Sunday Gripes

Allow me to wallow in self-pity for a while. I need to feel sorry for myself, to feel like a blinking failure, a complete berk who, at 56, have yet to realise her full potential.

I need to be angry for messing up my life. I also need to be absolutely infuriated for allowing my life to be screwed. And I need to blame someone for this mess. And so, I am blaming a woman called ME for allowing me to be a moron.

Now I fully understand why the cow ranks as one of my favourite animals. I am the ultimate Lembu, the dimwit Mama Cow who, in the tradition of bovines everywhere, allow myself to be led by the nose.

Hokay, I'm done. Now I feel a little better. It's good to feel lousy once in a while; it makes you realise you are no better than the next person (or could it be the next person is no better than you? Hmm, worth mulling over, this)

All things considered, I know I'm not half as bad. To prove it, I'll attempt to put things in their proper perspective:

1. I don't have a criminal record (traffic violation tickets and giving the occasional 'up yours' sign to rude motorists don't count)

2. I have never killed a man (although there were times I was sorely tempted to, maybe not kill but sock him where it hurts the most, perhaps a knee at his crotch)

3. I have never experienced real hunger (read Somalia, Darfur et al; even during Ramadan I wasn't really hungry, just lapar mata)

4. I have never been dirt poor (being broke occasionally don't count because I could still manage to stock up on Maggi Mee)

5. I still have my wits about me (well, at least I think I'm not insane. Then again, those who say they aren't, usually are..)

6. I have a roof over my head, decent clothes to wear, a car to move around, a bit of cash to enjoy the occasional dine-outs

7. I have a spouse & kids whom I love (although sometimes I feel like strangling them when they stretch my patience too thin. Then again I'm just as guilty for irritating them)

8. I'm not academically challenged (I can read and write!)

9. My language proficiency is commendable (I can swear in multiple Chinese dialects)...

and the list goes on.... If this is not good therapy, I don't know what is. Oh I forgot; I can sing! Maybe not as well as many others, but hey, that's alright. Now, that makes me feel a helluva lot better!

So who cares if my weight is ballooning and I'm having a hard time trying to shed the kilos? I'll keep trying! And who cares if I'm perpetually hungry? Speaking of hunger.. uh, I think there's some leftover spaghetti in the fridge...


PS: This sudden lack of self-confidence is brought about by that abominable internet application called Facebook. Explanation to come .....