I'm fine now. Maybe not totally fine, fine.. but thought about it and got over the whole issue.
Sometimes, I do try to put myself in different shoes and see if I still see things the way I saw them. And.. (this is perfect advice because it's coming from me who's passed through the real life exams) it actually works well, both for you and the other person.
When you feel shit about someone, or something they did, don't just crack it right there and then BECAUSE you will most probably end up saying something you will regret 2 seconds later. Instead, try suppressing it and explode in your own head, argue with yourself and load all your hatred inside your head. I call it, the inner-crack.
When you've repeated the whole issue so many times that it's started to feel not so "heavy", slap yourself sane and actually try, just try to think from the other side, what they actually think about you. We all know no one's perfect, including yourself.
When you manage to think your way out, and felt that it's not such a big deal afterall.. probably it's time to talk about it and lay everything on the table (or bed, whatever you fancy) By this stage, the talk will most probably turn out to be progressive rather than abusive. More understanding will come.. and well, a little bit more appreciation, perhaps.
Well, myself.. I see myself as spoiled sometimes, hard to please, easy to displease. And so, when I think of all the things I don't like about other people, what about me? What makes them bear with this spoilt child and keep caring and loving? Perhaps I should learn to do the same?
Usually when I got to that stage, all unkind feelings will be replaced with love.
It worked well for me all this while. Try it, and let me know if it works for you.
Here's Missy Allets bidding you a calmer self, in a world filled with love.
Screw the dictionary for a second and Missy Allets will tell you what she thinks responsibility is.
Responsibility, taking in stride what you NEED to do, and know that you HAVE to do it because it's what YOU FUCKING HAVE TO DO. If, in any case that you think it is out of what you CAN do, then INFORM so it is out of what you need to do. Should all else doesn't strike your fancy; the root of responsibility simply lurks a "response" which means, if you please, just friggin' RESPOND!
Phew.. wow.. ok, so I've burst first then decide to explain. Here's what had taken place.
Work. I'm the editor of the month, which meant that aside from the usual responsibilities (God, how I love this word), I will be the one to do the layout, as in the spread of pages and which article goes where combined with which ads, how many pages to allocate for what shits,.. yea you got it. It's stressful, but definitely doable. IF everyone just co-operates!
No, actually, to be fair, everyone's doing their part and needless to say, we've got deadlines to meet. First stage will be the delegating of tasks and I have to make sure everyone knows what they needed to know. Next comes the submission of articles, which we always strive at the beginning of second week, latest. Because then, in comes the design and artwork, and fashion, of course. After this stage, not all's candy sweet yet, if the Boss's face is a frown, we will need alternatives, back-ups or simply changes. After scanning with fine-toothed comb can we proceed to printing, which leaves distribution the final step.
So, what happens when one of your co-editors (that's right!) decided to go MIA, not picking up calls, not returning calls, not replying sms-es, not responding to emails??
We'll, you're screwed.
Not because we can't do without her, but because we don't know what the fuck's happening. We need back-ups.
Today's the 19th. She's officially late by 11 freakin days. And her pages that are left blank adds up to 6, without artwork. Printing has been scheduled next week, and I'll be able to get my much needed sleep (more on this later) should everything successfully goes to print. And what did you guess? Nope, not a word from her yet. But you know what? Don't worry about it, because the editorS have taken care of it, DESPITE each's flowing-the-edge responsibilities.
*Kudos to my fellow editors, you two have been great.
And really, this has been around for few months now, and I suggest the next management meeting will see that either she be fired, or she be fired.
Ahh well, moving along...
Let us not spread rage to the beauty.
Today, I have this for you guys..
Despite her innate love for misery and depression, Missy Allets actually thinks that
To the blissful Mr. and Mrs. Simmonds, it was with such a great pleasure witnessing the ceremony of your love and promises, and we hope you two endless joy :)
I shall not be dedicating this whole blog on how sweet they both looked, or what a success the ceremony was, simply because.. I don't NEED to. It's too apparent.
On to the wedding reception that night, we sat with a table-ful of strangers; friends of groom, colleagues of bride etcetc. There's this middle-aged couple who had left my skull choked full of thoughts and questions as I sliced my veal and dug into my creamy strawberry cheesecake. I would like to introduce to you, Brendan & Michelle (I'm sorry I forgot the last name)
First glance would have me guess that they were husband and wife, attending a dinner together, OR both had failed relationships and are now venturing into a whole new dating era.
Not totally wrong, but technically (yea, we love this word), technically, wrong.
They WERE husband and wife. They are separated. They each have two kids, which made it a grand total of 4 kids, though whom has who, whom's whose? I don't really know. The fact that they attended it together.. hmmm, for all you know, they each might have even been newly married! It's always been a mystery to me, the whole marriage and separation thing.
At one point, Michelle queried about my age, which I unsuspectingly replied "turning 23", with double emphasis on turning for reasons I don't even think I have. I swear, she then looked so.. frail and envious, my heart broke.
Yeh, those were the times. Sleeping late, waking late, surfing the WWW, relax, maybe watch a movie or go out for dinner sometimes. Minimal worries, happy days. Well, when you're strapped with kids front and back, there's no way it's gonna happen.
I was confused.
One. I totally agree, and I couldn't have stressed more the sacrifices a parent makes when s/he, well.. becomes a parent. It's no doubt that kids tie you down to the mundanest of actions everyday, and by that, I meant EVERYfuckindayofyourlifeforever.
BUT, aren't they supposed to be your joy and love as well? The reason for your being, and living? I mean, if you weren't ready yet, why have them? (I'm not tackling accidental pregnancies here, btw) Obviously, after you've taken your vows and and all the tie-knots-whats-not, you would have come to a decision, mutual decision, that it's time for a little action now! (Or, action to have a little one, however you like it) Then, you wished you were back in the days of singledom.. ?
I don't get this thing, and I guess I'd never figure it out. But then again, for someone who secretly wishes to have her twin babies AND a pet tiger AND NO husband, who am I to throw in my two cents, right?
So, I sat quietly, sipping my wine; wonder and ponder.
By the way, did I mention that I would really love to stay on mountains, with my twins and pet tiger??
What? You mean, we're supposed to have husbands?
8th April, 2007 to be precise, we stepped onto the second year of love and care and understanding.. me and my Baby C.
It was great, really, just spending a day (a whole day) holding hands and smiling into each others' eyes.
When I woke up that morning at 9, I had nothing to expect. This time, Baby C actually played it well!
I went in the bathroom and an envelope was stuck on the mirror. It says, "Good morning, my love!" I opened it and there's a mission.. something along the line of Amazing Love Race haha, it cracked me up.
Anyway, to cut 18 hours short, he had me.. well, us, on 8 missions (8 being our number, and I guessed it right!) It was mostly a trip to revisit our beginning. It's not like oh-you're-so-romantic-I'm-gonna-swoon kinda stuff, but having to visit the place where we first met, first talked, first chatted, first danced, first dated, then where we got together LOL it's just splendid.. in a quiet and relaxed way.
While we reached the final destination i.e. a club where two years ago, two mildly intoxicated us ended up holding hands, we sat down to take a breather. And that's when Baby C conjured the 6th envelope, which contains two tickets to Miss Saigon! A play I've been craving for agesssssss
I was THIS happy!
We both enjoyed the play, I cried like a mad cow and like two satisfied turtles, we crawled our way out of the packed theatre.
Here comes Mission 7: to hold Baby C's hands all the way to a new German restaurant we've never tried before. Share at least a bottle of wine and two entrees. Lavish in love and each other's company.
Our menu that night turned out to be absolutely fabulous.
We shared a German riesling, kidney bean soup and garlic bread. Breathtaking.
He had a pork shank in its own sauce with sides of sauerkraut, pickles and mashed potatoes. It was hugeeee!
I had a veal schnitzel drenched in creamy mushroom sauce with sides of steamed vegetables and potato dumplings. I almost didn't want to leave.
By the time we did leave, we were under the impression that it was Christmas :)
Our last mission, I hear you ask?
Well, final mission for two who're well-fed and much-loved, doesn't leave much room for imagination, does it..
1) Taken as my take on life now.
Life, my life, summed up with just these three words.
Food, sex, work.
How interesting. How mundanely interesting.
2) Indicating the churn in my stomach. (Yea right, growl, more like it)
That's right! I'm hungry again! God, what am I? A pig? Even pigs know when to stop hunting for food. No, wait, they don't hunt for food, they get fed.. or maybe, they just eat anything and everything under their snout.
?? Why do I even bother analysing pigs?? Ughh
3) Unleashing the beast in Missy Allets.
Baby, you know I love you but a quickie is NOT get-in-there-pump-it-roll-over-Zzzz.
Ok, to be fair, you're not exactly that and I adore you for always trying to get me into the mood. At my fifth hour of sleep.
No wonder those eyebags appear.
4) Missy Allets. When work just comes pooouuuuurrrriiiinnnngggg in...........
Plan. Layout. Schedule. Research. Liaise. Write. Edit. Check. Receive. Double-check. Chase.
Then add: Research. Email. Follow-up. Call. Spam. Secure.
Ok, I'm trying not to be pedantic, or even plain bitch-ish here, but those mini skirt-clad young ladies in Singapore have GOT to learn how to speak English fit for hearing.
Now, now.. it'd be highly unfair to standardize the whole nation by saying their English sucks, because they're not. In fact, if to be compared the standard of English to Malaysia, they win.. no questions asked. Then, WHY the statement, I hear you ask?
Precisely because of their considerable high standard of the English language that I felt appalled at how badly they underuse it.
Baby C and I made a trip to the petite island sometime ago and, while happily walking along one street, we were stopped by this teenage girl wearing school uniform, hoping we could help do a survey.
Disregarding her insanely raised pitch of a voice, we'd gladly do so, if only we understood this:
Girl: @#$%^.. sorrrrrryyy to botherrrr... I want !$%%^&*((&^%$ help, help, help, help me pleaseeeeeeeeeee... this #$$%^&&amp;amp;amp;^%$$$%^&&*()(&^%$ please, please, #$%^*^^($*$&amp;amp;amp;%&^*$ about $%^^^&*$(% lah, please, please, please!! $%^*()()((*****&^^^%^&%%$ not long time, please, please, please lahhhhhhhhhhh (voice pitch steadily raises with duration) (IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT STREET)
Baby C and I: *blink blink* *frown* ... I'm sorry, what???
Repeat the essence of above conversation for about 4 minutes, and we have the girl stomping away and us wide-eyed-looking at each other, eyebrow raised.
And I wonder where the hell did our little walk went wrong?!
That said, the son-of-an-English-ass-hat award goes to her, who was totally capable to speak decent English, yet had high-pitchedly deprived me the pleasure of hearing it.
We are fast approaching our first anniversary and proud to say that we have grown so much since our first publication. At this point of time, (... and any other points of time, for that matter) we seek talented individuals to come aboard.
So, if you think you can write with flair, or at least, likely to have a heated discussion over who should wear the pants, then speak up and be heard as an EFX contributor. We need fresh blood.
Contact Missy Allets at anytime, anywhere by snooping around this blog.