Sunday, August 24, 2014

3 days ago I turned 27.

Such a strange number. I don't feel like I own the number 27 yet. It reeks of adulthood, responsibility, of arriving at sobering wisdom after the brashness of the teens. Sure, I have mellowed. Slowed down and looked over my shoulder with a little wistful smile and chuckle at unbridled recklessness of the past. No regrets, grateful for all the wild things and what they have taught me.

It is the things that I have not experienced, that I regret.

Counting the ticks on my bucket list, my gathering of experiences, my measure of life. I frown on the empty check boxes, the clean swathes of landscapes unexplored. I need to break new ground. The monotony is getting too familiar, too comfortable.

I am 27 and I am 3 years away from 30. I do not feel like an adult yet. And time would not wait for me, or be there for me. People ask what's the rush, I tell them I don't know when the end will come. So I seek.

Then there are days I seek Other Things. Because life happens in the waiting for future things.  These respites don't last too long before I'm once again hit by the pull. And that inevitable desire to wait, look forward towards a potential future starts to grip me by the throat again. It gets difficult to live in the moment when this happens.

Still. Still, I must try. Life is this moment now, this second. And the present is all I will ever have.

This castle, I will build one day. Meanwhile I have got books. And thanks to give for all that I have so far.

Four functioning limbs, functioning body, mind and spirit. Check, check, check. That is good enough for today.

Sunday, August 03, 2014

I'm beginning to develop an unwavering sense of worth.

In the past it bobbed like flotsam, depending on the tides of external feedback. Positive. Negative. And my position on self changes. Especially when it comes to the 'softer' aspects of me, the side less determined by fact and meritocracy, that cannot be graded or scaled in mathematical terms. The more important aspect actually, of my personal self-worth.

Now I do know, have some surety, of what I am, stand for and can offer. And that is a pillar that doesn't shake despite a storm. Previously, if people didn't see my worthiness, I would whimper, rail and wonder whether I am truly stunted. Or beat down invisible walls, fists pumped and head shaking about the 'why' of all this unfairness. Why don't people see the goodness in me and how I could give them the world, if only they'd let me.

These days, when my worth is lost in their sight. I shrug my shoulders and make a mental note that oh, this is another random result in the chaos of life. Bad roll of the dice. But the dignity remains. I still remain. And I think, that is the most crucial point of all. The only one that matters. No matter what opinion the world holds of you, it doesn't change who you are.

I used to say, that I am made for greater things than This. Some days I wonder if that is really true. Just as how some people are fated to be in plane crashes, or encounter accidents, or perish young, or be gifted, or not. There is no such thing as equity in our different life experiences. And we can't physically, possibly experience everything there is in this world anyway. Maybe This is one of the things I don't get to experience, not in my cards.

But lately, I'm struggling against this old held mindset. This downer, morose, feeling that my past histories will point the trajectory of my future. That truly history will always repeat itself ad nauseum and every single hurt I encounter again is a deja vu and time warp I cannot escape. Maybe I am wired this way. Fated for this lack.

But as this pillar of self-worth gains increasing momentum in my heart, the more I rebel against this old belief. Surely, if I am a pillar, one day somehow, this pillar will see it's day in the sun.

One day. I will get there. Or maybe, I will find that somehow or other, I had arrived.

Still. I am tired of this desire. There are still days where I wish I won't feel anymore desire.

Saturday, August 02, 2014

I think nobody reads this space. Good. Now I can vent.

Have not put finger to keyboard in ages for reasons other than work, or Facebook. Nothing done in private but yet inner expression is such a lost art on me these days.

Suddenly I feel I need to try, because telling it to others in third party narratives does no justice to that epic moment you put me through.


You were a fabulous holder of my undivided attention for a marathon 12-hours. How in the world that is possible, I do not know but you've proven a first. In the hours from 6pm to 6am, the only times my thoughts deviated from our words, your eyes, your chuckle was when I had nature's call to heed, or a song to 'shazam'. Music, one of the few loves of my life that are hard to push off its pedestal.

I barely poked at my food. And I knew cos I felt hungry, quickly, much much later. Then I realised how little I ate, how food became not even a secondary, in fact, minor concern.When most times, gatherings is just an excuse for me to binge. You finished your fries, I ate a third of my burger, left most of my fries. Your musings I devoured instead.

I didn't even realise they were closing, until chairs were stacked upon other tables. And then we proceeded to leave but it did not feel like leaving but more like turning a page - where to next? What happens? I felt like the night just started even though it's already been 5 hours.

So we ambled around, hop-skotched over roaches, started a conversation on that insect for a good one hour. I swear we talked about cockroaches for 1 hour. But our 12-hour conversation felt like one beautiful, continuous moment to me. And I have to thank a certain hotel for having an all-day bar which doesn't chase patrons out, so that we can lounge on colonial chairs and stare up Peranakan ceilings while I learnt new methods of questioning.

You are so unlike my 'type'. And so random a chance encounter. I had already regretted going for this after-party which wasn't that much of a party and it was too noisy inside to talk. So I sat outside on a 3-bencher while my lovebird friends made out and I shone like a big-ass light bulb. How casual and accidental our introduction by a mutual friend. An 'oh hey, meet Elsa' whilst you were strolling by. I shook hands and then came the only worthy conversation of the night. I am enraptured with the USA, with the life-changing experiences I had there, and anyone else who has traveled in that dreamland country is someone I could easily connect with. For some reason, you ended it with let's go for coffee. Truth be told I thought ours was a one-hit wonder conversation only, to be followed with polite Singaporean goodbyes. But I guess you were friendly enough (as your sheer cult of personality belies), or maybe, intrigued enough, to want to hang out some more. But I'm glad you offered, and you intrigued me anyway.

That coffee didn't materialise until weeks later when I added you on Facebook. Even though our introduction was a by-the-way conversation, I recalled how much I enjoyed it and I did, would, like to meet you again. I really didn't think much further than that. At least on the conscious level, you were just an interesting person to talk to. So we first met for drinks instead and from the moment you sat down, I don't know why but then I already wanted to kiss you. It doesn't help that you have these - piercing - set of eyes. Everytime I held your gaze, I swear if you looked hard enough you would see infatuation written all over my non-poker face. As infatuations go, they are usually built on an 'idea' of someone, not reality. But fabrication, perception, illusion, delusion, hope-springs-eternal. Maybe mine will be shattered when we next meet but noo, our next meeting lasted an epic 12 hours in which we did nothing but talked. In which, for one of the rare few moments in my life, I was present in every single second of it. How you could command my attention, and not bore me was an amazing feat of ... chemistry? It was intense.

I have looked back on that night, questioning, whether perhaps this connection was only in my head. i.e. wasn't real but imagined. But the way it flowed and never ceased to ebb and I swore if you pushed the kaya toast suggestion just that little bit I would have gladly gone from evening coffee to mid-night beer to sunrise breakfast with you. I didn't feel tired at all. But you had to be, since you were awake much earlier than me. Still, the fact you lasted this epic sequence, the fact you stayed... must meant that my company was more important than your rest? Could I be wrong in this regard. I can't tell what you think of me, really.

After that day, I wanted nothing more than to talk to you again. But just as enthusiastic as you were in real life, you were much colder online. I couldn't fathom why, or maybe you just weren't the 'texting' kind. To be frank, neither am I. So I tried to hang out with you again, only to find out that you were busy both times. Just my luck I guess.

Just my luck too, that you had recently broken up. Probably not in the mood for someone else.


My friends tell me I would be great at this - relationship thing. That I would one day find somone because of a,b,c talents/strengths/good points, what-have-yous. But I say this, who you are means nothing when it comes to love. Nothing.

Love is just luck and timing. And I have neither. Maybe this is another fine exemplary incident. Another what-ifs, could-haves in alternate universes. But I only have my current reality and all its uncertainties to content with and no point comparing otherwise. So I would still give this my all, maybe try again for a third bat before the 3-strikes rule. If it doesn't work out. *shrugs* No difference from my histories, same shit everyday. Same story of unrequited love.

At least maybe, I'll have that all-nighter as a memory. At least for that one night, it felt like I had a companion in someone. And perhaps life is this - made up of fleeting moments you try to grasp like water and hold on to forever. But it's only in memory, that it lasts forever. Even if I'll never get the full taste of what love, or being with you, could be like.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

Funny the alertness of the human mind past the midnight hour. Funny how in your most placid moments those old histories run up your spine, rush up your throat like acid reflux. How in an instant there is a sudden yearning for the nostalgia of good times past. If you could go back to that moment, that sensation. If I could revel once more in that feeling that makes life so. real.

Why, do we drag ourselves through the milieu and the mud. Slogging through automaton. What do I make of my millions of forgotten moments. How do I count the seconds that have evaporated into insignificance. Rat on a hamster wheel motions. We probably only recall 15% of the memories we have. The other day to day is the mountain of trash we've discarded/wasted.

And maybe this is too Singaporean a way to think. That every minute must create value, wisely, economically spent. Positive returns. In the money. Maybe it is okay to waste, to lull away to nothingness. Maybe I'm just looking for a sign to where my life is going.

Sunday, December 09, 2012

oh my gawd I have a crush. I am 25. This is RIDICULOUS.

Thursday, November 01, 2012

why the fuck do I still care?

I hate this. I hate this to death.

Sunday, September 02, 2012

It is official. My life is one complicated emotional mess. Last night was major proof. 'Nuff said.