Mind Whack

I haven’t been producing good postings. This writer’s block with lack of sleep and annoyance that result bothersome attitude just trying to keep awake. It becomes a mean cycle that brings to being mean. Yes, I agree. I suck too. Meddle in the muddle.

So I have been cooking. Penne carbonaras that bothers my dad because he says penne makes him feel he’s eating air unlike non-straw like other pasta types. Then fried brinjal in chili. Pizzas using base of sliced bread.

What I didn’t was how a lasagna could reveal another degree dimension of me in the kitchen. The lasagna that I was so tired when making it, bridging with giving up and ugly cry + throwing everything to hit everything else in the kitchen. Of course I didn’t do it. Although I visually could see it clearly going in slow motion as my brother quips, “Yeay, lasagna!” I was mentally doing it. You know, throwing all wooden spoons and whisks. It was a very difficult and emotional process for me.

James Arthur’s Say You Won’t Let Go is playing. It makes me feel I’m walking in a dress, denim jacket and cowboy boots walking hand in hand with him in the park entering autumn. It’s so front page of 90’s Teen Magazine. All adverts on Keds, daisies and smiley floral dresses. My imagination is constantly in fall. The mix of tenderness in green, floral remnants and brown. I easily identify with it I suppose. I was born in fall.

It’s still a long way to where my mind brings me to be made into reality, but it’s okay. Time will tell. If not now, then maybe very much later.

Oh by the way, we went out last night and I did hear something drop when we got to the house. I settled in getting things in and making me coffee with aching heel and feet. Then I couldn’t find my phone. It got me grumpy when non of the kids owned up. How hard could it be to put my feet up in the foyer with a mug of hot coffee and cigarettes while playing Rising Super Chef 2? Tell me, how hard? HOW HARD? Life is hard. Times are hard. ((HUGS))

Well, obviously I had to walk around the house to find them too a few times. Like, I’ve asked them and they said no but they’re kids so what do they know. Interrogate them we must! Then made them call the phone – the line was dead, so great – yeay! Walked upstairs and downstairs and inside and out from the kitchen to the yard. Checked the car twice. With aching heel and feet. I couldn’t find it. I even took out garbage from within the car.

“Mom, I think I heard something drop in the car. It could be it you know”.

I went, “Pfffft… I checked the car and it’s not there!” while internally going through an ugly cry. I’m a bad mom. I don’t care. Who cares about my aching feet anyhow?

Then DH said, “I think it did probably fall in the car, hon; just like Adam said.” Pfffft. To both of them.

So I went back to car. Slowly. Like the slowest sci-fi movie you’ve ever watched. Yes, sci-fi. Reached out my hand in the side pocket of the passenger seat in darkness. Cosily it had been sitting there for the longest time. Just playing hide and seek. You know, I don’t like playing that game. Especially not at night. But what does it know, right?

Well of course the screaming died down. No one bothered to ask if I had found it. I guess it was obvious that I had found it because the screaming stopped completely. Right? And who would in their right mind want to try and ask if I did find it, being at risk of being screamed at if I still had not found it. Right?

Oh my I’m so completely whack… Haha.

So, I’ve got some tiny bit of work left before the weekend. Paid some bills and sorted my brain. Woke up late but got here not in time with some excuse of having family matter that I just had to attend to.

For some reason I feel refreshed and need to put a photo of fuchsia roses in this post. Lovely photo. I hope you feel the same way too.



The Daily Post Prompts | Imaginary | Distant | Tender | Revelation | Triumph | Puncture | Create | Blossom | Relieved | Meddle | Loop

Mind Whack


When you are still too sleepy to do anything, it is caught in between whether or not you’re really tired or lazy.

I think I’m at that borderline.  Of not caring to just lock myself up in the storeroom right now, or what…




Yes, I’ve squishy protruding eyeballs from all the yawning and too much or lack off sleep. Dark circles. Dark dark circles.

(I’m soooo…. sleeping through lunch hour).


Sulky code names. Crap.

Today didn’t suck too much. But it was a sulky day.

SIL3 text me. Found out Turd BIL4 has not renewed the car insurance and road tax so his family has been driving the car under my name around. So because of this, BIL4 has been using his parents’ CAR1 these few weeks.

Just yesterday, SIL1 was wondering when she will get back her car.  PIL has borrowed hers but yet to return. They have 2 cars, CAR1 is under my DH’s name, and CAR2 was gifted by BIL1. CAR1 is with BIL4 and CAR2 is at the workshop.

I feel this heartbreak of disappointment. Him, jobless. Wife is expected to fend for the family. MIL should be pressuring him instead of the wife. Making her take random jobs like massaging and controlling how she wants to manage it. Come on. She is SAHM. She just can’t adjust time to fit your whim and fancy. Besides, your son is the man of the house. He is responsible for his family’s livelihood. Why aren’t you asking him to try?

DH and I had just been talking about this the night before. We were going to take it back in July. Just about 1 week after school starts again.

We have been helping SIL4 and her kids. Why is he there taking charity? No sense of shame? No pride to adjust? No… push to evolve instead of playing in the fields 6 hours of the day that brings absolutely no income into the household at all?

I prayed that he be given enough to provide and repay all that he has taken from. But my fear is always that, if it comes, he doesn’t.

Everything is so literal. I’m making no attempt to hide (except my identity).

Observantly, this is the best time for us to take back my car. The one I have been paying for 22 months. I will allow DH take the lead. As he had been the one to let go on my behalf, he will retrieve it back.

I feel a tonne of weight off my chest.

Thank you.

Sulky code names. Crap.

This drifter

Literally, she is dragging her brain in dirt as she lay her fingers onto the keyboard forming words right now. She is so tired. So tired of catching up with that has been given to her. Tired of trying to catch up because she doesn’t seem to finish. She doesn’t know know where is the finish line. Everything is half-way. Everything has a deadline. And there is no finish line.

She reaches for coffee. Silently wishing it is fresh ground coffee instead of sachet, but she doesn’t have a choice. Everyone else drinks chocolate or tea. Too lazy to prep her own hand-drip. But whenever she makes them, there would be people hounding her for some. Then complain the coffee is too bitter. Of course they are, they are how she likes it – don’t complain, it is her coffee. Meh. On some days her thoughts be like, “Go add sugar. It’ll taste better for you (ungrateful bastard),” while other days, she doesn’t care.

Maybe her ground coffee is finished? She can’t decide. Not bothered to move an inch off the seat to check either.

Everything seems to be… undecided for her. Not really undecided, more like a blurry state of making decisions. She is the wood adrift in the sea. Just float somewhere. Somewhere else, not here, but can someone just pick her up to the beach?

She is tired of weighing like, what’s the best thing to do right now, best solution, best sentence to appease, best time to leave, how what when where why. Especially without a car. It broke yesterday morning on her way to work.

Tonight she is expected to manage, get the kids ready, grab something for potluck and get to her in-Laws by 7.00 tonight. It is stressing the heck out of her. She already feels her emotions pushed around in the family messaging group. She chose best not to respond at all. Her silence has a lasting impression on them. Hence why MIL has kept asking why ‘NOBODY’ has been responding. She doesn’t really give a sh*t about it, really. Her mind gets catapult somewhere else each time, but the constant incoming messages will remain to bite her in her ass.

“Whatever,” she mutters under her breath. Puts her thoughts away. She forces her focus on incoming emails, even though what she reads doesn’t make any sense to her at all.


Well, everything is whatever. And whatever will sort itself soon, by itself.

This drifter

You’re dismissed, woman.

I wish I could catch up and individually write up The Daily Post Prompts. I can’t manage it. I’m just sorting out my own internal issues. My emotional bag can only fit a certain much. It has, there are just too many conversations, considerations and feel in it to be known with.

Seriously, sometimes I am frustrated with myself. Like how silent I can be when DH is around just because he physically makes me less anxious, worry-wart and calms all my brain agitations.  But how cruel enough to have all frustrations when he’s not around, telling myself that I AM, WILL, SO GOING TO TELL HIM HOW I FEEL ‘RIGHT NOW’ WHEN I SEE HIM and it just all descend into nothingness when he is around.

It absolutely unfolds itself in the sequence of this…

“I’m so telling him right now! NO! I mustn’t. But I need to. NO! NO! MUSTN’T. MUSTN’T, MUSTN’T, MUSTN’T.” Mutiny, this.


Oh woman. Just eat it in. Sh-sh-sh… Just eat them all in. It’s not the right time. Yet. It’s okay. You can do this. Swallow. Quietly. Be still, my heart.


Then I forget what it was; or… I want to tell him, and I don’t know how… The qualms when I do, with only 3% is delivered…


And the 3% that comes out, so professionally approached. Emotionless. And ultimately, how I disgrace myself with me. I’m a piece of sh*t.


This self inflicted notorious farce cycle repeats itself. So violently.

But yesterday was different. My level of self-tolerance was short. I had to endure the bantering from his friend’s wife for her receiving late-payment notification letter from the bank for something that is registered under her name that DH took on – I had nothing to do with. Unwillingly I put on the superhero cape on, stood on the precipice, borderline on my borderlines, and took it on. I was crap. I sent him a message that took so much longer to get through the thick forest.

When finally it did, he responded to my question and tells me their 4WD for forest trail has broken down so they’d be coming home on a tow-truck. He asks me to pick him up at a spot. He gave the time. I got there on time because he has established this thing about having his expectations met vs my short-comings (i.e. lateness) (with ongoing things like traffic jam, no vehicle available, having to stop for gas, my need to have a cigarette first, the cat wants suicide by refusing to move away from the driveway, my lack of motivation, repetitive explanation of things that only got half-sentenced into his head each time I say them where I then begin to shout thinking because my voice is too small and then he thinks I’m so rude to raising my voice to him (WTF hahaha), apart of having to manage 3 kids to handle/argue/negotiate/scream/listen to beforehand).

I waited. They ran 15 minutes late.

It was hot, borderline thirsty, hungry, borderline grumpy. You could still feel the heat even in air-conditioning.

The car radio has been broken for the past few months and the CD has been playing the same series of song for over and over since December 2016. So I shut the CD player down. Sick of it. I meddled with my phone and played on Spotify out loud enough to satisfy myself. With limited headroom decision, I began talking to myself, singing, screaming, going under emotion and above it. I entered my Digistive Zen moment. Restless fat feeling with low libido but ready to scratch some walls from being under serviced. Yes, THAT feeling.

He finally came through, got in the car, and had to ask (Well, I felt like, it was A QUESTION, really), “Why are you playing on Spotify?”

…I mean, he had to ask right; because he has got a functioning radio in his pickup truck, right? Is there no logic to why I chose to Spotify myself? So I should be okay listening to the same thing each time I drive like, EVERY TIME, right? I wasn’t asking him to listen to what I chose to listen in the first place. And every time I make a decision is always the one that leaves no room for him to comment because I am the only decision-maker for it, right – because he is not present. And the rest of the other sinister things I digested in my head just shat through. He had unmoored, unleashed the beast in expressionless me (which I know is even more scarier in the I-have-no-sh!t-clue-of-what-may-happen-after-this category) with just that one question. So do so kindly receive my hospitality, final sentence and load of crap – take it like a man.

But really, to think what it took for me to be able to just say it! All the feelings, endurance, patience, dissatisfaction, worry, unhappiness… I mean, being able to draw out what I stored in my emo bank crap was WONDERFUL! But to think that it all had to be in collaboration with 5 days of water-cut to be able to be out in one sitting is like… I mean, I had to be under that intensity scale to actually be able to literally throw myself up to him! It took so much and so long…

I’m just this maze of sad stuff, isn’t it? Be like…


Yeah woman. You’re dismissed.

You’re dismissed, woman.

Mind Afloat

Her life now is practically just ferrying the kids for classes and extra classes, work and swimming. She is keeping low for now as she don’t have much to spend on. This is why her trips to the supermarket is so cherished that she takes time to inhale all the colours and the need to caress with her eyes on all the fresh food and fruits there is.

It is a practically better lifestyle than she has had before; when she had more money to spend on. She would be propped at the shopping mall every other weekend and spending on lunch, tea or dinner whether or not she bought anything there. The exposure is more on all the in-trend things and nice-to-haves. Yes, it all sounds great, but she realizes that not having much has kept her more grounded than before.

The kids were most exposed to things that they shouldn’t be celebrating about. Now, it’s more about, “Have you gone up trekking that hill yet?” or “Let’s see if this can work out as a game” or pushing her to bring them swimming even at her lowest point of sadness. They are aware of what they are able to afford. Swimming doesn’t need anything. They only have to bring their own biscuits and fun.

Sadness that she has. She wants to change it to become something else. Inwardly planning a holiday in her head that she wants to give them.

It will happen, she knows it. Once in forty times you pray for it, it will come true.

She only knows that she will make it happen. Even if it takes more time than she’d like to.

Mind Afloat