tired.

Just really need some rest. Some semblance of sanity, peace and good-ole alone-time. I don't want to have to deal with excuses, stupid people or the overwhelming barrage of new projects, current works-in-progress and the million other things that need my attention. I don't want to hear empty promises that are there simply to mollify me for the while, hoping that once the episode passes I'd forget. I rarely forget. There seems to always be more important things, more pressing things, things with sacred deadlines that take precedence over me: my health, my spirit, my needs. I tired of having to be responsible and perfect. To do the adult thing and be understanding, be reasonable, be rational, to be ok with always putting people's needs ahead of mine; and still smile and grit my teeth and say its ok. I'm tired; and sick of people pretending they know what's best for me, telling me its important for me to pace myself, to take a break. I know what I want and what I need to do- being able to do it is a whole other matter.

For those of you that have been my refuge- you know who you are- thanks. God blessed me richly with friends like you.
For the rest, just leave me alone for a while ok? This girl is tired.

the leaking pail

Consider this: you have a pail that you've always relied on to carry water in. Its your water pail. You love this water pail. Insofar, this water pail has never failed you. Whenever you need it to store/carry/fetch water it always delivers. It always- uncomplainingly- get the job done.

Then one day, perhaps due to overuse, perhaps due to natural attrition or maybe even to sheer human carelessness and tardiness- or mostly likely a combination of them all- your beloved water pail sustains a crack. Now, its not a particularly large crack and water pretty much trickles out. For all intents and purposes, its still functional and you continue to use and some might say abuse it. You continue to top its load each time, you make more and more trips with the pail. Sure you keep an eye on the little crack in the pail every now and then but you don't pay too much mind to it. After all, your water pail has never failed you. And, as you blindly believe, it never will.

But with the continued stress, pressure and sheer exertion of the pail, what was a tiny crack widens into a hole. But still you continue to use the pail. Sure, water leaks out at 4 cups per minute so you fill the pail with extra 4 cups of water per minute. After all, theoretically, you're putting in what is taken out. And for a while that suffices. Then you realise that transporation gives rise to greater wear and tear and soon your "replacement" is no longer sufficient. So, you cleverly up the replacement. You put in 5 cups more per minute in a bid to stymie the water loss and to have the extra 1 cup for "good measure". To top it off, you paste a huge piece of masking tape to reinforce the weakened cracked area. And for a while, you rest easy, because the pail seems to be coping, at least the water level is holding and it seems to be full most of the time anyway. And you say to yourself you'd finally fix the pail properly... when you have the time.

But there are always more important things, things with deadlines and things that appear to shout so loudly the soft whimperings of your pail gets drowned out. Its not that the pail is unimportant, but it is hardly pressing. Or so you think. Then, time, pressure and the natural attrition that surrounds your precious water pail takes it toll. And before you know it, before you have time to catch it, make proper amends, to give it the attention it actually needs... the pail gives way. So absolutely, so total; its beyond repair. Its damaged beyond saving. Irreparable. Oh, you do your best to glue and fix it back together. You fret and sigh and run through the list of "what ifs".

Nothing changes the fact. Sometimes we lucky and get two, or even three chances to get things right. Mostly, we get only one shot. And then we find ourselves sweeping the pieces up of what's important, staring at the dust of what's precious, having to let go of what's truly imperative... But by then, isn't it already too late?

taking sides

When I was in university I took a course in diplomacy. A course that went into the depths and breaths of how to manage warring factions, competing interests and other arbitration matters. It was a popular course, I think for two reasons. One, the lecturer was top notch- for the discerning and the privvy, she's a student of the great John Rawls. And secondly, it was an interesting course: you got to study old but landmark cases, learn the innings and outs of this tenuous game that politicians and statesman have been playing since the beginning of man's quest for power. We went through diplomacy-dispute models, looked at negotiation strategies and discussed and debated the ethics, gamesmanship and endgames of diplomacy.

The thing with diplomacy is: there never is a right or wrong side. There is no such thing as a win-win outcome; not really anyway. Its either one side concedes some part or the other; or parties get stymied in the endless rounds of discussions and offers, more discussions and counteroffers that really, no one really goes anywhere. And with most diplomatic endeavors, there usually is a negotiator, an arbiter or sorts, if you will, who does his darndest to balance the yin and yang of the whole situation.

But here's the real truth. First, these negotiators have an agenda, which is really ok because it'd be nice to reap the benefits of a amicable settlement between parties. Second, these negotiators have a side they prefer, even if the preference is slight, unconscious and perhaps out of loyalty of one party over another. Third, these negotiators need to convince everyone involved that they are truly neutral, that much as they might stand to gain with a favourable outcome, they really are not rooting one over another.

Let's face it. We are humans with nuances, feelings and the ability- some say disability- to make some sort of cognitive, emotional evaluation for ourselves in any situation. We might think we really can't decide, but the fact is we are all born with innate preferences, inclinations and beliefs. Much as we like to think we are really capable of being neutral. Come on, even parents' have favourites. And so we try. We try to sit on the fence. We try to be everyone's friend. We try to make nice-nice. We try to remain impartial. In matters that are sometimes fact-based, largely emotion-driven, surely didactic and dynamic and always with never sufficient information.

You see, my friends, therein lies the rub: we can do our best to stay impartial. To not take sides, to sit on the fence, to kick it into neutral gear. We can convince ourselves, even, that we are doing one heck of a job. But to not take sides is to take a side. To not make a choice is to make a choice. To stay neutral, stubbornly outside of the killzone is hardly a guarantee that you'd be spared the visages of battlement... however good your intent.

I remember a verse that suggests we be either hot or cold, but never lukewarm lest God spits you out of His mouth (Rev 3:16). This was, of course, said in relation to being passionate or dispassionate about God. But I think it applies to our lives as well.

I've picked a side: have you?

not so fair, my lady

By an large, I like musicals. I've watched a fair few musicals- international and local- before and I've generally enjoyed the experience. To be honest, I'm partial towards plays (I still rate "The woman in black" as one of THE best plays I've ever watched) but I always enjoy a good musical. Its usually a pretty entertaining experience.

Last Saturday the whole family went to watch "My Fair Lady"- dad scored us tickets. And I don't care how worldclass or award-winning this "version" is supposed to be- it was the by far the most boring, innane musical experience I've ever had to endure. The singing was sub-standard, the lead had the most annyoying whine/twinge (I don't know the exact musical term. Note to self: Ask Debbie) to her voice, the accents of old riff-raff England was terrible and I felt every single second of the almost three hours we spent in the theatre.

Let's put it this way, the best part of the whole ordeal- other than the curtain call- was the part when Professor Higgins offered to eat half of the chocolate he gave Elisa Doolittle after she says it might be drugged and a boy in the audience went (with unplanned but perfect, almost comedic, timing) "Ew...."