Drinks with colleagues

I usually don’t go out with my co-workers for an after work drink.

Don’t ask me why, because I sure could use one, more often that I get one.

But I just don’t feel comfortable about getting drunk in front of my co-workers, because, well, when I get drunk then every woman look gay in my eyes – and I tell them so. Plus I just get embarrassing or loud, with no filter at all. Not that I am not loud or tell people what I feel when I am sober, because I do. Just in a more hmm “polite” way?

I don’t know. I just feel that when I a rare time have been drinking, what comes out of my mouth, is less “lady like”, whatever that now might mean, but I quite often feel that I might have to excuse myself the day after. And I don’t really want to do that too often in front of my co-workers.

So surprisingly I agreed to join a few days ago. Think it was Monday, last week.

Yes, I should have written about it earlier.

But ended up post-work half late in a very small and very brown pub with really good (seriously) art on the walls and just as insanely good colleagues and ex-colleagues on the bar stools. And yes, journo’s can be really interesting company. Obnoxious and self-centered sometimes, but interesting with great stories to tell.

It was one of those nights where I firmly told myself that it would be just a single tiny drink and then home. Also, because I didn’t take into account that there are many establishments that do not take credit cards and especially not international credit cards, but only the local debit card. So my colleagues were gracefully allowed to buy everything for me that evening.

It always gives me a lot of guilt to let others pay for me. It’s the fear of being seen as one of “these” parasites that is seeded deep in this lesbian here. But I surround myself with happy, sweet and generous people who think my shame is really stupid. So we became thus somewhat more tipsy than my original plan. And it lasted much longer too.

We talked of course about homosexuality. There always comes a point every time I speak within the alcoholic sphere and / or professional acquaintances when they ask me the question:

“When did you get out of the closet”.

Or said in another way, “When did you know that you were gay”.

It is just one of those questions that comes up when you got a kitschy ceramic figurine of two Dutch milkmaids kissing each other, on your office table. Yes I know it is kind of ugly, but I also think it is cute and does no harm.

Well, not in Netherlands. At CNA or ST it would have been thrown out the moment I left the desk – or I would have been told to pack my things and get the f… out. But my desk is currently not in Singapore.

Plus it works very well as a holder for my hair bands and other knickknack that need a spot to hang on.

Okay, side story…

As I was saying,

I was in the middle of the my first time story, when I noticed that we got extra company.

My colleague and freaking effing K… K as in my ex, MY Swedish ex. K, had come over to our table.

I did know that my colleague had begun dating K., and I should be used seeing an ex with someone else this late in my lesbian life. I mean aren’t we all dating someone’s ex’s in the small circle of lady loving women? But it is K! K with the wonderful hmm voice and perfect body. K, that broke my heart several times over and that I haven’t really heard from in some time, but only exchanged emails with here and there, after a great and stunning relationship that still to a certain degree is haunting me this day today. Exactly THAT K.

I so jealously regret the email that I send to her not long ago.

“Hey K, dear. My colleague is coming to Stockholm, and I was wondering if you could give her a good time there?”

Oh and a good time she gave her.

K. made my colleague dump her bf and is now going to move to Stockholm to live with her. All this in just a few short months.

The move that I didn’t dare to do, when she was posted back to Stockholm after living in Singapore for a number of years, and now she was there in front of me.

Again,

Shit,

K., was not my first and she is not my last – absolutely not my last. But she was the one who I for a long time felt that she was the one. Well, more than anyone else and I still feel that insane heart flutter when I see her eyes and quirky smile again. It’s been more than 4 years and I still felt like an insecure teenager when I looked at her.

She was more than an “let’s move in together and nest” after the first IKEA date. She was the perfect partner to me.

I guess that we all have that one in our life who were the perfect storm to us. Or at least I hope that everyone get to feel that at least once in their life’s. But she was that for me, and only a single perfect other have come close to her, and I don’t dare to let that one get her claws in me like K. did.

Now she was there with my colleague and I couldn’t help feeling jealous in every way possible.

Everyone knew my colleague, who then in return introduced K. to everyone around the table, got some chairs for themselves and sat down, even more cramped than ever with so many people at that small place.

I of course had to remind a colleague of mine to stop staring and act normal, while I tried to act equally normal and brave.

By the way; It turns out that the reason for that art is so good is that hungry and very thirsty artists through time have been able to pay for drinks with wall decor, when money were scarce. That, I think, is a crazy good idea. Actually also a shame – but probably also part of the charm.

But what was supposed to be a single drink, turned out to be several more than I should have, and I ended up with yet again Bambi legs, way past midnight, trying to locate my bed and with a promise of making dinner for K and my colleague before they had to drive back to Stockholm with all of my colleagues things.

In a Volvo of course.

And why did I now promise a thing like that?

Alcohol.

Damn, Damn, Damn. I know that I will regret that evening too.

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About yet another time with the flu

I am sick – Again! I almost want to scream. Haven’t I been sick too many times in the last year? Yes I think so. You know sick in this evil Influenza way, where the head explodes and the nausea is rising in my throat.

But thank you for my sister and her gardener / retired delivery man, who was sent over with some Chinese herbal soup from mom’s collection of healthy recipes. It tasted like a mix of wet socks and a dead feathered eagle by the way. Yes, I am not overly fond of it, but it is surprisingly effective. Or maybe it is just my body’s way of saying “no thanks, I am not going to suffer one more potion of THAT!“.

My dad’s solution would have been a taste of moonshine. And equally foul tasting by the way.

They were both doctors and always had alternative solutions to cure an Influenza or a flu. Not by medication and loads of pills, but by using alternative solutions! Thanks dear parents! That really gave me a trust in our health system.

And, I so have to be able to go through tomorrows 2 times 2 hours of teaching because it is my last day, and I can’t end it with a sick day. So I have no othere choice than to listen to what my sister have learned from my aunties and mom. I never had an ear for it, but my sister was like a sponge when it came to all these Chinese remedies and dances to make someone healthy again.

But spending the day on the couch is not my day of a fun time, so I spend it by looking at the TV who continously send reruns of Paradise Hotel, Masterchef USA and Holland. Plus a large number of reruns from the winter OL – who in their serious mind actually look at reruns of Curling??

Apparently my brother does from Singapore…

“It’s a gentleman’s sport,” he said (to my great delight) when he for the twentieth time tried to explain me the rules. I just think it’s a really stupid sport.

There are no judges, because the players agree everything between each other. But perhaps that is also a pretty clear symptom of an exceptionally uninteresting sport.

And the players mistakenly look like something from IT support.

But my brother is like “aahhhhgh why can’t Singapore compete in this sport! It’s so freaking easy that even I, could get a Gold medal from it”. And since, Thailand, India and Philippines were represented in the Winter Olympics, then I am slightly surprised to know that Singapore “lost face” by not being represented at all, when almost all the neighbors were.

Hmm apparently Singapore did have some plans to compete in the 2014 Winter Olympics according to wikipedia, but I guess someone forgot to tell the gov that it is not enough to build an Ice skating rink, but that it also need someone to be able to skate.. details, details.

I don’t really get Paradise Hotel, but give me MasterChef (or was it Hells Kitchen?) and Gordon Ramsey and I am all over it.

Speaking of Singapore; I’m coming home for a few days. My work trip have been postponed because of freaking “insurance issues”. Gaah!! once again! – It’s my boss way of saying “I don’t really want you to go, but I am too scared of you, to tell you not to”.

I am going back to tell my brother to back off from my little project that he almost have hijacked from me. A little support from S and R, gave me the insights to take it back and the energy to think about what I am going to do with it, but maybe in a different way that I initially thought about – less provoking to the Singapore gov. since everyone around me is so scared about what the gov. is planning of doing to me if I am going forward with it.

This week will be more active and I already have lined up a post about how my nose almost got punched by “Inclusive” Lesbians at a queer pop-up festival, because I asked too many questions, and another post about why it is not okay to call myself Lesbian any longer – Yes, the word lesbian is apparently the evil straight peoples way of keeping women who love women down in the dirt.

Are you girlfriends? Why don’t you want to talk to me?

It haven’t happened to me in years, ages or for quite a while now. But earlier tonight I had this so-called homo visible situation.

I went out for coffee with my chronically unemployed lesbian friend from down the road. According to herself she is not unemployed “I am just a poet in a world who don’t get me”. Anyway, it’s not about her life.

Just after I came home from my late teaching experience, that also was the first time that I was a few minutes late for class, because my brain got set on a conversation with S….. and I lost all track of time. .. shit. But, I had only closed the front door before she brutally tried to open it. No knocking and the way she opens the front door, any door, is with an expectation that doors are not locked for her. Ever! – And that it is peoples own fault if they stand behind a door that she is about to open.

“Hey! Want coffee? It’s your time to pay” – well like the last 40 times as far as I can recall, but never mind. I enjoy her company.

So with no dinner or anything we ended up at a boring cafe in Amsterdam’s city center.

Engrossed in an intimate conversation about her latest conquests, knees facing each other on a couch at the end wall at the secluded spot – the only secluded spot in the cafe.

Nice, easy and very relaxing.

Until … a boy, eh a guy, of about 40 years sit in a chair facing us. He leans across the table – towards us.

I initially first thought that the guy just found one of the few vacant seats in the cafe and peace with that, no harm at all. But then when he leaned toward me. And I could just feel that he was one of those, who when he see lesbians in half an intimate (not physically intimate , dialogic intimate – we did not kiss at all!) situation, then he clearly believes that there are more than enough room for one more – him and his face.

He tried to engage in our conversation and asked if we are lovers . And I replied – somehow with a sharp voice:

“We’re just having a private conversation and don’t really want to engage with others right now, so now, please excuse us.”

I thought that would give him leeway enough – without losing face to move away or at least lean back and drink the rest of his coffee in silence. But no.

“Why will not you talk to me? Are you two lovers ? Is this your girlfriend?”

I felt that I was getting angry. And replied confrontational .

“It’s – I am sorry to say – none of your f….ing business. But sure, to you, this could be my girlfriend, but right now we are busy with our own conversation that is only about the two of us, and neither of us want any other company right now. OK ? ”

He drones on. That I am a tight, Asian and closed-minded woman and that she is a beautiful Caucasian and open woman. What he was 200 percent right about. Well, in that moment he were.

I answer in a relatively red-hot-ready-for-war-attitude , that he might have to take my silence as a sign that he is not welcome and that it was rude to interfere when he clearly had been told that we would prefer our own privacy.

I looked over at my friend, after which she leans forward pats his hand and quietly asks him to leave us alone. Educational and friendly. He simply gets up and leaves. Mission accomplished .

Sometimes fuck my temper.

I felt my privacy massively violated. And my sexuality visible and vulnerable. And was – not quite fairĀ  – angry that she didn’t get excited at all.

“It’s not worth it to let such an idiot ruin your day, ” she replied. And squeezed my hand.

And she’s right. But once in a while I can’t help to read a thousand years of gender inequality into such a situation. The guy would never like that have invaded a heterosexual couple’s privacy, the way he did, but with two women, then it is okay to do so.

It’s actually been a while since I last felt this homo visible, but I can clearly feel that it evokes a lot of quivering indignation in me when it happens. Still, I find it so hard just to see him as a lone shallow idiot and not as a symptom of a sick and chauvinistic world.

What do you do when it happens to you – if ever?

Lesbian rock bands?

After reading about Vanessa Mae at the Olympics, I refound her music to see if she had done anything different since last I was aware of her. But nothing new there and I have to say that I was surprised to hear that it was her, that mom used to scream at me – “If she can do it, then you can do it too” – about, when I didn’t go to my piano lessons in my teens. But honestly I really hated pianos then, and even this day today.

Violins too. Can’t stand them.

It’s the same with classical music. It’s for dead people and I need to Rock – and dance!.

Maybe it is because that I was forced to do something that I didn’t like, but today as it was then, then I felt more connected to a bass guitar than any other musical instrument, and I was actually at some time quite good at handling her, but I have to admit that I can only try to look cool with the guitar these days. The music is kind a lost on me.

Anyway, when I need to clear my head – back in Singapore – I either go for a very long run, or take long drives down East Coast Parkway, CTE or PIE, while I listen to for example Lesbian Bed Death, Black Sabbath or whatever I can come up with and where I at the same time can scream my lungs out.

Driving and screaming my frustrations or whatever out, while listening to excessive loud rock music is so liberating that I can only recommend it to anyone – You should try it – I usually do it in the middle of the night, you know that time at around 3, 4 or 5 in the morning on where only drunk drivers and kinky pervert’s is out on the road.

Lesbian Bed Death is not a lesbian band at all by the way, but I like their music and there is only that much I can take listening to Uh Hu Her or whatever.

Do you know of any lesbian punk, rock or metal bands? All female bands is okay too as long as they are good.

Btw I only got two more days (25th and 27th) to teach before it is over again.

Cuteness and one of those thanks.

I am sure that everyone have seen this video at least 5 times already, but in case that you haven’t seen this little cute girl experience rain for the first time, then you have it here.

And yes, after seeing this, then I (almost) felt prepared to seek out a donor for one of those.

Everything is awesome

Or did I just brainwash myself?

It’s Friday and I jumped out of the bed to make jumping jacks, got into office humming “hum, hum, huumme humme (Everything is Awesome)”, then I know something is wrong. Very, Very wrong.

Yes, I am sorry for not posting for a week – or slightly longer – but isn’t everything awesome? Nah – I have been busy with life, well, work. Am for the local uni “teaching” two classes Tuesday and Thursday beside covering my full time job before and after that.

Oh and in the meantime I got myself brainwashed by Lego’s stupid title song to “Lego the movie”. And yes I do know that I didn’t capitalize the word “Lego”.

Anyway, It all started with my colleague who is sitting opposite me began to hum the song “Everything is awesome” a few days ago, and now I can’t get it out of my head either and even began to hum it myself after I watched the trailer on YouTube.

But haven’t you noticed how many negative thoughts can get obliterated by just humming a few words from the song?

“Oh man do I have to deal with yet another gay hater” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head.

“Oh no, it’s Friday!! Then it means that it’s going to be Monday soon! Gaahhhh!” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head.

“Grrr speeding ticking” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head

“No, No, No!! My boss is coming over to me and he is carrying a pile of paperwork my way” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head

“My colleague is dating my ex and I hate her for it” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head.

“Wtf? No more food left in the cafeteria!” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head

“Zombie outbreak?” – Hum “everything is awesome” in your head

I guess that tune is the opposite as “It’s Obamas fault”.

Don’t listen to the song till the end, then it begins to sound like something that PAP would love to turn Singapore into and would probably make it the national anthem if they got the know about it. And especially the “Instructions to fit in and always be happy” is something that I could imagine that the KPI happy government could come up with, and launch a serious multimillion dollar campaign for at the same time.

Instructions to fit in and always be happy (in Singapore according to PAP)
1) Breathe in
2) Smile
3) Do Jumping Jacks
4) Clean yourself (yes please)
….
9) Eat a complete breakfast with all the special people in your life
11) Greet your neighbors
12) Obey all traffic signs and regulations
13) Always use the turn signal
14) Don’t forget to smile
15) Always return a compliment
15) Do not complain. (wtf! 37$ for a starbucks coffee!!” – oh sorry “yay” and inner voice singing “Everything is awesome”)

Hmmm wait?? Didn’t they launch that campaign already???

Freakish moment earlier today. My boss circling around my desk while he is humming “everything is awesome”. It felt like he would find it awesome, but someone else might find extra work, or would just get to regret life in some way before the weekend began.

If you haven’t seen the trailer and is just confused about what I am saying, then see this.

Yes, Yes I know. Another silly blog post.