Our Khmer story

Between Khmer and I, it won't be something I will publish I guess. I'm going to keep it all to myself, and perhaps the pictures will remind me of what it felt like, newlyweds and how much of a good friend he has always been to me.

My ultimate fear is that one day the love has gone, and what is left would be disintegrated pieces of our memories. So the less I share, the better.

Khmer was beautiful. I think it was. Honest. We may never feel that way towards each other ever.

So let that be my insecurity.

Dance suckazz!

Whenever your name pops up in conversation I slowly find myself losing it.

***

We are in the middle of a dry Sahara desert. I spray you with water, since the day has not treated us so kind. The sun is shining just for you and me, it seems. A twinkle in my eye reveals more than my purest of intention coming together in the sub-layers of my conscious mind. Carefully, I lit a match and threw it in your direction.

“Dance, sucker, dance!” I pranced.

A wave of relief and an overwhelming surge of empowerment has won me over. I am so pleased!! I swear I could hear my heart beat as loud as your bare feet was pounding the ground, as the fire lit you up like a piece of paper. Your moans could not be heard. The sound of your skin crisping up, and your plea for help seemed to be muted beneath my happiness.

We are in the middle of a dry Sahara desert. Never in a million years would you have guessed it to be gasoline. But not all fluids are our best friend, even if we pray so hard. I beam as you wriggle till your last breath, presuming that was your best and last dance you’ll ever get to do.

I fail to distinguish 20 reasons why I should feel this parade of feelings towards you. But thank you for inspiring me. So I dedicate this entry to you, the person of my dreams.

Twenty Seven in Two Oh Eleven

A bit back dated entry nevertheless I enjoyed my birthday thoroughly. It pains me to think that as we grow older, our birthday marks nothing but an addition of merely the number. Ever since working in this blue blooded company, no one really seems to appreciate your birthday. It passes by just like any other day so I was dumbstruck with glee the morning I saw these babies on my work desk.

My precious balloons and Zarina, the other carebear. I honestly thought she had forgotten until later the night before she texted me asking if the birthday girl is calling it an early night. Ya think? She had also repeatedly told me how the purple balloon had popped while in her tender care of blowing the balloons beneath her desk. Haha.

We did a little photo session later that evening in the yard. Only two to remind me of the day here. Thank god for iPhones and all other cool tech stuff.


Later that week I headed on home by bus and was honestly surprised when the 'Happy Birthday To You' song that played in Naili's was actually for me. I even sung along when I heard the song playing out loud on the PA system. I was that tired. I didn't even realize that the girls had already taken out their phones in preparation to video/photograph the moment. Sucker.


My birthday celebration cum Tisha's farewell..she left us to be working with a project far away in the UK. Which is pretty awesome, the fact that she gets to go there and work with her husband on the same team.


Early Saturday morning, a trip to the golf range. KDE is pretty cool compared to Setapak. I find the trees and the lake a refreshing view to the rugged and boring warehouses my eyes are used to in KSB, the place I work in. Oh and by the way, none of my balls went pass 100 yards. Tsk tsk. Key words for the day 'letting the club do its job' and also, finding your 'factor'. But the latter is rather rubbish. So scrap that.

I don't know what it is with me and getting my own self flowers lately. But it's something I seem to be doing on a regular basis. I don't mind it. Although I believe it is my inner soul rebelling against the fact that it has been ages since I've received any flowers from F. But then, he was offshore at this time of the year.

There were also some things that he said in a conversation days after my birthday that seem to have bruised me deeper that I would have liked. I'll keep those to myself, loving old tradition has never been a crime by my beliefs. So, neither should celebrating a birthday ever be on an exception list.

I had a blessed day, number of days. Call it what it may be. And I need to make do with whatever it is that roll my way as being a grateful servant of Allah should never be superseded by anything ever so worldly.

Hey! I intended to blog on a chirpy note. But I guess this is the best that I could honestly do.

V is for Vanilla

Five days post Kuantan

Three days post solemnization

Aha! A face to the name =) Meet, Kakak Vanilla!