Loneliness knows me by name.

Dusk by the beach. I have a very unconventional working environment, and I'm totally loving it.

Something is missing today, though.

Every time I'm posted here at the beachside property, I look forward to one thing: Dinnertime chats with Stuart Carter. I'm too lazy to cook today, he told me once. Well, he comes here for dinner almost every day--so I guess he's just too lazy to cook, like, ever. Normally he has his dinner at the food court first before coming by. Sometimes he brings me take-out, and even a bottle of wine to sip on as we chat--mostly about his days as a major in the US Navy.

Stuart is a very good friend of the big boss. The hotel was his home for about half a year, until he eventually decided to make this part of the world his permanent base. He now lives at the condo nearby, with a stunning view of both the beach and the legendary mountain from his balcony.

Too bad he's too lazy to cook. I would have made full use of the awesome kitchen if I were him.

Unfortunately for me, there will be no visits from Stuart for an entire month. He is a travel writer, and he's going on an assignment in Germany. One week, and then he's flying home to visit his family. Running the place solo for twelve straight hours is lonely work. It's good to have a familiar face to interact and kill the hours with. Now I'm not gonna have that for an entire month. Life's gonna suck even more than it already does, for a little while.

Yes, mine is a sad and lonely existence. The people I know and genuinely care about keep leaving, getting married or dying. I have no time to make new friends. It's hard to go out and explore what the world has to offer when someone tells you that you are a disgrace to the family the moment you set foot back into the house. My parents don't ask questions when I tell them I'm going out, but they sure give the nastiest comments about the act of going out itself. Someone really has to teach them the concept of being a single working adult. I mean, my mother got engaged fresh out of college. She spent her short, single life having already promised to commit to someone, then got married right after. I sure as hell don't want to follow her footsteps.

Bottom line is, I long for good company. There's someone whose company I crave more than anything else, but he's so far away. All I have now are the cats and the books. I guess I'll just make do with that, as always.

I iz pathetic. Full stop.

Motivation for the anxiety-ridden nerd.

Maybe I will, or maybe not. I'll keep that in mind, though.

Son of Adam, daughter of Eve.

Found these words somewhere on the web. Loving them very much.

We need to teach our daughters to know the difference between:

A man who flatters her

and a man who compliments her,

A man who spends money on her

and a man who invests in her,

A man who views her as property

and a man who views her properly,

A man who lusts after her

and a man who loves her,

A man who believes he's a gift to women

and a man who believes she's a gift to him.

And then we need to teach our sons to be that kind of man.

Great parenting advice, I think.

Soliloquy...at work.

Eight hours of chaos. Two more to go.

Working on a holiday. Welcome to the hospitality industry.

I was a journalist once. I'm used to working when everybody else isn't. The most news-worthy stuff often happen during the festive season. Holiday for you, field day for us.

And my current job is no different. Full house today. Luckily only three arrivals, and no check-outs. It's crazy how many familiar faces I got to see today. Returning guests, all here for another dose of this place I call my hometown. All foreigners--not a single Malaysian on the list. Dutch honeymooners, Australian families, American expats based in Laos, a Scotsman traveling solo, and even a gay couple from Belgium.

And Terry's back. Apparently, he loves Borneo so much, he simply couldn't leave. The journey home to Newport Beach is now two months behind schedule. Always a hiking trip somewhere. Invitations from friends he's made throughout his travels. What an exciting life he's got--this favorite guest of mine. How unlike the one I have.

So here I am, finally able to take a breather after eight straight hours of frantically trying to get everything in order. The place is terribly under-staffed today. Typical Christmas scenario, according to my boss. One hell of a workaholic, she is. I don't think the term "festive season" and "weekends" exist in her vocabulary. She was here earlier, and she's coming back in a bit. If it wasn't for the family dinner she has to attend, she would still be here.

And I have a feeling I'm turning into her as well.

Everyone's gone out to explore the city. The place is suddenly quiet. I'm running things solo at the moment. It's just me and a couple of guys in F&B. I hear them chatting away in the restaurant from my workstation. There must always be someone in the lobby--so yes, I'm chained to this place. Keeping an eye on the door in case someone wants to come inside. Every time I look at it, I'm overcome by loneliness.

Loneliness, even in the company of so many people. My existence is indeed a sad one.

Lonely and sad. That's what I've been feeling the entire day. It's been extremely hectic, but I managed to steal a few quick glances of my phone. Whatsapp, to be specific--and I didn't like what I saw. There was a text about someone bringing over some food for le monsieur on Christmas Eve. Someone he's mentioned about many times--and no matter how hard I try to make myself dismiss that as an innocent gesture, I always end up disliking it even more.

It's a hard blow to my face, that thing is. A reminder that I've lost so many precious hours with the man. That I haven't been giving him the attention he deserves. So caught up in the things that I have to do, all these expectations I need to fulfill. Everyone's expectations but his. I'm such an awful person.

I'm an awful person. I'm also awfully sad and lonely.

I think I should probably stop writing now, before I burst into tears and the guests start pouring back in.

Joyeux Noël. Feliz Navidad.

Thoughts at midnight.

You get the air out of my lungs whenever you need it

And you take the blade right out of my heart

Just so you can watch me bleed

And I still don't know why, why I love you so much

Go on, fill your cup with my blood. Fill it till it runneth over.

Then sip on it to your heart's content. That is, if you can find it in your heart to be content.

Knowing you, though, I'm certain you're going to bleed me dry before you do.

I am not a walrus.

Lights out.

One glance at the laptop screen.

Media player on. Check.

Playlist selected. Check.

Headphones connected. Check.

Correct sound settings. Check.

Stray thought pops up: Damn, I’m one hell of an audiophile.

Stop it already. Time to plug in.

And so, I assume my position on the bed.

I lie still, as still as I possibly can. The only visible movement is the rise and fall of my chest as I breathe, slowly and evenly.

My eyes are closed. It’s time for them to rest.

Touch and hearing are the only senses left working: hearing because it’s the only one I need, and touch because it’s impossible to turn off.

My sense of smell is already screwed up, ergo it’s out of the equation.

No, I am not relaxing. This, in fact, is an exercise. A workout.

The music in my ears is not Mozart or Chopin, but Armin van Buuren.

It’s music for dancing, not for lying motionless like a corpse.

And yet, here I am, doing exactly that. Fighting the intense urge to move in time with the music as the thumping beats relentlessly beckon me to, like sirens among treacherous rocks.

All that chaos, while appearing completely tranquil on the outside.

This is an exercise in restraint. In stifling emotion-driven tendencies so as to form a protective veneer around this broken self.

This is an exercise in being cold. So cold, that touching my heart will give you frostbite.

Self-preservation through turning myself into a mere stone sculpture: Apathetic, emotionless and yes, cold.

And it’s all because of the fact that passion nearly killed me.

Definitely not what the shrink ordered, but I couldn’t care less.

Emotion-driven deletion.

I have a photography project that isn't even halfway through. One of the major perks of the job: I get zero time for anything not work-related.

I have to say, it's totally awesome. NOT.

The creative juices aren't flowing anymore. The pressures of work have robbed me of what's left of it. There's simply no room for hobbies or passions now. The unfinished project desperately calls out to me, begging to be completed, promising to be my personal magnum opus--but I am forced to ignore the cries. I'd sit in a chair for five minutes, and someone calls me a slacker already. So how is one supposed to finish something that'll take hours and hours of sitting in front of a computer screen every day?

There is simply no way I can continue this, like, ever. Leaving it in the folder would just piss me off, so I decided to pull the plug on it. Delete the project. Delete the original files. I even uninstalled the Photoshop software. No one uses it anyway. I'd have tossed the camera in the trash too if I hadn't considered the fact that it's worth about twelve grand--accessories and all. My last name isn't Gates or Trump or freaking Vanderbilt. Getting a new one is out of the question. I can only imagine smashing that thing to pieces in my head.

Now, if only I could smash it on another person's skull. That would be awesome indeed.

Loving things.

Found a quote on Twitter a while ago:

People are made to be loved. Things are made to be used. The world is in chaos because things are being loved and people are being used.

 It got me pondering for a while. Just for a while.

And then I stopped thinking.

Le soleil glorieux.

The sunset was especially glorious yesterday evening. Don't ask me how I know, or why I say it was so. Somehow, yesterday's sunset was unlike any other sunsets I've seen. Too bad I didn't catch it on camera. The image still sticks in my mind--even now, when the new day is halfway through.

There are words that go with it too. Verses from my favorite chapter in the Quran. One can't help but marvel at the way the words are placed together. There is a musical ring to it, a poetic resonance that, even when recited by the most ordinary person, never fails to captivate you. And if you know the language, it's even more profound and beautiful.

They say the words of the Quran are the words of the Almighty himself.

And by these words, the protesting skeptic in me is (temporarily) silenced.

By the Sun and his glorious splendor;

By the Moon as she follows him;

By the Day as it shows the Sun's glory;

By the Night as it conceals it;

By the Firmament and its (wonderful) structure;

By the Earth and its vast expanse;

By the Soul, and the proportion and order given to it;

And its enlightenment, as to its wrong and its right;

Truly he succeeds that purifies it,

and he fails that corrupts it!

-- Ash-Shams (The Sun): Verses 1-10 --

Err...tant de temps?

"Mon passe-temps favori, c'est laisser passer le temps, avoir du temps, prendre son temps, perdre son temps, vivre à contretemps." ~Francoise Sagan

My favorite pastime is to let the time go by, to have time, to take my time, to waste time, to live against the times.

Sixty seconds in a minute. Sixty minutes in an hour. Twenty-four hours in day. Then come the weeks, and the months, and the inevitable year. It's never enough. I always end up with no time at the end of it all.

Makes me wish this planet could trade orbit paths with Mars, or any other planet that comes after it.