Lifeless

A typical day for me sounds like this...

Wake up, stare blankly into the ceiling, get ready for work, go to work, sleepwalk through my assignments, go home, wash up, sleep.

It's really pathetic. Which explains how I could have missed a get-together with the volleyball girls.

I'm sorry darlings, I was working till 10.30pm.... and then you girls were unsure about what you wanted to do... So I jumped at the opportunity to do something when my colleague suggested we go for drinks.

Yes yes, promise that I'd make it for the next outing.... !

And yet, I'm typing this from the office. On a Friday night. The terminals around me are switched off and if I look up, I stare straight into an empty corner.

The only other person on shift with me is the night editor.

Sigh, sigh, sigh.

On the upside, I celebrated Hari Raya with Fadz's family on Wednesday.

This time last year, we had broken up. I remember I was sitting at home, thinking that life really sucked.

I didn't just miss Fadz, I missed the convivality of celebrating the holiday with his large and boisterous family.

Fast forward one year, and how times have changed. In fact, I can't believe that a year has passed since that "dark period", as I term it.

There I was, stuffing my face with his mum's famous food. Beef rendang, lontong, sambal goreng, ayam goreng and of course, my perennial favourite, SAMBAL SOTONG. I was practically drinking the stuff.

Playing with his numerous cousins. Coming from a small family (I only have 2 immediate cousins), I'm endlessly enthralled by his ever-expanding family.

Every year, it feels like I meet a new cousin, or a tiny baby being cradled in someone's arms.

And of course, seeing his cousins grow up before my eyes... tiny kids whom I used to run after in the corridors, who use to be up to my hip only and have now reached my eye-level.

Sniff, I'm growing old.

Attempting to my the dutiful girlfriend, I stayed till the end, attending to the endless stream of relatives who turned up at all hours, demanding to be fed.

Cups that needed to be refilled, lontong that needed to be cut, dishes that had to be replenished....

And the weird thing is, a lot of his family (whom I only see once a year, and the more distant ones), never know how to react to my presence.

When I attempt to salaam them, they either take my hand in an attempted shake, or look very confused. Or ignore me. I don't know which is worse. Maybe they're afraid to touch my pork-laden hand?

Oh Well. At least I was polite.

And when I was leaving, Fadz's grandma asked when I was planning to wear a baju. *Gulp*

Erm, how bout NEVER?

Or else, make sure your son marry me first. Hah. That should scare Fadz sufficiently.