after a party weekend and their words fade as I intentionally turn up the volume of Faithless’ Tweak Your Nipples (Tiesto Remix). I register what you say but I honestly am willing myself to feel nothing about it - except to give you what you want - so I can continue to bury myself in the song.

I taught myself to not like a certain person - if he was too good-looking, hung out with the cool crowd, had previous partners unlike me, or had a better physique or brain than I have. When did I learn to limit who I can like? And why did I learn it for? To protect myself?

because the sellers/makers on Facebook have a remarkable sex reputation. Somewhere in the comments a guy asked if it had been an enjoyable experience producing the lube and the seller/maker replied something to the effect of “it certainly was enjoyable perfecting the formula with my partner (who is also involved in the lube business).” I imagine wild, off-the-hook sex scenes of maker and his partner in deep, mindless thrusts, throbbing and pulsating with lust, and occasionally discussing if the lube had gone dry too quickly. I immediately punched in my card details to order one.
 

I got an email from HR asking me to proof read my new name cards. I thought nothing of it as we recently had a new brand joining us and this might be an across-the-board exercise to update everyone’s name cards. To my surprise, my title has changed. It now reads, “Senior Communications Executive” (it previously read “Writer”) and I thought about it for awhile and realised:

1. I’m mildly pissed this was the best way I was informed of my promotion. Is this even one? Where’s my congratulatory note? I’ve raised my unhappiness about my old title because I felt I did more and deserved a more pronounced title that recognised my responsibilities. Therefore is this title adjustment merely undoing what I felt was wrong or is it an actual pat on the back? 

2. Senior Communications Exec - At this point, that doesn’t suffice.

Elsewhere, a friend suggested seriously that I blogged semi-professionally. But perhaps under a pseudonym. He laid it out in a business way for me, highlighting that a name gives longevity to the blog and also widens the scope of content I am able to write. I do miss writing freely and expressing my own opinion.

and I don’t quite know how to make it right. I know it’s a collection of problems, some the result of long-term under-rug-swept-syndrome, others centred around my own foolishness. 

I feel like this is always going to happen. The ups and downs, it’s becoming repetitive and while I can’t muster enough courage or strength to rid the permanent problem, I rely on short, quick solutions and pray the calm or ecstasy, however short or long I get, is enough to keep me afloat till the next blow. I tell myself, “You’ve lost the right to complain” but here I am.

call it a “rubbish weather” whenever it gets uncomfortably cold or warm. I had a rubbish weekend and it’s eating into my week. My uncle died. I lost my 2-month-old iPhone4s. My car aircon died. An external designer is giving me serious shit work.

you don’t wish to be alone, and will rather be in a relationship? Am I going to go through my 20s single, happy and sometimes unhappy? Spoken for, happy, and sometimes unhappy also seem like fun ideas to explore.

a good fuck or two to get over yourself. I don’t know if it’s the holiday or the prostitute weekend I’m going to have (fuck yeah!) or HK with the folks and sister next week or the fact I just got some that’s giving me this high.

But you know what. Ain’t gonna analyse it. I’m just gonna ride the high till it’s time to get more.

like a bit of a bad stock. This feeling creeps in after writing samples are sent upon a company’s request, and a response doesn’t follow fast enough. At this point at every job-seeking process, self-doubt will fill the person. I think it’s universal. And I’ve no solution for it. Except to continue sending out emails, speaking to people and pray you catch someone’s eye.