רּ (rĕsh)

Do you know what’s funny? The fact that I only blog when I’m temporarily disabled and unplugged from the real world.

The past 2 days have seen me bogged down by this hideous flu and feverish temperatures so much so that I couldn’t drag my sorry arse to work and have resorted to setting up camp in front my fireplace in the living room whilst the wind bellows its gusty lungs outside.

oh well. at least I’m snuggled up in my warm duvet so much so that I’m beginning to get the flu sweats.

at least I’ve lost my sense of smell so I can’t really catch a whiff of the delicious aroma of my just heated plate of mamak mee that’s cooling on my kitchen benchtop.

at least my cough hasn’t subsided so I have some form of entertainment to (kill and) keep me occupied as everyone’s away at work.

ah… the grandeurs of life.

what more can I ask for, like really?

I spoke to Pri a couple of months ago and she whined on about missing my blogs however, there’s naught much else in my life to report.

I sometimes feel that everyday’s kinda like Groundhog Day where nothing ever really changes.

Work’s going great although I need to get my booty in gear as I have done jack this week what with being sick and all. Ditto for training. I had a real good session last week with David as he got me to sparr (boxing) with Richie. We did 6, 3-minute rounds and D was happy as I was busy and didn’t get smacked around too much.

I couldn’t find a replacement on Sunday for my dance class as I was sick and ended up teaching anyway which in hindsight, was a good thing as class was packed and everyone later commented that they had a great time so yippikayaye mr.mofo!

What else?

I’m contemplating on surprising my parents on a short trip home in the next couple of months but I doubt it’ll come to fruition. Eventhough I saw them in December, I’m sorta feeling homesick and a bit blue for some reason. I spoke to dad today and he’s all for me coming back but I’m still mulling over it.

The funny thing is that I’m not sad over any recent events. If anything, I’m actually at a point where I’m blissfully happy. I’m seeing someone new and as stupid as it maybe, I’m content and at peace. Work’s going great and my friends and family couldn’t be any better (touch wood!) so I think it’s just me missing home and mainly mum and dad.

I’ve been in NZ since 2001 and have sporatically visited home from time to time. I don’t have any family here so I make the most of my friends and love them to bits but still, you can’t compare them to your own bloodlines. 

Or maybe I’m done with NZ and am just getting restless. I thought about going back to study next year but that’s an idea in progress.

We’ll see so watch this space and if you have any suggestions, throw them my way please.

xox.

so im torn in between what’s hurting me more… my phucked up right foot which i cant walk on or the fact that they could only administer me with antibiotics intravenously and it’s aggravating my veins.

i’m trying to take deep breaths to pace my heart rate. My veins feel like they’re on fire and I’m this close to ripping the freakin’ drip out along with the lukewarm flanelette that they promised would soothe the fiery rage.

Every 6 hours they said. I’m now on my 3rd cycle of drugs and the pain never gets any better. And seeing I’m here til tomorrow, one in my predicament can only pray that I’m heavily sedated when the torment begins.

…

if it makes you feel any better, at least this sadistic tough love takes place in a hospital building that has a beautiful lake front view of akl city.

So eventhough this has nothing to do with my story whatsoever, I still think it’s worth telling.

My girlfriend and I got high today.

Yes, I’m talking high-smiley-being all giddy and stupid-drug-high.

The poison of our choice?

It wasn’t marijuana, alcohol nor even glue, but a nice addictive cologne.

Yes, cologne.

Now before you scoff and roll thy eyes, let me just remind you that humans are not only turned on just by visual stimuli but also by their other sensory glands. Hey at least I don’t think Angelina Jolie would’ve gotten it on with good ol’ Brad based on looks alone and if he smelled like a troglodyte, kays?

Anyhow I actually find that if I spray a favourite male smelly unto my pillows and sheets, I end up sleeping much better.  It relaxes me and I wake up the first 5 seconds happy as a disoriented lark before the sad realisation sinks and that’s, hehe, there is actually no other person in bed with yours truly.

Of course, a girl can remedy that from time to time.

Needless to say, my girlfriend is definitely getting that hot male-in-a-can for her boudoir.

Now where were we?

Oh that’s right. So I was training at the gym today when it hits me, golly gum drops, it’s 2007. Sure it’s always a new year in 12 months but this epiphany of mine was different.

In the next couple of days, I’d turn 25, a quarter of a blinking century and what would I have to show for it?

Sure I am accumulating all things material but what profound success?/experience?/growth? would I really have to show for?

Hence I decided to make a list. I initially decided to make a mental one whilst working out because Joe Bloggs next to me was pissing me off by merrily taking my weights to use without asking (btw what GUY uses the same weights as a GIRL?!! geez..) and trying to impress me. Ugh. Troll.

So for the year of 2007, I’m aiming for personal growth. My competitor?

Me.

I want to push myself and strive to be on top of the food-chain from all aspects. This year I wanna be top-dog in my job; I going to be a better dancer and teacher. Kickboxing-wise I want to have at least 3 fights before the year is out.

Why the sudden rush to do all things crazy? Well just cause the time is right.

Also perhaps the next time I’m back home, I can use my achievements as an excuse as to why I’m not married and don’t have 25 kebillion kids already. *dryly*

If you’re not in the know, it’s normal for most Asian peeps my age to settle down at this time and it shows. Most of my friends are either engaged or already married. It’s like a matrimonial plague has hit the Peninsular.

But for me I think I’ll just stick to my favourite cologne, thanks.

Hey it did have something to do with my story after all!

Happy New Year you guys!

xox

It’s been awhile since my last blog but this Sunday past has been the first time in years that I was actually home for something other than sleeping and you know what? I ended up cleaning my room.

For the next 3 hours…

*sighs* that’s right, feel my pain.

It’s looking like its old flash self and right now I’m enjoying being sprawled out on my comfy bed and listening to my latest jazz CD so much so to the point where I could do with a glass of my fav tipple (canadian club and a splash of gingerale).

The past couple of weeks have been manic as usual. Dance auditions, teaching, training, various campaigns at the club have taken up most of my time. I think in the last 2 weeks alone, I’ve been at the damn place from like 6 in the morning right up to the 8s and 9pm closing times.

Nyways this Saturday my housemates are away and I’m sortakindamaybe contemplating throwing a small soiree. But I don’t want it to get out of hand.

The parties I’ve been to and thrown usually get to the point where ppl I vaguely know show up at my doorstep and I’m like thinking "wtf are you doing here?" but alas common courtesy drilled by my dear darling parents won’t allow me to throw them out.

*sighs*

I wanna keep it classy this time and perhaps have a handful of boys and girls and make it like a lil dinner thing.

…

any suggestions?

I was thinking perhaps a few h’orderves, nice wine and a simple main and dessert; al fresco just as the sun’s about to set.

…

yay/nay?

see it probably sounds mundane to you but apart from the 20hr training sessions and 40+work hours, there’s naught much exciting things happening at the mo and so this is like the highlight of my weekend… for now.

will let you know what I decide.

A couple of months back, there was this big hoopla in the media about I.C.E- an in-case of emergency contact person to add in your cellphone under the (stupid?/smart?) abbreviation so that there was someone to call (and no, not the GhostBusters *dryly*) if you got into an incident/accident of some sort.

Meet Grant, my I.C.E buddy.

Now smart single girls will tell you that the I.C.E system has long been in used before the media-hype. We’ve got ICE buddies for sex, for the car, to cook, to go clubbing with.

Before you conclude that "oh yeah, they’re just normal guy friends," these ICE boys will go to that extra mile to see to it that you’re okay in whatever calamity that you (yes you know you’re always the one that starts the B.S) get yourself into.

In short, they’re an absolute gem to have and an absolute tosser to others.

Tehe.

Well Grant’s my ICE buddy at the gym. He absolutely saves me when some of my clients just don’t get it.

And they don’t (seriously Pri).

Like I understand how some guys might argue that us girls saying "no" sometimes would mean "yes" but if I said no, and I said it with a frown while in a standoffish position with my head cocked to one side, you’d think they’d get a clue and put 2 and 2 together.

But no (and I don’t mean yes).

So the boy had to save me today. I honestly think it’s riot how I was just making up our history and our future plans to the troglodyte who couldn’t fathom a simple 2-lettered word.

And no, he didn’t sign up in the end.

Tart.

I’ve given up on Malaysian men.

Not because they’re Asian and the whole they’re "small" myth (see I still have faith), but because Asian guys are generally fussy about physical aesthetics to the point where it borderlines sheer stupidity.

Their outlook on good aesthetics?
a) If you have a pretty face but are on the heavy side of the scales (psst when I mean heavy, I’m talking about 50kgs+ which is like oh what, 99.94% of the world population? This figure included the population of Ethiopia btw), then, you’re ugly.

b)If you have a slender frame BUT an Elephant Manish face, then you’re STILL considered pretty/ beautiful/ damn-br8k-me-off-a-piece-of-that-choco-chip material.

So my point being is that as long as you’re skinny, thin and anorexic like then yeah, you’ll be the most popular thang since sliced bread.

…

Yes I’m hating and don’t deny it. I’m not skinny and certainly not thin by Asian standards and it makes me wonder when you get a substantial amount of (superfine superhot) boys asking me out here wherelse I was once considered "plain" by the boys in my hometown (that’s Malaysia for the lot of you that are lost by now).

So yeah, in short screw the lot of you.

I’ve given up on Malaysian men.

Except for this ONE boy who btw is in my network who’s moniker is the title of this damn entry.

I think it must be YEARS now that I’ve had a crush on him and it was utterly hillarious talking to him on MSN.

Like me, he’s in a diff country at the moment and we seem to just miss each other when visiting home. Nyways I told him that I’d  be back in Dec and was game on catching up if he too was home.

You know what my schedule’s like. Heck I’m never at one place for more than an hour (unless it’s at the gym) and so to be coming back after like what 3 damn years and staying at home for a month, that’s big.

But what does he decide on doing?

He decides that he’s NOT going home and is going to instead party it up at a nearby state in this foreign country of his.

E-yah.

Like hello, have you not seen my photos?

My one flicker of hope of dating a Malaysian boy just died out.

*sighs*

PS. See I told you I wouldn’t say your name.  >)

So I piked out on the date in the end. I got too nervous and freaked (in summation, tired ms.thang here didn’t really give her pick-up addy to the uber shy boy cause he asked her the night before to come out and have a drink with him.. and his folks)…

*ahems*

What, Date 1 and it’s Meet-The-Parents already?

Um right.

So INSTEAD, I ended up going Simon’s bday dinner/party/soiree.

and partying with the boys.

Now what cracks me up (and I admit I’ve done this myself in the past) are friends plastering their network with pics of their boyfriend and themselves in every location, position, dimension possible.

WELL, I’ve decided that I’m going to start up a project where I end up taking photos of all the boys in the gym.

With me.

Just randomly and at the end, compiling the lot of them in the good ol’ Friendster photo album for the world to see.

Starting right now..  >)

OMG so the principle itself is worth telling…

Malaysian journalists need to go back to journo school and learn to correlate their freaking news pieces. I’m talking reporting/grouping similar stories together so it blends well… like peanut butter and jam, Kool Aid and soda or tuna and cottage cheese.

I read a link Pri had put in her latest entry about an 8mth preggy-bellied Malaysian that was not only caught in an org fest but was also high on syabu(btw wtf is syabu?).

So being the curious kitty that I am, I clicked and read it…

Midway through I started frowning for in the same news column and under the same heading (Pregnant Women Among 12 Addicts Held @ Orgy), was a story about Siti Nurhaliza’s wedding to some Datuk.

For those of you who are not in the know, Siti Nurhaliza’s like Malaysia’s equivalent of Beyonce. She’s the inspirational Queen of Dangdut and Soul who can do no wrong and has the squeakiest image since sliced bread.

So why was news of her wedding tied to such malarky?

…

*ponders*

Unless, the 12 addicts including the 8 month preggy-bellied Malaysian caught high on syabu (wtf is is it??!) were listening to her songs while the org festivities were being carried out.

…

Eww. 

http://www.thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2006/8/1/nation/15005012&sec=nation

So it’s Tuesday and already I’ve been through a kaleidoscope of emotions:

Where Dogs Can Hear Me
Have you ever caught an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S (c’mon now’s not the time to be bashful)? You know the one where Monica locks herself out of the apartment on Thanksgiving and goes hysterical cause the turk’s still cooking in the oven?

E-yah.

We’re at a point where only dogs can hear me now.

*sighs*

In the spirit of one of the promotions we’re having at the moment, the Jam team has decided to put on 2 weeks of themed classes. Mine kicks off tomorrow and it’ll be a retro revival. I’m talking multi-coloured tops, afros, big daddy gold chains. =)

The outfits are the least of my worries (although I hope my ‘fro arrives on time tomorrow). A mate (is she really?) has just decided to pike out from teaching at the very freaking last minute.

SO here I am, getting ready to take on the crap and trying to learn the rest of the horrid choreography. Hurray.

I’m going to be in studio practising from 6 in the damn morning. Basically it’ll be a 2 hour rehearsal and then a weights session and a run. I’m working right up til 6.30 in the evening and then getting ready for my class at 7 at night.

And yes, you can be sure I’m so looking forward to it *dryly*

Huh..? (Are You Talking To Me?)
On a more spirited front, I got asked out yesterday by one of my friends whom I least expected.

Boys, I’ll never figure the lot of you out. Especially the uber shy and non-conversationalist ones. Remember my "Hunting" blog?

E-yah, that one.

It’s amazing cause he’s finally asked me out. And that only took like what, 3-4 weeks? I choked on my drink when he did and actually turned around to see if it was me he was talking to and not some passer-by. Nevertheless I’m curious to see how it pans out cause at the moment he’s being very forward with me.

Apparently he’s going to pick ME up and take ME out and that saying no, was not an option.

Oh.

Now the question is, what the hell do I wear?

As pri would tell you, in the wardrobe of Reshmi, our clothing line’s divided to just 2 categories: Training and Killer Clubbing Wear.

There’s no in-between, no grey spaces and most certainly, none of that casual, dress down nonsense.

Just training and clubbing.

In the gym environment, wearing  nothing is of the norm but as he’s not from there, I don’t really wanna freak him out. I don’t know where he’s taking me but I know that I’ve got a couple of other engagements to attend to later on in the night so I can always dress up early for that. At this point in time, I’m thinking, my short lil shorts, black silk Oriental top and my stillettos (I haven’t decided which pair).

Too much for a 8pm catch up?

Where Are Them Damn Kopiko Sweets When You Need One?
It’s now 7 past 11 at night and I’ve actualy got a 5am wakeup call. It’s the never-ending saga of sleep deprivation. I’m actually contemplating on getting my iron levels tested as these past 2 weeks I’m suddenly overwhelmingly tired 24/7.

I initially thought it was due to my nocturnal outings over the past couple of weekends but alas, it can’t be purely because of them.

Just to let you know, over the weekend I, Reshmi Revi, actually attended an Asian rave.

E-yah, Malaysia represent alright. It was quite funny to tell you the truth cause I’d never seen so many asians (predominantly Chinese people) in one vicinity and no bargaining/haggling taking place.

It was like a scene from Tokyo Drift except that you had crusty white guys trying to scam on no-speaker-no-Engrish asian girls.

Gross.

It’s Called It’s Over For A Reason.
So like I said, it’s 7 past 11 and suddenly I’m getting txt msgs from this guy of mine whom I used to date.

Refer to one-word adjective before last subtopic if you please.

>)

Exactly.

Aiights, I’m outs. I don’t know how to end this so I’ll just kill it here.

Um so it’s now 4 to midnight (we’re hitting Thursday ‘ere) and it’s just occurred to me that my linen has been hanging out to literally die for the last 2 days now. And no, it’s not as if it’s been sunny sunshine skies in the past 48 hours.

What, Auckland weather- predictable?

Man that’s like asking for the sky to fall down- like now.

You can tell I’ve had a good day. On the contrary, I really should be this whingy thing as I had a 12 hour day of working non-stop, a solid hour of choreography and finishing its splendidness with teaching dance.

I really should be an angry tart as this morning I found my bunch of key chains/tags I’ve had forever missing from my set of keys and the only possible explanation to that is that they must’ve fallen off while I was on my way to a meeting in town last night.

I really really should be livid as my physio confirmed that my right rotator cuff is crapping out and its tendons inflamed from training and I was asked today by my flatm8 whether I was on drugs as I’ve been cranky of late and have lost a lot of weight in a short span of time.

With all that crap thrown at me, I really should be cross shouldn’t I?

But you know what?

I can’t really care.

In an effort of anger management and trying to curb the damn thing, I’ve taken to training my spiritual side- by reading the Good book.

…

Okay I’m not talking about joining some insipid religious association and on the pretense of furthering my godly ties, throwing myself shamelessly at some dumb lad during mass. For those of you at this very point in time feeling lost as a dodo, let me clarify my last sentence for you by taking you on a short detour of my reminiscing my childhood.

In high school, I was pretty much like how I am now, except I think I was a tad quieter and less cussier. However I was just as opinionated then as I am now and if I had an opposing view to things, I assure you, you’d be the first to know, and hey, I’d tell it like it is- no holds barred.

What I found amusing was that due to my tendency for speaking aloud and not censoring myself, there were certain people, say girls in my form, that would crucify me for my lack of tact. Which was ironic cause I mean, one of their beliefs was to be non-judgemental.

Anyhow (we’re straying from what I originally was going to say), these certain good girls believed in attending mass, even at interschool events. While the pretense was Christ in His Holy name, really it was more of a "hmmm, now which Christian boy can I date/pretend to/lust after/whatever".

Fast forward a couple of years later, I can only imagine, what these "good girls" are up to now (yeah the stories you hear through the grapevine only tends to heighten one’s already vivid imagination).

Hey for the record, my only vice is swearing. I don’t smoke, drink or do drugs. And back in the day, these were the people judging  my character and demonizing it to our peers.

*ahems* Nyways, back to my initial story I’m just reading through it, not cover to cover as I was advised that it wasn’t the way to go.

My favourite quote at the moment is "Refrain from anger, turn from wrath".

So yeah, have a go. You’ll be surprise at what you find. I tend to just randomly skim through pages and for some unexplainable reason, whatever mood I’m in, there seems to be a passage that dispells any melancholy.

Growing faith and having it in the palm of your hand again… is somewhat refreshingly beautiful.