Apple Sydney stairs

One of my friends is going away next week. He was recently offered, and very sensibly accepted, an Asia Pacific HR role based out of Singapore. I’m happy for him, of course, but feeling a little blue about it.

My life has been characterised by either myself or people I care about leaving. The first wrench came at the age of 14 or so when my family migrated from Malaysia to Australia (tough age to leave best friends behind and begin anew); then again, when I decided to move from Australia to the UK; and then when I had managed to assemble a good circle of friends and colleagues in London, it was time to return to Australia. Even so, we have settled in Sydney, not Perth where my family is based. So, still, I am saying hello/goodbye with some regularity.

Now I’m always half-wishing I was somewhere else which makes no sense at all because I love living in Sydney. But whenever I look at the time, before I can even say “It’s x o’clock,” I’ve already mentally converted it to Greenwich Mean Time. Odd, perhaps? (It’s handy on the work front because I’m always having to work out sensible times to contact people on both coasts of the US, among other places…)

I know that we have it easy these days, with email and mobile phones, FaceTime and the rest, compared to the old days of snail mail, but even so, they’re not quite equal to being there¬†with the person/people you want to have in your life.

Go on, then. Go. But you must know what I mean – ?


Listening: If You Leave Me by Mental As Anything


coming or going?

I’m taking a risk by posting this but what use is one’s own online navel-gazing place if not for precisely these sorts of ruminations?

Late last year, I cut someone out of my life because he wouldn’t quit trying to pressure me into being someone he wanted me to be. So I ignored the emails, of which there were a couple earlier this year, I think, I don’t recall exactly because I simply deleted them without reading them, much less noting details such as dates; I unfriended him wherever we were friends (Facebook, Twitter, etc.). If that makes me seem harsh and cold, then I am those things, but the fact is I was annoyed when I called him out on his behaviour, and he simply denied it. I guess I wanted him to own his behaviour; perhaps I would’ve been prepared to tolerate his feelings about how much we had in common, and how it was somehow uncanny – we were obviously Meant To Be in each other’s lives. I simply didn’t feel the same. And the comments and hints were becoming tedious in their regularity. I couldn’t conjure up any such feelings to reciprocate, and what’s more I didn’t want to do that for a variety of reasons, one of those being I’m married, rather contentedly at this time, I might add.

This week I found myself texting a male friend about a catch-up, but for whatever reason it just didn’t work out. But on Friday and yesterday the texts took a turn towards the ‘wanting something/you’, and I honestly couldn’t figure out where from or how this had come about because we haven’t seen each other for a year or so… thus, I’m being serious when I say how…?¬†However, this time, I decided I would do something different, and so instead of my usual blanking/ignoring/erasing, I decided I would tell him exactly how things weren’t even though I detest doing stuff like that. Because it’s embarrassing – I still haven’t worked out whether it’s more so for the person delivering the message or the recipient of said message – and I am wholly unskilled in this area of human relations. Perhaps that is the most cringeworthy thing about it all, the fact that I’m useless at this, given that I’m no spring chicken – surely I should’ve worked this all out by now?

It really wasn’t so bad. He texted back (sometime during the early hours of the morning), apologising for ‘over-reading’ -his word- and I guess in a way, that’s accurate. He was kind of transposing what he wanted over our communications – although it’s still a puzzle to me as I have been saying all along exactly how things are for me, i.e. good. That said, I don’t dislike him now, even though I was feeling anxious and irritable about the whole matter by around 9pm last night. He owned it, which makes me admire the honesty in him.

This place is ‘deep as a puddle’ and by that I mean that generally, I don’t think I’m much of a conscious learner in this classroom called Life; I don’t like to delve too deeply even though I know I could challenge myself more by doing so; often it simply feels too hard. However, the few sessions I had with the psychologist last year have left some lasting impressions in my scratched-up, dented brain, and I have found myself going back to various topics we discussed, and some suggestions she made. Me facing (via SMS, I know, but it’s a legitimate form of communication these days, isn’t it?) instead of blanking yesterday’s friend is a reflection of this, I think. Small steps, progress of sorts?


Listening: Blood Red Youth by California Wives


It’s always a tad embarrassing when you accidentally kiss someone. I use the word ‘always’ loosely, because I haven’t experienced too many accidental kisses in my life, however, the word ’embarrassing’ is true enough.

Last night, I was getting out of a cab, paying the taxi driver, and saying goodbye to an ex-colleague and friend. I leant over to give her a kiss on the cheek. She moved one way, I moved the other, we must’ve both thought we were about to miss each other’s cheeks, so we corrected ourselves – or so we thought! Our mutual over-correction resulted in us kissing each other square on the lips instead.

I don’t think I’ve gotten out of a cab that quickly in a long time. Silly really, given that we’d just discussed everything under the sun for the last two-and-a-half hours. Go figure.


I had to take a trip to the US for work recently. It was, on the whole, fine, a success, even. But there were a couple of aspects of the trip that were less than satisfactory.

One was an argument with a colleague and close friend which saw us not speaking for about four days. We have since mended the proverbial fence but things feel different between us now.

The second was getting sexually harassed by one of the partners one night. He’d had too much too drink (Krug or Dom – I haven’t been able to stomach the idea of Champagne since!) and wouldn’t leave me alone. Octopus hands which I removed forcibly from my person many times. Finally, got rid of him… then the texts – “Another drink?”… “C’mon!”… “Call me!”… “Here’s my mobile number…” … “Here’s my hotel room number…” Now I have to pretend that it never happened, but it did and I hate that it did.

I’m not myself lately. It’s not just because it’s winter.