Can't remember how many lunches I have spent in Cha Cha Moon but this is the first time i felt sick slurping my wonton noodles. I was about to puke the noodles right back to the bowl. May be it's Tony Parsons' "One for My Baby". Something the book said has disturned my stomach. I went back to the same lines to find trace of irritation just to realise my stomach was settled by then. But the sight of food still made me sick.

I find Asian guys checking me out on a daily level. This is not the etiquette I am accustomed to anymore. They keep staring at you like there is no tomorrow. They just turn their eyes and heads as much as they can for you. One should feel important, queenie. Last time I was in a swimming pool in Braunschweig with Thomas and his friend and found ourselves sharing the pool with a few Germans and an Asian family. Asians are rare sights in Braunschweig since there is no industry or work other than Volkswagen and a huge red light district. They checked me out from head to toe as soon as I appeared, from dad to son to mom. They stared at me when I swam past and when they gathered the courage they swam towards me and ran their glances all over me for the millionth time. I mean, mom, reallly, what are you looking at?

During my brief time working in a Chinese supermarket in Chinatown, I can't believe how many grannies and parents found me an ideal granddaught-in-law/ daught-in law and actually want to set me up with their grandsons and sons. Occasionally there will be full-grown men declaring I would make a suitable wife for them. How romantic.

If I ever go to Chinatown again, disappear and reappear again in a couple of years time, you would be able to guess where I had been. Very probably was locked up in one of the basements on Gerrard Street underneath all those Chinese restaurants and supermarkets, only to be let out of the dungeon after I managed to produce a son and made the parents and grannies happy.

I know I am cynical, but the very thought to be under tyranny again makes me sick to my mouth.

I have much mellowed over the last two years: significantly less angry and depressed. However something is still wrong and god knows what. I am more or less in myself. Not fully.

I am still extremely disturbed by the line, 'When we start to connect, you blow it off. You break my heart every day.'

Yea, I know I have way too much feelings.

Deep in my heart, I am worried that what Tony Parsons could be true:

"I think that you can use up your love. I think you can blow it all on one person. You can love so much, so deeply, that there is nothing left for anyone else.
You could give it all the time in the world, and I would never find someone to fill the gap that she has left."

I've lost the tingling feeling, feeling that all your blood is bubbling, rushing to an unknown direction and your whole body is about to burst. May be I stop letting myself fall so deep since. That is wise. I was on the verge of suggesting him to do the same, before he does anything silly. I do care. I do want to save him from his cynical hell and bring him to my heaven where there are angels flying, this is how he put it. I know too well my maternal gene always get me into troubles.

May be what I need is just sleep.

And some vitamins.