Nostalgic II

I keep this recombinant bean on my study table. It is still the same after 7 good years. Never grow an inch. Never need watering and the cotton plug is keeping the dust away.
Whose idea was it? This is the best invention ever created in Biotech 2000.

Just rambling

How do you become a non-judgemental confidante for a co-worker friend who is starting to get on your nerves?

Once a upon a time, everyone hangs out together for breakfast or lunch or tea in a doomed place where several institutes are housed in one high-tech scientific biomedical hub. N is my co-worker female friend and is probably one of the nicest person on the planet. B is a good-looking married expat who works in another institute, and who N befriended and often hangs out with.

N is single, and in her early thirties, and who wants to settle down someday. N had made a lot of caucasian friends since a couple of years back. If you didn't knew her, you'd think she's a desperate SPG, but in decent clothes and NOT with a Philipino/Thai accent, though you'd notice she does fake a bit of accent when she speaks to the ang mohs. It's very contradicting. You love as a friend but you wonder why she's like this. She seem to have placed the Asian males a class lower than the more preferred ang moh male potential partners.

One day, N confessed she had been having an affair with B for amost a year. I would never have guessed it, because I thought N was someone who knew her limits although she appears flirtatious.

For almost a year, they had met for regular 'dates' in town when the wife is working during weekends and steamier rendezvous was at his apartment or budget hotels. After work, they would have drinks at the cafe down our work building. Him, her and some other friends. Nobody suspected anything.

The relationship started to strain recently when N became obsessed that another woman was 'eyeing' on B. She caught them together having coffee. She caught them having a puff. She caught her sending him to work in her car. All those supposedly harmless sightings became a threat to her.

Then B wanted to break up. There was a growing amount of stress and guilt in him. He just wanted to end it. N was not happy of course, she loves him. She started to fall apart.

All these while, everyday, she tells me about her feelings and little little things like she bumped into him today and the stuff they talk about. I was there for her. I did not judge her. I did not support nor condemn her either. All I can do is listen.

Is that a good confidante?

My advice has been same. "Let him go". "Forget about him". And as a human, I know this is hard to do. Saying it was easy for me. Eventually I told her "Feel what you want to feel. Do what you want to do. Whatever I say right now will not matter, because you are not yourself and you are someone in love".

I am a horrible confidante to a person who knows they are making a mistake and still go on to do it.

I get angry when you dig your own grave, KNOW that it's a grave and jump right into it, then talk to me incessantly about it and all the minute little microscopic detail about your insignificant stupid mistake you made. And on top of that, you make it sound like you're the victim. "How can he do this to me", she keeps lamenting. "How can YOU do this to yourself", I thought.

There. I got it out.

I'm her therapist, and I need therapy now and then too.

I am no one to advise N because I am not in her shoes. But what I could offer was sane advice. Logic.

"Obviously, he is not that into you. What can you do? Ultimately, it's him who holds the card. If he leaves his wife to be with you, good then, everyone is happy, but is he doing it? No. He is messed up, and feeling terrible. He doesn't know what he wants. If he wants you, he'd want you from the start".

I've always been very black and white on such matters of the heart. You either want or don't want. I hate guessing games. They are tiring and pointless. Paul never let me guess. That is why I mothered his child.

I could see that N still wanted answers. She said she doesn't want to see him again, but when there were chances, they'd have a conversation. And after every conversation, there were no conclusion and it made her more frustrated every time.

Then I realized something. She wanted answers that she wanted to hear. B clearly wants to sort out his personal problems first and his marriage, but N still persisted for an answer. An answer that sounded like "I love you and want to be with you"

B and his wife are seeing a marriage counsellor. They are getting a divorce, I heard from her.

Once a upon a time, girl meets guy. Guy is married, girl is flirty and attracted to him and KNOWS he is married. Girl asks guy out for dinner, guy thinks girl is interested for a fling, and initiates sex. Girl wants it too.

So you tell me, is that digging your own grave?

Nostalgia

During the ample time I have while driving to work, my radio is always on, or my iPod. And sometimes, nostalgic songs play that reminds me of a particular emotion I felt before.

My emotions at certain moments in my life are remembered vividly with a song. That's how I associate my memorable emotions with songs that played during an event, or songs that just reminded me of something.

That late 90-s popular hit Mm-bop reminded me of my uni coursemate gang, particularly TJ because he said he loved that song. And it played when we were all in my Proton Wira on the way to class. I miss my gang. We'd walk to class together everyday, in the sun, in the rain without fail during our first semester. Seokshin, Sim, Kenny, TJ, Aiwah and me.

Then, there's Jars of Clay's Frail. A very soothing haunting lullaby that reminded me of the time I was infatuated with a Malay dude named Abang Asfia who later became my boyfriend of 2 months.

At that time, I was also reunited with a childhood friend, Daniel Jackson, who used to live next to me in Springs Garden Malacca, until I moved to Johor at the age of 7. I showed him my panties in his room one day. He loved cats, and would stuff as many kittens he can under his shirt. He once called the fire department to report a fire...for fun. That's my Daniel Jackson.

I found him on stage during a Music Fest in university, playing the drums, and boy was he good. He was also a very dark Indian, BIG, and had blood-shot eyes. I suspect he was on drugs. We chatted for 5 hours at night outside my KK5 block. He asked me if I would consider him if Abang and I are no longer together. I laughed. I can't remember what my answer was.

I never saw him after that. I heard he opened his own band.

Mariah Carey's songs were my favourite. She was hot at that time. I always listened to Close My Eyes when I'm lying on my upper deck bed in dorm, at bedtime.

I played the cassette tape on my Sony cassette tape player. If I turned to look out of my window, I'd always see Kenny and his roomate Jimmy's room. Our blocks face each other. I could also catch TJ sometimes, at his studydesk, wearing a hairband. He had thick black wavy hair. What an envy. He was my Hugh Grant.

Once he left me alone in the dark at a parking lot outside our faculty because he forgot something. It was after a gathering or some kind of meeting, and it was late. He was going to give me a lift back on his bike. It was a cool night. The tree rustled and the breeze swept through in the quiet distance. I stood there and waited. I wasn't scared, though I should've been. I felt safe and was on top of the world because I'd be one of the girl who once rode on TJ's bike.

Then, there's the magical Burn For You by John Farhnam. It played one rainy night, when Paul was lying on my bed asleep, in my room, in the rented double-storey house I shared with 4 guys and 3 other girls during our second year. That was the moment I thought ," This could be something".

Denniam was one of the guys in the house. Sweet gentleman he was. I remember his courage the most and I respect him for it. After I became single again, from the Abang, Denniam wrote me a note which I still keep now, along with many other memorable cards, notes, gifts, autographs etc.

"No matter where you are, what you do, remember that there's a silly guy who loves you"

One of the girls, Irene, is born a nurse. She actually woke me up every 4 hours at night to feed me my antibiotics when I was hit by high fever. I don't know where she is now.

And I will never forget George Michael's rendition of I Can't Make You Love Me. And many of his romantic jazzy songs. YJ and Season was the two most sensitive emotional guys I almost went out with. Throughout my first year, YJ was my emotional whore. Our confidante friendship started on the phone. We'd chat for 4 to 5 hours through the night and it wasn't tiring. It was comfortable. I met him in person for the first time during a get-together where all his friends made fun of the situation and made me guess who the secret caller is. He looked kind. He wasn't the tall dark handsome hunk, but he could communicate. He bought me sparkling diamond pendant, which I don't know if it's real.

I don't know where the pendant is today. He is a doctor now and I attended his wedding about a year ago, and sometimes I still bump into him and his wife in town.

Season was a determined and intense person. We'd listen to new age songs in his Kancil and imagine running through a forest. Very Enigma. He loved arts, drama fashion and music. I remember Chris Isaac's Wicked Games. He picked me some wild flowers and hung them at my doorknob as a surprise. One day, he came by the house and ran up to my room, to find Paul sitting on my floor with his foot stretched out smelling of medicated ointment. I never saw him again.

Some years back, I came across some news of a drama play that he was in. In that play, he man-handled a very pretty actress/model. Recently, I chanced upon his blog. He still look the same. Very arty-farty, more groomed.

Many were sceptical about Paul. He looked like he was going to break my heart in pieces. Everyone was waiting for him to make a mistake.

I saw something else. He is a good man. Kind, responsible, honest and hard-working. He loved me.

I got myself into some trouble tonight
Guess Im just feeling blue
Its been so long since Ive seen your face
This distance between me and you

That voice you showed me is not the one I know
I must be strung out on what I do
Dont hang up again
Theres nothing else I know how to do

But I burn for you
What am I going to do
I burn for you
Burn for you

I guess it feels like youre always alone
And I feel that way too
Its so hard to explain to you
Please understand what I do

But I burn for you
What am I going to do
I burn for you
Burn for you

Took my trouble to a bar tonight
For another point of view
But theres nothing new
Im missing you

But I burn for you
What am I going to do
I burn for you
Burn for you

I stroked his hair and wondered where I'd be in a decade...