I've had an epiphany about my future today. I have decided that after my Masters Degree in the bag I'd need to earn some dough. Life cannot go like this for me and even if I get a scholarship for my PhD it would be insufficient with the amount of longing I am having for good clothes, shoes, bags and cosmetics. Also not to mention the need I've had for a mode of transportation and needless to say the very idea earning money represents; standing on your own two feet.
The revelation bit; I was a candidate for a research assistant post in my current university because I had not only a degree in my hand but a published scientific paper. That however went down the drain because of my graduating cumulative grade point average, a shy 0.04 points of making the cut. My parents, however, desperately wanted me to get on with my Masters Degree. I had other plans, plans that included me getting a job and staying on it for a year or two before I pursue my studies. The plan received bad reviews from my parents and some of my relatives bringing it to a standstill (a particular cousin of mine was the ultimatum in my parents' stalwart belief that I should continue.) Such a screeching halt it was that I had to turn down two job offers (although one of it was disposed of on my own free-will besides the change in plans). I am not conveniently making an exception to overlook my participation in this decision making. True, at my age, one should have already had a firm say on his/her future but hey, haven't I mentioned before that I am a crowd-pleaser? I condone myself to what others' decide on my behalf so that, if and when it does not turn out right, my conscience does not taunt me. Facing that inner voice is tiring, so tiring that I am telling myself these days that right or wrong, perfect or less-than desirable, I bring/have brought upon myself whatever it is I either hate or love about my life (of course Mr. P will always be an exception, his presence really did screw my life up!!!).
My dad is in his final 3-decades-long-lap of his career. Come October, The High Priest will finally be a retiree. The High Priestess is freaking out because neither me nor Gdaran is stable in our careers. I have got at least 3 years more to go if I decide to continue to earn the Dr. title people so blindly revere. Gdaran, on the other hand, has got no idea of how, when, and where his career is either going to grow, become fruitful, or taking him. The household income upon The High Priest's retirement is going to be totally insufficient. My parents have always been independent and mom has always told me that when her sons are settled in life, she and her husband would have no problem getting along just fine because they'd have their sum of hard-earned retirement reimbursements. I always begged to differ because though I agree that my folks are one of those we-don't-need-our-children-to-be-our-parents-when-we-are-60 sort, the least I could do is spend the rest of my life taking care of them like they took care of the helpless baby me. What's the use of being gay if I can't do so much as ease my parents into God's hands when I am capable of doing so, now especially that I've ruled out procreating and nuptials. If that was going to happen I am going to have to put my feet down every now and then for even if mom may know best, son is now all the more wiser.
As the year ends, here's the 'plan';
Before graduation start looking for a lecturing position. That will easily rake in a good three to four thousand MYR;
Spend three or four years making the best out of that income;
And when that is done get a PhD in a field that I can actually relate to.
*fingers and toes crossed*
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Her Shoes Gave Her Away
No matter how well you do something, very few people acknowledge your accomplishments. Many zoom in right onto your flaw. Oormila hated that. She was one of the few people in her family whom enjoyed cocktails and beers every now and then but as her name suggests, her Indian background was her biggest hurdle. To her family of five siblings, Oormila was arbitrarily denoted as the black sheep.
"My Lord, Souwmya, your cupboards are filled with rum and vodka. You know, most Indian women store dried herbs and curry powder in their pantry," Oormila's eldest sister, Sharanya, never failed to make her feel like a pathetic excuse for a housewife. Oormila also hated the fact that her sister calls her Souwmya; the name of her arch-rival when she was 10. Souwmya and Oormila had a long standing competition of whom would fare better in life. At 32 years of age, Souwmya was one of the country's leading journalist married to an orthopedic specialist whose patients included famous TV personalities and movie stars. The false name was just a way her sister used to taunt her. It eventually became a permanent norm.
"Shar, when are you going to realise that your jokes are getting old? I organise dinner parties for Jay's clients you know and they all appreciate a good cocktail," Oormila was ever-ready to shove her sister out of the door for her sister was like her kyrptonite.
"Uh huh, Souwmya, I am not five and I know more than well that you have dinner parties, at most, four or five times a year," with a conviction that only she knew Oormila well enough, Sharanya stood her ground, her eyes transfixed on her baby sister waiting for a confession, or the very least a sign of defeat.
Oormila shook her head and made her way to the living hall. She never approved of her sister's judgments and never once bowed down to her deliberate mocking. Even when they were children, Sharanya took pride in unraveling Oormila's misdoings. It seemed like Sharanya's only goal was to make Oormila's life a living hell. Sharanya's excellent academic achievements only made it harder for Oormila to digest the fact that her sister's 100% percent score as the perfect daughter would always make her feel like the charity case; in most instances begging for attention. Even Sharanya's marriage managed to outshine Oormila's; a wealthy husband and three beautiful children.
Despite all her shortcomings, Oormila was madly in love with Jay and her only child Vassan. Just like herself, Jay was a rebel whose small design firm had more or less 5 major projects a year with a profit that paid their bills and afforded them comfortable lifestyle. Jay and Oormila met in college and worked in the same publishing company; they initially hated each other. Things took a turn for the better when the duo was appointed leaders of one of the firm's most important project. In typical Bollywood fashion, their constant disagreements and bickering revealed the best of both parties. Oormila fell for Jay's sincerity and dedication, Jay fell for her kind and unpretentious nature.
It was one of those busy Monday morning for Oormila; sending her beloved off to work, rushing Vassan off to school and running errands in and out of her house. Bills to be paid, chores to be finished and three lavatories in her home to be cleaned.
That day however, was not going to be just another busy Monday.
Sending off a banner on behalf of Jay, she almost lost her way in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The client in question was a fashion designer whom worked in that uncanny location, which, in his defense, allowed him to solely concentrate on creating his garments. After confirming yet another guest for the small dinner parties she occasionally throws, Oormila walked out of the place with a beaming smile. She had just bagged herself a handsome discount for a turquoise cocktail dress adorning a mannequin in the designer's loft.
Her 5 year old Toyota Corolla had seen better days, or so she thought when a familiar Nissan Murano drove into the vicinity.
"Sharanya?" she actually heard herself saying it aloud.
Just as curiosity got the better of most people, she backed her car into an alley and looked on from a distance as her sister eased herself out comfortably from her perfectly polished Nissan.
"She doesn't belong in this place," again the words were not merely constructed in her mind.
As her sister made her way to the loft adjacent to the one Oormila came out of barely 10 minutes ago, she couldn't help but notice her in a pair of black stacked heels.
"Oh my God, those things have to be at least 5 inches tall. Shar, I never saw this pair in your shoe collection before!!!" she managed to sustain those words in her head. Oormila knew her sister was too much of a model housewife to be caught wearing something so sexy it bordered on slutty.
Oormila checked her Guess watch, "Damn! I'm late for the gynecologist!"
She did not follow her routine that day; she followed her instincts. She followed her sister.
Her snooping brought about a confrontation and a revelation.
From that day on, even though she kept her sister's dirty dark secret, she took comfort in knowing that from now on, Sharanya would never shoot her sneering comments. Oormila finally embraced her life and her imperfections for it did not involve parting her heart between the man she loved and her husband.
Sharanya's middle child was rightfully illegitimate.
"My Lord, Souwmya, your cupboards are filled with rum and vodka. You know, most Indian women store dried herbs and curry powder in their pantry," Oormila's eldest sister, Sharanya, never failed to make her feel like a pathetic excuse for a housewife. Oormila also hated the fact that her sister calls her Souwmya; the name of her arch-rival when she was 10. Souwmya and Oormila had a long standing competition of whom would fare better in life. At 32 years of age, Souwmya was one of the country's leading journalist married to an orthopedic specialist whose patients included famous TV personalities and movie stars. The false name was just a way her sister used to taunt her. It eventually became a permanent norm.
"Shar, when are you going to realise that your jokes are getting old? I organise dinner parties for Jay's clients you know and they all appreciate a good cocktail," Oormila was ever-ready to shove her sister out of the door for her sister was like her kyrptonite.
"Uh huh, Souwmya, I am not five and I know more than well that you have dinner parties, at most, four or five times a year," with a conviction that only she knew Oormila well enough, Sharanya stood her ground, her eyes transfixed on her baby sister waiting for a confession, or the very least a sign of defeat.
Oormila shook her head and made her way to the living hall. She never approved of her sister's judgments and never once bowed down to her deliberate mocking. Even when they were children, Sharanya took pride in unraveling Oormila's misdoings. It seemed like Sharanya's only goal was to make Oormila's life a living hell. Sharanya's excellent academic achievements only made it harder for Oormila to digest the fact that her sister's 100% percent score as the perfect daughter would always make her feel like the charity case; in most instances begging for attention. Even Sharanya's marriage managed to outshine Oormila's; a wealthy husband and three beautiful children.
Despite all her shortcomings, Oormila was madly in love with Jay and her only child Vassan. Just like herself, Jay was a rebel whose small design firm had more or less 5 major projects a year with a profit that paid their bills and afforded them comfortable lifestyle. Jay and Oormila met in college and worked in the same publishing company; they initially hated each other. Things took a turn for the better when the duo was appointed leaders of one of the firm's most important project. In typical Bollywood fashion, their constant disagreements and bickering revealed the best of both parties. Oormila fell for Jay's sincerity and dedication, Jay fell for her kind and unpretentious nature.
It was one of those busy Monday morning for Oormila; sending her beloved off to work, rushing Vassan off to school and running errands in and out of her house. Bills to be paid, chores to be finished and three lavatories in her home to be cleaned.
That day however, was not going to be just another busy Monday.
Sending off a banner on behalf of Jay, she almost lost her way in an unfamiliar neighbourhood. The client in question was a fashion designer whom worked in that uncanny location, which, in his defense, allowed him to solely concentrate on creating his garments. After confirming yet another guest for the small dinner parties she occasionally throws, Oormila walked out of the place with a beaming smile. She had just bagged herself a handsome discount for a turquoise cocktail dress adorning a mannequin in the designer's loft.
Her 5 year old Toyota Corolla had seen better days, or so she thought when a familiar Nissan Murano drove into the vicinity.
"Sharanya?" she actually heard herself saying it aloud.
Just as curiosity got the better of most people, she backed her car into an alley and looked on from a distance as her sister eased herself out comfortably from her perfectly polished Nissan.
"She doesn't belong in this place," again the words were not merely constructed in her mind.
As her sister made her way to the loft adjacent to the one Oormila came out of barely 10 minutes ago, she couldn't help but notice her in a pair of black stacked heels.
"Oh my God, those things have to be at least 5 inches tall. Shar, I never saw this pair in your shoe collection before!!!" she managed to sustain those words in her head. Oormila knew her sister was too much of a model housewife to be caught wearing something so sexy it bordered on slutty.
Oormila checked her Guess watch, "Damn! I'm late for the gynecologist!"
She did not follow her routine that day; she followed her instincts. She followed her sister.
Her snooping brought about a confrontation and a revelation.
From that day on, even though she kept her sister's dirty dark secret, she took comfort in knowing that from now on, Sharanya would never shoot her sneering comments. Oormila finally embraced her life and her imperfections for it did not involve parting her heart between the man she loved and her husband.
Sharanya's middle child was rightfully illegitimate.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Dear Anonymous...
dude, as much as i like reading your blog, perhaps you should tone down the over-bombastic English expressions and words. I understand you're aiming to make it work, but honestly your stringing of sentences still fail.. maybe a simpler write-up would b better?
Dear Anonymous,
I am writing this just so you know I feel this way.
Thanks for the opinion but I am guessing you are quite a recent follower.
Please take some time to read this...
With that, my dear anonymous reader, I shall not change my ways and thank you for your opinion...
If you still like reading my blog, go on!!! You're most welcome!!!
You still feel I am "failing", then I suggest you let go of Optimistic Always.
Thank you and have a lovely life!!!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Judging The Married Malaysian Indian Gay Men...
What to do when you're stuck indoors being an incubus of viral plague.... Euuurrrrgggghhhh!!!!!!!!!!! Blog of course!!
Indian men in Malaysia are subject to many societal norms that govern their lives. A more specific group of the Indian men in Malaysia are almost oppressed into living lives that they unwillingly bear for fear of judgment and alienation; a group that could be designated as, 'Malaysian Indian men with alternate sexual preferences'.
Sex and sexuality is a taboo in the 'Eastern' culture. Even with that ever clichéd notion of globalization and how it has changed, radically, Asian views, being debated over and over again, certain (how can I put it??) sensitive issues still remain, at large, what it has been for the past 5 decades or so; sensitive. Now let's localize the scenario to my home-country, Malaysia and zoom in on the Indian community. Amounting to over 2,000,000 individuals generalization seems inept to deem onto the lot because I have met only 2% of the population, tops, and know, individually, only 0.04% of them, tops! But what we can safely say is that these fraction of the percentages are a projection of the entire Indian community; just a projection not a definite equalization.
And through all those Indian people whom I've known, a projectile generalization is that alternate sexuality is a taboo. From what I've seen and heard, Malaysian Indian people commonly condemn the notion in question, and even if they accept it, they would NOT condone it to the likes of their own family. There is probably a very small pool of liberal, ultra-enlightened families whom embrace gay sons, transsexual nephews, and lesbian cousins but I am YET to come across them, strictly speaking in the context of local Indian people. I have met many wonderful acquaintances that see me as an individual rather than a laughing stock but how they would feel if their closest family members were like me is a conundrum only a semblance of the rightful scenario can explicate. Until and unless 'they' walk in those shoes, 'they' or anyone else for the matter will never be able to unravel the enigma.
With all that being said I would like to zoom in further into yet a definite pool of Malaysian Indian men. They ones with alternate sexual preferences a.k.a gay men. So this rules out transsexuals (cross-dressers, trans-gendered and any other sort included), which leaves us with Malaysian Indian men whom stay men, be it effeminate or otherwise. Talking, again through purely MY views and observations, most of them end up in (un)holy matrimony. Some are forced and some just take the plunge to seem normal and yet some do it because they want to experience pussies too.
My ultimate question is, would one belittle those whom are forced into marriage and are still out there looking for love or would one accept their pursuit by blaming the family?
Of course this goes to say that I personally would not approve of men whom are legally bound out of sheer willingness to either fit in or eat pussy! That just seems greedy. Casual sex is fine with me! It's a matter of personal choice BUT legally bound or in a relationship out of sheer self-conviction and desires and still wanting casual sex is by my conscience something worth disapproving. I have met such men and trust me when I say, they're among you!!! It maybe your uncles, cousins, friends or even your *bites lips* fathers...
Going back to my question, if you had a mother whose steadfastness makes you cringe and all you can do is nod in agreement, if you had a father whose autocratic-like rules leaves you no room for choices and you have come to respect and love your parents for who they are. Would you, for the sake of avoiding holy matrimony, give them up??? And can you judge those whom have bowed down and taken that unwilling plunge???
After all polygamy has been accepted and widely practiced....
Yes, it is all because I am dating a guy whose family forced him into marriage!!! More specifically, a Malaysian Indian gay men.
Indian men in Malaysia are subject to many societal norms that govern their lives. A more specific group of the Indian men in Malaysia are almost oppressed into living lives that they unwillingly bear for fear of judgment and alienation; a group that could be designated as, 'Malaysian Indian men with alternate sexual preferences'.
Sex and sexuality is a taboo in the 'Eastern' culture. Even with that ever clichéd notion of globalization and how it has changed, radically, Asian views, being debated over and over again, certain (how can I put it??) sensitive issues still remain, at large, what it has been for the past 5 decades or so; sensitive. Now let's localize the scenario to my home-country, Malaysia and zoom in on the Indian community. Amounting to over 2,000,000 individuals generalization seems inept to deem onto the lot because I have met only 2% of the population, tops, and know, individually, only 0.04% of them, tops! But what we can safely say is that these fraction of the percentages are a projection of the entire Indian community; just a projection not a definite equalization.
And through all those Indian people whom I've known, a projectile generalization is that alternate sexuality is a taboo. From what I've seen and heard, Malaysian Indian people commonly condemn the notion in question, and even if they accept it, they would NOT condone it to the likes of their own family. There is probably a very small pool of liberal, ultra-enlightened families whom embrace gay sons, transsexual nephews, and lesbian cousins but I am YET to come across them, strictly speaking in the context of local Indian people. I have met many wonderful acquaintances that see me as an individual rather than a laughing stock but how they would feel if their closest family members were like me is a conundrum only a semblance of the rightful scenario can explicate. Until and unless 'they' walk in those shoes, 'they' or anyone else for the matter will never be able to unravel the enigma.
With all that being said I would like to zoom in further into yet a definite pool of Malaysian Indian men. They ones with alternate sexual preferences a.k.a gay men. So this rules out transsexuals (cross-dressers, trans-gendered and any other sort included), which leaves us with Malaysian Indian men whom stay men, be it effeminate or otherwise. Talking, again through purely MY views and observations, most of them end up in (un)holy matrimony. Some are forced and some just take the plunge to seem normal and yet some do it because they want to experience pussies too.
My ultimate question is, would one belittle those whom are forced into marriage and are still out there looking for love or would one accept their pursuit by blaming the family?
Of course this goes to say that I personally would not approve of men whom are legally bound out of sheer willingness to either fit in or eat pussy! That just seems greedy. Casual sex is fine with me! It's a matter of personal choice BUT legally bound or in a relationship out of sheer self-conviction and desires and still wanting casual sex is by my conscience something worth disapproving. I have met such men and trust me when I say, they're among you!!! It maybe your uncles, cousins, friends or even your *bites lips* fathers...
Going back to my question, if you had a mother whose steadfastness makes you cringe and all you can do is nod in agreement, if you had a father whose autocratic-like rules leaves you no room for choices and you have come to respect and love your parents for who they are. Would you, for the sake of avoiding holy matrimony, give them up??? And can you judge those whom have bowed down and taken that unwilling plunge???
After all polygamy has been accepted and widely practiced....
Yes, it is all because I am dating a guy whose family forced him into marriage!!! More specifically, a Malaysian Indian gay men.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Designer Dream Half-off
I fell ill and decided to stay back in my room this mundane Monday to get some rest. Finally, some time to write something that doesn't come in just a sentence. Not that I resent writing those 'one-or-two-sentence' posts...
A recent reality check.
I was invited by Married Man (I really don't know how else to call him) to attend a baratanatyam arangetram held on Friday, March 18th, 2011. Me being the dance enthusiast, arrived promptly and fashionably (fashion; code for being late) to witness the event.
When we met (almost two weeks ago), Married Man told me he didn't know much about dance and he even asked me to show him how mudras (hand gestures for Indian classical dance) were done. So I did.
Now, it gets better.
I found out, on that Friday night, that the two students performing their arangetram was HIS students.
Imagine my embarrassment!!!
I was trying to teach a baratanatyam dance guru mudras!!!
That inadequate feeling in me hadn't popped its head out in a long time! Of course I was also scornful and left the vicinity without proper acknowledgment or a goodbye for the matter.
I confronted him. We spoke on the phone and I thought oh well, this wouldn't be the first time someone played a prank on me. I gave him the benefit of doubt. My doubts being, if this was the only lie he told me, however harmless it may be.
I still doubt;
if he really is doing what he said he does for a living;
if there really are 12 dance classes and three dance teachers to his credit;
if he is living where he says he does;
if his marriage WAS really out of inconvenience (the inconvenient fact being his mother's forceful attitude);
if he did really performances out of the country for an international audience.
I doubt... Really I do.
On a lighter note, I am completely infatuated by him, so much so that the brief conversation with Mr. P on Facebook chat on Thursday night did not matter (its content mostly going, "I miss you" and "Take care"; crucial to note that none of that came from me).
I wonder where this is going to take me. Cookies and Cakes has his doubts too, despite being supportive; lacking any judgmental hint one usually associates with dating a married person. I know Cookies and Cakes; one's close friendship for 13 plus years would mean one could see right through anything that the other says and does. I share his thoughts; his doubts. Enough to say that a passing thought sometimes turns into a passing wave of gut-wrenching possibilities of what turmoil may happen in the future; his wife swearing off my very existence (exaggeration on my behalf, I know!).Suffice to say that after all I have been through, I have decided to embrace the moment (Shit, shit, this is way too tacky for me!!!). Suffice to say that, owh what the heck, the man's sweet and he can dance; that's the closest I may ever get to a person that I can actually relate to!!! (No offence Cookies and Cakes, our platonic love is eternal...)
Cookies and Cakes has always been the far sighted one, not me. He is the one whose life is almost devout on having everything planned even IF plans mostly fail. For me however drafting a blueprint for most things I do is an exhausting task and like every red-blooded human being on Earth I try to avoid hassle; right up to the point it becomes a matter of life or death (yes, I take grocery shopping for dinner parties and wardrobe planning for special events a matter of life or death). This however, will not be a question of the heart's continuity. This whole Married Man situation is more of a 'go-with-the-flow' thing for me. I don't care where this is heading, because for once in my life I have had reciprocation by a person whose words, my stomach and my heart-beat react violently to.
I don't have plans because, come on, even the word 'plan' screams 'tiring' to me. Instead I have illusions of heart.
Some nice thing I call dream.
Day-dream.
And in those illusions I see A Man, a tall plus sized, successful, spiritual, pleasant-looking gay man with a good sense of fashion and humour hopelessly in love with me running into my ex, us looking absolutely fabulous! But hey, that's fantasy. In real life however, I know that running into Mr. P with Married Man (or any fabulous man for the matter) is probably never going to happen.
The very least the designer bearing the tag 'God' could offer me for being on this rut of a place called Earth by HIS own decision is, the designer dream half off...
A pleasant-looking man with a good sense of humour whom is trained in the Indian classical dance, baratanatyam (more invites to dance programs for me!!!) to keep and call 'half' my own.
A recent reality check.
I was invited by Married Man (I really don't know how else to call him) to attend a baratanatyam arangetram held on Friday, March 18th, 2011. Me being the dance enthusiast, arrived promptly and fashionably (fashion; code for being late) to witness the event.
When we met (almost two weeks ago), Married Man told me he didn't know much about dance and he even asked me to show him how mudras (hand gestures for Indian classical dance) were done. So I did.
Now, it gets better.
I found out, on that Friday night, that the two students performing their arangetram was HIS students.
Imagine my embarrassment!!!
I was trying to teach a baratanatyam dance guru mudras!!!
That inadequate feeling in me hadn't popped its head out in a long time! Of course I was also scornful and left the vicinity without proper acknowledgment or a goodbye for the matter.
I confronted him. We spoke on the phone and I thought oh well, this wouldn't be the first time someone played a prank on me. I gave him the benefit of doubt. My doubts being, if this was the only lie he told me, however harmless it may be.
I still doubt;
if he really is doing what he said he does for a living;
if there really are 12 dance classes and three dance teachers to his credit;
if he is living where he says he does;
if his marriage WAS really out of inconvenience (the inconvenient fact being his mother's forceful attitude);
if he did really performances out of the country for an international audience.
I doubt... Really I do.
On a lighter note, I am completely infatuated by him, so much so that the brief conversation with Mr. P on Facebook chat on Thursday night did not matter (its content mostly going, "I miss you" and "Take care"; crucial to note that none of that came from me).
I wonder where this is going to take me. Cookies and Cakes has his doubts too, despite being supportive; lacking any judgmental hint one usually associates with dating a married person. I know Cookies and Cakes; one's close friendship for 13 plus years would mean one could see right through anything that the other says and does. I share his thoughts; his doubts. Enough to say that a passing thought sometimes turns into a passing wave of gut-wrenching possibilities of what turmoil may happen in the future; his wife swearing off my very existence (exaggeration on my behalf, I know!).
Cookies and Cakes has always been the far sighted one, not me. He is the one whose life is almost devout on having everything planned even IF plans mostly fail. For me however drafting a blueprint for most things I do is an exhausting task and like every red-blooded human being on Earth I try to avoid hassle; right up to the point it becomes a matter of life or death (yes, I take grocery shopping for dinner parties and wardrobe planning for special events a matter of life or death). This however, will not be a question of the heart's continuity. This whole Married Man situation is more of a 'go-with-the-flow' thing for me. I don't care where this is heading, because for once in my life I have had reciprocation by a person whose words, my stomach and my heart-beat react violently to.
I don't have plans because, come on, even the word 'plan' screams 'tiring' to me. Instead I have illusions of heart.
Some nice thing I call dream.
Day-dream.
And in those illusions I see A Man, a tall plus sized, successful, spiritual, pleasant-looking gay man with a good sense of fashion and humour hopelessly in love with me running into my ex, us looking absolutely fabulous! But hey, that's fantasy. In real life however, I know that running into Mr. P with Married Man (or any fabulous man for the matter) is probably never going to happen.
The very least the designer bearing the tag 'God' could offer me for being on this rut of a place called Earth by HIS own decision is, the designer dream half off...
A pleasant-looking man with a good sense of humour whom is trained in the Indian classical dance, baratanatyam (more invites to dance programs for me!!!) to keep and call 'half' my own.
More Blowjob Talk
Maybe you're on your knees but you got them by the balls!!!
-Sam Jones
Sex and The City
Season 1, Episode 7
Friday, March 18, 2011
I Don't Know...
I have been dreading visiting my blog because of this serious confession; I am having an affair with a married man.
I don't even know how long this is going to last... Or even if it would last...
And God do I know repercussions...
But for the first time, in a long time, my stomach flipped...
My heart was longing for a text message from that person...
I think of him day and night...
His touch, his smell, his words and the least of all, how he looked like...
I keep asking myself what am I getting myself into...
But when I remember just how much I am missing him the past few days I haven't seen him; I miss him even more...
I really don't care for judgments for I have been facing it my whole life...
And no one would ever know what happens between two people...
When he held my hands and told me how soft mine was and how rough his was; when he closed his eyes in satisfaction for the peck on his cheek I gave him; when our fingers were interlocked; when he smiled at me like as if he was looking at something so precious, I fell just that much deeper...
I don't know...
I really don't know.......
I need you Cookies and Cakes..........
I don't even know how long this is going to last... Or even if it would last...
And God do I know repercussions...
But for the first time, in a long time, my stomach flipped...
My heart was longing for a text message from that person...
I think of him day and night...
His touch, his smell, his words and the least of all, how he looked like...
I keep asking myself what am I getting myself into...
But when I remember just how much I am missing him the past few days I haven't seen him; I miss him even more...
I really don't care for judgments for I have been facing it my whole life...
And no one would ever know what happens between two people...
When he held my hands and told me how soft mine was and how rough his was; when he closed his eyes in satisfaction for the peck on his cheek I gave him; when our fingers were interlocked; when he smiled at me like as if he was looking at something so precious, I fell just that much deeper...
I don't know...
I really don't know.......
I need you Cookies and Cakes..........
Thursday, March 17, 2011
To All Men Whom Enjoy Blowjobs...
Easy??? You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement and jaw stress and suction and gag reflex and all the while bobbing up and down moaning and trying to breath through our noses, easy??? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothing!!!
-Samantha Jones
-Sex and The City
-Season Three, Episode Nine
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Questions, All Kind of Questions....
When you call all the shots in your life, whatever the outcome, would you regret or wouldn't you?
Otherwise, would you regret if you didn't decide most of it??
When do you realise you are truly satisfied with your predicament?
And when you do reach that state, would you ask for more or would you be satisfied?
Are complaints a way of self expression or is it just us being insatiable?
Or is it just a way to push ourselves to strive better?
Why do people always think they and only their lives are the worst case scenario?
Why do people always think they know it all??
A way to fit in? Keep up?? Not be lost out???
What defines limits of our expectations?
Why do we all keep expecting??
When does it stop???
How far can one stretch hope?
What is the difference between hope and a lost cause?
Why do we live?
When do we stop living??
Does it ever occur to human beings that out there, everyone else is made of the same flesh and blood?
Why do we have desires?
Why was religion created?
If we're made up the same atoms water is made up of why do we feel that it is lifeless?
Why do we eat animals when all the protein needed by our body is available from plants??
Why do we have families?
Why do we feel love?
What is so great about love and hope that it can move mountains?
Is finding a soul-mate that important??
What completes us?
Why does science seem to know all the answers??
And when it goes beyond explanation, why does science shy away?
What do prayers entail?
Do they work?
Why do we only pray for what we want?
Even if we do pray for what others' want, we are praying to want it for them aren't we?
We still want don't we?
Do our brainwaves carry that much of power?
Do we have souls??
Why do we have them?
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| ??? |
I guess I am a little child still wanting answers.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
HDaran, New and Idiot-Proof!!!
I have officially given up on love!
Although Metro Me says, never say never.
I'll take my chances...
I'm never going to fall in love again.
Bye Mr. P and Muscle Loaded and all the future possible parodies...
To Muscle Loaded,
Hope your promiscuous life makes you realise that one fine day that hot body of yours reaches an expiration date and you'll be back looking for that little something called companionship...
To Mr.P,
I'll be there witnessing your wedding and the upbringing of your family. And you will see me in your life in the future. That point when you do see me in my 'almost-everything-designer', I will take comfort in knowing that you'll always miss the times (and that person i.e., yours truly) when you had someone whom looked after you (under most circumstances) and gave you mind-blowing blowjobs!
As for me, companionship for me now means friends albeit extending to only a few close ones.
I am turning into a cynical, jaded person who's full of witty sarcasm (let's hope) and loves being all he is. Not forcefully, rather willfully; I am halfway there.
And when people give me that pitiful stare (all that bullshit about being alone and not finding love), I shall do the same when they have to run off for diaper change duty, go on about their nagging boyfriends/girlfriends, complain about the monotony of married life or complain about how cash is always so insufficient when you have a family to run.
Welcome the new Hdaran; optimistically wry and scornfully ferocious (all in an ambiguously good way of course)!
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| Vogue.com |
Tuesday, March 01, 2011
I wish Mr. P Never Happened
I can't help but feeling how 'OK' my life would've been if Mr.P never happened!!!
No depression.
Done with my Masters and probably halfway through my PhD.
Had sex with lots of people and had fun.
Earned some cash.
Still living in the capital city.
No smoking.
Dancing my heart out (I once stayed away from dancing because I was so stupid to think that it would make him more satisfied of me).
All this still very much the tip of the iceberg.
How I wish....
No depression.
Done with my Masters and probably halfway through my PhD.
Had sex with lots of people and had fun.
Earned some cash.
Still living in the capital city.
No smoking.
Dancing my heart out (I once stayed away from dancing because I was so stupid to think that it would make him more satisfied of me).
All this still very much the tip of the iceberg.
How I wish....
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