i wear my sunglasses at night

A tiring weekend, due more to late nights than actual activities.

4 AM on Friday AND Saturday night. But no tears, unlike Gwen.

Attended a party on Saturday, and was a bit taken aback by certain characters. Though I was also bemused, and entertained. Yet it is not a party I would readily attend again in the near future, at least, not with the same crowd. The party itself was anything but boring, at the same time it was anything but enjoyable. It was one of those events that hover between great and gross, a party you'd talk about over a cup of coffee, but would be loathe to recall to memory.

So a new week is upon us. Nothing as yet to make me anticipate an eventful 7 days, in this week-to-week existence that I've embraced, albeit unwillingly. Sunday nights are beginning to bring me down; I can't usually find a reason to look forward to Monday. Do I need a holiday? Yes. Should I go for a holiday? No. Not for the moment at least. Financial famine. Dough drought.

Another night, another day
What can I say
You're still the same old brand new you

Well, at least I'm coming to terms with current events. I've contrived to let the cat out of the bag, a little by little. Though I really don't know what I'm expecting as response. Sympathy? Nope. Understanding? Doubt it. Empathy? Never crossed my mind. Then again, am I really looking for a response? I'm not too sure. A matter-of-factly one would be quite welcome, truth be told.

Perhaps I need a change in routine. Something to shake up my day. Got to look forward to things, instead of waving them aside absently.

I need a reason. Damn.

nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain

Logically speaking, November rain can't really fall in December, can it? Ergo, it doesn't last forever. More specifically, it lasts for a maximum of 30 days. Think about it. Quite pedantic eh?

Today, I feel fine. Not exceptionally cheery, but relatively happy. Because it's Friday. Which means two upcoming days of lazing around and doing nothing, and telling the world to bugger off. Then it's back to morose Monday and mundane drudgery. Suddenly I'm not so happy anymore, bloody Monday. "Tell me why I don't like Mondays, tell me why I don't like Mondays."

I reckon butt fun is the flavour of this dying week. Spread the papers open, and you'll nod knowingly. The number two chap in Malaysia reportedly gave glowing praise about a now-deceased Mongolian model's penchant for anal sex, while the former number two chap has been linked yet again with sodomy. Go figure, just shows how anal things are here in Malaysia, no pun intended.

What will I do for the weekend? D&D, hopefully. Party somewhere on Saturday night, more hopefully. Have coffee at a cafe, most likely. Or maybe I'll catch a movie. Get Smart would be a mild tonic.

Do I want to start again? I'm not sure. Then again, do I know what I want? I'm not sure. Deja vu. Looking at things philosophically, do I really want to build a house when I could stay in a hotel? Why spend years trying to build something that will most likely come crumbling down? Almost everyone espouses the virtues of enjoying one's life to the fullest, to sample the finest life offers, to live the life. And thus far, that outlook is an anathema to commitment.

Tis only July, and I'm yearning for another holiday. Ideally, a holiday every three months is just that, ideal. So I really should be planning something only for August/ September and not July. I'm loathe to say perhaps Phuket, because I can already hear the recriminations from the masses playing in my head. "Didn't you just go there this year?" It's sort of like if you fancy burgers, you keep ordering them. If you fancy a place, you keep going there. Simple, though I don't really see the need to justify my holiday destinations. Langkawi or Tioman would be a good alternative, though I also have half an eye (if that's possible) on Koh Samui.

We deal with angst in many different ways. I used to take it out on Johnny and Jim and Jack, until I learnt the hard way that they will only placate you for a while, just to prepare you for a long descent into the depths of despair later. Now I use holidays as an escape from the glitches in life, a sort of therapeutic troubleshooting. Just planning them, though difficult to the uninitiated, soothes the raging nerves and throbbing emotions. I can now say with certainty (what others have exhorted for decades) that drinking one's sorrows away is synonymous with drinking one's sanity (and cash) away. I don't intend to get all preachy, though. To each his/ her/ its own. I don't really give a damn, to be honest.

Flames to dust, lovers to friends
Why do all good things come to an end

Would I say I'm bitter? No I won't. I'd say I'm less susceptible to caring.

(A beer for the first person to leave me the name of the singer of the above verse)

boiling over is not the answer.

Sometimes, people just leave me sighing in resignation. Many people contrive to plunge into ventures that are knowingly self-detrimental, yet they do so with an almost fatalistic outlook that says "I know I'm gonna screw myself up, but it's my business." More often than not, they end up taking everyone around them down as well. Sometimes, it's so much easier (and healthier) to just not care. Let them be damned, so to speak.

Yet, I know my limitations, my emotional walls. I know I can never be one to disregard another's unfortunate plight. Or perceived misfortune. It's tiring, and draining, and leaves me emotionally fatigued. It gets even harder when you're met with recalcitrance, and one too many justifications. Help. Everyone needs it, nobody thinks they need it. You care and care and care, then one day you realise that you're so tired and drained and that you've forsaken your own emotions for another.

I can feel my anger pushing against the lid, crashing against the wall. Frustration and disappointment reign supreme, and they long for their cousin's release. Not easy to contain, I'm learning. People around me are collateral damage. I'ts not so much "why is this happening to me?" I have never believed in moaning about how Life had dealt me a Joker instead of an Ace. Just get with the programme, grit your teeth, and bite the bullet (might be physically impossible if you're biting the bullet and gritting your teeth.

So yes, I can feel my blood stirring restlessly, my psyche itching to lash out, and exhausted mind gearing up to throw rationale aside and indulge in blatant, unbridled anger. Just a matter of what will trigger it, what will be the breaking point.

Or will it subside? As I try to scale this hole which I did not dig, the anger and frustration and disappointment might just dissipate as I converge my energy to resolve my latest predicament. What would it achieve anyways, I ask myself. Absolutely nothing, at the most. Yes, anger does drive me forward, but it will not sustain me. Better to look at the situation and just go about it in the most feasible manner.

Such is life.