3 mins to daydream, quick now go.

take a horse and give it no names, charge through greener pastures til nine days has passed. set it free. it kicks up a sand cloud as it leaves, and that'll lead to the golden pot at the end of the rainbow. walk instead with left cheek against the sand cloud, to find what you most fear. choose to be content or be bold, but be sure and be true, or all is as much dust as the sand cloud leaving now.

GO.

Remember, this is why.

this is a very long picture post. the theme is happy things.
i want to be one too.



the streets lit up for the F1 races.
On camera it just looks like a chunk is breaking off to return to the plant from whence it came.
As seen from the meeting room of the old big D office.

building features that are blatant cracks me up.
Near the notblacknotwhite office, when i worked there last year.

beautifully creepy pictures from the Binalle, last year.

cat and i hitting zoukout last year. this before the drunkies swarmed us.

kami and xmas decorations, last year. i didn't feed this end of the reindeer.

heli! looks small, must be last year.

the last thing i made was for fay's birthday in Jan. 5 months ago. this unnerves me a little.

adam and his slimy friends at the binalle. karine was there too. last year.

nifty pic of pam i took. her bday love hotel last year.

cat on the wall. it was her nightmare route at that time!

tired, but happy. equals silly.

feb at mustafa, planning someone's birthday.

i had fight once.

paintball cat. he had a motorbike run over his tail.

ubiquitous cards.

om nom nom nom.

RAWR. see? fight.

witch shoes.

we ride the tree. jan.

favourite footwear.

botanic garden evenings.

happy kamiliah.

like we just don't care.

coming!

mine.

ghost-buster

unruffled!

time to take it all in.

SHASHA FIERCE.

happy girls all in a roll.

coil!

SHASHA! makes his entrance.

this not happy. next!

contagious SHASHA.

weddings aren't so terrible la, honestly. especially when groomsmen take off their shirts. yum!

making a happy scene at timbre.

thrashing people with paintball, round 1.

limited edition book that found me.

BIRTHDAY BOOBS.

Thrashing the ambiguous red monster when he won't burn is awesome.
He was shaf's and my birthday pinata.
we ripped out his innards and ate 'em and they were sweet.

Home-baked fudge and cookie birthday cakes in my favourite indian colours are awesomer.
there was a bbq with fairy lights! and fana and MJ and Din, Bugs and Fay too.

this from the very first time i was at singah selalu in JB, January. i was happy too, because the sports-biker i rode with was too recklessly fast. i laughed like a riot every time he sped up and i felt infinite. the lights were pretty and i didn't care who our supper partners were. I had potent shisha, an adrenaline-pumping ride home guaranteed to whip my head off and i didn't know yet how it was all gonna go down.


i turned 21. it was a kickass day too. at midnight i was at nasrins with tim, abbas and isk. the minute i was 21, they blew shisha in my face all at once and sang happy birthday in ringing - no, shouting - tones that carried all the way down baghdad road. i couldn't see since my eyes were glued shut, but i think the other patrons joined in. it was loud. i wanted to die, but needed to strangle the boys first. i knew it carried far out, because freaking kampong glam cafe started cheering too.

after work that same day, i was chivvied from my office with a dozen irritable text messages (CAT) and calls (CAT: "MOVE. NOW. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"), brought to a rooftop by a meandering biker, greeted by a solitary boy i didn't know and a stack of Spizzas.

"are you her? hi uh, your friends got tired of waiting for you. they uh, paid me $20 to wait here."

and they sprung out; fiq with the cake, cat with the laughing and song, tim, abbas and clare shouting something merry. and we ate. we went to shisha at nasrins, 2 nights in a row. we stole beer from big D. there was a guitar. it was awesome. there was a card with funny messages, and a work-survival kit. it came with a list of things in it. Good foresight, since i consumed everything pretty damn fast.
(this story is for me to remind myself by :)

Another birthday story before i forget. Fay bake me a cake, heard out my story and was a solid friend. Any loyalty, sweetness & generosity left in me at all, was bred by her to begin with. This part is only brief because it has to be.

Climbing trees. Last year.

Clare (far left) turned happily 20.33333 years old at Bedok Sempang.

Singga Selalu's ABC Gilar Ice Kachang is endorphinlicious.

Cat and me. We couldn't afford to drink, so we played cards badly instead.

The paintball line up.

Happy!

or not. she sucks at bridge la.

Cat, Me, Isk. HAPPY.

us busy being happy. Paintball in April.


Absolute Glee.



The Point:
Most of these happy pictures were taken before my current situation.
The little rest, before it got this bad.
& I'm not happy now.

I'd leave a more private Note to Self somewhere less gutsy.

Once upon a not-so-long time ago,
I pulled myself out of a Bad Situation.
Me knowing me,
I left evidence around where i'd stumble upon them.

I knew I'd question my decision, doubt my reasoning.Discount my hard-earned conviction, whatever else you want to call the etcs...
and go,
"No la, must be over-thinking."
"I'm tougher than this, I haven't hit my limit yet"
"I can handle it!"
"I can live with this."
"It's not so bad."
"Why not?"

& the worst of them,
"I'm just not a quitter."


I labeled that reminder,
"In case you forget, this is why," and addressed it to me.

it worked.
I forgot the why; came across it one night.
Saw the picture. Gagged. Remembered & resolved anew.


the universe will provide? it is hammering at me with reminders right now.

One of my past coaches died, Saturday.
Only 35. One of the good guys. Probably was the one time he was careless in the water.

the live of a good niang niang (here, at least) sucks balls.

people who don't know me that well are saying i'm off.

and that's just the internet-safe parts that happened in the last 3 days!


i just plain haven't the time/energy/head space/luxury to function apart from attempting to survive the situation, let alone put effort into being happy. They're trying to mold me into something. I see that it's very plausible that i'm capable of it.

Really.

But that person would have to be...
well.
unmiho-like, for want of a better, yet still internet-safe word.




hold on guys, a wee bit longer. i'd be back before you know it.
loud & stirring shit again.
listening when you talk to me.
finefinefine, even if old me means being bubbly.
(vulgar bubbles ok. VULGARO.)
nattering away miles of words a minute.
have energy to be righteously pissy when shit happens to you too.
no more perpetual look of defeat.
awake. alive. & me.