No words, only work

It is one of the longest gaps between two passages. I got one of the busiest days. One of my subordinates had an accident and is now on sick leave. My boss has taken over one-third of the duties of another colleagues who are on maternity leave and passed many of her responsibilities to me. Although long duration of work made me tired, it does not hinder me from writing. It is the lack of private time that slowed the progress. Tomorrow is the weekend. I hope that I will have more time to write. Readers may know that weekends and Sundays are dilemma to me. I do not like these days but these days could give me time to make reflections and do the writing if they leave me alone.

A reviewing night

Last night, we (I and she) had a hot pot dinner with a retiree and a colleague – a section head within the office. Beer flew, on half a table, between the retiree and me. The section head, a she, drank a little but could not have too much because she drove.

They had not discovered our relationship yet. Again sharp-eye observors might recognize our undeniable tacit understanding. Time always flew by when we were together.

After dinner, we walked, just the two of us. You asked whether I lied, whether I regretted. You asked before. But I answered again. I did not lie. Why should I? We perfectly understood our situation, didn’t we? I never regretted, but I did need some drinks to hold your hand in that taxi that early Autumn night.

I asked you in return whether you regretted, not throwing my hands away. You did not answer. We hugged each other, we kissed. We talked. We understood. I needed no answers.

Time glided past fleetingly between us without warning. It was time again to return her to her home.

Love’s reflection

It was a bad day on Sunday, but it was reviewing when thought afterwards. Sometimes, when one had an preconceived thinking about an experience, one failed to get to the root of an incident and found out the true reason behind. She had very down on Sunday, I forgot the promise to find out the reason of her unhappiness and try to make her happy again and only assumed that she wanted to leave me.

As a result, I became pretty much the same like her. I drunk myself because there was a gathering in the afternoon. She became angry of me, because I could not see that she was unhappy and because I did not take her advice to drink less.

It was a mess and I knew it. We all knew that we cannot forget anything, we cannot get risk of sadness by getting drunk. So the sadness prevailed and I still thought of her as before. Tears felt, messages sent. At the end, there were confession that I would not leave her, I would love her like before.

I should have knew that she love me. She will not leave, cause if she choose to leave, there is not any method that I can let her stay. I was wrong because I only saw what I thought. I should think and look from her viewpoint.

Many things have happened. There are still a recap to write and a lot more worth noting after Sunday. I hope that I can write all things down here as soon as possible before the memory fades and before the past is largely over taken by events.

Drinking, and the feeling

There was the usual month-end gathering. There were only five, the core members. There were beer as usual and becoming a routine someone brought a bottle of red wine. A Chilean. There was the normal chatting, and this time concentrating on health of teeth and the affect of heavy smoking. What a heathy topic.

The other – stormly – topic on table was caused by one of us, the retiree, the ex-subordinate, stubbornly gave up his contract job despite all his good friends advised against it. It was hard to listen to good advice. And it was hard to give it also.

When the dinner was finished, and the crowd dispersed. The all too familiar sad feeling returned as fast as after the goodbye. This time is not about her. It is about life. It is the disappointment of living. There are so many things needed to be spoken, written, told, not to say done but cannot.

The feeling exasperated by the presence of alcohol was unbearable. She asked in her email the feeling after drinking. I told her drinking, if one knows drinking, enjoy drinking, would sense the unique feeling during drinking and afterwards. Too little or too much wine is wasting. Other than the purposes of drinking with friends, getting cool during summer or for getting rid of thirsty, drinking an appropriate amount of good wine, is a way to let the drinker to escape the reality. Everything is a little bit away, of little important and worth no consideration. Everything is beautiful and the wine is good.

Of course not everyone, at any anywhere, and any time could catch that feeling. Last night, I was not, obviously.

An invitation (a chronograph)

The time needed a mark. At 22:02, 28 February, I had been invited to, from the two couples, have a six-day sight-seeing tour sometimes in Easter. It has to be remembered as a checkpoint in my life.

1 March, a slight gesture of not wanting to go brought great anger. Once again, it was time to try reconciliation.

2 March, reconciliated – sort of, for how long I dare not to think about.

3 March, looked like the tour would be cancelled. Someone was unable to apply leave. Lesson learned, never showed your emotion too early. As either way, it would make no different, right?

29 March, there is an invitation again, this time in end of May / early June. Lesson learned, not a sign of gesture any more. Not care.

Why is she unhappy (all these years) ?

I have left out nearly a week of story untold between that terrible Sunday and the day we set for the beach.

I had made a mess on Sunday. A simple apology did the job because she understood the reason why. She asked me why she was unhappy. That was a difficult question not because I did not know the answer. Readers following my nonesense read about what I had ascertained. The hard part was the inability to write out directly in the reply.

Now that looking back at the emails, I did the reply in such a way that there were no direct answers, no direct accusations. But between words, I pointed out why it could not be answered. It would cause the deeply buried wound to be resurfaced again. It would like asking me to accuse someone.

I told her that it was much worse feeling lonely amidst a lot of people than being all alone, without anyone. She could live in happiness if she choose.

The reply, pointly shown that I was largely correct, was a sentence she had written before. She wrote, “I still clearly remembered who pulled me up again when I felt down that year”.

I said that I was unaware of her displeasure because I only thought from what I thought was true. I further asked her during all those years, how many times such a thought popped up.

Of course she did not give me a number. She only said that my guess is partially right and asked me not to write further. She would not say yes or no even I guess it right.

So readers, how much do you get from the narratives?

My hardworking boss

A few months ago I mentioned about my boss that she would have a sad story of her own to tell. I have not written anything because the story is not sad anymore. The desperate struggle to rise from the abyss of a unrewarding love and recover from a lost feeling at home (fortunately, no children) has seem turned into a happy, long standing living. She stopped talking about any new unhappy encounters and even ceased to mention anything about this someone. Everyone in the office knew their relationship. Perhaps she does not know or perhaps she pretends. I knew that she lied to me when needed. It may be because she feels uneasy and sorry now that her love is rewarding despite I have wasted so much time try vainly talking her away from the unfathom depth. I knew that it was difficult if the man chose to stay close but I know that it is unsuccessful. But if she finds happiness (and therefore rewarding) in it, it just does not matter anymore.

After all, I may still worthwhile write about her story and yet there may be some twists and turns that she may come asking for help again. If there is the case I will surely let you readers know though now that I have my own story to tell you.

I am not writing about her history here. I just want to note that she is quite a workaholic that despite she have been unwell for a week, she still insists going back to work, even her doctor had recommended her two days sick leave.

It is her character that she always insists of perfection on all cases (afraid of accusation from her boss on her errors), completes all files everyday if possible, never reject (nearly) her bosses unreasonable requests and delegations of work. However, her working style, her character together with her bad luck of finding her present bosses, made her hard work unrewarding. That is rather unfortunate.

The library

Hence, that “Thank you” was the only words received. It was better off if she did not write at all. I wrote the following email last night.

“I stayed in the library till six o’clock. I wrote my diary using my iPhone. Found some CDs that I liked. They are all oldies. Library is full of old things. I did only two things there. The first one was sleeping. I found a sofa, nice sitting and slept and listened to the music. The second one, when I was awoke, was just thinking of you.

I got your email. Though I was only ‘Thank you’, was sufficient to lift my heart. There are so many words to say now but I do not know how to start. Originally, library is a place to hide oneself while in bad mood, today, it was different, though everything may not have changed.

You are a tough girl. I do not need to worry about you. But if you have time, will you drop me one or two words?”

Told and not told

I told her, “I am not concerned and not care about the future, I know that I once owned, I should pay and will pay.”

I did not told her, “The amount I prepare to pay is at my discretion. The way and when I pay are also not any other people’s concern. Hence, it is none of your concern either. If there is something precious enough that it is worth my life for it, I will do so with no regret.”

Readers need not worry that I shall do something foolish now. I will not make any one else sad explicitly. There are many ways to pay with one’s life and nobody will need to be aware.

Her reply? “I never consider that someone is owing me something. There is no need to feel guilty. There is no need to pay.” My reply, “It is not because of any guilty feeling.”

A little souvenir

I sent her a little souvenir that was brought while on trip. It was a traditional handicraft with the words “peace and happiness” on it. Indeed, I wish that I could give all peace and happiness in the world to her. That was in August.

Time has frozen. But time shifted slowly and surely. And when looking back from today. it has been nearly four months. There are some changes here and there. But there are also no changes.

I shall try to write again, hopefully.

What am I? (Part 2)

So it has been fourty-three days since I last wrote anything. Many things have happened but here I am, still alive. Our relationship still hanging, on a wire. I have not seen her for awhile. We still spoke over the phone, wrote emails daily.

I was again on trip, this time by plane of an hour time. I did not know why someone always wants to go for trip. The feeling has long been gone. It could not be felt again. Unhappy was always unhappy. Remember just before I left, she asked me I should use the occasion to think about. I would tell her that I would leave her for good. I told her that I would not change. The hotel had wi-fi. I wrote her short, yes, they had to be short, emails every night. And now I am back in town.

She asked me to tell her who she was. I said that the answer was not so simple. I never answered her. I now wished to ask myself who I was.

“What am I?” There is no simple answer.

So, it is not Saturday, and Sunday that I write again. The plan to return was delayed for one day, and I came back only on Sunday. The question is too difficult to answer. The question, “what am I?” has no simple answer, I told her.

My boss is on leave and I take up her duties as well. But since we are now in between two busy seasons, there are not much additional work to do. Over the evenings after work, we had long talks over the phone. We even saw once, in a pre-arranged gathering amongst our mutual retiring friends before my short trip. During the very short time after dinner, it was late and there was little time to effort, she let me held her hands, kissed her and hugged her, briefly. I knew that she was happy, at that fleeting moment. I wrote, afterward, that seeing her, we temporary forgot our unhappiness. She wrote back, “… and then?” but why I should care.

She said, and I have no reason to disagree, rationally, that I should say goodbye, because I endured a period of unhappiness, disturbance, in the past weeks about that incident. The first step to do was to leave so further disclosure of our relationship can be avoided; since if that happens, would cause a storm much bigger and much unhappiness.

Love, is never rational, I told her. I never regret it, and know that she does not either. Quiet, but unhappy, is equally not bad.

I told her that I should not mention too many unhappy incidents at home to her. I wrote, “no matter what she is, she is not my consultant or psychologist.” The only answer that I come up with on the question “What am I?” so far. Yes, she said, she is the participant.

The storm has been subdued a bit, or we are only in the eye of the storm, waiting for its destructive force again, in a different direction. We all know that the storm will not die down, only is waiting for intensification again. Perhaps, it does not matter whether I decide to leave her. Have I told her so?

A difficult question

Tomorrow, I shall leave town again to have a short trip to a nearby town for two days. She asked me a question that I promised to give her a reply. It is a difficult question and there is no absolute answer. I shall try to write something these coming Saturday and Sunday, if the environment allows.

Counting days

I have not logged into the blog for days that I l lose the count already. I know that it is quite a long time. And now I am in and find that it has been twelve days since I last logged in. I have a lot of reasons for the absence. But on top of them all, I just cannot make up my mind of what I should write here. For such a messy time, and continuing with no ending in sight, all actions and dialogues are doubly painful to me. I am painful. I have brought pain and distress to all. There are causes and effect. So do not blame me for everything. But I am the catalyst. I admit.

But I want a simple happy life. Readers may say I am irresponsible. But if I have promised you that I will stay (till I die, I actually said the words), on a train (Why did you ask me on a crowded train?). Please give me some peaceful moments. Sometimes, as she said, you should pretend that everything has been settled. There have been more talking, more activities and, of everything. Could you not ask me for more?

The easy way, she told me, is giving her up. It is not that simple. The current way of life, the strength in it, is all hanging onto the existing of her. It will all be gone at the day she leaves.

Tomorrow and the day after are to be a critical point to me. Someone may hold the key evidence and she will meet you tomorrow. If that is the case, it may be as good because everything will be settled once and all. Good luck to all of you.

I lose

Readers may mock at me and treat me with contempt to make a mess myself, of her and of everyone. But love to me is always a mystery. I give no excuse. I promised to write something not later than Sunday but I am overdue. But I know that I have to write. It is history, a part of my history and her history, intertwining together, during a period of our lives. I need to read it down.

I know that I have to protect her. So the story I told could never be completed. Yes, there was always a “question mark”. A very big one. I talked about the reasons, why I preferred talking about my grieveance, unhappiness with someone else. Those were true, long in my mind. As I commented, “you should aware.” But I did not say, “it was too late.” Would there be changes? Yes. My part will change. I have no other ways in order to protect my love one. I reinstated that there was no need to locate who she was. I have to keep her happy by all possible means. Regarding her part, despite she also said that she would, I do not foresee and have not seen any change. Anyway, it is me that I owe her, I have nothing to say.

For my love one, I have told her that I knew she would leave me. She will leave, in order to protect me. It is painful but I have nothing to insist as I have nothing to offer anymore. We still have communications. She supports me, care for me, always afraid that thing may go wrong. She cries, I know but she always says that she is not unhappy.

I am always a loser.

Not the same piece, anymore

If I can forecast, like I posted for the last time before leaving town, I would be a millionaire. I had not returned in nearly one piece, at least not the same piece. A careless oversight, or it might like so, had reviewed her identity. A SMS was seen at the early morning of the thirtieth. By some brute denials and refusals, paradoxical reasoning and firm commitments, it looked settled but we all know not. We just did not discuss it anymore and she know that I would not talk anymore than I had spilled out.

The only thing I firmly said was that she should not, and need not to find out exactly who she was, though her identity could easily be pinpointed.

After I returned, I wrote the whole incident to her. She had the rights to know, and in case, got ready to react to whatever might happen.

I will stop here. I should return to the blog when I think more about it, after considering what are happening. It will not be long. If I have time, my next passage will be posted on Sunday.

“I would give all I had to see your face once more time.” So, when will I see you again? All I want to know is why that accurate I can forecast my fate this time.

Please let me look at your face, once more time

Last night, four from the usual group of five met at a restaurant enjoying hot pot. A bottle of red wine was opened. And there was bottles of beer too. The foods were acceptable and the environment was good, spacious and the waiters / waitresses were polite and responsive.

There were happy chatting and laughers all night long. She sat beside me and we held hands occasionally, underneath the table. When will the others know our relationship? Do they see that our actions, our responses towards each other are done without many conversations. We act like that we mutually understand each other, unlike ordinary friends or colleagues.

The desserts were good. We filled our stomachs full to the brim. When we left, it was already past ten. She had to return home so we took the taxi. I knew that I should not follow her home anymore. It was too risky for her. I let her told the driver to take a detour to the mass transit station. I really did not want to go. I tried to have her facing me so that I could have a long and good look at her, but she turned away.

“I would give all I had to see your face one more time. But you did not turn your face toward me. I very much wanted to be with you but I knew I had to let you go, so I left at the station. Do you know how painful in my heart at the moment I left you.” “What is for us to see each other a little bit longer and to eye me one more time?” she asked.

I was pretty drunk and anyway, sleepy when I went home. I did not see her message till I woke up at four. It was quite strange, I did not feel any effect resulting from drinking too much. My mind was clear. I read the email and thought. I responded, “Being lovers, it is always happy to see each other a little bit longer to to eye you one more time.”

I continued to write.

“There is happiness whenever we are together.
There is pain when we part.
But there is always hope
That in the other day we meet again.
With hope, I survive.

There is joy wherever we are together.
I am always missing you when we part.
Because there is love
That we feel between us
With love, I live.“

I know that I will not survive without you. And I hope you know that.

“I cry
I smile
I think
I write
It is all for you.

I breath
I dream
I sing
I laugh
It is all for you

My world is your world
My soul is your soul
My heart is your heart
My moment is your moment
It is all for love
It is all for you“

I cried, once again, last night. Only I did not tell you this time. Dawn arrived.

The weather was improving. There was occasionally rain but mostly overcast with short durations of sunlight breaking through the clouds. We had lunch together. We recapped about the dinner last night. We talked about her parents-in-law family, about office and the trip I was going to take tomorrow, about her daughter.

We knew that we would not see, and talk to each other till next Wednesday. I told her I would miss her and always think about her. She asked me to forget her. I told her it would not be possible. She kept asking the question: “What is for us to see each other a little bit longer and to eye me one more time?”

She knew that I was always here to stay. I would not survive without her. I bid her farewell and hanged up the phone. I left office.

I would leave town tomorrow. So there will be nothing to publish until I return on Tuesday. What will happen in these six days? Or can I survive to return here, as the same piece, to write again? I do not know. I have no answer.

I could only say that I am going to start the journey with sulky mood, like an overcast sky.

Helping hands (part 2)

The rain continued, heavily until evening, when it eased a little bit.

In the small hours of today, I wrote, “Never think about what will happen afterward before I help others. I just do it in all the possible ways. If the help is effective and gets good result, and leads to my advantages, they are all side-effects. Let us say, if the result is good, then I am happy; if not, I am unhappy, but I still helped.”

She added, wonderfully, “I would add, ‘a peaceful mind’.”

Yes, she is right, absolutely. To have a peaceful mind is the best side-effect. We do not know the result of helping people. To help one, we might result in angering another. Just know that we did what ought to be done, is itself good.

i watched a Walt Disney film till three o’clock in the morning. Sometimes I think why our TV media will have such arrangement. This kind of film is for everyone and should be scheduled at more popular hours.

As the weather was bad, there was nowhere to go. I and she exchanged emails all day. She was in good mood, so we chatted and laughed. When will the good time last? We will have a dinner gathering tomorrow and if possible, I may ask her for a lunch on Tuesday and then I shall be out of town, till next Monday.

Helping hands

Blog is more like a diary. Unlike a chapter of a book, a passage of a blog is meant to be short. So starting from last passage, I am trying to write daily so its content is about that day events and thoughts only.

Today is a rainy day, heavy at times. Last night, she asked a question about people should not help others for promoting their status. As she did not clearly point to a specific incident or a person, the discussion could be far stretched. Incidentally, we should not consider any reward or advantage before offer our helping hands. However, we would not just help any persons. For example, we properly would not help our enemies. One might also offer more help to his girlfriend or her boy friend (or his/her targeting one) in order to give a good impression. We could not say that there is any problem. We are not saints. So long as we could generally offer our help to those in need. Then it would be all right.

I asked her what prompted her the question.

I went to the library to return some CDs that were due today. Though I could extend the loan period online, I decided to go as I would not be in town next Saturday/Sunday and there was a briefing session held by the travel agent about the coming trip in the afternoon. So anyway I had to go out amidst the rain.

About helping people, I continued in my next email, “Yes, helping people can improve one’s status, be it is in some other people’s mind, in the office, or in the society. Helping people can also improve one’s status in his/her own mind. When you helped people, you was happy. You knew that you could do it, did it and did better than others. You raised your head higher than yesterday. The main point is what causes you to help others, whether you want to improve your status. You should never think about it when you go out to help others. Is it that if the one you are going to help is an insignificant person, or an irrelevant one, or if nobody knows you would ever know you are helping, then you would not offer your help at all?”

The briefing session went uneventful. Some inexpensive snacks were served. There were also coffee and tea and, soft drinks. Unexpected was ice creams – chocolate and sesame favours. The speaker was average, ordinary, too professional. One and a half couples were there. One needed to work and did not appear. I talked little. That event, anyway, was just one of all those that I could not say no, still now.

The rain never stopped.