Missing Out The Bride Gene.

In this world, there are basically two different types of women: Those who are content enough to be married and have kids and be devoted wives to their husbands, and those who are scared shitless by the idea of marriage itself and prefer to live their lives as spinsters who pursue their careers until their breasts sag down to their shoes.

I happen to be classified as the latter type.

Such is my luck, because I have come from a broken-down family, born and raised by a father who is the least of the figure I expect and a mother who told me that being married is like trying to walk with an iron ball chained onto your foot. On top of that, I have married aunties who always warned me each time they see in at family gatherings – with their fingers wagged in front of my face – not to get married too quickly and if they ever had the options themselves, would have probably never got hitched so quickly, if only they knew.

I am also brainwashed by many American movies who seem to depict the reason why divorce rates keep on increasing over there. The dogma is ever imprinted onto the nerve systems in my brain that whenever I see a lovey-dovey romantic movie that shows two people in love and ending up with the couple embracing and kissing each other while the camera shoots all around them in circle, the cynical bitch in me can’t help not to snigger and roll my eyes, thinking, “This movie’s got bullshit written all over it!”

If ever there was a person who witnessed so many flawed marriages in her life, that person would be me. Everywhere I go, I always stumble upon them – the married people I see on the shops, on the streets, even on wedding ceremonies for God’s sake. So good I have become that just by simple observations I can tell whether or not these people have issues within their marriages, one way or another.

And if I happen not to notice these things, someone else, like my mother, for instance, will be more than happy to point them out to me; “Look at the way her husband just stands there while his wife is putting all their grocery bags in the car – I bet he’s a selfish prick who thinks his wife is equal to a doormat or something.” or, “Oh, that’s nice, he’s just standing there while the wife’s paying up for everything, he must be a total loser who only sticks with her because she’s got money and he doesn’t.” And then there’s “Look at those pretentious old bitches sitting on their arses over there, I bet all they do is ask for money from their husbands and spend it all on clothes, jewellery and Botox and God knows what else.”

Yes, I know. They are pretty nasty and judgmental comments but I got to hand it to her because she is right. Not because I am very much under the heavy influence of my mother and not also because she is my mother, but it’s because the chances of her observations being right is something like, nine out of ten. I know this because my curiosity is strong enough to want to prove my mother wrong. And most of the time she isn’t.

That is why I have grown to be a person who thinks it’s okay not to be married and have kids.

Because I have a choice not to be. I might be one of the rare women who are missing the bride, the mum and the wife genes, and that might freak me out every now and then, but that’s okay.

Perhaps when all of my girlfriends are married and pregnant, I’ll just smile and wish them good luck. And when they have given birth to their children and proudly become mums, I’ll wish them plenty of luck. When their children are big and they start to tell me to do something about my life and I am still not married, that is just my luck.

Later on people might label me as the sad old spinster who will die alone being eaten by her dogs, but that day may or may not come. God knows what’s in store for the future, and there is no use worrying for things that only time can unravel.

In the mean time, I am fine and I will be fine.

Something to Feed My Hungry Soul

I received a surprising package from Steve, my buddy who lives up in Netherlands. The moment I saw it I felt like screaming out in ecstasy.

I had actually been expecting it since a couple of days ago but I was worried that the package might not get through because the people at the customs might think it contained suspicious little programs designed to hack into the government’s financial system – that’s if they ever had one in the first place!

Well anyway, it’s a three discs pack containing all the music enough to get me high for like, ever. I had specifically asked him to download any of the excellent Sasha and John Digweed stuff including Renaissance the Mix and the Northern Exposure series. He even threw in a massive bonus containing other mixes of the famous duo, and some really cool lyrical rap waxage from Immortal Technique.

As I popped them into my CD-ROM and started listening, I knew I was in Sasha & John Digweed-y heavenly tranced-out state. Everything is right within their places and they’re all blended seamlessly into something which is really ‘not of this earth‘.

I could feel the music capturing me and I could just close my eyes and feel my soul floats out of my body. There is more than enough music to feed my hungry and empty soul. I am coming back to live.

Present is gone.
fantasy is a part of reality..and we take the breaks off.
we’re thinking clearly yet..not thinking at all.
And this feels right.
we stop trying to control things.
warm rush of chemicals through us.
we’re fluxuating.
is this brain damage?
we forget all the pain and hurt in life.
We wanna go somewhere else.
we’re not threatened by people anymore.
All our insecurities have evaporated.
we’re in the clouds now.
we’re wide open.
we’re spacemen orbiting the earth.
The world looks beautiful from here, mate.
we’re nympholeptics, desiring for the unobtainable.
we risk sanity for moments of temporary enlightenment.
So many ideas. So little memory.
The last thought killed by anticipation of the next.
we embrace an overwhelming feeling of love.
we flow in unison.
we’re together.
We wave… goodbye