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Saturday, January 12, 2013

Necessity of wearing a bra

The weather's turned from mild wet to frosty cold. The change was sudden. It has not snowed yet but it is threatening to in no uncertain terms.
I wasn't quite prepared for this change in temperatures though when I stepped out for a quick fag, one deceivingly bright morning.  I slipped on my fluffy house shoes and stepped out onto the balcony to join my hero who was already outside puffing on his cigar.
"How beautiful it is this morning" I beamed lovingly at him.
All I got in response was raised eyebrows.  A man of few words is my hero.
I lit my cigarette and took a puff and slowly exhaled into the atmosphere, feeling somewhat grateful for my pleasant life and this lovely day.  Yes, I get like that some days.  Irritating I know but I just can't help myself.

Just then, without warning, a gust blew from the left (west). It was icy cold. The kind that would freeze water in an instant. And me, without so much as a cardigan on me. "Arrrrggghhhhhh", I shivered, "AAAAffffffffffgggghhhh."
No words could I utter, just these sounds "aaaaaaffffgggghhhh".
I tucked my neck down and raised my shoulders automatically, like you do. A natural reaction really.  My stomach muscles tensed up and I looked down to hide my face from that ghastly gust of iciness
and what did I see? ...
My nipples ... standing at attention as if in salute to the freezing wind ...
No, you guessed it, I was NOT wearing a bra.
Yes, it is a natural reaction for my body.
But what the ... "STANDHUT" ...
Normally, this part of my body does absolutely NOTHING! They are two lazy pimples that do nothing!  In fact, I never thought they would actually be this attentive ... ever!
You can just imagine my shock. I glared at them in utter disbelief for a few seconds.
My charming man of few words, must have sensed my silent shock, for he turned to look at me and then bemusedly utters, "You're not wearing a bra... tsk tsk."
The postman who was delivering letters, on the street below, must have heard us, he turns to look up in the direction of our balcony (we are only one floor up).
Well, quick as a flash, I cover up myself with my arms, tucking my hands snugly under my armpits hugging myself tightly, in an attempt to subdue my soldiers back into their sleep mode again. And I give the postie one of my "whatcha looking at" glances. And he turns away again, embarrassed.

I guess it's time to get the thermals out and start layering clothes, and wearing my bra when I step out eh.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

From my window…

the outside world is very colourful.  

I love standing outside my little cottage, puffing on my cancer stick, in fresh air, with temperatures of 3 degrees celcius, and a gale gust freezing my fingers off as I hang on defiantly to my suicide stick.   As it blows icily on my naked face... I sigh... ahhhh.... bliss... 

Now, now, it is bliss, indeed it is for the fact that after 3 hours, I can finally come out for a quick puff of my "fag"... yes, what else did you think the "ahhh... bliss" was about... its flipping cold out you know... 

As I exhaled out, I observed the smoke exude from my mouth, and thought, "wow, I am certainly getting a lot of smoke out".   I wonder if English cigarettes produce more smoke? Hmmm… I thought to myself.   And still the smoke kept coming out of my mouth ... "wow, I'm impressed with these English cigarettes" I smiled to myself.
Yes, you can stop smiling now.
Duh, it took a whole 1/2 minute for me to figure it out ... duhhhh... I had for a moment, forgotten it was mid-winter ok, and elementary science should have kicked in at this point but maybe I was having a brain freeze.

Maybe it would be cheaper, if I just stood outside and breathed in and out ... "smoke" will still come out of my mouth ... do you think I could trick myself into thinking I'm actually smoking... would that work?  hmmmm....  

So unlike when I was Singapore, when I would take sanctuary in my room, and in the cool air conditioning, here, I would need to get my air conditioning outside as its very warm inside and we are not allowed to smoke inside.  New ruling from my other half.  It really doesn't matter, as I still get to see the world go by and I am still in the cool... though perhaps I should say cold!  
I still manage to observe interesting goings on around me. ;-)
Like the guy who zooms past me every morning, in his fluffy animal hat ... its the “in” thing this winter... it looks like a dead furry animal decided to die on your head ... seriously NOT CUTE!  but the wearers think its neat, so lots of people are walking around smug and thinking that they are fashion innovators with this scary animal “hat” on their heads.  Seriously, I cannot take such people seriously... picture this scenario:
Receptionist :   you’re here for a job interview? 
We’re hiring bunny wunnies right now.
*you wont make it to the interviewer’s room with that hat let alone get past the receptionist.  She’s the front line for the staff inside the office – no mad people can go past her.

Anyway, back to my story … go back afew lines, and remind yourself eh …
This guy has the skinniest, flattest butt of all time, and as he speeds down past me, he's swinging his tooshh to the left, to the right,  full swing ahoy!... seriously campy ... I'm tempted to tell him, he needs some meat on that toosshh if he aims to attract any kind of attention.   An unpadded toosshh just doesn't do it.  
To top it up, he wears a haughty look on his face too as he struts past ... Naomi Campbell on a good day would not be able to pull this look off ... I'm telling ya... I have this urge to run behind him and slap his skinny toosshh.  But I am afraid that if I do that I might hurt myself on his skeleton.

Then there's the cats, a whole range of them, roam our street.  And these cats, are not cat size, no no no... they are dog size!! OK little dogs but geeezz... they're big muscular, and fluffy things and like the young man, they strut too... I wonder if there's something in the air ... hmmm... 
They take to the pavements as if its a cat walk ... errr... runway... oh lord... that's it I stop here... you figure what I'm saying now and imagine what these cats are like.
One black furry monster, came round the other evening and mewed outside our door till we opened the door to it. It just stood there, and stared at me and then walked away.  Just like that.  Err... what??
Did the black cat know we were the newbies on the street and wanted to see who we were??? err...

Then another cat, one afternoon, came round from the top of the road, it was beautiful, long haired, blue, white and grey coloured... what a beaute it was, and ginormous too.  It stood in front of me and just stared.  Of course, I tried to talk to it, it was beautiful, I just had to talk to it.  Well, it watched me with an amused look, tilting its head to the left then to the right, then abruptly, it STRUTTED  away back to where it had come from, leaving me feeling most dejected.  Couldn't she (too pretty to be a "he", or it could have been a pretty gay boy ;-)) hahahahaaaa.... couldn't she have at least come close enough for me to tickle or pat it and allow me the luxury of a purr at least.  No, the darn thing, just struts its plump toosshh off away from me... and it was a nicer toosshh too ;-) than you know whose. 
Other neighbourhood cats have passed me by on the street too; and gave me nonchalant glances from afar.  I guess word has gone around the cat community that there's a new lady on the street already.  And none seem too interested ... ahhh well, I guess I will get used to it soon enough.  Its not so flattering when cats don't pay you any heed though.
Cats can make you feel so unnecessary to requirements can’t  they.  But they have made more of an impact then any of our neighbours, mainly because its winter and you hardly see anyone, except for the skinny campy guppy with no toosshhh ;-)

And yes, I still love cats, even if they behave like doyans and prima donnas … and make you feel like a second class creature because you are not part feline.

Age: Fifty-two and adding up

When I first turned fifty, I became a little paranoid for the first time in my life. Age had not figured in my life. Never gave it a thought. It was just a number. What the devil was I to worry about.  Blahh… I look good, and feel fine, so what’s the big issue right…. Wrong!
Months into the 50th birthday, disaster hit.  I had a lung and kidney infection.
Both at the same time too … I don’t do things in halves… its all or nothing. 

I had a fever for 4 days running; was delirious and talked nonsense for a while, according to my nurse-maid husband. 
Poor fellow, he tried to take me to the doctor, but I insisted that I had the flu and that if he pumped me with enough beechams and anadins, I would get better eventually. 
By the fourth morning, my patient and by now, quite frantic husband could take no more, and disobediently dragged me to the doctors. Admittedly, by that time, I was too weak to object.
At the doctor’s, I sat up straight and confidently in front of him and spoke in a calm voice that it was probably some new virus or even my tonsils.  When did I become a doctor you ask? That I should sit there and tell the qualified medical practitioner what was wrong with me.  Pompous. Yes. That’s me.
Bless him, the doctor sat there and listened patiently with a little knowing smile too.  ;-s
I call that good bedside manner.   His medical school training has paid off.  Good for him.

Besides, I must have fooled the poor doc anyway; as per usual, when you’re ill at home, you suddenly feel better when you arrive at the clinic.  Sometimes, I think illness is out to get us you know.  Make liars out of us. At home, you feel like you’re on your last breathe and by the time you reach the doctor’s surgery, hey presto, you feel better.  Then you start to feel wimpy and really embarrassed for wasting the doctor’s time.

Within minutes, and in mid sentence, something happened; I was told this (my husband’s  words):

“your eyes rolled back into your head exorcist like, and you flopped sideways on the floor.  It was quick.  So quick.  The doctor and I both panicked.  It was unexpected. You were talking away one second and gone the next. 
The doctor hurried to your limp body and shouted for his colleague and the nurses.  Everyone was in the doctor’s office in a flash.  They were trying to resuscitate you. Then they tried to put a needle into you for something or another; but couldn’t find a vein.  They all a go, first one arm then the other arm but no vein. (Maybe I’m an alien)  Concerned, they called for an ambulance, as they thought you were about to die.  That came within minutes and the medics managed to sort you out and haul you off on the ambulance to the nearest hospital.”

Wow! Drama!! I was impressed with myself. 
I did the Exorcist thing with my eyes rolling backwards… yee haaa….I managed to create havoc in a doctor’s surgery… darn it though, I wasn’t awake to see it. Darn. Darn. 
Admittedly I did hear voices while I was “out” – don’t know what they  were saying but I felt amused by the panic around me….  Hee hee ;-) but apparently I was totally out of it.   I don’t remember collapsing but I do remember hearing voices around me … I guess I must have been on the floor at that time. And I certainly don’t remember the hitting floor or what that felt like.  Don’t even remember falling for that matter.  Seems to me like I lost some seconds somewhere. 
Do you reckon that I lost time, when my brain stopped functioning properly?  Or maybe when my senses broke down, as it were.  Hmmm…. How cool is that?

Apparently, I was taken to ICU and they did stuff … I don’t really know what… but whatever it was, after a few hours I was taken to a room on another ward, as I had stabilized. 
In the ward, mostly I remember sleeping … and wanting to go to the toilet at some point … I had to struggle to get out of bed to get to the toilet … seemed to take forever … and I still hadn’t managed to even move from the bed; then a nurse came in and took me … I didn’t call for a nurse, she just magically turned up … which is good … I needed the help, I must say.

The rest is boring … its mainly recovering stuff and taking lots of tablets of sorts … I had to stay in hospital for 4/5 days … I guess they needed to make sure I was ok before releasing me back  into civilization.

Talk about hitting my 50s decade with a bang… didn’t I do that with style eh ;-)
Since then, it’s been downhill all the way.  I’ve been well all my life then I hit the 50 number and bang! It all goes to pot.    What??  What??  Why aren’t we warned about this ? 

Don’t know when but at some point or another, my middle finger, you know the biggest fattest finger on your hand, that one, it has started to ache on my left hand.  What? Is this ?  Rheumatism? Arthritis?  No! bloody way.  I kid myself, it’s just a little ache, I probably twisted it somehow.  I wasn’t totally convinced by my  own excuses really, but…

Anyway, then the back starts to play up if you do something unnatural, not that I am in the habit of doing anything unnatural mind you.   And sometime later, after working non-stop for 10 hours and climbing stairs etc… my knee starts to act up. So I do what any normal person would do … I take it easy for a day … making sure it’s a Sunday of course.  But by Monday, it, being the knee still niggles.  And this perseveres for months and months.  And it’s a mystery why and what made it hurt in the first place.  Doctors are mystified, after having done blood tests, x-rays and checks.  I’m the new mystery … hahahahahaaaa

OH and lets not forget the weight … once you reach 50 and are a sedentary type like me; although  I prefer desk bound, which is more true in my case; you  suddenly find that you are no longer a cuddly size 14/16 but have somehow ballooned to a size 18/20 almost over night.  But unlike a balloon, you don’t bounce gently but you ploink around heavily … more like a concrete block.

But lets be honest, after 16 hours exercising my brain cells, the body does quite feel motivated to aught else really.  Some image conscious 50something health freak may want to go to the gym or run 10 miles, not me though, I’m easy to please, I would rather lay on the sofa and exercise my fingers on the remote control.  Hey, thinking is hard work you know.

Seriously, you have no idea how you got to this size either.  You haven’t changed your eating habits nor have you increased or decreased your physical activity in any significant measurable way that is.  So it must be the genes.  Yes, it has to be the genes. You search for evidence from your family history. 
Ahhaaa … GRANDMA, she was short and fat … very fat in fact.  And then there’s the mother –in – law, she was huge.  Oh, hang on, I don’t have her genes. 
Ok. Let’s try again.  Ahhaahh,  mother, she has thunder thighs and a floppy paunch too.  Dad? No, he had skinny legs.  But grandma, yes, yes, I have grandma’s genes.  It’s her fault.  She gave me the FAT Gene.  There you go, one problem solved.  At least we know where the fat gene came from now.

All kinds of other things sneakily creep up on you,  a little at a time, so you don’t notice it.  You discover little anomalies, like that bloating double chin, and the disappearance of the line that used to be the divide between your face and your neck.  You used to have definition between the two areas. But no longer.  Its now a republic. 
And the sunken dark circles under your eyes, which no amount of cream or foundation can erase or conceal.  I am now cousin to a giant panda.
Or the deep deep deep  lines that circumvent either side of your face from the nose to the mouth. Seems to me that as you get older, you cheeks get heavy and start to sag. I used to have a slim face and now I have a swollen face with deep gorges to separate my nose from my cheeks.  Down with segregation!

And the boobs! That’s a whole chapter on its own.  They are getting bigger but flatter somehow, and they definitely hang like a cow’s udders.   One word description: SLOPPY
And how come I have a  beer belly that starts immediately beneath my boobs, when I don’t even drink beer, ever!  That’s not fair – not fair I tell you.
Talk about boobs… well my boobs anyway, don’t know what yours are like. Mine have never ever met. Yes, you read that right. They don’t know each other.  Even when I wear a bra, they still cant see each other.  They are strangers to each other.  Why? Well, One boob points to the left, and the other to the right.  So how can they possibly know that the other exists eh.   Cleavage???  What’s that?  Never Ever had one.  Talk about having a valley with two mountains on either side … huh! … I have only ever had a landing strip bigger than 2 airport runways running side by side with no mountains in sight.  My mountains may as well be in another country.  Push up bras don’t help either, the bra pushes up the boobs, but they still don’t meet.  So no, I have never had sexy boobs.  Men, even when I was younger were not attracted to my boobs. 
My arms know my boobs well, they keep bumping into them.
My boobs and my belly are the same size:  38D except that my belly is more generously spread around.
Thank goodness, after a certain age, boobs cease to be sexy.  If you’re fifty and don’t have any wrinkles on your chest, then consider yourself lucky.  It could be worst.  I will say no more on that subject.

Then there’s the water retention, the wind  (not the gentle breeze that blows through your hair type either) and the constant indigestion (the type that makes the most horrendous sounds that makes everyone turn to glare at you). 
The body begins to malfunction – slowly but surely.  Oh yessirree.
And its always a surprise to you.  You never seem to anticipate it.  One day you’re cute and the next, you’re old. HUH??? When did that happen???
If I was a car, I  would be thinking about getting a newer model by now and selling this one off to the scrap merchant.

You begin a journey of many little discoveries about your body that you never knew before.  You also realize a few home truths about your grandparents that you were mystified about when you were younger, like how come grandma had a moustache, and why grandma and grandpa had so much wind.  And why they always belched so much.  Why they always talked about constitution and eating of greens. And why they always rubbed their knees obsessively. 
I can now appreciate why they always talked about their lives when they were younger.  Methinks perhaps they miss having younger bodies and the agility and health that came with being younger.

Now I understand, why it was so difficult for grandma to bend down. Her big belly blocked the way, preventing her from bending further down.
Also, I think I understand why my father used to grab hold of his paunch and shake it like it was an alien baby.  I guess he was trying to shake it off somehow.

And now I really see where my mother-in-law was coming from when she said that “as ye get older, big breasts are a mighty nuisance” and “what would I be without my corset”.   A square blob.  She was a wise woman indeed.

Saying all this, you may think I don’t like being older, but I do, I actually do enjoy being older!  Yes, I know that sounds weird.  But think about it, I can change my lifestyle and get slimmer, eat better to control the downward slide of ill health, and do lots of good things to feel generally better.
So I can overcome some of the physical minuses of old age, though not the wrinkles, or dark circles, but that does not matter really, there is always good make up out there.

You know what the best part of being older is?
This is my list :
  • It’s being able to walk slower than the rest of the crowd and really see what’s around you, especially when you’re on a zebra crossing, and the driver is in a hurry.  Or on a pedestrian crossing and the lights have changed.  Go on I dare you to drive into me.
  • Its being able to look at a teenager pathetically until they give up your chair for you on the bus or train
  • Its being able to mutter to yourself in public and no one would think of it as being odd
  • Its being able to chat up hot young men/women and they think you’re a friendly old person, and chat back to you and even volunteer to carry things for you
  • Its being loudly opinionated in public, and everyone gently tolerating your “accusations” because no one wants to hit an old person in the mouth
  • Its being able to fart in public and not feel embarrassed – your logic is that it is a natural biological function afterall.  You spent years of your life holding in your wind, its now time to be loud.  Who cares?
  • Its being able to pretend to forget people’s names – just because you didn’t like them and blame it on your age “ooo I’m sorry my dear, but my memory isn’t what it used to be” – whilst in your deepest mind, you’re thinking “biatch”
  • Its being able to sit with your legs apart at last, even if you are wearing a skirt … sod it … who’s looking anyway… your older age is your license to forgiveness and tolerance.
  • Its having the freedom to talk loudly in public just for the heck of it, and blame it on your hearing or lack thereof.
  • Its having the luxury of sitting back while your children, your grandchildren or anyone else’s grandchildren (I’m not fussy) fuss around you and serve you with tea and biscuits… oh yeah… that’s my favourite
  • It’s the sweetness of being able to talk for hours without interruption, because our young people have been programmed to respect and listen to their elders … for a change we get to talk and talk and talk and talk to our hearts content and not be asked to shut up or be called talkative or self absorbing … yup I like that
  • It’s the fact that I don’t need to colour my hair anymore because now my face and body have caught up.  My hair decided to age first and before its time too.
  • It’s being taken out by younger family members to dinner and not having to pay for your share … oh yah…
  • It’s the fact that you don’t need to follow fashion anymore because half your wardrobe is already back in fashion anyway
  • It’s the smug feeling that you get when you look at young lovers and think to yourself – “just you wait”
  • It’s the gratitude you feel when you return a child to its mum when you have made it hyper, knowing full well that it will take the mother an hour to calm her child down again
  • It’s the almost evil tinge of contentment that you feel when you see your most hated enemy get as old as you but her wrinkles are deeper and her neck multi- ringed and dry as a raisin past its expiry date.  Old age catches up with everyone…. Snigger snigger …
  • Its having the lusciousness feeling of knowing that you have been there, done that and still survived it all  … to tell the tale and bore the hell out of everyone with your stories.  Are you bored yet? Hahahahahahahahaaaaaa

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Let's Go Media: Moe Alkaff brings funny to Cambodia

Let's Go Media: Moe Alkaff brings funny to Cambodia

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Singapore's Fun Pack Song - we need to sing for a goodie bag

While you’re all fussing about a silly Fun Pack song, COE prices are going up, under your nose, and is reported on xinmsn news too – look near the bottom of other news listings….  Wakey wakey people ….

Just for a bit of fun, here are the lyrics to the Fun Pack Song.  Feel free to re-write the lyrics.  Lets see if you can do better than the lyricist himself.
I have tagged another blogger, below, who’s write up I thought was really good, please see it below too. 
Yes, I’m being lazy but the fact is that so many people have blogged and commented that I really don’t need to say much.  I leave you to read, decide and let me have your input.
Personally, I am just not surprised by this at all.  Our Singapore songs have always been on the naff side and an insult to our intelligence, so need I say more.

"The Fun Pack Song (sung to the tune of Bad Romance)
Oh o o o o o o o o 
Time for the fun pack song 
Oh o o o o o o o o 
We like the fun pack song
Let's start with the bag 
That's right, grab your bag 
It's the fun pack bag 
Attack the fun pack
Hold up your flag, don't you forget 
You can wave it if you feel like it 
Let's wave the flag 
Wave wave wave 
Let's wave the flag 
Take out your light stick, it's two of a kind 
It's interactive, means you can join 
Just pretend 
Oh oh oh... It's a disco
You know that I want you 
And you know that I need you 
I want a wet, wet tissue
I want Newater and I want a cold drink 
You and me, let's share a bit 
I want a biscuit and I want a sweet 
You and me, let's share this treat
Kopi-O o o o o o o o o 
Time for the fun pack song 
Kopi-O o o o o o o o o 
We like the fun pack song
Let's start with the bag 
That's right, grab your bag 
It's the fun pack bag 
Attack the fun pack
I want Newater and I want a cold drink 
You and me, let's share a bit 
I want a biscuit and I want a sweet 
You and me, let's share this treat
Kopi-O o o o o o o o o 
Time for the fun pack song 
Kopi-O o o o o o o o o 
We like the fun pack song
Let's start with the bag 
That's right, grab your bag 
It's the fun pack bag 
Attack the fun pack!"

Read the Report on xinmsn news :

Comments from Blogger Anonymous X
Labels: event, news, song, youtube
Haresh Sharma. Yes, you must be wondering what kind of person he is. He must be a man without fear. Just awe at the audacity of 'modifying' Lady Gaga song, Bad Romance to suit the National Day Parade celebration this year with the monstrous piece called, "Fun Pack Song". 

National Library Singapore has this info on Haresh Sharma:
Haresh Sharma is the Resident Playwright of The Necessary Stage, Singapore. A critically-acclaimed playwright, he has written more than 40 short and full-length plays that have been staged in Singapore as well as abroad like Berlin, Birmingham, and London. He is the winner of the Singapore Literature Prize in 1993 for Still Building. In 1997, he was conferred the Young Artist Award by the National Arts Council for his literary contribution.

Career as a full-time writer
Upon graduation from NUS in 1990, Sharma began his tenure as Resident Playwright of TNS, a position he still holds till today. He was also the first full-time staff of the theatre company. On average, he writes three to four plays a year for TNS' main season of plays. This is excluding plays he writes for TNS' youth festivals and school programmes.

Sharma's plays have been critically acclaimed. In 1993, he was conferred the Singapore Literature Prize (Merit) for his play, Still Building. The published collection of the same title also won him a National Book Development Council of Singapore (NBDCS) Book Prize (Commendation) in 1996. Still Building was chosen to represent Singapore at the 1992 Cairo International Festival of Experimental Theatre and in Glasgow, Scotland for Mayfest 1994. It was also staged in London's Albany Theatre that year.

Sharma has been presented fellowships and grants by the British Council, the United States Information Service and Asia-Europe Foundation. In 1994, he won a Shell/National Arts Council Scholarship to pursue Master of Arts (Playwriting) at the University of Birmingham. Returning in Singapore in 1995, he continued his residency at TNS. Sharma received the NAC Young Artist Award for theatre in 1997.

Sharma also plays an active role in sharing his playwriting experience and talents with young artists. He has written plays for school assemblies, participated in mentor schemes, run theatre workshops and tutors in the Theatre Studies Department at the National University of Singapore. He has received commissions to write plays. For instance, the Ministry of Health commissioned the play Off Centre, a play he wrote about mental illness, and Revelations was commissioned by the NAC. In addition, his plays have been studied locally and internationally, for instance at McMaster University, Ontario, Canada. In 2006, in an effort to introduce more local literature into the GCE O-level literature syllabus, the Ministry of Education selected Off Centre as an O-level literature text - the first Singaporean play to become an O-level text.

Apart from writing, Sharma is also an adjunct tutor for the Theatre Studies course at the National University of Singapore.

Impressive, really! Which even makes it incredible how he allowed the Fun Pack Song to be part of the parade, yes?

Introducing the daredevil, Haresh Sharma (the clip is of that from last year Singapore Arts Festival):

Oh,  PS,  There is one consolation, the official NDP song is a little more decent and bearable, check it out at the official NDP site :

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

One of those days

My eyes were wide open, as I sat opposite my client, body erect and stiff.  I looked like I was listening intently, which pleased my client no end.  I always aim to make an impression. Pay attention, its the best way to show your respect to your client.

Bless her, she talked some more, and more, and more ... and patiently, I sat.   I nodded accommodatingly, and smiled appropriately, my timing impeccable.
Every so often, I would add a little "yes" followed by a jerky nod.  My body facing her and my eyes focussed on her forehead.  Yes, yes, so appropriate.  I can be good at body language.  My back was stiff from being so straight and arched. My feet neatly and elegantly crossed at the ankles.
Perhaps pressed together a little too tightly.

My lovely client pressed on, telling me in detail what her company requirements are and how we have to follow their schedule.  And so I keep nodding, smiling and saying the right thing periodically "of course", "we do our best".   Rehearsed words that people who deal with people use daily, with affirmation and conviction.  It is our job to be convincing.

Its been an agonising 45 mins now and the conversation, has taken a different trail.  She's now talking about her children.  How did we get there... I dont know myself, the conversation just got naturally deviated, and that's ok too.  In any other circumstance, I would not have minded at all, but not today. My eyes were really wide by this time, and she told me that I had really big eyes, I smiled weakly at her and thanked her ...

Eventually, after 57 1/2 minutes, we said our goodbyes, with me promising something and her promising another.
Calmly, and in a professional manner I walked out of the office, one assured purposeful step at a time.  By now, I am immensely worried that I might not get a taxi quickly.

As I got out of the lift, I walked with the biggest longest strides, even a professional 6ft tall long distance walker would not have been able to beat me, to the taxi stand.  Suddenly, I became quite holy as I saw a taxi waiting in the rank ..."Thank you God!! I believe!!!" heaving a sigh .

Then the taxi driver started to ramble, oh lord (getting holy again),  this time however, I didnt need to pay attention, well, couldnt actually, my mind wandered and I began to sweat.   The air conditioning in the taxi was on, but I was sweating, I guess that's a good thing considering...
We were 5 minutes away from home, and I already had my money ready for the driver, and paid him even before he managed to stop.  Nearly threw the money at him as I hurried out of his taxi, poor guy.   I shouted back "keep the change".  He must have thought I was a nutter, there was only 10 cents change....

I ran up the stairs faster than the HULK with his hair on fire, and hurled myself down on the toilet in one fleeting move ...  just in time, phew ... have you ever held your urge to pee for over an hour???
Its not funny ... now I have to figure out what my meeting was all about ... as you may well have guessed, I wasnt paying attention.... sigh...

Are you hearing me or listening to me??? What??

Listening describes an intentional activity. When you are listening, you are actively trying to hear something.
In contrast, hearing is something that happens without any intentional effort. You can hear something even when you don't want to hear it and don't try to hear it.
Hearing a function of the physical and listening a function of the mind.

Many a time, we hear but dont listen.  We hear sounds being emitted from someone's mouth and we think we know what they are saying, but we really listened to what the other person said, why was there a miscommunication?  Why did we misunderstand?
Or did we misunderstand? and we are reacting because we really listened and didnt like what we heard. The utterer of the words, just assumed that as usual no one really pays attention, and relieved himself of his feelings, hoping to cause an effect to the listener.
Have I managed to confuse you?

I didnt mean to cause confusion, just to get you to listen ;-)
Have you noticed that many a time, people response to each in non coherent ways - to find examples, check out social networks on the internet.  It may be to do with the fact that many different races, speakers are all trying to communicate to each other in one language medium; and some people dont have a good grasp of that language.  It can be quite amusing to see what people are saying to each other and how they response to each other. On many occassions I had to laugh to myself, it was that funny.  What is remarkable however, is the patience and forgiving nature of the co-respondent.  People make allowances for each other and politely respond, even if they are confused by the less able speaker.  
People are wonderful on the whole and very generous dont you think.

However, there are instances, when emotion gets in the way and then listening takes a different path.  When we are emotionally wound up about something and we discuss it with someone, we usually dont hear their words, let alone listen properly.  We usually are governed by our own feelings and we only hear what we want to hear.  During such times, we do not listen.  It is a shame, for thats' how create more hurt for ourselves and for others.

On the other hand, why is it that we sometimes, chose to listen to negativity.  Are we masochistic in a small way?  When the biatch or ape said that we look fat, why did we chose to listen, when it was obviously malicious. Why did we hurt?  Or correctly, why did we allow such vile words hurt us? Perhaps they had touched a weak spot.  And we all certainly have that weak spot dont we.
But we mustnt let words injure our soul ... they are only words, utterances of different pitch and tone, coming out of another human.  That's all.

The human is a wonderous being, with weaknesses and strengths, lets build on our strengths and not let our weakness rule.
Do Be aware of what the utterer is saying ...  they may just be malicious or they may an ulterior motive but dont misconstrue the words of the well intentioned souls who mean you no harm.  Listen carefully, dont just hear, with listening, you may learn to differentiate the good and well meaning from the harmful and nasty.

The choice to listen is always ours, no one else's.  Listening is a strength, use it wisely, but use it.

Another time, we will talk about choice of words, if you want to read it that is ;-)

How to know when your man is not in love with you

Some gals just dont know when its time to dump the man or maybe they're afraid to be on their own.  Whatever, here are some signs to help you decide if he's the right man for you or not.
Bear in mind, that I am not a glutton for punishment and that I am lazy and appreciate a man who appreciates me.  Also that I am bossy when it comes to men... its in my genes, and I cant help that.
Thus, this is a personal opinion, and you should take it as such.

1.  When he takes you out on a date, and brings his guy friends with him too. So the night ends up with total guy talk and rude insinuations, and lots of gutter language, while you sit around in a corner, smiling like the sweet muppet that you are.... dump the man!

2.  When he calls you once a month and thinks that's too obsessive.... errrr.... really and you think that's ok ... girl you need help.

3.  When he sends you dirty jokes and thinks you'll appreciate them....   are you one of the guys??

4.  When he thinks, you should work for a living, never mind, that you want to work anyway; its the fact that he insists that you work that's wrong.

5.  When he thinks that a woman's place is in the home - 24/7/365 - errr.... doing what at home exactly???

6.  When he praisses you everytime you cook but doesnt bother to help with the washing up.  Worse still is when he doesnt praise your cooking but expects you to do the cooking on a daily basis....  that's my pet hate!!

7.  When he thinks maids are a waste of money and that you both can do without one and then lets you do all the cooking, washing, cleaning ... etc... girl, you have just been demoted to maid!!

8.  When he likes going dutch because he says that he likes women to feel independent ... so you are going out with him why?????

9.  When he tells you to go out to buy more make up and perfume!  Errrr.... confusing message that one ... is he trying to tell you that you look better with make up or that you're ugly without make up???  And what's that with the perfume, most men, buy you perfume as a gift (though they cant choose the right one), it spells danger if he asks you to go out and get your own - check your b/o please ... talk to a bff ok

10.  When he has to go out every weekend clubbing because he says he has to network but wont take you with him ...  girl, what do you think he's up to ?

11.  When he takes alot of photos of himself and hardly any of you...  methinks he's in love with himself

12.  When he buys things for himself and never buys you anything, no even a telephone top up card ... gosh he really has you  on his mind huh...

13.  When he goes on holidays on his own or with friends and hardly ever goes with you, except when you moan and scream at him, and then it takes him months to find a cheap enough holiday package ... mmmmmmm

14.  When you cant remember the last time he bought you a little something for no reason what so ever ...  keep thinking ... when??

15.  When a man is afraid of his mom or loves his mom too much ...  hello lady, you will be the third lamp post ... get out quick

16.  When on a date together, you're both too busy texting on your handphones to other people, and havent said much to each in the last hour...  and you thought that was sharing ... I think that spells : N O T H I N G I N C O M M O N

17.  When holding hands in public is "embarrassing" ...  ok mama, take your hand outta that relationship and find a guy who truly is proud to be seen with you.

18.  When you suggest going for a stroll, he starts to moan and says he'd rather go out to the kopitiam or the pub and that you should join him ...  message here is: he does not want alone time with you.

19.  When you talk about marriage, he says he's too young, you're too young, he wants to have enough money first, he needs job security, he's not ready, children scare him, he likes being a bachelor, his mama says he's not ready, his friends think he's not ready ... the list goes on and on and on ... stop pestering the man and go out in the market and find another fish will you then see if he can handle that ;-)

20.  When he talks about marriage, you have panic attacks and start to perspire; you cant imagine being old with him,  you wonder if you're missing out on life, you want to change the subject,  you cant imagine having his children,  you think that he would be domineering and you would lose control of your life ... ahhhhaaa,  you have doubts too ... then dont rush in to marriage, just play a wait and see game with him. If he waits then he's not so bad but if he cant then arent you better off anyway.  ;-)