Thursday, August 1, 2013

Sleep, my hateful love

I find myself sleeping more hours of the day than I don't. 20 minutes up on my feet has me down for a nap of 20 minutes plus another hour and a half and some more. How dare I even call it a nap anymore? 

Thus, with such a syndrome, it's doubtful I will be very instrumental in moving any mountains around the world, might the mountain be just right beside my bedside or finishing a textbook and gaining some knowledge for my examination around the corner. Life is such. It's a continuous dragging effect of slumber and eating too much and feeling like I have already moved the mountain and climbed it up and down. I am literally drained off all my energy after washing just a plate. Like seriously!

It could be a thyroid problem, I could be a chemotherapy patient, I could have some bad bad horrid blood circulation, I could be pregnant, I could be sleep-walking all night with zombies that I wake up more tired than the night before, I could simply be the most laziest person the world has ever faced, or god help me, I could be studying a little too hard! My defence is, I am just so bloody exhausted so forgiveness goes a long way.

I have my darling gentleman feed me fries and burgers sometimes in the middle of the night because I am so goddamn tired but still famished doing next to nothing, to do any form of mechanisms with my arms. That's how terrible it is. Oh bless that man's big-little heart! And he does the laundry around the house as well, so whenever I change my bed sheets with a new one, I have to search for the pillow covers and matching quilt all over the place to only find them still stranded in the bottom of the dirty laundry basket. What do I get out of his love? A bed full of fresh but mismatched pillow cases and bed spreads to quilt cover and dishes which are yummy but look strangely like how our dog Tommy's meal. God, forgive me, but I almost hate that man as much as I adore him! He obviously hates me, he says, "Oh you are worst than me, a woman should behave like a woman and its not excusable for a woman to ever behave like a man at any time of the day." I hope he one day climbs Mount Everest without so much of a training and come home to a pile of dishes and laundry to do and we will talk about who the throne of laziness belongs to...though, even at that point, it could still scantily belong to me.

With love,
The ultra-lazy one

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Letter to my life

Dear life, you need to enter my mind and we need to talk. Don't run away from me because you are scared to tell me what I need to hear, because you don't want to hurt me. Look at me, I am a case of complete ruin, or I will be. You can't just pop over once in a while to say you've missed me and leave when you think I am going to be fine. You can't make me laugh until my mouth is aching and I am coughing and then leave. You can't bluntly suggest that I snack on those KitKat bars I have in my pantry and expect sugar rush to tune me well. No, don't try those orange and super fresh carrots in my fridge. Don't misuse the stress-eater handicap in me into something only for your benefit. You are killing it for me! You can't say I need to get lost, to be found again because excuse me, I am sick of getting lost like for the millionth time. How about you give me directions like a well-functioning GPS and tell me with confidence of where you would like to see me go and not forever ask me to go wherever I want to go because I am a goddamn flower, not a fucking weed. Garden me well and I promise to give you bouquet of flowers every now and then and whenever I can. We are in this shit together, you keep forgetting that and I feel like a shithead for depending too much on you but guess what, I am nothing without you. So stop doing that thing with me that you do, yes, that thing where you sit on that perfectly built swing on an oak tree as you dangle your feet in a mist of cloud and get drunk over a glass of screw driver. With love, your carcass

Thursday, March 28, 2013

A bitch-fit throwing lover

If I were to visualise the internals of my brain, it's pretty darn simple. I open up the top half of my skull and in it, I see a brain - of course - and I see a plain white nothingness right in the centre of it all and at the edges of the oval-shaped brain, I see some active redness. The redness are the creativity in me striving to come out and overwhelm the plain whiteness but when, what seems like 92% of my brain is just wilting away, the active redness is starting to turn a shade of pinkish-purple. But, look at me trying, trying very hard to just jumble up a few strings of words.

In the past two months, I have written very few, unlike the typing mechanism I usually am. I have sent a few articles to work and then shortly recalled them back and didn't give them publishing rights. I have been very disappointed with what I have been writing. I am in a state of nothingness, in a state of disappearing. I breathe in and out like a normal person would do, but inside me, there is no flame burning for me. There should be flame burning in everyone.

I am writing now because I need to write. I have to force myself to write. I can't die now. I am overcoming the plain whiteness. I cannot let it defeat me. The only reason why I feel like I am in dark murky water is solely because I haven't been writing and any writer can tell you that is how they feel when they don't write for a long stretch of time. It is not because they don't want to write, if anything, I want to get back to writing so badly but you know, when I am whining all the time about how I feel so depressed, I fail to see myself as an impressive human being and for me to be able to elucidate my emotions, I need to feel all sorts of awesomeness! Besides, no one wants to read about depression.

I have been whining like a major bitch and gentleman has been absurdly amazing in handling me. I have been crying all the time, because that is what I do best. I cry a lot and often. Everyone should cry. I am very emotional. I like to think I am 10 times more emotional than anyone and I like to think it's true. If I am happy, I am 10 times happier than anyone has been and if I am sad, I am 10 times as sad. I feel too much and trust me, I want to be the kind of person who doesn't give a fuck about anything but I am the person who thinks too much and too aloud. If I choose to go silent, people get worried because a loud person like me never stays quiet for too long and if I talk it out, my thoughts and words are not nice. I want to be the person who can just stay calm but I can't be her. If something doesn't go in my way, I throw a bitch-fit. I have always been this person and I will always be her.

You can't blame me either. It's self-preservation of some kind and a defence mechanism. I am a hermit crab with soft insides and hard outer cover. And I think it is because gentleman knows this that's why he is so tolerant of me. It's not his problem that I can't control my emotions but he makes half of my whole problem his and he apologises for me. I know I can do better than just use him however I want to. I have so much teenage angst in me. I had such an easy time growing up unlike most. I didn't get heart breaks, was a good student and good at everything I put my hands in (except maths but even that went fine) and I didn't have body issues like 99.99999% of teenage girls, not that I was fit and slim. I had hair issues because I couldn't tame my fizzy hair but  I just tied it up in a bun and lived life and didn't let it hold me down and over time, my unruly hair suddenly became one of the best features in me. What I am having here, is a post-teenage angst in me.

A few days ago, I decided what I wanted to do with life and I finally felt well and alive. I feel so good right now that I walked to the supermarket yesterday and swung my grocery bags in twirls as I walked with an oomph in every step I took. I even sang songs aloud, whenever I thought I was alone. I feel recovered now but I don't see the bitch-fit throwing person going anywhere because I have a man in my life who loves me even when I am crying and so lost.

With love,

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

I feel like marigold.

An ugly habit has developed in me or maybe, it is a habit that has always been a trait of mine but I never had time to notice until recently. Lately, I have started taking notice of how I clench my jaws tightly all the time and I find the deeper my thoughts are at the moment, the tighter the clench is and whenever I release the tension when I  finally become aware, my jawlines are exhausted. I can only think of how much damage is being done to my entire mouth. I have also noticed I tend to take more time brushing the left side of my teeth than the right side. I have taken points and try to spend equal time on each sides, front and insides. I have noticed a lot of things about my oral functioning in these two months. How if I brush my teeth immediately after breakfast, I am more likely to throw up and its disgusting because nothing is digested yet and when vomit mixes with all the brushing-Colgate-plenty-of-germs-and-plaque residues, which if anything, makes me throw up more. Every day is a lesson.

In the number of years I have lived, I have been slowly unveiling myself like a bud of  a plant, from the first signs of a tiny bud to the beginning of flowering where a hint of color petal shows and you are glad of the color species it is, because you were afraid it might be from the species of another - color - alleles. Over time, the flower blooms and you see the shape of the petals and you can touch the softness of it, you can even smell the fragrance it rewards. As expected of the plant, more and more flowers changes the mood of the boring greenness of life and one day, in the fullness of time, the last flower hangs down and dries up. This plant I am talking about is not a seasonal plant and does not go into remission until the next Summer. This plant I am talking about, its root withers and breakdowns and turn into debris and eventually into soil waste. I feel like this annual plant. A hydrangeas can last throughout winter into Spring and blooms again during the warmer days, marigold can't. I feel like marigold.

As a young little girl, I wasn't very ambition - or ambition at all. I was definitely not studious and I wasn't sporty which means I wasn't into sports. If I was good at one thing, it was day-dreaming. I was always a wandering soul, having teachers chasing me around for failing my dictation and spelling exams. Surprisingly, I was better in Mathematics when I was younger than I was in English. I frequently slept in classes in a classy way, making telescopes with my Pets course book and pretending to be looking through the hole, onto the whiteboard when actually both my eyes were closed and totally resting in an entirely different world altogether. Like most lazy students, I was only hyper active during recess. I am a very late bloomer.

As an young adult now, I am discovering my earnest hate for shopping and anything skin tight. I am discovering I don't need to pretend to like everything and everyone but I have to. That it is alright to be afraid and if I don't move my ass, time still passes on but I don't want to move my ass until I am certain it is what I want to do. This is the part in the horror movie where people are screaming for me to run, because the killer is right behind me, what they don't know is that, it is a goddamn movie and the director can make the killer come out of anywhere and there can be more than one killer. I am the girl in the horror movie, someone is directing and so if the rest could just keep quiet while I plan out a strategy to outdo all evil on path, it would be good. Thanks.

P.s: I am watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy and Fringe and obsessed with Game of Thrones, which could partially be the reason why I am stalling and waking up to crumbles of my moral esteem collecting around me. I also have a season of Gossip Girl I haven't watched yet.


Tuesday, February 26, 2013

10 things I miss in Nepal

While gentleman obsesses about his new wife, a Toyota RAV4 4 wheel drive Cruiser, I am going to obsess about my new goal; to find a job so eventually, I can find a new husband for myself, preferably a small and nice Volkswagen or ideally, any car which is very affordable. Things are changing everyday for us and there are many things different about this city for me, which is listed in the top three livable cities around the world and that only means, there are a lot of things I miss back home (and to counter-balance in all, in the next post, I promise to write of all the things I am glad I finally have access to in this city).

10 things I miss in Nepal

1. Bhat bhateni

Bhat Bhateni at Krishna Galli
-  I usually shop for our daily groceries here at Coles and I hardly ever have a rough idea of what taste better than the other. And I hate the idea of not knowing. I am not a keen explorer and I generally like to stick to what I am comfortable with best because I could possibly be one of the very few people who don't like much surprises. Unlike a lot of people, they like to try different brands, I don't. I go for one, always. At Bhat bhateni (where I usually used to shop), I could move with the breeze and even if I was blind-folded, I would know which products to pick and which not to and I miss that feeling of not having a doubt on my purchase.

2. Momo and open momo

Open momo from Ghangri
- Just looking at the picture is making me drool and mind you, I just had my early dinner. I was never the one who ordered momos in restaurants like many did. I always determined a restaurant's quality with the way they made their chinese chopsuey. But I miss momos, the ultimate comfort food and with momo, even when it's bad, it's still pretty good.

3. Fresh milk 

"Moo," the cow says 
- I say, milk the cow and bring the milk home. There is no need to send for the milk to be pasteurized or all those fancy things milk-people do to simple milk. Just bring the milk home to mama and I will do my business from henceforth, thank you. I don't know how milk straight from the cow would taste here (because cows in different country, with different diet might result in different taste), but back home, it tasted every bit of our motherland.

4. Means of transportation 

The magical and ever spacious micros and capable khalasis
- Over packed micro, yet more place for another five to ten people. I miss this! 'Nuff said.

5. Work 

Publications in ECS Media

- Looking at this brings water to my eyes. I made that Living magazine from scratch. I miss everything about the job, even though I once had thought there was no way I would want to do a behind-a-laptop-on-a-desk-in-a-cubicle kind of a job, I can't imagine what else would bring me this much satisfaction. 

6. Third home, after home and office

Cafe Soma
- I went there one day with friends for lunch and after that, you would find me there having breakfast, lunch and dinner, sitting at corners, writing and in my own world. I love this place even though they no longer have a magical mirror in their toilet which was hanging on the door; which meant whenever I took a pee, I could see myself peeing (awesome!) and for males, they would have to pee sideways to watch them pee (double awesome!) Plus, they have a very exciting and tantalizing menu and probably the only place in the entire of Nepal where I could eat beef cheese burgers without feeling like a criminal.

7. Kurthi tops 

Gimme moreeee....
- Perhaps if I wasn't a married woman who wore all significance of a married woman like red bangles,  sindor and pote, I wouldn't have discovered a certain love for kurtha but I did and wearing modern day blazer and pants only worked some days, especially when I was having serious meetings and interviews but other days, in Nepal, a married woman actually looks better in this colorful, super easy to pair up with jeans and leggings and look ultra-cool in than jeans and blouses. And  I usually used to buy the expensive varieties of this, which meant wearing them made me feel extra luxurious because of the lavish satin and silk and cotton they were made out of.

8. Everybody's family :) 

Strangers? Nope!
- I don't know if the rest ever felt this way but I always felt respected with dignity in the sea of Nepalis. And that is what only families can do. I am not saying Singaporeans didn't treat with me respect, or the Australians. It's just something else. And I miss conversing in Nepali and definitely, bargaining!

9. Tasty vegetables 

Vegetable auntie in Kalimati
- I buy ginger here at close to $24/kg. I used to buy ginger at around 80rs/kg. But I don't know how to cook anything without ginger so I buy them, still. Vegetables are so bland here. I think I got sick and tired of broccoli last night. Just thinking of it now makes me feel funny and I thought I would never get tired of the usually delicious green flower. I don't buy frozen vegetables but I am sorry, everything taste so frozen here. The only vegetable I love here is the potatoes. They are too tasty!

10. Load-shedding 

Lit candles for dark times
- Thankfully I never really suffered load shedding the worst way. My maiden home has inverter which constantly fed us with charged batteries that gave us electricity which meant, I had access to the Internet, television and all, at all times. Gentleman's home has another form of inverter that gave us light and only light but even that was sufficient because I got to know of the joys of waiting for the electricity in light, for the Internet, to charge my phone and to start my laundry and the usual. And then, the best part, when it goes off again and then comes back! Things most hate, I miss...

Alas, a closure and every day I sit here, it brings me a day closer back to home! Whoop-whoop-dee-doo! 

With love,

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Transit of darkness.

When one is suffering from a writer's block, words just refuses to get out and I am having the worst form of it. The words are escaping me, and I feel like a complete illiterate trying to catch up with them. Trust me, I have tried a couple of times to write something but the words gather at the slowest speed and I get frustrated. Even now, I just want to shut this page down, crawl into my bed and watch a movie that shouldn't have been made in the first place. I am trying ways to open my mind; I tried reading but all I have been reading, plays almost zero relevance to the deep-emotional-inspirational articles I really need to immerse myself in.  Polls on who Kardashian-West baby's look take after and a lot of askmen on how to make a lady orgasm and even weird ones like how to fake a male orgasm, won't do much for me at the end of the day but I couldn't stop myself from opening yet another bubble-gum news. And honestly, why would men need to fake an orgasm? That makes everything statistically wrong (Aren't men like some sort of overachievers capable of reaching the toe-curling-head-out-of-space sensation every single time?), unless, of course, in cases when they have been having sex with another woman and then coming back home to another woman as guilty as one can be, but not having the heart to hurt her and he doesn't have enough load and energy. (And yes, I have also been reading up on cheating spouses, because I found myself stumbling upon huffingtonpost's divorce section).

I am in this transitional period of some sort where I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I am changing, slowly, as a individual, as a writer, as a dreamer and as a realist. I am changing into another person, different from whom I am familiar with. It is like a fresh new haircut, you don't like but after a few weeks of growth, you can't stop obsessing about how the layers of the hair is finally falling into place but right now, I am still at the phrase of hating it but I know I will eventually like it or I can always go for yet another haircut to correct all the cuts ruining it. My thoughts are incomprehensible, I can't even hear myself talk and I have lost signals with my inner self and my heart and mind are forks apart, after a narrow road. And everyone knows when you can't feel, listen and know a single thing that is happening in the chambers of the souls, you are just stuck in a rut until for sometime or maybe a long time. I am in a transit of darkness. I feel like a caterpillar about to morph into a butterfly but, a stiff fear of becoming a moth is painfully scary.


Sunday, February 10, 2013

Change in taste, a city of wonders

I had always wanted to walk through a flea market ever since I was in Singapore. Today, I went to one and fell in love with all the sunny people and a bunch of useful and useless things stacked together, plenty tables apart. Gentleman knows of my ideal and high expectation of all things that goes through my mind, and tried to warn me of a disappointment but it was exactly what I expected. I cannot wait to go to other markets, especially around the neighbourhood for the rich.

To me, it wasn't at all about the cheap deals, well in tiny parts it was but it was more for the ambience. Those shop keepers are all lounging around, sitting under the sun in their foldable chairs and tables full of wares and stuffs to sell, with their wide-brimmed sun hats and just smiling at everyone. There is no grumpiness or too much of friendliness which is evidential in too much of Melbourne that its suffocating. It was just people, a few dollar coins and raspberry jam filled hot doughnuts, sprinkled with sugar. It was just relaxing and peaceful, everyone there was just out to have a good Sunday and it wasn't all about money-making and money-saving. It was in other words, the perfect way to start off the day.

This weekend has been wickedly amazing for me. Out of spontaneity, gentleman took me to the city at 10pm on a Friday. It was just a drive back home from Ikea, after getting my niece and nephew their birthday present and a on-the-spot kind of decision. I wore pyjamas underneath a black trench coat and gentleman donned a nice shirt and made his hair and we walked to the train station and used our first Myki card (a pass for travelling on public transports) and entered into a whole new world. I loved the city and from there onward, my view on the Australian life is changed forever. It was small arty buildings and nightclubs and young foolish people wearing leggings that deserved to be thrown but I know they actually paid so much for that design. It was lovers and seeing their happiness and it was idiots on the road living their life fully and ladies wearing four inch heels that I would die to own and seeing them
Sashay in their pretty dresses and cute clutches. I felt alive seeing those life within a small estimated land of LED lights and ignored traffic signals. It was also Victorian styled buildings and attention catching buskers. It was seeing the Herald Sun's building and so much more, to me, it was all inches of perfection except that maybe, we paid too much for the terrible quality of sushi and sashimi.

By the time, we finished one side of the city,we were yawning and aching and besides we had decided to come back in the morning but we slept until 11.20am (very unusual for us because by 8, I drag gentleman out of bed for breakfast). We must have been exhausted, we snoozed on the train back home (we have perfected the art of sleeping while traveling) while I secretly giggled at one Chinese man trying to really ace his accent with his fellow Chinese friend and a white man. It was hilarious for a few seconds and then, it started to get annoying, like holy crap, 'I am going to be a poser like him' reality check. He just going on about the girls who hates him (next interest character already, please). Everything about that night was 11/10.

And from that night onwards, the Australia life doesn't seem suffocating. Everything is looking rosey, I am even getting good buys and my stove is finally working with me and my food are not under cooked or burnt and even gentleman has been cooking the yummiest meals for us while I slug it out on the table just thinking of the next step and wondering how impossible it seemed to be, that one person could bring so much happiness to me and how the country changed overnight for me, though perhaps, I should have bought romantic novels at the flea market instead of true crime stories based in Australia. I am this close to shitting in my pants reading it that every little crackling of the book's spine has me all alert and waiting for a man to pop up from somewhere to kill me. Oh god bless me!

P.s. I am trying to start on a series for the blog but I don't know if I am capable of executing it. Help?

With love,

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Lessons after lessons

Well, I always thought I was or could be Bree Van de Kamp (Marcia Cross) of Wisteria Lane, now I am pretty sure I am old Karen McCluskey (Kathryn Joosten). For those of you who can't put an image to the two characters, Bree is modern day Stanford wife who cooks delicious and her roses are always in full pretty bloom and Karen is just an old fart (excuse me) who is always seen snooping around and gossiping. When we were kids, my parents used to say we were lucky that we were educated and not mowing the fields with buffalos. I never used to think much of it but today as I was gardening the smallest patch of our backyard garden, their words rung so loudly. Ladies and gentlemen, parents are seldom in the wrong. Oh, how I was dreaming of plucking my own fresh ripen red tomatoes from my own garden and other produces! I think we also made a mistake in purchasing the wrong sized (too tiny, we bought) tools for gardening but I am beaming some confidence in my herb garden and my blue hydrangeas. They were something I always wanted as young girl and now, brushing my fingers through their growing leaves and smelling my fingers flips my stomach is much excitement. It is a dream come true and they make me so happy. They are my babies. Yes, I am also the weird blogger who blogs about her plants (offense to anyone is unintended) than her human babies.

The past two weeks have been extremely intense. Making a home from scratch is not easy, trust me you! I am never one to enjoy shopping, especially with another person and that is exactly what we have been doing, over and over again and constantly on the lookout for a good bargain for the best. The only problem was, I have no idea how to qualify the price and quantify the good. The dollar game is such a tricky game, thankfully, I never found myself stopping once to compare the price of each item with Nepalese currency and it was too many unfamiliar brands to absorb at once for which I am thankful for my sister's nosing around with everything in my hand and throwing out 9.9/10 picks, saying I will find better deals - which would have been a good thing until it has left me too afraid to purchase anything without her consultation. I am usually the kind of shopper who picks and buys whatever I like even though it is too expensive because I am also the kind who thinks I deserve it all but now, it is totally different. Without thinking, I cannot wait to start earning to cover my own living, and even my luxurious expenses. It's more about my independence than depreciating gentleman's open invitation as a sugar daddy.

Most days, I think I am settling fine, even though too many days are tougher than the rest but every step is a lesson to learn. When you are much younger and less rigid about changes, because when you are young what else do you care for except a new toy or something in the line, it is easier to adapt but as you are older, a new toy or something I really love, is not enough to not zone out and be less afraid even though an actual fear is not present. Everything is new and everything is heart stopping and a second thought over. It's deep scrutiny over all I come across which includes my own actions. . It's a lot of discovery and a lot of wandering eyes figuring this new arena. Learning when the rest has already learnt is just appalling, I feel like an alien (well, I am an alien, aren't I) and strangers' eyes feel uneasy. I feel like a blinking strobe when I just want to be the darkest light. The other day I was going about photocopying my documents but since everything is computerised and something I have never done before, my heart was in my mouth. Back home, you would just chuck the papers to be copied to the owner because he wouldn't trust us poking his old machines and get the job done and pay but here, everyone is just on the go and everyone just wants to help themselves and be left at that. It's lessons after lessons.

I am an introvert who becomes an extrovert only in places and with people I am comfortable with, if not it is just eyes down and little to say.  I will be lying if I say I don't wish to be back home in my perfect comfort zone but then, I remember this is home, as well.

Additional add on: Holy crap,  Blogger the host for my blog changed my URL with an additional (dot)au and I just realized it. Come on already, no more changes!

With love,

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Hey, hey Melbourne!

Melbourne to me

Its been about four days since I landed in Australia, Melbourne. Its been about four days since I found the kind of freedom I was yearning for, for almost a year now and its been about four days of not missing Nepal, to my surprise. But I would be lying if I say, I am absolutely loving it here and factually, I am far, far away from actually loving this country! I have been trying to underline a word or a string of words to make the idea of how possibly could I not really be embracing this idealistic world for plenty, but I just end up becoming a sort of an entertainment for people because they cannot wrap their minds around why I would find the country missing bits in all essences necessary. It is not really a comparison between my motherland and this new land. It is something else and because I am very confused myself with my very complex personal thoughts, I haven't been able to illustrate my mixed feelings about Melbourne, a place I am more than glad to call home and make a home. I guess I will leave understanding this to some other time in the future when I get to reflect on the first few days in Melbourne after a couple of years.

Tips on flying

I took a 11.30pm flight from Kathmandu on the 19th of January, after having just about the hardest time finding an available ticket and phone calls to all the airlines serving Kathmandu to Melbourne. It was three recharge cards worth Rs. 100 each just scratched, pin keyed in and gone in a flat 40 minutes or less. It was frustrating, it was a lot of number games and a lot of head scratching and then, finally giving in and purchasing a ticket that costed me a little more than a lakh for connecting airline Dragon Airs to Hong Kong to Cathay Pacific to Melbourne. To be honest, I would have rather bought myself a pair of diamond earrings with that money because I had the most terrible time. It had been five years since I last board a plane, and the first time I was flying a long flight. If you want my advice, I would say, fly in the morning or afternoon and try to land somewhere around night time from the place of departure but arrival doesn't matter as much as the beginning of getting used to the new pressure from higher altitudes and restricting seats. Those are what makes you the most uncomfortable you could be and I think its much easier when you are not fighting internal clocks urging you to sleep because its sleep time.  Trying to control the most stubborn of all things, the biological clock, on the plane is like trying to chase a bird over a hanging cliff. Unless, you are some business people, we have plenty of time to change our body clock once we are adjusted to the new country. And also trying to do anything productive such as reading a book, writing and working is just plain nuisance especially when you are highly charged on the questions of 'Why the hell are you doing this to yourself?' and 'Is this even worth it?' Till now, I am still having bouts of rocky feeling whenever I stand still, like as though I am on a moving ship of some sort. Initially, I thought it was jet lag and then I thought perhaps, because houses in Australia are not made of strong foundations of cement, maybe it was the house sway and then I was convinced it was jet lag again and now, I am starting to worry its something else.

I could have murdered

Without saying, I couldn't sleep on the midnight flight to Hong Kong even though I had a comfortable sleeping area; the Nepalese boys in front of me had me wanting to wrung their head and flush them out of the plane through the lavatories' toilet, all three together in separate toilet bowls throughout the plane. They were just showing off to each other about what they have in Nepal and what they have in Australia. Like come on already, just show your ass and go back to being modest. Everyone was just complaining about their voice levels, imagine me being directly behind them and actually being able to understand their conversation so in the lull of boredom, even I had my share of joy listening to them but when I was sleepy and cranky and feeling like flushing my own head out, I was this close to just cutting off the tips of their hair popping out of their seat with the plastic knife I got with my meal.

Nostalgia and confusions (probably due to zero eye shut)

And then, upon landing in Hong Kong, my cry-nerves were just having their party. I had actually forgotten how wonderful and clean and organized shopping is actually and it just punched me in my stomach of how much getting used to I had to face in Nepal before I grew to love the country and gotten used to the way of living there. And then it frightened me to the point of sickness that it wasn't even a few hours away from home and I was already comfortable with all the high-glam shops and cleanliness and their toilets even had a toilet seat cleaner right next to the toilet bowl, like just kill me already! But I didn't shop or even bothered to shop, all I wanted to do was sleep. I was not a happy kid. and I was just dreading a flight twice its flight time. I slept pretty well on the hard chairs of the waiting lounge in Hong Kong.

Immigration and checks

All went breezy. I was fearing a few delays and probing with the new label-free visa regulation but it went smoothly, even in Nepal, thank God. I don't think I would have been able to handle any more stress; I would have just preferred if they jailed me or deported me back to Nepal after cutting my passport in halves before my eyes even though I know there is absolutely nothing wrong I have done, I wouldn't have minded the punishment.

Hey, hey Melbourne!

After getting through Hong Kong's airport, I think it falls in the top five best airports around the world, Melbourne's one was just a 'hmmm'. I don't remember much of the journey, I remember popping into a few shops, just to get used to the entire circus of shopping paradise I was about to face. I was walking slowly. Everything was new but everything seemed less sparkling than Hong Kong's airport. Mostly, I couldn't believe this was home now and I guess a lot of me was just scared to get out of the exit to meet gentleman. This step finally meant we were going to be officially a couple who do things together instead of tell each of the things we did, in our own space. Were we ready for all that is in for us? Its sharing a house, living under each others' nose and just still staying in love. I was dragging my feet. I got too used to having a long distance relationship that even as I am staying over at my sister's place at present, and him at his home, it doesn't feel like the worst thing ever to be so near yet so far. Of course, when he can directly reach me on a cellphone to cellphone network without the functional use of a 3G network to Viber, my stomach feels like a jelly and I love the idea of having him just an hour or so drive away. It feels wonderful to know he is just a call away and he can appear in person if I need him to be but hey, I don't seem to need him as of yet because I am still partially struck in the long distance rhythm. And as I stepped out of the airport, I looked at the floor in front of me and obviously, they have either been under hiring cleaners or they lack dustbins or people are just ill-mannered. The floor was litter with plastic linings and such, not pretty especially for an International airport if you were to ask me.

So, on the first night, all I did was wake gentleman up every other minute and just beg for sleep to knock me out. I was exhausted and dehydrated and all I wanted was a good rest to kick start tomorrow. Because I was starting to get really restless tossing and turning, we went to the airport to shop (we stayed at a hotel a walking distance away) and then came back more exhausted than ever and slept about an good hour and a half before heavy buffet breakfast and after a power nap after breakfast. This is the kind of freedom I lusted for!  The entire day, I was still exhausted and dehydrated but we managed to sign a few official documents and went around the city, carrying gentleman's sleepy head on his shoulders. You have no clue how ridiculously excited I was to enter Ikea for their delicious hot dog, I wanted the welcoming door to open and say, 'Welcome to Ikea' when I passed through it. It didn't. I love Ikea for too many reasons.

And since like I said before that I am staying with my sister, yesterday, we went shopping for a few stuffs and shopping with her is the best thing because she is really brilliant at it - knows where the cheapest stuffs and the reasonable priced quality stuffs are, shopping with her is just much fun because she actually knows what is good deal and not which makes me feel like everything I bought was worth the purchase and wow, technology is so advanced these days that cashiers are not even necessary, I hate the entire idea of robbing people of their chance of making a living. Yes, yes talk to me about efficiency and money-savings and I will tell you how much you are stealing from human beings to pay these machines. There, see it, reason one why I don't really like this place (actually the first was, the airport's side walk was littered). But, its a toss of like-dislike. We bought a tub of yogurt as well as plenty of other stuffs I needed, but the highlight is we bought a tub of yogurt. Goodness graciousness, a tub of yogurt and it was creamy, it was light, it was speckled with peaches and mango and it was just spoonfuls of heaven. I am so glad for the grocery stores, I absolutely dig grocery shopping and the best part, I found find fresh herbs and even growing herbs everywhere. This just paradise city, if only everyone will quit asking 'How've you been?' in the thickest accent ever!

And today, we went to Ikea again to grab a few stuffs for our home. We are moving in to our home on Friday but all I got was thing I would need eventually and not things I need urgently. Of course, we didn't forget the hot dogs!

And that is that

Melbourne needs some getting used to. My family and friends are here, it shouldn't be all that tough. That is all for now, my eyes are shutting off.


Thursday, January 17, 2013

Sometimes making no sense, makes the most sense

Lovers come in and let go, hands once held so tightly together suddenly feels better empty and brushing through the wind instead of bracing the sweaty palms of another. Sometimes we fall down so hard, it just feels better to wallow in self-pity even though that is the worst form of pity the world can witness. Sometimes we just let down people in our lives just so we can protect ourselves. 

One would think on the third heartbreak you would learn a lesson to give everything away except the heart but after the fifth time, its just a waste of tuition fees. Counted broken faith in happily ever after, seeing your first love getting married to a beautiful lady mightily crushes the toughest of bones and shreds the stomach to pieces of splinters, splinters you wish could bite the hands that wears the ring engraved with the name of the man whom deflowered you. You tried so hard to be the one who was the first to move on, but you find yourself in the middle of the night mumbling his son's name. Is it a coincidence that his son's birthday falls on the same day as yours or is that a punishment from God to remind him of the woman who once promised to give him everything and he didn't believe or is that an added torture to turn a year older every year with the son who could have been yours, for promising all that you would give but never gave? What could you possibly have done wrong or maybe if you had met him now, instead of before, would you have the chance to carry his last name? But every girl is a Cinderella waiting for their prince coming around with the glass slippers and princes are in abundance.   

At the sixth break up, love is still the most precious thing in the world even after seeing all six past lovers married with outrageously beautiful children, children that could have been yours, with the brightest eyes and the cheekiest smiles. The hue of hydrangeas' petals depend on the acidic of the soil. Adding an extra tomato to a dish can do wonders or just ruin it. The petals of roses can defer but the smell of them still hits the familiar note. A few pegs of vodka is a sure fire way to move on. At the seventh try because you should never give up, when the magic words of 'I love you' are spoken, all the epidermis on the skin stand on perfect attention and the stomach awakes the sleeping butterflies - every single time it happens and the rush never weakens like time past and memories has weakened the blushed face. Love is a like moon; going to its fullest form and depleting to a narrow sliver line and then it grow again - its sad when its gone but at every full moon, a celebration is a must. 

How does a full moon occur? How do we fall in love? How do we stay in love? Do we say the magic words to comfort ourselves and make us feel like we are capable of loving another because many can't or do we say the magic words just to hear the other reciprocate the feelings just so we know we are loved by someone? When is too soon to say it? When is too late to say it? Is there a rhythm or right timing? Should we look into eyes and say with sincerity? Does purest sincerity and truest intentions exist in the world? Does love even exist? You never become an expert at love, having been in love for the hundredth time even. But love is never a lesson to be learnt, it just happens and when it happens you just sink into the moment and live it fullest. Just bask in the moment and glow.

On trampoline, inside a tent, a forest, on decaying green-yellowish patch in the garden, a bed in a room or outside under the open sky, a sofa bed or a parked car in the middle of a creepy looking car park, wherever you could possibly be, home is where the arms wraps around the goosebumps skin of roses scent, petals that change according to the pH level and many dishes are just garbage if tomatoes doesn't dress it. Roses are roses, hydrangeas are hydrangeas and no bad can come out of tomatoes. Love doesn't even need a home, lovers are just some drunk assholes just wanting to fall asleep in a place thought as home. Lovers are like a dream of a toilet bowl and peeing in it and waking up suddenly to a warm and wet bed with your urine soaking into your underwear; its comforting, its disgusting, its private, its funny and its a lot of seeing dreams come true. It doesn't make sense, love shouldn't make sense to anyone except you. Love is when you could have possibly kissed a million lips but when you can wake up next morning with zero trace of mascara and a breathe that could make a horse feel blessed, and the millionth and one lips turn to you and kiss you, all the million lips before are but a million lips you can't even remember any longer.

Love is a lighted candle, protect it to stop it from dying but if it dies, let it die. As long as the wick is still part of the candle, you can light up again. All you need is sparks and sparks are endless. Or maybe, you chose to blow off the lighted candle because with him, even darkness is such a splendor. Love is also being cheesy as hell and lovers should be forgiven all the time for it.


Friday, January 11, 2013

New Year baby's Tillari!

It is probably a minus 1 to minus 3 degrees right now but this blog post has to be up. My toes could possibly break off  from frost bite and I wouldn't even know because the sock would hold the mangled toes intact. Every five seconds, I dig my hands and hide it under the quilt. It is obviously a night better for just snuggling inside warmness but I won't give in. I am coughing, sniffling and shivering. Today is possibly the worst day to even attempt doing this; there is afternoon sunlight or nights when it is half as cold but I couldn't wait. I shouldn't wait. After having written that I don't see my Tillari coming, this blog post was inevitable.

I couldn't withstand the thought of people thinking of a man not being able to keep his woman happy, because I cannot imagine of the existence of another man being able to keep up with me the way gentleman has and for this, the world deserves to know that gentleman made me a very happy birthday girl, the happiest I could ever be! 

P.s: I need to pay another homage. The pote (glass bead necklace) was my mom's love for me. It is no ordinary pote; its Singapore's original which she bought with her from Singapore way back when - its worth is eight times the cost of ordinary ones (I talked to the expert) and I thought I was paying a lot of money for the best versions of Japanese pote I usually wear. Mom even painstakingly beaded the strings and made it perfect with little help from me. I had no idea mom was such an expert. 

Kudos to the two people who make living a hell lot lovelier! 

New Year baby's Tillari! 

Mrs Kaucha  

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Belated New Year thoughts (bunches of it)

I obviously haven't been taking my vitamins seriously or paid enough attention during Biology classes. My immune system has taken such a downpour, it is never sunny anymore. One trip outside of my home area and I can be assured of falling sick. I detest going out these days, even with mask on and all protective measures, I still crumble down to all the pollution and winter chill. I am just keeping my fingers crossed this is just a phase I am passing through and not something that happens to you as you get older. I surely hope it is because I thought I was well before I was actually well enough but hey, I am learning my lesson. My terrible coughing has subsided by a lot, it is no longer a struggle to breathe and I don't want to slice open my throat anymore to insert my fingers to give the walls a good scratch and my nose isn't about to fall apart from wiping mucus every five seconds. I swear at one point, I was just dripping brain juice from my nostril and it was a mucus water fall, not pretty at all. But, I am still not fully recovered and I am just going to stay in bed all day long or out in the sun. At this point when my health just deteriorated in a way I had never experienced, the last thing on my mind is to please anyone. I have had enough of it. Needless to say, I didn't have a good time celebrating New Year or me turning a year old.

I had many plans for the blog - creating a new series, posting up pictures and getting a little more involving but throwing up my guts and then just crawling into bed sounded more ideal and so that is all I did. Nine days now and counting. One thing is for sure, everyone just thinks I am pregnant. We are not expecting a junior! There are two dead weights to a marriage; either pregnant or cheating. Apparently, I am not allowed to look at handsome men and gush about them. Look, my wedding ring might sparkle a lot but it is not sparkling enough to blind me. I have every right to look at guys across the table and enjoy my breakfast set more, just like gentleman has every right to talk about his ridiculously sexy suicide girls and FHM calendar girls. It is hard to get into a lot of people's head that eyes are to enjoy all and heart is an organ just for one.

So in these nine lazy days, I have been planning a lot. Planning for the future, planning for life, planning for the blog, planning on ways to earn a little more...basically planning for everything that eventually ends with comfort. And with planning, it comes with a lot of dreaming and really exciting dreams, all while on drowsy pills; it is just about the best thing pharmacist has created for us humans in the most legal form. We are never ever satisfied with the life we have, are we? It just sad but then again, I think it is just good that we are never satisfied with life so we can get better in life. I guess it is just about knowing when to stop obsessing about everything a little too much and that is the hardest and I am just so obsessive with everything happening my way. Yes, planning and dreaming is a dangerous game, it is frightening when nothing comes to factual happenings. So in these nine lazy days, I have also been going through a tumultuous time with my emotions, too.

Alas, a new year, a new thing. I am ready to leave Nepal, this is something I haven't been able to admit for a few months now and yesterday while I was up on the roof, I watched about five planes disappear over the hills and I wondered to myself when my time to go home will come. Australia is home now. It was no longer about the pains of hearing gentleman whine about his food at every single meal, bad Internet connections and keeping my life on hold, it was more of a feeling of wanting to belonging somewhere. For seven months, I was just dreadful of forgetting the culture I am in love with and neglecting my country and giving what little talents and capabilities I have, to another country but in all those times, I couldn't belong to the working industry in Nepal and neither could I truly belong here. I was just cheating everyone. Now, I am ready to start the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I am ready to fall down seven times and get up on the eighth. I am ready to be all scared to move an inch forward but move anyway. I am just ready for Australia where heat wave catches 42 degrees and forest fires are just about the most happening thing that could happen in Melbourne. I am ready for the beaches, I am ready for white friends and I am ready for the poisonous spiders. I am ready for the weird accent, I am ready to be 'that Asian' again and I am ready for the culture. Just eleven days ago, I was offered a job position, an amazing job I would have not thought twice of giving up on but in these nine days of lazy and tumultuous, I took it as a compliment and didn't look back. After seven months of denying, I am waiting impatiently.


Thursday, January 3, 2013

In 2012, we lost a good man

If you are in my friend list on Facebook, many of you must have read my first status update for 2013 and if you have been in my friend list for some time now, you must have also read of the post when I questioned the existence of God.

2012 wasn't all that 'unexpectedly perfect'. In a lot of parts it was, and in the same amount, it wasn't. On June 2, 2012, my family and our close friends lost someone we loved, respected and had big dreams and hopes for. We lost a man whom had beautifully weaved into a perfect piece of our family line; a man my niece called 'father' and a man my sister called 'husband'. It just happened one regretful night, it happened in a fraction of a second that sometimes, I believe he is still alive and is being the terrific father he was to his daughter. In those moments, I forget and we forget, of a man absolutely undeserving of a death. It is hard to see my sister being stronger than I ever thought she was, it is harder to see my niece be deprived of so much more and it is hardest to digest he is never coming back and things are never going back to the same. 

In 2012, we lost a good man and no matter how many times the calendar changes to a brand new year, we will still have a seat saved for a good man that we lost. I take this moment to remember him in all the times when I was and we were, too jovial to have forgotten his passing on and wish for him to find his eternal peace.

With love,