"Don't you ever feel lonely living alone?"
My mom asked me this question, two nights in a row during one of her, as usual, badly timed visits. The first time I couldn't even be be bothered to reply. The second time the question was beginning to get a tad bit too testy for my nerves and I told her I can't be bothered with that enquiry.
Honestly I haven't thought about that topic for some time. I am way too busy for it. Well ok the last time it crossed my mind about being lonely was when I was really sick two weeks ago but that can be easily overlooked. Every single person tend to feel miserable about being alone during such vulnerable times, don't they? I think I was more preoccupied with how to recover on time to do my classes and training. Yes, I admit it. I am addicted to gym. I have a love-hate relationship with exercise. I hate doing it but yet I can't seem to stop doing it. On the bright side, it keeps me sane and focused. I rather spend my nights in the gym than make time for some stupid relationship which is more likely to frazzle my nerves.
And as if it is some funny divine joke, someone I knew online seven years ago finally managed to pin me down during one of my rare forays back to mIRC and told me he had the hots for me all this while. Funny that should be the case because I can only recall that he usually pisses me off and elicit dry sarcasm from me. Mostly I think it's just desperation on his part. It's amazing how these things crawl out from the woodwork when you least expect it.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
I'm Back
Last week must be one of the worst weeks I've ever had. For several days I was down with what seemed to be one of the worst case of food poisoning I've ever had, with a complimentary fever to go with it. To top it off, if someone can actually have "wind" in the stomach, I must have had a hurricane. Whatever I took basically refused to stay in. Well actually it did, since I forcefully kept it down with much agony. So just to stop from suffering I stayed away from eating mostly, and as a result, I became much weaker than ever. I know most people will think I was a total idiot, but I still was doing my usual RPM™ class, with just one day of rest. Not that I was being suicidal, but there just wasn't any replacements at such short notice, and the blithering buffoon who was suppose to assist me that night did not show up, though I saw him stuffing his face at the gym vicinity.
And 3 days after, I was in training for BODYPUMP®. Three days worth of physical torment for my already bacteria ravaged body. Due to exhaustion, I woke up late on the second day. Screaming "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!", I scrambled out of bed, ignoring all hygiene routines and hunger, and arrived 15 minutes late. For some reason I performed exceptionally well with the first round of presentations, but the day was yet to be through with me. On an empty stomach I was subjected to what the trainer termed as BODYPUMP® Challenge - a 55 minutes circuit of unspeakable torture on the body. Best of all, you are required to inflict the torture upon yourself. I think I would have threw up at the end of it. The only problem was there was nothing to throw up. The result? A pair of almost useless legs which were constantly in pain for at least 3 days. The day right after, with useless legs and all, I was back on the stationary bike again for RPM™. The toll that kept me going for 3 days? At least 7 'biji' panadol. Insane does not describe me, retarded is more the case. I can still picture the look on everyone's faces whenever I told them how I was popping pills to survive the ordeal.
Somehow, I survived...
And soon I will be inflicting a different variety of torture upon gym goers. Be still my palpitating heart.
And 3 days after, I was in training for BODYPUMP®. Three days worth of physical torment for my already bacteria ravaged body. Due to exhaustion, I woke up late on the second day. Screaming "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!", I scrambled out of bed, ignoring all hygiene routines and hunger, and arrived 15 minutes late. For some reason I performed exceptionally well with the first round of presentations, but the day was yet to be through with me. On an empty stomach I was subjected to what the trainer termed as BODYPUMP® Challenge - a 55 minutes circuit of unspeakable torture on the body. Best of all, you are required to inflict the torture upon yourself. I think I would have threw up at the end of it. The only problem was there was nothing to throw up. The result? A pair of almost useless legs which were constantly in pain for at least 3 days. The day right after, with useless legs and all, I was back on the stationary bike again for RPM™. The toll that kept me going for 3 days? At least 7 'biji' panadol. Insane does not describe me, retarded is more the case. I can still picture the look on everyone's faces whenever I told them how I was popping pills to survive the ordeal.
Somehow, I survived...
And soon I will be inflicting a different variety of torture upon gym goers. Be still my palpitating heart.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
It's Just Another Farewell
I wrote about him before in my previous journal, the one whom I called the Fallen Angel. One of three guys who made a big influence in my life, well discounting my father. Prior to meeting him seven years ago, I was told by a friend that I would not help liking him because of his cheerful and perpetually smiling exterior. Well that friend was right, I couldn't help liking him. Little did I know he would also turn my life around. He would inspire me to be always true to myself. Perhaps what I am today, I still owe it to him, though he might not know the extent of his influence in my life.
Seven years sort of brought a rift between us. Nothing dramatic, it's just the way time tends to sunder most things. Though not close anymore, I still had great respect for this guy though he seemed somewhat changed from the person I used to know. Then again so have I. Recently I chanced to know he was moving overseas. At first I thought little about it. He didn't even tell me he was leaving. Out of a whim, I wished him all the best anyway, to which he seemed surprised because he hadn't expected a lot of people to know of his imminent departure. He thought little about it, to him it seemed like not too far a move, just that he will rarely be around.
Last Saturday we had a sort of informal farewell for him. There was nothing sad about it. It was almost like just a normal weekend getogether. When he put his arm around my shoulders in a brotherly gesture, that was when I realised despite the seven years rift and all, I was going to miss him. For a moment I thought I saw the same guy I used to know, the one who inspired me to be myself. Wish I had enough guts to tell him how much I love him, not so much as a lover, or a friend but as a genuine human being. One that I grew to admire and in some ways aspired to be. I believe everybody should have a friend like him in their lives. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.
See you around B... and good tidings.
Seven years sort of brought a rift between us. Nothing dramatic, it's just the way time tends to sunder most things. Though not close anymore, I still had great respect for this guy though he seemed somewhat changed from the person I used to know. Then again so have I. Recently I chanced to know he was moving overseas. At first I thought little about it. He didn't even tell me he was leaving. Out of a whim, I wished him all the best anyway, to which he seemed surprised because he hadn't expected a lot of people to know of his imminent departure. He thought little about it, to him it seemed like not too far a move, just that he will rarely be around.
Last Saturday we had a sort of informal farewell for him. There was nothing sad about it. It was almost like just a normal weekend getogether. When he put his arm around my shoulders in a brotherly gesture, that was when I realised despite the seven years rift and all, I was going to miss him. For a moment I thought I saw the same guy I used to know, the one who inspired me to be myself. Wish I had enough guts to tell him how much I love him, not so much as a lover, or a friend but as a genuine human being. One that I grew to admire and in some ways aspired to be. I believe everybody should have a friend like him in their lives. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.
See you around B... and good tidings.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
The Final Curtain
A friend's recent brush with a serious illness led to conversation about the value of friendship. And from there, somehow we ended up talking about whether or not any of my friends would know should I suddenly find myself on a trip back to meet the maker. In any case, they would eventually know but I think the emphasis here is how fast the news would travel. Now there are several scenarios of what will transpire. This might sound like a morbid topic but then again according to a monk I read about once, he actually keeps his homemade coffin around to remind himself of his own mortality, so heck, let's take a shot at this shall we?
Well first, we will consider the nature of my demise. Should I find myself kicking the bucket at home alone, probably from choking, electrocution, crushed from a falling shelf, etc., it will probably take at least over a week before the neighbours begin noticing the foul odour of my decomposing corpse. Of course by then, the gyms would have called my phone repeatedly over my class absence and the coordinators and members would be cursing me for my sudden lapse in responsibility. So let's say they discover my bloated corpse by the seventh day, my death would come to the attention of my family. Finally, the incessant calls from the gyms would eventually be answered by someone and they would be told of my tragic passing. The news begins to travel faster than the speed of premature ejaculation through the gym grapevine, which will eventually reach the ears of my friends. Shocked, they will wring their broken wrists in distress as they begin discussing about the feasibility of attending my funeral, only to realise this fact - they did not know where I came from, therefore would not know where my funeral would be held. They would be alternating between Ipoh and Sitiawan, both of which are not my hometown. Of course by the time they figured it out, I would have been already been cremated for at least three days.
Should I die in the presence of someone, news of my passing would of course travel faster. Someone in my family would either pick up a random call for me or decided to inform my friends via people recorded in handphone, half of which probably doesn't even remember who I am. However, once again they will probably hit the previous snag of not knowing where my funeral would be held which of course and the result will remain the same. Now let's say someone did remember where I come from, they will balk at the location and decide that I will understand that they couldn't attend. Among excuses that will probably be heard are, parents being superstitious of attending funerals and work commitments.
As gothic humour this may sound, it's a sad and possible truth that this may be what will transpire should I die suddenly. I anticipate that at least only two friends will make it to the funeral out of their own steam should they get wind of my demise quick enough. I think they know who they are. This post is not really about death in particular, but how well do we really know the people around us. Often we take their presence for granted, yet 'friends' we call them. I remembered a time when I went through great lengths to make sure I maintain my bond with the people that I know, but much like the over-rated issue of the Malaysia-Singapore crooked bridge, such things just don't just work one way. Few years down the road and my so called closest friend still think don't know for sure what I do for a living (he just assumes I am in IT). But that's not too bad, after all, at least it will take within a week for my gay friends to find out if I kicked the bucket. The others? I will consider it fortunate if they know about it within a year.
Well first, we will consider the nature of my demise. Should I find myself kicking the bucket at home alone, probably from choking, electrocution, crushed from a falling shelf, etc., it will probably take at least over a week before the neighbours begin noticing the foul odour of my decomposing corpse. Of course by then, the gyms would have called my phone repeatedly over my class absence and the coordinators and members would be cursing me for my sudden lapse in responsibility. So let's say they discover my bloated corpse by the seventh day, my death would come to the attention of my family. Finally, the incessant calls from the gyms would eventually be answered by someone and they would be told of my tragic passing. The news begins to travel faster than the speed of premature ejaculation through the gym grapevine, which will eventually reach the ears of my friends. Shocked, they will wring their broken wrists in distress as they begin discussing about the feasibility of attending my funeral, only to realise this fact - they did not know where I came from, therefore would not know where my funeral would be held. They would be alternating between Ipoh and Sitiawan, both of which are not my hometown. Of course by the time they figured it out, I would have been already been cremated for at least three days.
Should I die in the presence of someone, news of my passing would of course travel faster. Someone in my family would either pick up a random call for me or decided to inform my friends via people recorded in handphone, half of which probably doesn't even remember who I am. However, once again they will probably hit the previous snag of not knowing where my funeral would be held which of course and the result will remain the same. Now let's say someone did remember where I come from, they will balk at the location and decide that I will understand that they couldn't attend. Among excuses that will probably be heard are, parents being superstitious of attending funerals and work commitments.
As gothic humour this may sound, it's a sad and possible truth that this may be what will transpire should I die suddenly. I anticipate that at least only two friends will make it to the funeral out of their own steam should they get wind of my demise quick enough. I think they know who they are. This post is not really about death in particular, but how well do we really know the people around us. Often we take their presence for granted, yet 'friends' we call them. I remembered a time when I went through great lengths to make sure I maintain my bond with the people that I know, but much like the over-rated issue of the Malaysia-Singapore crooked bridge, such things just don't just work one way. Few years down the road and my so called closest friend still think don't know for sure what I do for a living (he just assumes I am in IT). But that's not too bad, after all, at least it will take within a week for my gay friends to find out if I kicked the bucket. The others? I will consider it fortunate if they know about it within a year.
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