incomplete. Unfulfilled. =( I just wish life were different, you know?


Perhaps it's cos I miss some people I care about. People whom I haven't seen in awhile or hadn't had the chance to really sit down and catch up with. Or perhaps it's cos I miss the places I used to frequent. I miss the constants in my life. I miss doing what I'm used to doing at the times I'm used to doing them. It has been three months, after all. I really shouldn't be surprised. And honestly, I'm not. But still, it doesn't ease the pain.


I miss the midnight movies with the Movie Crew. I miss the ever-so-often McDonald's visits. I miss Monday nights with Lorenz & Preston. I miss the late night talks. I miss the never ending suppers. Yeah, I miss it all.

Sigh.

I feel like I've lost touch with the world. I've lost touch with my world. It's like I dropped out of the ballgame and nobody even noticed a missing player. Like I've been left behind while the world just moved on ahead without me.


So, I escape that reality. I escape it, and I run to where I know I am given the freedom to write and express myself. It is here that I clear my mind and assess my thoughts and emotions. It is here that I let what I feel flow onto the screen before my eyes – no holds barred. And then, I read back on what I've written to understand what I'm really feeling on the inside. Yes, I write, then I read, in an effort to dissect what my emotions have allowed my fingers to reveal.

Blogging is therapeutic.

And now, it's time to read.


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*blink blink*

Wow. So that was it. I actually figured it out.

Solitude And Loneliness

Being alone is bad enough as it is. But loneliness is, by far, a more difficult encounter to brave. And being alone and feeling lonely is a fate so cruel that nobody should ever be made to endure.


I pray that wherever you may be, you are never alone. And I pray that your heart will never be lonely no matter what circumstances may go your way in times to come. And lastly, I pray that you will never find yourself in a position to be alone and lonely, for solitude and loneliness should never come together, except in a sentence.

I'm VERY Weird

I'm really getting a hang of this I'm-actually-pretty-weird thing. Haha. It's already been 2 days but every time I do anything out of the ordinary or anything uniquely Pam, I feel that itch. You know that itch, don't you? The one that bloggers get when their fingers feel like slamming themselves over and over again on small square keys in an effort to fill your screen with tiny letters? Well, I got that itch bad this time.

But then I thought to myself, "Eh, what for tell people and let them know so much!? No need la!" But at the same time, why not? It's not like I'm ashamed to be me. It's not like I'm embarrassed about who I am and what I do. It doesn't matter how much of a freak others think I am. So what if you think I'm weird? It's not like I feel weird for being weird.

So, here goes.

2 MORE WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME


8. I've got this thing about digital numbers that indicate the volume. Some are okay, some are not. There's no rule to it. It's highly random and there's no way I'd be able to explain it even if my life depended on it. *pauses* Okay, perhaps if my life really depended on it, I'd come up with something believable. 8's okay, 9's not. 10's okay, 11's not. 12's okay, 13's not. See a pattern already? Well, if you thought that you're smart and all that, you're probably wrong cos 20's okay… and 21's okay, too! Hah! Not that smart after all eh? Told you it was random. Even so, I'm just really anal about it. I kid you not, so I'm warning you now. Never ever touch/change/mess with my hi-fi/stereo/mini-combo volume. It'd be suicide.


9. I always buy dresses but I rarely ever wear them. Few people have seen my legs and even fewer have seen me in a dress. Haha. Dunno why also la. I mean, it's not like I've got eye cancer-inducing boils all over my legs or anything. It's just… Hmmm. Heck, I don't know what it is! I mean, I like dresses. That's why I buy them. I just don't know why I don't wear them. But whatever the reason, all that will change this year. Yes, it will change this year. IT WILL. I will.


I think I should leave it at this tonight. Two weird things about me. Haha. I'll go easy and ease my rankings on the Weird Charts or they'd name me Ruler of the Weird Quotient.

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I'm not weird.

I'm special and you're just jealous.

To Crap Or Not To Crap?

It all started like this…

Just a couple of days ago, I was Googled and was told to Google myself just to check out the results. (Haha. That was a funny experience.) So what happened was that I stumbled upon an old friend's blog. You see, I found that my name was on a blogspot page (hers) so I clicked on the link out of curiosity and that's how I found her blog – by fluke. I haven't seen her for YEARS. Even so, via Google, I found that she linked my blog to hers. And the link was to the new Tinki Talks, no less! It was a really pleasant surprise. =)

So what I did was I paid her blog a visit and very politely spammed her chatbox asked how she was doing. Interestingly, she replied and we actually had a four-part conversation over the course of 27 hours or so.

A total of 59 words, by two people, in 27 hours.

Uh huh. Yeah, I know. We're geniuses.


*blink blink*

Counter that and you're a dead man.

Yup yup. Don't worry, you didn't read wrongly. I said, "MAN". And to be honest, I don't think that I'm being totally sexist here cos it's usually the GUYS who just seem to wanna find fault with me. My comments are all the proof I need. Hmmph. Men. Pffft. I shall say no more. With this, I rest my case.

*blink blink*


You know ah, this post super kau-lat keluar topik, man. Haha.

So back to the topic at hand… Uh, wait a minute. What was the topic at hand? Darn. I can't remember why I started writing.

*scratches head*


OH YEAH!

Okay okay. Got it.
Sorry la. Getting old laaa.

Okay, so the problem is this. I'm not sure how I should respond to her final reply to me on her chatbox. I mean, she did say earlier that she reads my blog because she finds it interesting, right?

Right? That's supposed to be positive, right?
A compliment, maybe, or at least a little teeny tiny hint of it?

And of course, being the typical Chinese (I AM CHINESE), it's never "polite" to agree with praises of any sort. If people tell you your hair looks good, you're supposed to say, "Aiyo, need to cut di lor. Got split ends! Very dry la, very dry." If they say you're a fantastic cook, you say, "Aih, I think this time not enough salt la. Need to perfect my skills summore wan." And if they say that you have nice eyes, you say, "No laaa. Yours nicer leh! My eyeball is not as… uh, round as yours." Heh. Whatever la. You get the idea. Bottom line is that you're not supposed toot your own horn or respond positively to any tooting directed your way.

Easy, right?

WRONG.

Word choice is sooooo important.

Sigh.

There I was, pretending to be being all bashful and such.

So I said…

See? I did the whole bashful thingy perfectly! I first expressed my happiness towards her liking towards Tinki Talks (whoa) and then after showing her how grateful I was, I covered it up by doing the whole Chinese-paiseh-showing-off-is-impolite thing – I said that I crap. Of course, as you can see, I didn't do the sipu-sipu giggle after that la. But to my credit, I even added the very important, very prominent "HAHA" at the end of my punchline, okay! I personally think that this answer to her chat was a fine one.

But how do I answer the next one?




Whoaaaaa. Hold. On. There.

Holy moley! Did she just agree that my work's crap!? Damn! So am I supposed to be angry or something!? Should I start throwing my mouse around, stabbing holes through my computer screen, dismantling my keyboard in frustration and then stop blogging altogether? What should I do? What should I say? WHAT!?


But then again, she did say that my crap's worth reading. Hmmm. So what does that mean then? She doesn't like the good stuff, only reads crap and actually enjoys it? So let me get this straight. I've actually got good crap comin' outta me? Cools! But, hang on there. The woman likes my crap. She actually likes my crap!? I don't know what to make of that. Should I go "Yay" now?

CRAP
noun
1.	obscene terms for feces
verb
1.	have a bowel movement; "The dog had made in the flower beds" [syn: stool]

WordNet® 2.1, © 2005 Princeton University

O-k-a-y. Would you look at that.

So, she likes my crap, huh? Uh… that can't be good, right?

Mixed emotions – also not good.

I'm confused. How now?

Darn It, Just Pay Me!

Remember my post from way back when I was still at FriendsterBlogs? The one about getting paid to post? Well, if you've been a loyal visitor, you'd know what I'm talking about. Good on ya. It's good to be in the know of things. If you haven't, where the heck have you been, man?! Laggard.

*snicker*

Peace laaaa.

*grin*

So anyway, I've finally come to the end of my gripe. (Hopefully.) I signed up with Nuffnang.com last night. It's pretty baby (as in new =p) but I've seen their ads around when I blog-surf. So, while I was up surfing last night, I stumbled upon it again. Presenting the revolutionary Nuffnang.com

*blink blink*

I hope they're not conning my poor, penniless ass.

Anyhew, it's too late to back out now. Haha.

Check this out, man.

I'm a part of the blog ad community that's supposed to help me make money as I blog, through advertising. They call it a website By Bloggers For Bloggers. Yeah, whatever. Just tell me what to do and gimmie my money.

So here's the deal.

They've kautim-ed the former.

No wait.

Actually I'VE kautim-ed the former.

I obeyed instructions and did the necessary script cutting and pasting. I was a real good girl last night (like every other night…duh). Now it's up to them to keep their promise of the latter. Well, as much fun as the prospect of making money was, it was a lonely night. I went to bed at 3am, after completing my part of the deal with Nuffnang.com

…with me being my only reader.

Sigh. So sad hor?

*puppy dog eyes*

How to make money like this?!
Si liao la. Beh than ciak.

But look! I woke up at 8.30am with THIS!

Hey, don't you guys ever sleep!?

I think I'll answer that myself. It's a big fat "NO". Why? Cos when I arrived at my destination and checked the counter (I just couldn't resist the lure of the Nuffnang visit counter), the numbers already changed! Tada! 9.30am, baby!

Not bad for six and a half hours, huh?

I'm sure some of them are probably first-time readers though. I don't know. I'm guessing. But then, I never knew that Tinki Talks had this many readers. I mean, for goodness sakes, I first started this blog simply because I was dead bored while in Perth for a 16-day holiday and thought it was an easy (and cheap) way to update my dad with the happenings where I was! Haha.


So... Back to the topic at hand. At 10.15am I did one final check. This will be my final check (for this morning). I promise.

*sweet sweet smile*

Look.

Okay la, right? I don't think I'm doing that badly. Can make a little bit of pocket money la, right? Enough to pay for my toilet paper, maybe?

YEEESSSSS!

I'm finally going to be a multi-millionaaaaiiiirrreeeeee!

Pining for the Absent Pineapple

Look familiar?

Well, it reminded me of the good old days.

It reminded me of you.




Good times, huh. Good times.




Sigh.

Boy, do I miss you. I miss you so.

I'm Weird

Oh. My. Goodness.

pamsonggottagged!

Yeah, you read it right – pamsong. Heh. You see, I couldn't decide whether this was a Tinki occasion or a Dark Queen one, so I decided that pamsong was to be the flavour of the day. Don't argue with me.

So here I am, being me for once.

Hi, guys. Nice to meet you. =)

This isn't the first time I've been tagged but it's gonna be the first time I'm actually responding to a tag with a post. I usually don't bother. It's nothing personal. I just happen to be Empress of Close-One-Eye Land. Haha. But this time was different. I was personally informed of the tag by a Missy from Down South. Jeng. Cannot close eye di. =p

So, Missy (you know who you are)… Feel. Honoured.

*takes deep breath*

Here we go.

6 WEIRD THINGS ABOUT ME


1. I'm overly picky with my food. I apparently pick everything out of my food. It's really an exaggeration but that's the way "The Others" put it. It's not true, though. I don't pick everything out of my food, I just pick some things out of my food. *big fat juicy grin* Sigh. Okay, fine. I pick most things out of my food. Happy? *snort* Garlic, out! Ginger, out! Onions, out! Tomatoes, out! Pickles out! Pepper, out! Salt, in! Heh. Never touch my salt. Just.Leave.My.Salt.Alone. I only eat "water-less" vegetables like broccoli, cauliflower, Hong Kong kailan and, uh… broccoli. Cabbages are "water-less" vegetables, lettuces are not. And I never eat taugeh when it serves as an add-on to the main dish. I only eat it if it's fried solo. Only chicken breast meat for me, thank you very much.


2. I alter everything. Keyword: Change. *frowns* No no, wait. Keyword: Me. *smiles* Yeah, that's more like it. I can't leave my clothes as they are and I end up altering most of them to my liking. I get them to look and feel just the way I want them to. Only then do they become my clothes in my style according to my body in my cut. I change widths and lengths, and I cut and I sew. Actually, I blame the ridiculous angmor sizes they try to sell us tiny Asians. Bodoh mia. Tapi last time, I also bodoh a bit. There was a time I did it on my own. And then I found this fantastic lady to do the dirty work for me for a fair sum. Thank God for her. I think I'm her best customer and I have reason to believe that I am. She gave me a red packet this year. And she's not married. Hah! Beat that.


3. I talk to cars, people in cars and people outside my car, who can't hear me. "Move la!" "Signal – can or not?!" "Cross road cross properly la!" But I've realized that I don't do it out of anger, though. Very rarely la. It's usually just… uh, conversation with the masses. HAHA. Yeah. I talk to people who can't hear me and objects that don't respond to me. It's not easy but I've mastered the art. Yes yes, I rock. Now, stop clapping.


4. I have a cinema bag. Ooo. This well-equipped bag simply completes the movie-going experience. It holds my cinema pillow (yes, I have a cinema pillow), my blanket/jacket and my water tumbler – sacred essentials when paying to stare at the big screen for 2 hours or so. It's grown to be very precious to me. We've come to be very close over the past couple of years. It's seen me through many movies – good ones, not-so-good ones, bad ones, happy ones, sad ones, romantic ones, funny ones, scary ones, lame ones – the works. Yeah. We're close. And due to its dedication and excellent service over the years, I may upgrade it to being my full-time cinema bag. Specialization so rulez. Touch the bag and I'll kill you. I promise you I will.


5. I never fall asleep with my ears exposed. I don't know why. All you'll see of me is a part of my face. Probably the width of a tennis ball or something. Haha. Just enough for there to be sufficient airflow and for me not to die of suffocation. It started when I was a kid. I'm guessing it's cos I had a bad experience with some beetle making my ear its home for a night way back when I was much younger. Anyway, the rule is to cover, cover, cover!

Sigh.

Do I really need SIX weird things? Won't five do?
See, this only proves that I'm not a weirdo.
I'm normal. I'm waaaay beyond normal.
Heck, I am normal personified.

Sigh.


*thinking thinking*

Wait a minute, I GOT IT!

6. I am obsessed with having my own kid. Unless you're a kid yourself, you can never be too young to want a kid. I'm no kid. I want a kid. Give me a kid. NOW. *blink blink* Sigh. This is really getting old. Nobody's doing what I tell them to do. They're all keeping their kids to themselves. Tom and Katie sure need lessons on kid-sharing. Hmmph. Selfish buggers. *grumble grumble grumble* I wonder if I can get mine on eBay. *click click* Brad and Angelina should have tried the Internet.

See, how could I have not thought about that point just now?


*snicker*


But now, it's baby blues galore thanks to the absence
of any kind of baby in my life. Bleh. So no fun.

Oh wait! I have another!

7. I have bad Birdophobia. Ornithophobia, they call it. You really can't blame me for it, though. It's almost like they held an AGM and named me "The Chosen One" who gets the honour of being bombed on all the time. Fed up. Like I'm walking around with a bullseye on the top of my head, man. Sigh. I wish they'd all just die and leave me to live in peace. And they're not to drop all over like hailstones but like, maybe disappear or something when they die, you know? Oh, and I'm starting to think that I have Tagophobia, too.

*blink blink*


Whoa. I ended up coming up with SEVEN weird things.
Hmmm. Looks like I am weird after all. I blame Missy.

Teruk Wei

Having no Internet connection is the worst punishment EVER!

E.V.E.R.

It's worst than being physically grounded.


*blink blink*


No. Sorry.

What I meant to say was that
it's worse than being physically grounded… FOR LIFE!

Cannot check mail la. Cannot check Friendster la. Cannot watch I-have-no-life-so-just-humour-me stuff on YouTube la. Cannot chat online la. Cannot webcam la. Cannot ber-Google la. Cannot torrent la. Cannot surf la. Cannot read other people's blogs la.

CANNOT BLOG LA!

Can die wan wei!

I neeeeeed the Internet. I neeeeeed the sense of empowerment I get each time I log myself into the system. I neeeeeed the comfort I get from being connected to the millions of lives around the world. I neeeeeed the synergy of my interaction with others without necessarily having to see, feel or touch in conventional ways. I neeeeeed the interdependence of our relationships to continue the way they have for without them, I feel at lack. I neeeeeed our online alliances where it's on a we-only-chat-with-each-other-online basis. I neeeeeed the certainty of a never-ending store of sites to visit should I wish to entertain and amuse myself.

I. Need. The. Internet.

Hmmph.

Beh tahan nia.

Well, after a total of no more than 30 hours without Internet connection, I've finally come to the conclusion that this is the worst punishment to befall mankind, on this planet, in this time and age. No joke. The ultimate win-hands-down type of punishment that drives the punish-ee to the brinks of insanity. And heck, I've enjoyed less than a decade of the luxury, okay. Can you imagine how my kids will be like? Can you imagine how dependent they would be on the blinking of little green LEDs? Kantoi la!

You know what? I'm gonna use it against my kids next time. Sure wan. Try berjahat with me and see? Sure kena kau kau. No Internet for a week! Try again, a month! Hah! But I'm sure they'll know I love them. Spare the Internet, spoil the child, right? =p

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Thank God for the Internet.