Money No Enough

I'm hunting for a reliable structured savings plan that would instil some discipline to boost up my current nest egg. Yes, I would like this little nest to grow with time, into a sort-of premium birds nest.

Websites are just no place to search. Most of the banks' websites just flash credit card adverts, or a barrage of links that make little sense to me.

I'll just need to pop by personally.

They need to see my face. And my money.

WOVEN

I lost another friend recently. Life in the ward can be mind-blowingly depressing. Speaking to her siblings with tears streaming down their faces, I tried my best to detach the emotions and finish the paperwork that had to be done.

It’s getting easier to stop the tears.

But is that what I really want? No.

I recognize the possibility of being jaded, to be numb to the emotions that stir so vehemently within the confines of these walls.

Sometimes I wonder how Fats can be so nonchalant to the needs of those under her care. But I am not Fats. And I thank God for the inherent difference.

Not only in size, but also in hygiene. Wahahaa.. ok, I’m digressing, but I do pray I will never be like her. I don’t wish to be so stone hearted and forget that people do have feelings and that the things I do actually matter.

On the basis of a positive feedback mechanism, it feels good to be appreciated. Knowing the things I do actually make a difference in people’s life. It doesn’t matter if they pen it down on paper or give me tokens. It’s the heartfelt handshake and the sincerity in the eyes that impact the most.

Even Pokka tea carries sentimental value.

Knowing people care enough to do what they do. Thank you Lord. For a tight F4, for a preceptor that has become a permanent fixture, for Ah Chow's words of kindness, for compliments, for lessons learnt and experiences earned.

For an opportunity on the upcomming 28th May.

People come and people go. Long after they leave, I still find myself thinking about them. Hopefully, when I lie in death’s embrace, I will be surrounded by people that love me for who I am and what I’ve done, rather then alone.

But perhaps just a nurse who will hold my hand and sing to me would suffice.

How some people can roam people’s houses without underwear is truly baffling. I really don’t see the need to have your nipples staring at me. Thank you very much. Old wives tales have predicted my eyelids to swell up with pus in direct relation to the amount of porn I have to eyeball these days.

Woman (and You!!)! Have you no shame?!

Has your DNA mutated to an unknown extent, such that comfort overrides embarrassment?

FACT : The only boobies I ever want to see are my own.

My eyes should not be enduring your lovey dovey throngs of affection or coos of admiration. I see enough shit on the MRT. And I don’t appreciate replays at home. Only do things that should see the light of day in front of people. Please.

Hugs are good. Hand on breast is fucking not.

I don’t need to witness these pornographic exhibitions.

I’m not exhibiting jealousy at your ability to find a mate. I’m safeguarding my right to privacy in my own home together with the right to rest these weary eyeballs.

There is such a thing as self respect.

You are a guest. So you should, to put it bluntly, behave like one. And one should be wise to adhere to the logic of not overstaying one’s welcome.

“Like milk, guests turn sour after 3 days”

Although I appreciate your kindness to clean my house, it really isn’t necessary. Seriously, I’m able to live with a mountain of dust. I’m just not very able to live with you.

I wish you every luck to find your happiness. And may you find it this time.

And to you, her partner in crime. Do your shit outside.

I want my home back.