Just let me rant–all right?

I’m in a bit of a cranky mood today. Today has been a day of sweltering heat, running around in clothes NOT suitable for the Merlion City sun, too much sweat, and a late finish. I’m officially cranky. This post will probably be a mix of excerpts from a written diary, observations, and thoughts. The best kind of posts, right?

Well. We’ll see.

*****

You know the shit has hit the fan when the hardest choice you have to make is to decide between an iPhone and a Blackberry.

You also know that things will go bad to worse when suddenly, you don’t mind the crowds anymore. You don’t mind the stifling heat, the constant go-go-go! mentality of everyone around you, the click-clacks of thumbs on cellphone keys and the restless energy that emanates from human beings too tied up to their Blackberries or phones or push emails or pre-recorded mp3s pounding through their ears, isolating one human soul from the rest of the world who are ALSO too lost in the pale glow of their smartphone screens.

And somehow, for some reason, it doesn’t matter anymore.

You used to think that you’d be the kind of person who remains chilled under pressure. Maybe you aren’t. Oh hell, no.

*****

Sometimes, I can’t be bothered to give a fuck. [Bear with me, it’ll all make sense soon]

The Higher Authorities, in an attempt to make my life that much easier, has also decided to contact every single relative and friend that they could possibly think of in Singapore to offer me a place to stay since the Bachelor Pad is only a temporary spot. So now, I’m getting all these calls from all these uncles and aunties that are completely random people in my books and I suddenly have to look at contacting all of them and travelling halfway across the island to view their flats just because I somehow feel obligated in a weird Asian way to [because they’re linked to my parents and all] and then I have to be gracious and courteous and kiss their feet and shine their boots and all that jazz (sarcasm, can you tell?) and then I’ll owe them a debt of gratitude that unless I can somehow pay them back monetarily (which I always somehow feel entitled to for some reason), I’ll owe them for life.

I can’t give a flying fuck in heaven or hell about their places. I totally despise the fact that now, suddenly, all these people are reaching out to me and I feel indebted . Let me struggle along somehow. I’ll get there.

And on a different note, maybe I am an ungrateful son of a bitch. I should be thankful, right? I mean, how many offers of assistance can I even get? How many people know that many people who are willing to offer them a place to stay or a room to let or a meet up for lunch or dinner or coffee or even just a “Hi, how’s it going?” Not many. If any. But honestly, I love my anonymity too much to give this all up. I don’t want to have to meet up and be grateful but I know I have to because if I don’t, its going to come back and bite me in the ass in the form of my parents being told their kid is an ungrateful SOB who can’t show an ounce of gratitude for all the kindness that I’ve been shown.

I mean, heck, I didn’t even ask for it in the first place! Why bother to feel burdened by my sudden presence on your island?

I’m sick of answering my phone to all these random numbers and trying to remember who they are and taking addresses down along with phone numbers and trying to juggle flat viewings amongst work and getting home and the transit in between and buying groceries and just even living, for goodness’s sakes, plain, simple living. I don’t ask for much but I hate the fact that when I get home, the only thing I feel like doing is taking a shower and going straight to bed.

For some reason, I think I was deluded when I thought I could live a life that was high powered and stressed to the max. Maybe I didn’t quite know what I signed up for.

*****

Merlion City is an expensive place to live. I’ve just only topped up my MRT card just yesterday and today, I “tapped” [fancy way to say swiped your card to pay for access to the MRT station] and it already showed that I’ve used up $4 in less than 24 hours. I think someone lied to me when they said that transportation was cheap. It probably is but honestly, the fact that a "tap” costs only 71cents probably meant that the prices have gone up without me knowing or I’m using it far too often for my own good. And don’t even ask me about the groceries. They’re okay but I think I’ve been pampered with NZD$4.65 for a 3L bottle of milk. My eyeballs nearly bulged out of my head when I paid SGD$5.50 for a 2L bottle of milk yesterday.

*****

And for something I may truly regret in admitting but oh well.

I miss Wangas.

Yes.

I know.

Oh, dear lord.

After all the constant ranting about how much I hated the place, with my job sucking eggs and me having hit the ceiling with my dancing and with the teaching and the French Lady being there (although at that point in time, we started talking again and things were initially weird but it got better) and the BitchBossLady giving me crap every single FUCKING day of the week, I thought I was glad to leave.

And when I took the final glimpse of my room and left my room in the tidiest state its ever been and I dragged my stuff forever and away from the White House, I thought that I would be overjoyed beyond compare.

And I was.

But now, having been here for just one measly week in Merlion City, already I’m crumbling like a POW under torture. Never ever ever let me be the carrier of all your deepest darkest secrets. Gimme one week in Merlion City (or subject me to just 30 seconds of electrocution) and I would be a blabbering mess, all truth, no lies.

So why do I miss Wangas? And what a weird thing to say, right?

But I loved the familiarity. Perhaps, that’s where the problem lies. I was familiar with Wangas, I knew how things worked in Kiwiland, I knew where to go, what to do, how people behaved, what the culture was like, and everything was all good and fine and dandy.

I loved the familiarity of my room. My big 23” screen and my computer. Being able to come home after a day of work and grab my dance shoes or a computer game and throw it on. My salsa nights. My favourite haunts. My bike. My runs. My ballroom tailsuit.

I loved how I would wake up in the morning, stumble to the bathroom and then to the kitchen to make myself something to eat and then head off to work.

I loved how I knew the dance floor and how I was left to play with the music, my feet and my hands and my smile on my face all I needed to make magic on the dance floor.

I loved the riverfront. And the secret places that no one else knew of. Places where I could hide and disappear from the rest of the world and it was okay.

And as much as work hated, I knew how the system worked and I could do it okay.

I wished that instead of busy 9pm nights where shopping malls are still teaming with people, I wished I had a quiet night at home in front of the telly or my computer screen or maybe even a dance social to go to. Or my bed where I could sit and read or daydream or listen to my music. Or my bike where I could go for a ride, out into the sunset.

I probably just miss Kiwiland. And familiarity. And I’m probably just getting frustrated with life here in Merlion City for now.

I know that its going to get better. And I know that it will.

I just hate how much life sucks right now.