chaka chaka

for some it might be money, pretty dresses, 1000 pairs of shoes, a boy, a girl, love, a good fuck, facebook, tattoos, alcohol, television, even billy corgan.

my own quiet fixation? blue skies and birds.

i am black and white
i don’t give a shit about your grey
or myriad feints and excuses and buts and shrugs
i am a despot
tyrant
do not fuck with me i am absolute and immovable

just realised that i’m spamming people’s blogroll literally with a big “fuck you”. so.

in the past week people around me have sucked. hard. some are a big surprise. some are just blood-sucking leeches. always have been, always will be. it’s hard to be surprised when leeches have bad manners. duh.

anyhoo, was having dinner with JT and babbling on about my day and i realised *lightbulb moment* that i should have my own podcast or video blog or something terribly amusing like that.

being terribly camera shy and hating my own voice a lot won’t be a problem at all. no, sirree.

heh. found this on tumblr.

there’s actually one special person to thank for my mind-numbing phobia of getting hurt. surprise surprise, it actually doesn’t stem from my ex-boyfriend (he left me with years of emotional baggage including but not limited to low self esteem, psychosis and irrational paranoia, but that’s another post entirely reserved for a particularly bad day).

i just figured, life was going so well, something was bound to screw up my mood for the entire year.

my most life-shaping best friend, we’ll call her M (because i’m so original and creative that i can’t be bothered to think of a witty pseudonym for her, instead choosing to go for her initial cos i’m just oozing inspiration from a poisonous insect bite on my foot), i met in high school. in retrospect, it was less of a friendship than it was me hankering after her like a stray dog, eager for a word of kindness or a laugh or smile or just some acknowledgment. i worshipped her. she could do no wrong.

anyhoo. we got along fine and dandy except for moments when we didn’t. and by “moments” i mean months. by months i mean a periods of time long enough for a fetus to pass the stage where pro-choicers and pro-lifers argue whether it’s a real human life anymore. and by “didn’t get along” i mean she just cut me off from her presence (which i remind you, was like  air or something to me) for shits and giggles. then after the emotional abandonment gig got stale she’d come back contrite (i wonder), apologise, and like the happy coprophile that i was, i just lapped it all up. mmmmm… yummy!

so lather, rinse & repeat till i finally couldn’t stomach it (haha) and gave her The Ultimatum™ – fuiyoh, damn gaya right? it’s like i grew balls overnight – do it one more time, and we’re through. of course, in a plot twist even m. night shyamalan wouldn’t have foreseen, she disappeared one day and starting bitching about me behind my back.

i fell apart like a weepy little girl. like i got dumped by my boyfriend. i couldn’t eat. couldn’t sleep. lay in bed listening to her favourite songs while covering my pillow with snot. you know the drill. but that was a good 6 years ago and at the time i actually believed i learned some sort of life-affirming, chicken soup for the soul lesson: don’t stand for people treating you less than you deserve and you won’t get hurt.

cue twinkly time travel effects and we’re magically in the year 2010, where i am hotter, wiser and more awesome. and while i’ve had to put my foot down a few times (because humanity sucks that way) i’m still susceptible to this kind of pain caused by the same inevitable brand of puerile bullshit.

and you can’t avoid it.

you can’t think to yourself “i’m not going to let them get close, yo. burn me once, shame on you. burn me twice, shame on me!” because people, with their idiosyncrasies and their flaws and their strengths and their stupidity and their awesomeness and everything else just weasel into your life, and eventually your heart, and you can’t deny it to yourself even if you put on your most aggressive game face to the world. those closest to you can still see it. and in this pathetic, quivering, fragile state, you half wonder if someone you least suspect is one day going to use it against you.

wow. what a liar.

no needs to sees my face ever agains. happeess liaos? byes~

yes, i understand that a friendship is not Give and Take balancing in perfect equilibrium. having said that, i expect (actually demand) that this deviation stay within a certain set of boundaries, which is, unfortunately enough, determined by whim and fancy.

some people i’d forgive for crashing my car; some people i’d never speak to again for the very vague reason that you’ve “hurt my feelings”.

go figure which camp i’ve lumped you in. maybe think about why i may have felt transgressed against.

then don’t come ask me about it.

So it’s been about a month. Working in the heart of the city requires aunty to be in bed before 4am to hit the street by 9am to be sitting at my desk in front of the boss before 10am.

I now eat at regular human time, which has freaked me out.

No, I’m not going to talk about work. Posting biz-related stuff on a public (i.e. unlocked, you idiot. Hiding your url and getting hissy won’t make it magically disappear from spiders) blog. Unless it’s good. And also not some P&C stuff guaranteed to get you escorted out the building by two burly security guards.

So within the third week, they lugged me to a client presso. That, I really appreciate, cos y’know I haven’t been in almost two years.

Just saying.

Postie Sent by Maxis from my BlackBerry® smartphone

edit: yes yes i know wordpress for blackberry is way more awesome, tighter controls & settings, but i wanted to try this for yonks because the damn postie plugin wouldn’t work the first time round.

when JT told me never to get a credit card, i thought he underestimated my awesome willpower.

it was i who underestimated how evil the cards are. and no, i didn’t go on some monaco/dubai shopping spree, they are. just. fucking. evil.

so the first time i got into a little hot water was when i had that scuffle with the divider. going 60kmh on a sharp bend after a heavy rain was my own damned fault. which also threw me off my anal retentive payment schedule and turned me into a revolver.

in retrospect, my neurosis might have added to the whole mess. i tried paying off everything every month, which was probably beyond my means. and so i swiped for this small purchase, for petrol, for whatnot. lo behold, the next month i’d only cleared a few hundred ringgit.

luckily for me, when arachnid sent me to london in march, they also helped clear my debt. mr finance director plonked a cool 13K into my credit card so i could pay for room & board in chelsea. i did warn him that i suspected 2K would go to paying for my accident, but being the sugar daddy he is he merely shrugged it off.

arachnid balance transfer. how awesome.

anyhoo, i did make a call to HSBC’s call centre to see if they could credit me the 2K. half-heartedly, of course.

me: could you check and see if you can credit an amount in the original outstanding into my savings account.

HSBC asshole: let me check with my supervisor.

*twinkly call centre music*

HSBC asshole: yes, my supervisor said it’s possible.

me: could i get your supervisor’s name?

HSBC asshole: *nervous giggle* actually, he’s not my supervisor. hold on.

*twinkly call centre music*

me: WTF!

finally lodged a complaint. HA! take that shit, you idiot.

oh what other horrors lay in store? in april i bought my lovely white macbook with a 12-month instalment plan (do the breakdown yourself) and that was fine. i also splurged a little this month (crumpler, mayday DNA DVD!) which is not so fine but still ok. who knew that HSBC’s apparent payment hierarchy meant that whenever i paid out of the little window between Statement Date and Payment Due Date all my funds automatically went into paying for the mac. not my retail spend. EH HELLO WTF IS THIS SHIT? BANKING THROUGH INSTINCT ISIT? NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THIS YOU FUCKS. so the thousand four hundred ringgit i threw into my card this month? nothing. didn’t offset my expenditure a single sen. they happily carried it forward. because they’re bitches, and to bitches the word “instalment” means, “please please please fuck me. fuck me hard and make me cry.”

but hey, this lovely lappie is half mine already.

i’m working up a nice lather of cold sweat just thinking about it. i… i did my hair. and it’s not paid for yet. *throws up on shoes*

for illustration purposes only. never even touched this card.

so i cancelled my card. but not before redeeming a couple of vouchers from my points first. umm, yay?

ARGH. I’M IN DEBT AGAIN FUCKERS. FUCK YOU HSBC.