“Don’t artificially keep someone alive when death is preferable.”

It is clear I am completely rooting for euthanasia to one day be finally recognised as a legal, ethical and even merciful treatment of the terminally ill. Don’t jump the gun and immediately conclude that this comes from someone who devalues life and take life lightly. I have received much incredulity – raised eyebrows, narrowing eyes completing pinched expressions as though I had offended them personally with my ‘diabolical’ perspective on life and death.

I had just completed yet another Jodi Picoult masterpiece, Lone Wolf, a case study of the emotional complexity of human and our attitudes towards death. In her earlier work, Mercy, she placed the spotlight on a man convicted for killing his wife – only because she asked to be put out of her misery and pain from a terminal illness. These are all the many shades and layers of grey she is delving into to show us that sometimes what you firmly believe to be the only ‘right’ is someone else’s ‘wrong’.

Of course, we can all agree, life is precious and to be valued. BUT, there might come a time when you have to decide if a life is worth living. Or maybe not, because you will argue that the concept of a life not worth living does not exist; and that any chance of survival and regaining an acceptable quality of life, however medically proven to be slim or even impossible is to be fought for at all cost.

It could be someone’s ‘right’, but to prolong one’s death against all medically-proven odds of a miracle sounds to me a terrible ‘wrong’. In the end, this is not a moral judgement call but a personal choice to live or leave.

I have come to the conclusion what sort of people who get on my nerves. It is my misfortune to have met one too many in the workplace. They are the ones who have something to say/question to. every. single. matter. Antagonistic in nature and a deliberate non-conformist, a person such as this seeks pleasure in disagreeing and ‘setting himself apart’ from the ‘masses.’

This person revels in being what he calls ‘Devil’s Advocate.’ Excuse me while I roll my eyes.

This may be necessary in certain circumstances; be it to point out something glaringly wrong or to broaden the perspectives of an issue. BUT to overdo the disagreeing to a personal level is plain rude. Before I get started on that; challenging a workplace opinion is fine by me, unless (as it is often) done without much thought. It simply becomes a nuisance comment when there is no constructive conclusion or helpful suggestions. This creates a round of unnecessary discussion that usually ends up in preserving the original idea anyway.

And now, coming to a personal level. Recently I have taken to bringing lunch to work because I enjoy a homemade, healthier and simpler option and also of course to avoid more communication with said colleague. Conversations that mainly consists of us disagreeing – even though very much cordial and peppered with my fake laughter, is not my idea of a good lunch. I rather watch Hannibal and eat Tofu (which is quite sickening) than lunch with said colleague.

So what really set off this post is because the ‘Devil’s Advocate’ enjoys coming over to my desk before he leaves for lunch and pointing out ‘YOUR LUNCH IS SO SAD.’ Once or twice, is fine, I can take it as small talk (which is sickening). But to do so almost every day and saying that with a very disapproving look? Completely blog post-deserving.

as always, walking home alone gave my mind a full workout, during which i dissect today's events and their significance or lack thereof.

had just met up with friends i had known the longest. and through the years, we saw each other evolve and grow, in unexpected, almost surprising ways. it was a journey we promised to take together during the many childish dreaming of what the future would hold for us. rather than "promise", a concept too profound for primary school kids, it was just a simple expectation of keeping close to friends you could not imagine excluding from any part of your life.

and so we yakkity yaked on and on, continuing with our childish dreaming.

This is uncomfortable; not having something pressing to be delivered as it had been since I have been here. But I am not complaining; being highly motivated by words of encouragement and approvals that obviously I had not been used to. I am hence settling down here for a break and revel in the rarity of such occurrence at work. Playing a mix of good Motown oldies in the office and looking out the dimly tinted windows is putting me to sleep.

So, if I am done writing for work, I should be writing something for myself to keep myself awake.

I smell boiled eggs – I have a bunch of health nuts colleagues, which make me more comfortable bringing salad to work because they do not go all judgey on me. Despite being fairly contented here at the moment, I still miss my favourite work partner-in-crime of all times dearly. On hindsight, my work then, was a graveyard of buried thoughts with no space for creativity or perhaps even freedom and pride. The only reason I did not leave the place much earlier is now happily married and settling down in Sydney.

We could publish a book on what we went through together; good times and bad times. Can’t say we did not make an attempt; we listed a good 93 unfair atrocious crimes against us (lol). It was all extremely therapeutic for the bitterness we felt then, if not a comedic take on the series of unpleasant events; but nothing is left – all I feel is indifference.

Boy, am I happy for us. “You may not be all that you want to be, but you can look back and say, “Thank you God; I am not where I am used to be.’” Pretty sure there is a more profound meaning to that sentence but it is certainly apt for me. Yet, I could see how that unpleasant 2 years changed me, to constantly remind myself to avoid such situations at all costs by making improvements where possible. I am now my own nit-picker and we work well together.

I am always duly cautious when it comes to proclaiming how ‘happy’ I am now, because while I have hope for this happiness to not be the fleeting sort, life sometimes just does not work out the way we usually expect it to be. But it is also my conviction that ultimately God knows best where to place me and when.

Monday rolls around again, and the same jaded feeling overpowers my entire being. The weekly sense of dread for nothing in particular inspired many a tweet and fb post. Dark Monday as we know and hate marks the end of weekend, 2 days of complete unadulterated joy where the freedom allows you to hang out with whomever you love and do whatever you wish. Work is an imprisonment of some sort where you hang out with people you are ok with and do whatever you are paid to do. Putting that into perspective, I am grateful for a lovely weekend and a weekday job to finance my weekends. Alas, such is the inevitable cycle we have to accept.

This post is one of the many Monday posts generated by equally uninspired 9-5 office people. And damn it, I don’t even fit in. I am an 830 to 6.

today is uncomfortably warm and i am restless. scratch that. it has been happening for a while now. i am restless with thoughts - things to do but somehow never got around to it, and words i want to say bit somehow, never got around to saying. mental pulses whizz about when i am not actually trying to organise them into paragraphs. they altogether disappear when i am here.

it could be the time of the month. but i also could have been using the same excuse for far too long. too much recurring feelings and thoughts, even if at intervals, seem too real to be discounted as just a pms syndrome. ..or could it be hormonal changes seek to surface the most pressing concern we usually try to bury deep within so we dont have to mull over it at least 3 weeks of the month? that would be depressing.

as usual, i am not comfortable sharing everything here, even if noone is reading. i am very much afraid of looking at past entries and wanting to go back in time and silence the 'too-much-info-generating' version of myself when i have moved back into the 'not-think-too-much' state of mind. yes, i have always been told i think too much. but why not? why can't i? why should i feel what you refer as 'thinking-too-much' is entirely my own imaginings and based on nothing but the fiction i cooked up in my head? each time, i want to express something.. anything.., this 'accusation' holds me back. because i convince myself that probably i AM thinking-too-much. this is bad. you no longer know what i think and i no longer know what you really think. but then, everything is so serene and pleasant, i have no wish to ruin any of it.

that, above, dear me, sounds just a lil kooky.
restless, and that is why i am here. untangling my jumbled up thoughts. and feeling morose that i could not have picked up the phone and told you so. but then again, i would be grateful that i was wise enough to avoid yet another petty argument about my thinking-too-much. l.o.l

unto my second job, one month in. cant figure out what to think of it yet. ill be back when i do.

I tried to do handstands for you but every time I fell for you
I'm permanently black and blue,

permanently blue

took out some long forgotten songs and found new meaning to them; how time changes things.

plenty times, i have lots to say if i could just speak. but sometimes, way too often, i regret speaking my mind. i come across harsh and unforgiving even to myself. so if it is a bad feeling, i try to wait it out and wait for it to go. sometimes, it does. when it doesn't, i pray it does. or i credit it to hormones speaking.

or i wait out for something else to distract me, to fit these irrelavant answers to my questions. questions i am not even sure if i am supposed to ponder on. they work for a moment but those questions linger around, unanswered.

anyway, back to the song.

he ate the frozen strawberries he was supposed to chill her bruising knees with.