when you can’t use work as an excuse

it’s amazing how much money you can spend when you’re unemployed. as it turns out, my timing to quit was tres naive..1 week before christmas. in the last 3 weeks my baby sis came back, outta friends had to be treated to meals, had to buy presents for the extended family (cuz you can’t use work as an excuse), and those %!@$# boxing day sales began. woe is me, i feel doubly pinched.

adjust my living standards..adjust, adjust, must adjust.

my room is still in piles. just added another pile of Recently Purchased WTFs.

Last night, for the first time since i can remember, i kissed a boyfriend at midnight. after weeks of fretting and wondering how the hell i should usher in the new year ‘in style’, even after piecing together several different outfits for the different countdown options, i ended up nuzzling on the balcony with my serious bf in pj’s and that hideous flannel robe i refuse to give up. (gosh i don’t like how this sounds….older?)

and now i am sitting in a shitstorm of a messy room, UNEMPLOYED, and trying to get a grip. i’ve got piles of shit everywhere to illustrate what feels like adult ADD: pile of Used Books to Give Away, pile of Expired Makeup (got a mountain of such crap from my daze of clubbin’ and drinkin’), pile of Piano Music I Shall Play Once Again, pile of Magazine Covers To Keep, pile of Summer Shoes For Storing, pile of Reusable Used Giftwrap. etc, etc, etc. All good intentions that I resolve fulfill this year.

Happy 2010 dear dear friends…lenny, cheryl, ben, elaine, ray, and whoever else has been e-watching me grow up.

i resolve to be brave

I have nights when I’m too scared of the dark to sleep. Seriously, I haven’t grown out of this fear of ghosts and creepy crawlies since I was a toddler and dad would read in my room waiting for me to fall asleep. Why haven’t I grown out of it. During these dreaded sleepless moments, which seem to increase around my Mr. Friendly, I find myself laying awake up hyperactively waiting to hear/feel something…..scary.

It’s the night before my last day at the Post, where I’ve spent almost 1.5 years feeling tired and stressed out and often inadequate. It’ll be the first time I’m leaving a job with absolutely nothing waiting for me. A couple Christmas things with the fam, a couple of overseas trips, but they’ll all end.

A month ago when I first resigned, I couldn’t WAIT for this night. The uncertainty and possibilities of what I could do next were so exciting. But tonight, I feel empty. Scared. This time not by the supernatural, but of myself. I’m scared of what I’m going to feel and think about when I don’t have a dozen things to do throughout the day. Scared of how lonely I’ll feel when I’m not being chased by my editor/PR/contact/colleagues, scared of not being able to look at my bf sitting across from me and feel immediately calmer, scared I’m not going to follow through on anything I wanted to do. I mean, I already feel empty that there’s no new 90210 and GG this week. Well, I know I’ll be fine.

holiday pity party!!

I kinda hate Christmas. This is a very recent feeling. Up until I was 25, this was my favorite holiday of the year. It was the one time I was allowed myself to to embrace the wholesome, family-oriented 14-yo daughter in me, rather than my sorta angsty status quo. My family  followed all the cheesy x’mas traditions, like waking up early to open presents, going out for a slightly-over-budget brunch, joining the mob of young families at night to look up at the skyscraper lights. For 2-3 days, pretty much every activity was with the family..I didn’t really need to escape to see friends.

Hence now, for a 3rd year running, I feel the holiday blues setting in. I feel the atmosphere at home become a little heavier. I’m procrastinating on buying meaningful gifts for people who already have everything they need. Even the plastic Christmas tree in the living room which L quietly put up is a constant reminder of how happy this home used to be.

On a related note, this year I also knocked off Halloween as my second favourite holiday of the year. This was the first year I didn’t dress up at all. In fact, I remember spending the day working and by nighttime was too tired to party hardy. So bf and I hung out like it was any other night. Which- i know- it is for most practical adults, but I’m still a little sad that my health and emotional wellness forced me to outgrow it (prematurely?).

My favourite holiday of the year is now Thanksgiving. Ironically so, since I spell like a Brit and don’t even live in the US.

patience

When a girl turns 28, she thinks she should be a woman by now. A woman is, as a wise man once told me, someone who appreciates what she has to offer the world. Someone full of grace, compassion, confidence, self-love. I like that definition. I’m far from it, but me likey.

Some women, like my sister, slip into this state naturally. I can’t help but envy her a little. I assume it is mostly genetic, because I can’t see how my parents raised her too differently. Or did it have to do with expensive, private education all the way? Or being raised in Asia for most of her life? shrug.

For others, like myself and C and E and H, we have to try harder. We have to overcome greater personal obstacles, like love/hate relationships with our moms and cold/hot fathers and rare physical problems and hormonal imbalances and inner demon shit. And an innate sense of curiosity. And the men, the poor men, we have to get used over seeing them cry.

Meanwhile, we grow more desolate as we watch those around us slip into womanhood and motherhood with seeming ease..

Euge mentioned the other day that I only blog when I’m emotionally turbulent. Guilty! But tonight, on a Saturday night alone at home (preceded by a Friday night alone at home and no social plans on Sunday) I don’t feel shaky. I feel removed. Numb. Deja vu.

what if

of all the what if’s in life to choose from, the one i think about most is probably ‘what if i’d been poor’. what if my family hadn’t had enough money for all those piano lessons, the sashimi, the annual vacations, the brain surgery. would i have been a better person?

one of my favourite books as a teen was this super obscure chick lit novel called jennie. it’s about a wealthy but kind-hearted girl (jennie) who falls for a poor, handsome young doctor. she tries to disguise her wealth in front of him, though he learns about it soon after. but no matter how sweet or charitable she is, and how attracted he is to her, he just brushes her off (it’s for teens ok?) because he thinks she’ll never understand his world and he doesn’t want to be a part of hers. god this is starting to sound like gossip girl.

anyway the part i remember most was when he blew up at her for being spoiled and snobby. and jennie coolly replied, “you’re the snob. you wear your poverty like it’s a badge.”

virtues are virtues, i guess. no matter what’s in your bank account.

the call

actually, it was an email from an ex. he told me to stop diving into relationships, to stop hurting guys, to think a bit more. he told me i was lost. (if only he could understand that dumping can suck as much as being dumped, sometimes more because you have to keep your sadness bottled up. it’s not cool to act hurt after you’ve dumped someone).

it’s been almost a week since that wake-up call from a bitter man but i can’t stop thinking about it. i’m not sure which parent to blame for making me such a fucking commitment-phobic nutcase, but even if i did know, then what?

procastinating

i haven’t blogged in here for awhile; not cuz i’d forgotten about it or anything; not cuz i don’t care. quite le contrary. you know how sometimes you care so much about something or someone that you just..can’t deal with it the way you want to deep down. not right now anyway.

and then someone dies, or someone young falls terminally ill, or you listen to that song, and suddenly you remember fatality. mortality. that you too, like parents, are ageing.

so i blog while sobering up in a single hotel room in sing sing. i haven’t had my own hotel room since god knows when, still takes a bit of effort to think of it as a novelty though. these moments are nicer shared.

i went to a wedding this morning, and someone asked if i thought the couple were really in love. not going to answer that here. but makes me wonder (in paranoia), if i ever get married, will the guests scrutinize my body language and judge whether i made a mistake or not? jesus pressure and city hall!

tired

i am so sad.

this blog ain’t dead, but i’ve been more active at a new page: alivenotdead.com/micearoni. it’s a bit like an asian myspace.

more day-to-day updates, less intimacy. reserving intimacy for offline.  you just never know these days, what with the chinese e-spying on foreign embassies sympathetic to the dalai lama.