Routine has such an impressionable effect on others. Or should I say that one persons routine becomes another’s pain. Those that cannot contend with a disciplined routine of someone else will work ceaselessly to prove that the other is so incredibly wrong. The weakness or handicap of one shall always become an issue of ridicule for the other, even though the other will be devoid of any great accomplishment of value. It is the classic case of one being so devoid of any acquisition, or merit, that finding demerits in the other would come as a deliberate demeanor, to cover up their own deficiencies. There is a complex hidden here – a complex of inferiority. Not finding oneself in a position of superiority, the inferior shall continuously persist in finding fault in the other, or other things. It is a false reminder to themselves that they know better than all else. That they are right and the rest of the world wrong. And an immediate test of that is when they are challenged. Challenged to prove that they are right. Firstly in such a situation, there will be a denial, then anger at the audacity of the challenger, and finally leaving the situation altogether, so that they do not have to face the correction.


I would say that they are classic fodder for the psychiatrist. They are in desperate need of help, and which should be immediate. For, if it were to be ignored and left unattended, could in time destroy the balance of their minds. An unstable mind is perhaps the worst ailment or condition for any human. Their continuous ranting at pointing fingers at all, will in time envelope them into a disease – one that shall unfortunately never be up for any cure.


The sad part here is that damage is irreparable. They will never accept their inferiority, and so shall never believe in their instability.


There are conditions I believe in such circumstances. The inferiority complex comes from the knowledge that knowing you are inferior than the other, you deliberately keep insisting that you are superior or that the other is not of your standard. In a sense you pose to be superior, when indeed you are not. But being inferior, one can also develop an obtuse superior complex, as an outer shield. A shield that protects you, albeit metaphorically, from any kind of instigation which you feel has been executed, to put you down through an act of superiority.


There is another dilemma though. Trying to be superior as an act of wanting to be noticed as being one. And so on. This could be most damaging in practice, and I do hope that when and if someone God forbid, were to fall into such category, they would possess, at least in their moments of private thought, what they were pretending to be. For reality has strange ways of catching up with you.

All good things...

...must come to an end.

Loyalty is underrated.

In a relationship, respect precedes love. Always.

Don't compromise. But if you do, live with it.

What goes around doesn't always come around. Sometimes it just disappears completely.

When things don't go your way, pray.

If death can solve all problems, nobody will be alive to see the solutions.

Nobody is perfect, but we can all learn to be a little less imperfect.

Life is never fair. Suck it.

The winner takes it all. That's a fact.

YOU should never be more important than ME.

I am not different. I am just unique.

For The Last Time...

I am NOT Andrew.

There is this 40-ish to 50-year old lady who has been calling my mobile asking for Andrew. The first few times when she called, I said, "Sorry aunty, I think you got the wrong number."

Few weeks later, she called for Andrew again. Multiple times. I took a deep breath and said as nicely as I could muster,"Aunty, there is NO Andrew here. You called the wrong number."

Auntie called again a month later. "Can you please check the number before you call? This is NOT Andrew's mobile." I could almost hear myself losing my cool.

"Aunty! This is my number, NOT Andrew's number! Please don't call me anymore looking for Andrew because there is no such person!" said an exasperated me, a few months later to the persistent Aunty. I have really lost it this time.

Early this year, she called again. The moment I picked up, I tried to use my most menacing mafia voice ever and growled,"You have called this number many, many, many times! How many times must I tell you that you've got the wrong number? I am NOT Andrew ok? Don't call this number again!"

The calls stopped after that.

I was in a conversation yesterday afternoon, having a fruitful discussion with an old friend. The phone rang. In a swift reflex motion, I answered it with my chirpy voice, "Heh-llo"?

"Eh elo....Is Andrew there?"

It's the Return of The Aunty.

It's been two years now, and she's still calling my bloody number looking for her bloody Andrew. I want to tighten my fingers around Andrew's neck so much.

The little red devil with the forked tail in me really wanted to scream at her, and asked her why da hell she keeps calling the same number looking for the same idiot when I have told her umpteen times that she had got it wrong.

I wanted to yell and shake her and insist that she writes her stupid Andrew's name and REAL phone number on the wall in blood and get herself a phone that has number pad dials as big as her bedroom.

I even wanted to threaten to sue her for harassing me, though I have a nagging feeling that she simply kept dialling the wrong number due to dementia.

Sigh.

"Wrong number." My voice came out flat and emotionless, and I hung up the phone almost the same time I said it. The little white angel with fluffy wings has won the battle.

Somehow, I knew the phone would ring again. Someday.