Archive for November, 2017

We kinda have the same name

A potential tenant came to view the middle room today. She spotted my PS4 and asked if she could share it.

Hell yes! Fuck capitalism, share my PS4, use some of that money on games we can share instead. Just don’t erase any of my game files.

Take off the stormtrooper helmet

Rolly is a flea bag. Oh my god I ran the grooming comb past his chest and pulled out numerous fleas (two jumped on me while I was trying to murder the rest) and heaps of flea poo.

His fleas have Frontline immunity. Poor thing is being eaten alive. I’m making Reza go with me around pet shops to get Advocate for the poor cat, before he gets sick.

I dislike being idle, so I have been keeping myself busy. My flirtation with being busy, yet unproductive, is starting to weigh on me though.

I can’t tell if I’ve been trained to need to value myself based on my labour, and therefore there is no sense of validation when there is no final product. I wouldn’t say my time is not necessarily well spent, and I’ve reconnected with so many more friends, my bruxism is a thing of the past.

Keeping my hands off my projects is also turning them into a form of mental and emotional labour. I carry them with me in my leisure. I examine them before I pick up a book. Every conscious choice to do something else reminds me of work I’ve not done. Maybe I fear forgetting they exist (which is possible) despite maintaining a list and having a trail of breadcrumbs all over my email and documents folder.

Can use this to measure how I feel about my projects kan? It’s certainly a measurement of how self-managing at work and heading my own projects has trained the brain — all my circuits very quickly lead back to work and networks. Cooking and pets seem to be the only outlets that remain separate. So many of my friends share similar jobs/circles, even my socialising is related to my labour. Stepping back has made me really aware of this.

I’m not sure if this exercise is helpful, but it’ll be nearing its end soon, and I don’t know when I will have an opportunity like this again to examine my self.

It’s important to remind myself there is much about who I am that I have not investigated, confronted, loved, questioned, or forgiven. Petra said once that kindness to the self is important, and she is right. Being more forgiving to the self is important in order to be more forgiving to others (do i want this, or is it just a natural outcome?).

I think the standards I uphold are the ones I truly cannot tahan when failed by others. So I need to ask myself how important are some of these things, really? How much do I value labour, and idleness? Why are these even my values? Takkan I don’t value retirees? Or students? Studying is full of final products. Maybe I don’t see the product in retiring? Don’t I want to retire?

Well. My psychic did say I was unlikely to ever retire. Hopefully she means I die young (?), and not that I die poor, or both.

I spend so much time in the supermarket at the cheese aisle, telling myself I don’t need to buy more cheese. Is this the quintessential PJ middle class experience?

If you worked more, you could buy more cheese, Lainie.

Whatever. This process is a process. Shut up, brain, or we are going to have an even more uncomfortable conversation in the cheese aisle than “How much Brie is too much Brie?”.

Started with ReiNa dance videos. Ended up here. Eating breakfast while cats skid around the living room chasing each other. Was surprised that when the music swelled, so did my feelings.


currently watching: Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries

A butch was hitting on me and had given me four individual posters of The Beatles. I was laughing, highly entertained because she was autographing each of them in the upper left corner with their signatures for me — all clearly fraudulent and signed by the same person. I am charmed, this is the only kind of autograph I truly enjoy. I made some remark, and she scratched out the names Ringo and put another name beside each for me. (Could be all the autographs I got signed in GTLF).

I leave her in the living room and return to my room. I notice my room is messier than I recalled and start picking things up. I realise there’s stuff on the floor because the pillows and floor cushion from the living room are dumped in my room. I feel a flare of irritation but I am not sure if I have housemates or if it was a cleaner, but I make a mental note to speak with the people responsible. Now the butch will know I’m cleaning my room when I walk out with the pillows, and I’m unsure how she will read it. I dislike she will have anything to read at all.

I snap my fingers. One of the posters have a flame 🔥 licking from near a corner and spreading. I put it out, confused. I realise some things are now flammable, on the verge of going up in flames, but how. Another thing sets on fire, I think because I stared too hard. Is there a mist of petrol on everything? Should I call the butch and tell her I’m dealing with a fire trap? (There is no shouting in this world?) Can I leave here long enough to get her to summon help? I’m putting out fires. Everything that has burned so far has done it with a flame like on a candle, before settling into red edges that eat it up. The burning spreads quickly along the material, but goes out easy.

She went downstairs to the cafe to meet someone. I am headed downstairs. It’s a posh ground floor where I stay, air conditioned mall. A bit like the apartment on Exhibition St.

A limo pulls up, the door is open. Large man inside. Man in limo is a tiger spirit. Wearing a songkok and practically a Mahathir costume. Limo inside kind of dark. I am also a tiger spirit and seeing this makes me vigilant and I walk around the back and around because I don’t want him to think I’m challenging his authority. I don’t want either of us to morph, but I think if I walk close enough my aggression would ensure it. Maybe I should. Maybe I do want to challenge his authority. (Challenging Fb?)

I backtrack. Back to the cafe. Past the cafe. Back to the lifts.

I see ZK at the lifts and I talk with her casually, she’s barely more than a stranger who seems familiar. I don’t remember her. She leaves confused to the cafe and I remember who she is and why she would be confused I am speaking with her. A part of me is embarrassed that I could forget an enemy and by reflex be friendly. Another is gleeful that I caught her off guard.

Is the butch hanging out with ZK? Same cafe. The butch is on the burn list, Lainie.

Saya babi

  • Me: What is your Chinese horoscope?
  • Ex: I’m a fire rabbit?
  • Me: I’m supposed to get along with rabbits next CNY
  • Ex: Why wait? Just get along with me now!!
  • Me: Imma quote you


L’arme de larmy

N: I get a fan club

N: Lainie gets an army

Y: pls make military patches of this immediately

We were meant to plan dinner, but my former colleagues changed it into a call to arms amongst themselves to form Lainie’s Army — Larmy.

I flatly rejected it then because it made me feel awkward and weird. But then some other friends declared they were joining it too and I guess now it’s a thing and I’ve had time to adjust and now I have an army.

I already see how this could come in useful. We were talking about a sexist man and

P: Throw his carcass to the Larmy

Seven recruits today, seven million in a few tweets.


Sitting up in bed, waiting for J to let me know dia dah sampai rumah. I hope she doesn’t forget.

I’ve been a bit skittish since joining the neighbourhood chat group, which delivers a steady stream of information on crimes that could happen to you plz stay safe.

Chinese horoscope says next year will be a good year with Rabbits, and Rams.

I’m also supposed to always be a good match for Roosters so, basically, the whole R section is settled for 2018.

I need to audition Ram and Rabbit friends. Or count Gazel in under the Ram quota? Do these factors affect a Chinese fortune?

Bukan macam I percaya sangat pun. Prefer reading my tarot cards 😄

When I cry, I just tell myself at least it’s a sign I’m not a sociopath. Some wounds I don’t realise are there, but I only have to glance to bring up some tears.

So many phases and key learning moments in adulthood. Being in my 30s has been fantastic for introspection and understanding my self through my contexts.

A part of me worries one day I’ll miss some key insight and grow old without realising I missed some important adulting along the way. Or worse, that it’s already happened.

I like building new habits. I’m glad JC shared her experiences with me.

Finally going to give skincare a proper try. I’ve already hit three consecutive days of (pointless?) moisturising, about as much as I’ve done in a decade.

Maybe I should have stuck to morning woodcarving instead.

Maybe I should get tattoo sleeves and it’ll cover up my keratosis pilaris. But only after I’ve covered myself with secret tattoos. I like that my current tattoos aren’t so easily seen by others, but I’ll run out of space one day.

I dun geddit

Being interrogated by a trans man on why I won’t date trans men:

  • Me: because I’m a lesbian?
  • Him: but do the genitals really matter?
  • Me: *blank*

We were already on the way out, so I awkwardly just let it slide and left the conversation behind the door.

But. I mean.

I don’t want to say anything definitive about genitalia in relation to womanhood precisely because of non-binary people and trans women, but……surely……most trans men genitalia…..would be more familiar territory….for most lesbians…