Mustard on Toast

When I was a kid, my ambition was to be a doctor. My father was partly responsible for this. He told me that all doctors made oodles of money, and at that time I was savvy enough to understand that money bought lots of nice things. Like a puppy. And a pony. Between the ages of 6 and 9, I wanted a pony real bad.

When I was ready to work to becoming a doctor, my father told me that he couldn't afford to send me to medical school.

Then I discovered Danielle Steel and read "Message From Nam", and I decided to become a wartime journalist. I knew I could write. I didn't win those damn essay awards for nothing. But my father told me that journalists earned peanuts, not to mention getting sent to war-torn countries to get my limbs blown off.

And then I wanted to become a pharmacist, or a vet. Too expensive, my father said.

Next time I'm going to insist my kids become engineers or accountants.

Sometimes when the conversation get slightly unpleasant, I'll automatically space out. As in I get this really really fixed look on my face - eyes wide-opened and unstaring... lips unflinchingly pursed. And I'll slip into this out-of-body mode where I imagine looking at myself spacing out and I'm watching myself watching the spaced-out version of me. It's like looking at a mirror image except that I can feel for both parties on either sides of the mirror.

I'm not much of a fighter or arguer, but I excel as a professional ignorer. Ignoring people is an excellent energy-conserving method to show displeasure. And if you're skilled at ignoring people, you can target your displeasure so accurately as to single the poor soul out from a whole group of people. And 99.9% of the time, nobody in the group would notice, except for the victim (which iz precisely how I loike it, baybeh). Now if only I can train myself to go deaf on command, life would be alot more peaceful. :)

When he told me that I needed to grow up or something along that line (the rest of the words were conveniently lost in mental static), I did some serious thinking.

Yes, I am a spoiled brat but I'm not spoiled like some Datuk's or some celebrity's kid. I appreciate the finer things in life. I am materialistic. I love branded stuff. If it's a sin to do so, then go ahead and sue me.

Btw, my love for the expensive only goes as far as loving them. I definitely DO NOT make it a habit to spend my hard-earned cash at Gucci or LV or my namesake jewelry company.

First things first. It's NOT my fault that my parents didn't dump me in some government school. It's not my fault that I was not made to walk to school or use public transport. It's not my fault that until today, I don't have to do housework because we have a part-time maid to do it. It's not my fault that my parents take me on annual trips to cool places. It's not my fault that I don't have to buy my own car because my father bought me one.

It's not my fault that I was not made to suffer like he did.

I totally understand that he has bigger commitments than I do, but then again, his commitments are not due to me. I can empathize with him, but not more than that because I honestly think that it wouldn't be fair to me. I wasn't put on this earth to pay for other people's undoings, thankyouverymuch.

Sometimes I wonder why do I bother to carve a second niche out in Vox when I'm doing perfectly fine in Blogspot. Okay, truth is I like them Vox templates. Yes, bimbotic reason (Paris: d'ya loves it?) I know.

So here I am, nearly 30, single but not available, no kids because I don't like them. Oh, and my life is governed by a fat little tyrannical hamster. He sleeps for 20 out of the 24 hours in a day. He treats his wheel like a commando hideout. He's picky about food. He loves sunflower seeds, walnuts and dried mealworms. And only yesterday the  little bugger completely forgot that he's toilet-trained and peed everywhere else in his cage. But he is very much loved at home, especially by my mother whom I caught sharing little bits of her multi-grain and walnut bun with him.

Anyway, I would like to write more but I'm suddenly demotivated by urgent need to go to the loo.

Monday sucks.