outlet

She’s the one that ignited that spark, the one with the approval of close knit friends. I’m the one you’re dating today. I cant listen to 3 doors down without wondering if each time you sing along to it you think of what could have been.

I know she’s the one that could have been. I am the one that is.

I am the one you talk to about toilet habits and she’s the one who took the wind out of your sails.

If you remember correctly, I’m the one people said don’t date. They asked and I quote: “You sure ah dei..?”

Think I am overreacting? But if 2 yrs after the fact there’re still suggestive comments about what you and she could have been or might still have in between, I beg to differ. The silent support of friends and innocuous teasings might be in  light humour, but isn’t there an ounce of truth to each ‘Just joking la bro..’?

If I had gone out on a few casual dates with someone else from a close circle of friends and now years later, people still think I should try hooking up with that guy, I dare you to look me in the eye and say ‘I wouldn’t be insecure’ .

Rationalization would say you’re with me because you want to. Rationalization would also ask why. I work 68hr weeks with barely enough energy to hold a conversation with you 6 days out of 7, and when we do talk we end up squabbling. She’s the sort of girl that would stop traffic and I’m probably on the other side of the kerb when it comes to personal charms.

If you say it’s coz I care it helps somewhat. But rationalization would also be able to show you that  anyone can care for you the way I do. It’s not that hard to like you and it gets easier from that point on to keep caring deeper.

She could make Superman weak and eager to spend time with her. I'm the one who keeps talking to you to spend time with you even when you'd rather be doing other things.

That said and done I’ll be around till the day you decide otherwise. Laying my cards on the table plain and clear. 

Since you work with facts I laid 'em out. Since we both know I have a tendency to let emotions rule, let me say this. It hurts. Like shit. Every single time. I thought it would lessen with time and I've learned how to numb myself to it to a certain extent. But this New Year seems to have brought it back out with a reality like the jagged edges of a rusting penknife. 

I don't blame your friends, I don't blame you. I should be out there proving I deserve you instead of her but there are so many rules and limitations. And what do I have to up against her? It's not a competition but if you were to put us both on a shelf, the more logical choice would be blatantly clear to a blind man. 

Am just taking it one day at a time and laying my cards out in plain view. Forgive the occasional outlets but saying it out or in this case writing it cant be much worse than holding it in.

I ask again: would you rather be with the one that got away? Because the last thing I want is to hold you back from something that could make you a happier more fulfilled person.

**disclaimer: the above is dramatisation for the sake of emotional release ;)**

Backbone

Homesick

The title says it all. Ggrr...I'm homesick for the people I love.

Ahimsa?

That basically means non violence... and to me it covers physical, intentional and verbal nonviolence too.

I've been tempted to kill off my blog though... since February actually, after a conversation with an acquaintance who got it into his head that a certain post was about him. The post was subsequently deleted because I got sick of trying to explain myself to someone I couldnt give two figs about. Yep. I'm a horrible person that way.

Back to what I was saying. Blogging was a hobby, a way to connect. Now one year past... it feels like a heavy chain about my neck. People I'm close to, people I barely know, people I would rather keep their distance from me... It hit me that they're getting an insight to me. And I'm not too comfortable with that. I've always been a private person... and to think a person I smile in acknowledgement at but have never had a decent conversation with might know what I had for breakfast this morning is unnerving. Yep. I'm a bit on the paranoid side. Not that I'm being stalked or anything, it's just well, it's me. It's a lot nicer to just blend in and not get too much attention, except from people who really matter...loved ones, family, true friends, you get the picture.

So to kill or not to kill. I don't know. Maybe I just wont post for a bit and take a breather.. too many articles I'm attached to here. Maybe I should just say to heck with it, my blog, my thoughts, so what if some people don't like it... just learn to deal with it? :S

Sigh. Undecided. It's a terrible feeling. I respect people who can make decisions in a split second. Me... it usually takes me longer than the average person. I mean, hello... I've been weighing this relatively simple decision for around 7 months. There are people who decide who they want to live with for the rest of their lives on a first date. There are those who walk away from all worldly possessions to work with gorillas in South Africa. World leaders decide how much to cut carbon emissions by in a matter of days.

But I LIKE blogging. Sigh. Till later then

Fire

You can't really fight it with fire, can you? And if you were gonna fight it with ice, wouldn't you lose your ammunition? And not fighting it aint an option. Maybe we should starve it, decline it of fuel. And keep combustible materials far away. But wouldn't that be morally wrong? Almost inhumane? And why can't we just walk away? Because we're family? Because we're honour-bound? We stick around even when it makes us hurt. Because we have each toher. When one tires, the other steps in. Like the fire-brigade. Except we don't wear uniforms. Then we joke about it over tea, making the gigantimous seem almost trivial. That's just what we do.

National Exams

they wanna abolish 2 out of 3 currently in place. WTH?

while i agree that national exams make some extra competitive and add pressure, why doesn't anyone else find it to be a good thing?

Everything has the good and bad and as much as i complain about our current education system, I think that the exams are one of the GOOD things.

1. i NEVER studied for any major exam in school, except for the final one before graduating high school, and even that i did mere weeks before. ask my mum if you don't believe me.
2. i doubt more than a handful actually did
3. the exams sort of gave us a sense of purpose
4. while being able to demotivate when results come out, even the failures form resolves to do something with their lives. i have friends in this category. i have friends who completely gave up too. and i have friends who fall in between both of these extremes. so don't tell me that exams bring out the best or worst in people. they just assess, it's how a person responds to the assessment, but that would spark a conversation about mentality and i'm not going there.
5. marking the papers actually gives senior citizens a chance to earn some extra money. these aren't high flying corporate successes. these are people who live on their pensions or EPF. it gives THEM a sense of purpose
6. exams help with streaming.... i know it sounds biased but it does help identify ppl with artistic inclinations and science inclinations. ppl who probably don't have a solid career ambition yet. won't streaming help them figure it out?
7. term-based assessments are nonsense in my opinion.everyone's gonna take it lightly. plus, how can you know the standard of the exam questions? it'll probably vary from school to school. what's gonna stop schools who want better results from not setting easier questions? or giving 'leaked' questions?

too much pressure. isn't school a means to teach kids how to HANDLE pressure? instead they're trying to protect us from it like overzealous parents.

if they do wanna make a change, change it to continuous assessments + exams. like in the south australian matriculation. or they could just hand us play dough in school.

yeah, i'm more than a little irritated. call it nerves if you want to.

Life’s Drama: Lies and Forgiveness

Adam looked at the two adults seated at the same table and he thought back to the day that this had all begun:

“You talk too much!” the lady’s voice had been harsh with hardly suppressed anger.

“You should know,” the man had almost sneered at the beautiful woman dressed smartly in calf-length skirt and a light blue blouse. “Judging a person’s talk is what you do at work anyway and you never knew how to keep work and personal life separate, now did you?”

Adam had just looked on in bewilderment, gripping the handle of his little plastic mug tight, unsure of what to do.

“Are you saying something here? If you are, say it outright! We’re both adults. Aren’t we?” Her voice had become louder and louder and her eyebrow had shot up, a danger signal that the man knew very well.

“You want me to utter those filthy words. Words that you have no qualms about acting out.” He had wanted her to hurt. She deserved to after the hell she had put him through.

“I have had enough!” Her fists had been clenched into tight balls. “You are jumping to conclusions, and I will not stoop to your level! You did it before, you think I didn’t know? Well, I do and I think of it everyday and I-would-love-to-do-the-same-to-you!” Her words had been grated out between clenched teeth.

“You ungrateful ….!” The man had brought his fist down on the glass coffee table, shattering it in one violent movement and drowning out the rest of his words.

Adam had felt the tears falling and his chest had clenched in fear. “Mummy?” he had managed through his sobs. “Why are you and Daddy fighting?”

“We aren’t fighting, honey,” the lady had told him.

The man had been swearing under his breath.

“Jaan, you’re bleeding.” She had grabbed the table cloth and reached out for his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” he had snarled and stalked out of the room, a fury burning within his throat. 

Anger at her for seeking solace in another, anger at himself for not being able to deny her accusations. Disgust at himself for the accusations he had hurled at her, disgust at her for not honouring her vows. Fear for their home. Pity for Adam.

The cool wind from the porch had hit his face, helping him breathe a little easier. His hand had begun to throb where the glass pieces had pierced through.

“Da?” The voice had shook slightly.

The man had turned to face his eight-year-old. “Come here, son.”

The boy had gone to the man’s side. “Mummy asked you to hold the hand tight and wrap it in this,” the child had told him, brown eyes big and saucer-like as he held out a dish cloth. “Does it hurt, Da? Shall we go to the doctor?”

The man had laughed a short curt laugh. “I am a doctor, Adam.”

The boy had nodded and kept quiet for a minute. “I thought you told Mummy that she was always your doctor?” His brows had been furrowed as he tried to recall a memory.

“I’m not sure that’s true anymore.” The man’s voice had been gruff.

“Do you have another doctor now?” the boy had asked seriously.

“Jaan, get into the car. You probably need stitches.” The lady had appeared at the doorway with her handbag slung over one shoulder.

“Mummy, why are you crying?” Adam had asked noticing her tear-streaked face.

“Stop being melodramatic. I’m the one with the bleeding hands.”

“Just shut the hell up and get into the car.” Her voice had been cool. She knew her ability to keep an even temper infuriated her husband even more than her anger.

“Let me tell you what you can do with the car…” His voice had been dangerous and his eyes glinting as he advanced on her, pinning her against the white walls of the porch.

“Daddy, stop…!” Adam had started crying again as he watched his mother’s face pale with fear.

“Jaan, I never slept with him,” the lady had whispered into his broad shoulders. “There was flirting, but it was on his side.”

“You lie,” he had growled in a low voice.

“You believe what you want. I made it seem that way because I was mad at you about Anita.”

“What?” His dark eyes had been fixed on her face.

“She told me that…”

The man had taken two steps backwards. “That’s untrue. You actually believed her?” His tone had been incredulous.

“Why would she lie?”

“I wish I knew…”

“So, shared custody?” his father asked his mother and his polite voice cut through Adam’s reverie.

“Agreed. We’ll sell the house and car and share the sum equally.”

Now they were signing a whole sheaf of papers.  His father was in a hurry, he was going to meet Aunty Anita for tea. His mother’s cell phone beeped and she picked up the call.

“Hi, honey,” she said into the mouthpiece and Adam saw his father grimace.

His father had said that his mother was going to marry a friend from work but he still looked at her in the same way and at nights sometimes his mother cried herself to sleep and mumbled his father’s name in her troubled slumber.

The nine-year-old looked at the two adults who had been the pillars of his life and wondered how they failed to see what was so clear to him.

He watched the weave of the pen across the divorce papers as they signed the agreement to end their marriage and Adam felt hollow inside. He felt helpless and wished he could do something to make it right again. He watched and wished that they would see and understand that he did not want this.

“Take care then.” Adam stood by his father as his mother walked away and he heard the shallow intake of breath from his father and knew that it was a sigh of regret.

Adam wanted to cry but instead he put his hand into his father’s and held on tightly, willing him some comfort.

“Mummy won’t be coming back. She’ll be happier this way,” his father said softly as the black Toyota pulled away.

Adam wondered if what his father had said was true and wondered if his father actually believed it to be true. Adam wondered if his father was just pretending to be OK, like his mother was. Adam wondered how much longer he could wear the façade of the shoulder to lean against for his parents for he too was pretending not to hurt inside.

“All the world is a play and we are but actors in it”             -William Shakespeare -

“Forgive and forget. Easier said than done.”                        - Anon -

Too Close At Arm's Length

If your head is right above mine,

Then you’re standing too close to me,

If your hand is almost touching mine,

You’re there again, too close to me,

It makes me squirm, thoughts in my mind,

Would spell out something really fine,

They’d say: Back out of my face and let me be,

Because I hate the way you make me feel.

The look in your eyes makes my innards squeal,

A silent protest when your presence violates me.

Stay away, and do keep a safe distance;

You disgust me, for you I would not give a pittance!

I know your type, all charming and leery,

And I don’t have the time to be cheery,

Stay away and do keep a safe distance,

You make me sick, like a rabid dog all flea bitten. 

I realise the language in this is a bit harsh, but I’m not gonna make excuses coz I’ve written it almost

exactly like I felt it, perhaps I even made it a little milder…:l

And I know my posts have been somewhat dark. I’m working on getting my inner sunshine back, but till

then, please, bear with me, aite? :)

Bigger than HIV?

I noticed it when I was 2 customers away from the check out counter. There was a dark discolouration at the corner of the cashier's mouth and the lady in front of me was rattling on and on about 'Gerpes' and her male companion made a crude remark that I unfortunately understood. Idiot.


When I got to the cashier, I smiled and told her that I'd be needing 2 plastic bags, please and I realised that in all probability the girl had an exacerbation of HSV. I considered the alternative of a malignised mole (meaning melanoma) but it was more of an ulcer, the location was typical for the HSV infection and given the unpredictable weather and dark rings under her eyes, the girl was probably immunosuppressed - the main reason that HSV flares up again from the latent form. Too medical-ish? :)


My point is, the couple before me should have known better than to throw words like that around, because like all other STDs, it attracts social stigma. If I with my broken Russian could have understood what they had meant, I'm sure the young girl did as well. Will someone say 'idiot' for me? Please?


The crappy thing about herpes is this: once you get it, there's no guarantee that it won't flare up again even with proper medication. It's a ghost that'll follow you around all life long. I'm qouting a lecturer here - sort of!


Herpes is more than an STD. Did you know that the chicken pox virus is a member of the Herpes family too? Yep. Chicken pox and shingles are related to HSVs too. 


EBV infections which look like the common flu/sore throat is also a Herpes virus, causing infectious mononucleosis and nasal carcinoma in susceptible populations.


Kaposi's sarcoma which look a lot like tumours of blood vessels is usually associated with AIDS, but in fact occurs in systemic dysbiosis and  other immunosuppressed states as well.


There is CMV which also looks like the common flu, the highest intrauterine infection to date and ones of the TORCH-ES infections the Ob-Gyns keep harping about.


Then there are the Herpes virus 6 and 7 which are still being studied. Type 6 is sort of connected with diaper rash. Really.


All in all, the 8 Herpes viruses are nothing to snigger about. I read in passing some time ago that in a decade plus Herpes viruses will become a bigger threat than AIDS so it's time people realised that going around cracking 'Gerpes' jokes at the expense of another person's self esteem doesn't make you chaste, it makes you an airhead. 


Sorry bout the vent, think of it as a part of the information parcel ;)

On Children.Not A Happy Post

          Kids are time consuming, nerve wrecking and totally unpredictable. Even more so when they aren't our own!You would think that they'd be less complex because they are essentially miniature versions of us, no? But after our third posting at the department, the little stethoscope-demanding gremlins seem to have grown on us.

          All that said and done, I still fail to get why people have kids and then throw them aside.  

Case 1: Beautiful woman with gorgeous eyes talks to us. Educated, confident, Orthodox Christian. Then we walk into the procedure room later and there she is, getting a D&C (abortion) Unwanted pregnancy? Use protection, dammit. Not like you live in a Muslim country without sex-ed, yeah?

Case 2: Well-to-do couple, stable home. When we met their child (then 5 months plus), they were nowhere in sight and had stopped visiting the child when he was 1 month old. Why? Coz he was born with microcephalia (small skull and brain) Yes, death is imminent for a child in that condition but he was still their child. He still needed their love. We just learnt that he passed away a few weeks back. I doubt anyone claimed his body. Please do say a prayer for him.

Case 3: It happens ALL the time at home and I'm getting bloody sick of it. Woman (in most cases it's a GIRL, not a WOMAN) has kid, wraps it (or doesn't) and hides baby in bushes/toilet/whatever place she thinks is safe. Whatever place she thinks is safe, is NOT. The kid will probably be hungry/ suffer from overcooling/ get an infection/ be bitten by insects/ be afraid. Yes, newborns can feel fear. These 'mothers' never hand in the child to welfare/ the police because they fear the potential social stigma. Cow dung, if you ask me.

Case 4: Abuse. We hear about abuse in the name of God (like God would tell you to burn the kid with incense or whip him till he bleeds?), in parental conflict, in poverty/after drug or alcohol consumption. I freaking hate it. I've even met with a mum who made her kids drink paraquat (weedkiller) after some problems with her spouse. How are we supposed to be IMPARTIAL and WANT to save the life of a woman who would harm innocent beings under her care? Don't get me wrong, but most child abuse cases involve the mothers or female guardians. At times I find myself cursing Hippocrates and his oath.

          I don't know why I'm writing this. It isn't going to change the fate of these kids, but it sucks to see kids like that. It's just unfair. I usually think of their shy smiles, confiding whispers, Winnie the Pooh bedspreads and little finger nails but I got a little emo after reading about the babysitter and lover who caused the death of a toddler. Inhumane.

Are women REALLY the better half? 

          Women succumb to selfish acts, give in to fear for 'social standing' and then behave like men are incapable of rational thought when in fact it is the woman who makes the FINAL decision on abortion/ abandoning the child. 

          The fact that I am even blogging against my own gender proves how wrong I feel this is. 'This' being us women smearing camel shit all over the notion of motherhood and motherliness.

          Forget breastfeeding campaigns. Teach the women how to BE women and not vile ar** wipes, for our educated women of today have forgotten the basic cave-men era lessons of loving and nurturing.

          I know the post is full of rantings and negative emotions. My apologies, but I had to get these feelings into a semblance of order. I don't function well with pent up chaotic anger, but expressed 'controlled' fury like this is more manageable :)

"God is in the face of a child "

My mum told me this once when my nephew was born. I couldn't agree with her more. 

Looking forward to more drool faces and pouty small round faces, because I think CHILDREN are the better half of the population. 

Not My Typical Monday

“There’s a daily withdrawal limit, so that means we get to pay only on Friday,” he told his

girlfriend.

My mouth stuffed full of fries, I could just nod. We had just booked our flights home.

So, wads of notes crammed into my jeans, we had pizza together. That was at 1400 hours.

Got home, soaked my laundry, defrosted the shrimp, looked up the recipe for seafood pasta,

opened numerous webpages and began my earth-shaking (not! ) task of leaving comments on blogger and replying a thread on FB that keeps us together still.

            Then my phone rang. It was my ex-roomie, E. “Loshi, do you have antacids?” Her voice was strained.

            Me being me, I yelled down the phone , “E! When’d you get back?!”  It took me three whole minutes to realise that something was wrong. I’m like that at times.

            Grabbing my antacids and other meds I keep around for gastritis I ran up the 2 floors to her room.

            The first thing I saw was her red round butt. Not E’s butt. P’s butt. She looked like she was doing some weird yoga pose, but in fact she was doubled over in pain in the middle of the floor.

            It took 30 minutes, a cold compress to her abdomen  and another two rounds of retching and puking, plus some exchanged worried glances between E, Y (the third roommate..) and I before I ran down to the djurni mama’s post to ask her to get an ambulance, leaving the other two in charge of the Emotional Department. That was 1656. I know that because I got a call right then from my ex which I not unhappily cancelled.

            “Padajdite ni monoshka,” the mamachka told me and I went to sit down at the sofa in the lobby.        

            I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Each passing minute had me convinced that the gastritis had led to a peptic ulcer, which in turn had perforated, caused freaking sepsis and formed a bloody abcess in her brain, on a background of pain shock, of course. The paramedics here are called ‘skora pamoch’ which literally translates as ‘quick help’. The freakin’ irony.

            It was worse because I had to smile at people I knew who walked past and tell them that I was waiting for a friend. A little white lie to prevent mass hysteria. Sort of.

            It took them 40 minutes and I had exhausted the limits of my colourful vocabulary in my mind. The paramedics came in then, bloody laughing and I stood up and to my utmost surprise, I smiled!

            Yeah well, she got poked in the stomach, asked a couple of routine questions and after a hushed conversation between those two tall men, got administered platyphylline.

            The three of us hovered in the background, squishing the occasional baby roach or two.

            Using what little Russian linguistic capabilities we had harnessed over these years, we communicated with those two giants and they whisked P and Y away in the ambulance to the hospital, leaving E and I with puke-pail, used ampoules and the task of getting all of P’s documents and personal items for an overnight stay at the hospital.

            Oh, and I put the shrimp back into the freezer… :)

            Approximately 1800 hours: E and I are sardined in the marshutka (sort of a shuttle van?) to the hospital, stuck between beautiful blonde with fake eyelashes and smelly old drunk.

            1835: We arrive at the old building and after even more waiting, bloodtaking and a zillion stupid jokes that we seem to spout at moments like these, P got the greenlight for the slumber party at the hospital ward. Woo-hooo!

            Then we get up to the ward and the medsistra informs us that P would be needing her own plate and mug if she planned on getting fed while hospitalized. Now how the hell had E and I overlooked a plate  and mug while packing for an emergency hospitalisation? I mean, seriously, man, what the heck were we thinking??

            After hugging P, we three musketeers walked down to the groundfloor and went to a store nearby to get the mug and plate and some food for the poor woman since it was now past nine p.m., which meant dinner at the hospital was over (thankfully? Haha..)

We also grabbed some M&M’s for sustenance ;)

            The walk back was a shocker. The stars were out, so many and so bright that my earlier peevishness dissolved like the M&M’s in my mouth. It was fabulous.

Then the wind started blowing. Talk about the calm before a storm.

            The wind was just chilly initially, teasing, then it got stronger and by the time we exited the pharmacist (we have to buy our own meds here… which I kinda like. Funny, aint it?) we had a minityphoon roaring around us.

            Pushing against it and giggling uncontrollably we walked down that last dark lane, expecting a  mental gold-toothed man, frothing at the mouth and wielding a huge chainsaw behind every tree, we got back to P finally.

            We passed her everything under the hawk gaze of the nurse and took ourselves home.

            2200 hours or something like that: We completely spooked ourselves out when we were walking out to the marshutka stop because the cats were yowling and dogs werenbarking at the raging wind. Three idiots, the Malaysian version :P

            2245: I turned the key to my unit to find that I had laundry to wash. My nightmare. I walk into my room and look myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess. My mum’s worst nightmare (my hair’s lack of regard for conformity is notorious at home).

            2358: Happy with my hot shower, I began typing this

            0031 hours: With a steaming mug of Milo at hand and my hair half dried, the minityphoon

is a scale 1 typhoon now. I hope the trees don’t get uprooted and that the stray animals and homeless have found safe shelter somewhere. I realise that the medical service in this country is slow because they lack the manpower and funds - the image of the overworked resident at the priomnaye adjeleniye (reception) is in my mind’s eye right now. I hope I wake up in time for lectures tomorrow, but I can’t sleep yet. I need my hair to dry first. One of the woes of the fairer sex :)… and I hope P’s ok.

*it is not 6 am plus... that's Malaysian time :). I must be growing old coz it isn't even 1 am and my eyes are so heavy already. Terrible. Maybe I should consider investing in a hairdryer?

Troublesome Mountains

Dark title for a dark blog. It's about the worst nightmare of being away from home and decent commercial service. It's a lesson about how procrastination hurts - literally. My shoulders are so sore right now and I am typing with one hand, but i am getting ahead of myself here. Let me begin...

Two bags full. Not like i had accumulated it for months.. it was a mere ten days. Ten days without decent hot water at the height of winter.

Deciding that i had put it off for long enough (civilised hot water had been running through the pipes for the last 2 days, you see), i dumped the contents of one bag into my little blue pail, added detergent and let it soak.

Two hours later, i scrubbed and rinsed and pummeled those dastard bits of cloth into a semblance of hygiene, humming tunelessly to myself the whole way. I didn't feel it at that time - not yet. It was the wringing dry that killed me. Each piece had to be meticulously freed from excess H2O or they would freeze onto my windowpanes (yes, i am proud to report that it has happened before :P)

Then, after i had rinsed out my little blue pail, the pain set in. I think i pulled my deltoid (shoulder muscle..)on my left and it hurts like hell. It should get better in a day or two, but till then, my laundry's gonna continue piling up, mountains that could compete with Kilimanjaro or Fuji!

Well, it could be worse i guess. I could have pulled my right deltoid and killed all chances of me leading an uncrippled life for these next 2 days. Or there could be no hot water again *shuddering at the thought*

Anyways, wish me luck with my laundry people. Remind me that mountains too can be conquered, or at least whittled down to mole hills ;)

EXILE

It’s been 3 years and I’m still not used to it. Living in a foreign land with people who barely speak the same language, miles away from where I wish I could be, I still don’t like this place.

The food’s crap, the weather’s nuts and life is just bloody monotonous out here. Sure it’s all about me here, what I wanna eat or where I wanna go, but truth be told, I’d rather my life be about others. No, I’m not a saint. It’s just the way life is. Living for just yourself will eventually kill your will to fight.

That being said and done, this could be one of the better things to happen to me. I’ve learned lots of things, and I’m not just talking about the textbook stuff, and I’m still learning I guess - the ongoing lesson of getting through today, making the most of it and looking forward to tomorrow, which is a little closer to where I wanna be =)

I guess, for a while longer, I shall be just another exilee - if such a word exists! Till the time that I may return home, I’ll probably be here, blogging during my free moments =)