I can’t wait for Patrick to get here. This is a daily mantra I chant to myself even though I know it will not make him appear any quicker, it keeps me going. While life is mostly good in Portland, my in laws get on my nerves. I’m gonna be daring and write this here because I think everyone deserves to know the shitty, as well as good parts of my life. And truth be told, it is stifling living here. They are for one, staunch Christians and knowing how much I cuss, I have to watch my words. I can’t even say « damn » or « screw ». I have to go for weekly sermons at a church I somewhat disapprove of, because it reminds of me city harvest. The comparison is frighteningly close, both churches are huge enterprises and I disapprove of the style of worship. It resembles a concert and church for me, is a time of contemplation and a place for peace seeking.  Indeed, I feel at peace when I am surrounded by the infinity of the universe under the darkest skies or in the humblest of Churches, and when I marvel at the beauty of stained glass windows of ancient Churches in Europe I am at peace with myself and the world. Never have I ever felt the least compelled to worship in large modern churches like these, with their expensive techno gizmos and their annoying audiences who speak in « tongues » — little more than just incoherent gibberish conjured to deceive. Although I must say, the pastor is pretty awesome and preaches spectacularly, that is when he is physically there and not an apparition on the stupid projector.  But I’m tired of always stepping on egg shells, afraid to say something insensitive about my weight whenever Sarah is around because I found out last year that she cried upon discovering that I wear XS. I’m tired of her constant fighting for patty’s attention when ironically I like to be left alone anyway to my own devices. But I cant because I am expected to hang out with the family. I feel myself growing into a social recluse. I am tired of being condescended upon. Sarah found the need to explain what Victoria’s Secret is when I asked her where she bought her betsey johnson pjs from expecting either ebay or nordstrom. I am growing weary of Sarah’s crying, wheedling and attention craving / manipulation ways. Like a child, she grows petulant when her desires are not met or when people dont do things her way. She complains first of sudden pains and aches of mysterious origins. Lately she has been worse. After her car accident last week, in which she promptly calls mother dearest ( as always ) ,  she has been more anwry of late because of her back pain which should disappear if only she takes her medication on time. God. She is also awfully emotonal, and cries at the littlest thing so much so that I cannot refuse her cherry pie. I am too polite and frightened to tell her :

I hate maraschino cherries.

I am tired of being emotionally blackmailed.Most of the time I feel like the outsider I am, subjected to scrutiny of my every way and nervous of making mistakes that will jeopardize my relationship with them. Afterall we are strangers connected only by a flimsy certificate and the love of their son and brother.

Of course when I complaint to Patrick, he rebukes me and reminds me to be kind because it is Christmas. I personally don’t see how Christmas has anything to do with being frustrated or complaining. ‘Tis the season to be merry/jolly/giving but get off your high horses; this cross I’ve been bearing is wearing me thin. Life manifests itself in reality and I too am human.

Thank god for Germaine. I had a great time venting tonight, she shared my angst and we laughed a lot of it off. At the end of it, I gained strength and realize that maybe I am more patient/tolerant than I give myself credit for. The miracle of technology is that it has the power to connect people even when they’ve not actually met. I’ve learnt that time and time again, with Patrick and now Germaine too. Its tragic, everyone of my friends in Singapore feel so distant, all caught up with exams, school, tests, papers. Everyone’s caught up with the chasing their own dreams of being a banker, accountant, businessperson, making grades, boyfriends and life spins us around 360.  These days, I feel so disconnected from Singapore it was as if everything was a dream, a distant memory from a long time ago. Real world has become the internet for me where I can find everything I need for my gift buying, quench my retail thirst, purchase my books, earn my keep and do all if not most of my socializing on days where everyone in the house works. I talk to my parents online, I show them pictures of my caramel, my sugar cookies and my heart breaks when my mom says she wants to try some because they look delicious.  Something in me withers and dies when my little brother begs and wheedles for me to come back. And sometimes, I sit out on the porch if only to wave to passing cyclists to remind myself that there is life outside and I am not alone. I’m happier in Maryland where I’m there only with Patrick and we pass the time peaceful and thankful. When I am in Maryland, my world is the both of us. Here, I have only myself and Germaine to confide online but nobody to hug me and tell me its alright. I am lonely here. And perhaps I get frustrated with Sarah because I too, crave an iota of attention, respect and love. Perhaps, I too a self proclaimed recluse who at times, pride herself at being strong and unyeilding secretly want to be accepted just like everyone else. It is hard though, because her husband and daughter are one and the same. In the end, I retreat into my room crestfallen and bitter.

I’m tired now and haven’t the energy to embellish my life with the glitter of perfection. Everything I’ve said here is not embellished or untrue and I’m sure the subject I speak of knows it herself to be true.

Goodnight world.

The week fades into oblivion when the alcohol bleeds into your system and night fades into day. Its friday again but I am partied out.

I’m literally pissing away my savings, so here’s a little reminder to sober up.