I am currently mired in the deep funk that actors call post-production blues, even though production hasn’t technically ended because we still have scenes in Singapore.

I wish I could describe what it feels like but it’s so complex that it would fill a book and I’m certainly not going to write a book right now because I have some serious deadlines to meet (Star Blog and Xperts blog).

So here’s another old post from my first blog because I feel that it fits my current mood perfectly.

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The following post first appeared on Sheylara.com on Oct 18, 2004.

During the time I wrote it, I was playing The Sims 2. At that time, there was also bird flu in Malaysia so we were having a chicken and eggs crisis. And, by the way, in The Sims 2, you can perform an action called “woohoo”, which means an intimate coupling between two consenting adults.

An Omelette Story

Chong, as you all know, was recently emotionally and intellectually damaged by reservist.

So, let us monitor his progress for a moment.

Two days ago, I was chatting with him over MSN.

We were having a pleasant discussion about a gathering our group of friends were planning to have.

We’re going to celebrate Halloween and Oktoberfest at the end of this month and I was telling Chong that he should come despite his emotional and intellectual handicap. He said he would think about it and, in between that, we were also catching up on our lives and talking about Everquest II. It was all very happy and normal.

And then, out of the blue, he said:

“You are the leftover omelette that attracts flies.”

How was I to respond to that? What was I to think?

I was quite sure he wasn’t being mean or calling me names or anything negative like that because Chong is the kind of guy who wouldn’t call people names. He is nice like that.

Which left me to assume that his brain damage had reached a certain peak which bordered on dangerous and should be reported to your nearest MRT Station Control officer, pronto.

Now, it would explain things a bit if I mentioned that he has been playing The Sims 2. A lot.

But it does not explain why he was thinking about omelettes and flies in the middle of a happy, normal conversation with me.

Besides, when guys talk about Sims 2, all they want to talk about is woohoo.

You see how sad it all is?

Well, since Chong brought up the subject of omelettes (as opposed to woohoo) and I happen to know it isn’t wise to disagree with an emotionally/intellectually unstable guy, I said, “That’s nice.”

And we didn’t have any great incident and our conversation went on its normal, happy way.

But Chong’s omelette has inspired me to write some poetry because I love omelettes.

Actually, I hate poetry, but poetry is one of the few ways one can express one’s love, therefore I must write poetry.

Life is stupid that way.

So here’s my ode to omelettes.

If you like it, send me some money. If you hate it, blame Chong.

Here goes.

Leftover Omelette

Omelette, oh omelette.
You who are so delicious
and expensive
Made of expensive eggs, precious eggs, because of
bird flu
in Malaysia.

You are the remains of
yummy eggs, lovingly air-flown
from Australia
So skillfully cooked before, but now you are merely
yellow bits
with teeth marks

Because your eater left you, abandoned you, jilted you.

Green, noxious fumes now rise up over
you,
oh omelette
And the flies like that
Yes.
The flies like that.

Because

You are the leftover omelette that attracts flies

And I can’t eat you anymore.