Worry Scurry

i am worried.

usually, when i worry, it will manifest into absurd, impulsive and usually what-was-i-thinking purchases.

i am a woman who does terrible things to herself. what is that word again?

self-destructive tendencies. 

those are 3 words by  the way.

anyway, i am in my 37th week of pregnancy. i will be this Friday 18 May 2012. 

to those who are never pregnant, or will never be pregnant (that is, you are male of the species), 40 weeks is the maturity date of a pregnancy. but a woman could give birth anytime between the 37th and 40th week. 

if you are wondering why is it 40 weeks since we human beings are supposed to be pregnant for 9 months, the 4 additional weeks are called 'artificial weeks' whereby we start counting from the first day of a mother-to-be's period or rather, the start of her last period before she gets pregnant.

if you are still perturbed by this, go and Google about it in the internet. there is a wealth of information in the realm for you absorb and share. it is just a matter of what interests you, really.

back from the short intermission. i am actually worried because...

1. i am in my 37th week and that means i could deliver my baby anytime... and i've yet to pack my bags and make the cot nice and the drawer ready to be filled with baby clothes. i should be able to this readily as i have had 2 kids prior to this, but with the gap being 5 years since my last pregnancy, i am still trying to navigate through what could be said a trying pregnancy in terms of trials and tribulations.

or perhaps, that is just an excuse. i am just too darn tired to do all these by myself. i want the support, the encouragement, the enthusiasm because i feel that my spouse is not providing those three enough, for me to do it wholeheartedly.

but despite that, should not i be wholeheartedly enthusiastic, encouraged and supported by my own self will?

must i wait for someone to be my rock before i could rock on?

yes, that bugs me a lot.

2. well, this was already discussed in Reason #1. 

my hubby. my spouse. my other half.

he does make the effort to accompany me once or twice to see the gynae ever since i was pregnant.

he did say that he procured the cement drain cover for the baby. (i wondered if that was honey talk because i was sulking at the time).

he has not bought any items for the new babe, other than the... drain covers. 

he was supposed to look for drawers last weekend but ended up buying a new bed frame for the guest room. what was that about? 

anyways, that is reason enough for me to be worried.

3. then there is my medical condition. i have what you call GBS. you could Google that too, because i am not going to elaborate about it here.

it gnawed me for a long time. the more i read about it, the more i get jittery.

my gynae recommended that i go through normal delivery with penicillin administered in my system intravenously. 

insyaAllah, my baby will be alright. 

i pray for that everyday. somehow i wonder if i have prayed enough.

4. i wonder if my 2 elder kids will be alright. i am sure they will be adapt to the change, but changes take time and my kids who are attached to me, will need to be able to understand that my time will be mostly with the new sibling who needs me more.

actually, i am not that worried. i believe they will be fine. they are loving and supportive kids. and we have each other. :)

=========================================================================

yes, the list is only 4. but i feel that it's a lot.

for my silent readers out there, thanks for listening.

more importantly, pray for my baby and me. insyaAllah.

to end, i found this poem and would like to share it with you here :

outta sleep

this was as a result of my insomnia last night.

i am tired, i am beat 
but i cannot fall asleep 
too many things on my mind 
i feel like i'm out of bind 

perhaps i should just admit 
that it hurt and it bit 
rather than carry on as usual 
with my nitpicking nonchalant perusal 

i am tired i am beat 
hope this poem helps me sleep 
as long as the secret i that keep 
be buried as far and as deep. 

outta sleep and still sound 
i pray that the demons be gone 
uninterrupted slumber is a luxury 
and waking up is not a hurry. 

i am tired i am beat 
i owe myself to go to sleep 
good night worries good night pain 
i am determined i must remain.

Pable Neruda : Sonnet XV11/ Sonnet 17

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you thus, not knowing how to otherwise than this way whereby neither you nor I exist so close that your hand on my chest is mine; so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego: te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras, secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma. Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores, y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra. Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde, te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo: así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres, tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía, tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

the premise (promise) of a song

I'VE promised to post something after the Mamma Mia's Thank You For The Music Youtube post.

(see how lazy i've become, since i'm only posting links lately)

but that got detoured by so many things which happened in the last 2 weeks as somehow i was part of the Board Paper preparer at work... now that's in the past, having worked until 1030pm last Friday, i think i deserved a break. by indulging in writing - as i could no longer afford any designer bags - because hey, i'm going to write, whether you like it or not. :)

the following poem/ lyrics permutation may cause you to cringe and / or snigger but i am posting it anyways.

This is 'my picker upper alternate lyrics' to Thank You For The Music - which i called Thank You For The Proses. 


Mother says I was
A dreamer before I could walk
She says I began
To make stories before I could talk
And I've often wondered
How did it all start?
Who found out that nothing
Can capture a heart
Like a narrative can?
Well who ever it was, I'm a fan

So I say
Thank you for the proses
The tales I'm writing
Thanks for all the joy
They're bringing
Who can live without it
I ask in all honesty
What would life be
Without a poem or a tale what are we?
So I say thank you for the proses
For giving it to me


I've been so lucky
I am the girl with wavy (*) hair
I wanna weave (**) it out to everybody
What a joy
What a life
What a chance

Thank you for the proses
The tales I'm writing
Thanks for all the joy
They're bringing
Who can live without it
I ask in all honesty
What would life be
Without a poem or a tale what are we?

So I say thank you for the proses
For giving it to me
So I say thank you for the proses
For giving it to me




PS: * unfortunately, i could only came up with my hair being wavy, which has no factual correlation whatsoever to my ability to craft nonsensical proses.
** yes, wave and weave somehow go together. :P

Confused Lost

when you feel lost and confused,

do you let yourself drown

or do you swim your farthest?

you think you could outrun them

leave behind the loss and confusion

but deep down they are still there

waiting to be resurfaced, gasping to catch you

egging you all along, to confront them

because until you do

and you (yourself) know

you still are, the lost and the confused.

you are not my friend

i wrote this last week on FB, after an illuminating episode with a certain friend.


when you think what you say is more important, you are not my friend,
when you are consumed with narrow-minded stereotyping, you are not my friend,
when you think there is always a hidden agenda behind a good gesture, you are not my friend,
and what's more, when i could not be myself around you, you are not my friend.

Tongue Tied

I look at you and I feel tongue tied

You look at me and you seem uptight

You made me wonder whether I see it right

That you like me, then give me slight

I don’t feel that you are too bright

In making friends, you are a fright

Not that open, you keep all inside

When tense and upset, you callously bite

I look at you and you seem to care

But I don’t know, don’t want to bear

This feeling of not good enough to share

Over and over again, my heart you tear

I look at you and I feel tongue tied

I wish I know how to say it right

But no matter how I wish it so might

I care too much in the end, I let it slide. 

Popsicle Love

Popsicle, oh I love you so

Juicy confection that leaves me tingle

Every bite savoured, that quenches my thirst

Even the sweet cold that makes my head tickle

Sweeping the fanciful freeze, and it goes away

Reminds me of love’s struggles a little

The euphoria, the pain that we welcome

Because there is no other way

On a heightened, hot and humid day

That quenches our thirst, and satiates us first.

drafted on 13 April 2011