Night scribbles.

I guess it's true what they say of night owls and introverts.

In the silence, we speak the loudest. In the solitude, we scream our passions. In the quiet, we live life to the fullest.

During the day, somehow, we are dulled down. Toned down to mere shadows of our former selves, a literal joke of what we could have been if the sun and set and we basked in the glow of our computer screens.

I wished that there was something, a forum or a job site of some sort that catered to people that decide to live and work at night rather than during the day. And I'm not talking about those kinda jobs that is supposed to exist outside of daylight. I'm talking about real jobs. Accountants, lawyers, medical and health professionals, engineers, baristas, restaurants owners and waitstaff that live for the night rather than for the day. We shut off as the sun peeks its head over the horizon and we yawn and rub our eyes as the sun sets and people rush home for dinner.

The night creatures come out to play.

That does sound quite heavenly. And creepy too. I'm not sure which one I like better.

*****

He couldn't stop in time.

As he walked across the road, the bus came careening around the corner. The bus driver looked panicked behind the windscreen, the bus, obviously out of his control and aiming straight down the pedestrian crossing.

With a sickening crunch, human body met at least a good 3 tonnes of steel, perspex, and a good 20 passengers. 

He flew across the street and smacked his head on the lamp post. Funny how a human head feels as soft as an overripe watermelon at 70km/h. Newton's Third Law of Motion was demonstrated as the innards of his skull showered a kid sitting on a bench eating an ice cream waiting for his mummy to pay the ice cream man. 

*****

I should stop dreaming. 

I should wake up and smell the coffee of reality and of bills to pay and of stupid bosses and even stupider managers and of the feeling of being trapped in a job you hate with nowhere to run. 

My two housemates (Korean boys) left Merlion City about 2 months ago. The landlady said that they complained that it was too tough and that they couldn't survive in S'pore. 

Now when did surviving a rough, tough, environment become a rite of passage? "Oh, you have to learn to deal with stupid upper management who do not appreciate your efforts towards the company and if you can't hack it, you're weak, you pathetic p***y." You don't even get a badge at the end of it. Coming away intact with your brain and heart in place is sufficient. 

I didn't sign up for this sh|t. 

*****

Happiness is a trait in short demand nowadays. 

Did you know that the biggest killers in Merlion City are cancers, ischaemic heart disease, pneumonia, strokes, and accidents, poisoning and violence (including suicides?)

In all of these causes of death, I can easily see where stress and the stressors of life and living in this country can quickly take its role in ushering someone to the grave. 

One of the major cellphone service providers here attempted to showcase Merlion City as a happy, spontaneous place to live, where there are smiles in every street corner, a welcoming gesture of goodwill and comradeship amongst all its citizens. This was in answer to a global survey that showed that Merlion City is the least emotional city in the world. The most emotional city is, undoubtedly and proven, to be Brazil. 

The resulting ad showed teenagers breaking out in spontaneous dancing in the subway. Children singing happily in the bus. Strangers offering other strangers a helping hand to cross the road or an umbrella when it started to pour. Random family members dancing on the streets. 

Personally, I would like to take my camera and showcase this country for what it really is. A buzzkill. People on the bus or on the trains are literal zombies. They do not smile, they do not talk. Heads are down focusing on cellphones or tablets, browsing emails or watching tv dramas or playing whatever Facebook game seems to be the fad of the day. 

And sadly, I'm one of them. 

I'm no different from any of the other zombies. 

*****

So that's all, folks. A job interview and early morning work beckons tomorrow. 

Keep the Faith.

I guess this is an apt description, after all.

Recently, I've been making my foray back into church again. Attended a friend's church and then went to a big mega church here in Merlion City.

Church is okay. Same old same old. The usual "Sing praises to the usual deities, Praise be His Name" kinda thing. What was interesting was the differences between the traditions of my friend's church (totally old school, men sit on one side of the room, ladies on the other, etc.) and the mega church where they had panoramic cameras, live broadcasts all over the country, US, and internet broadcasts. People jumped, raised their hands in spiritual abandon, and clapped loudly when the pastor came on stage.

Yeah. Same old same old.

And coming to the usual source of contention - my job. Oh, what do I do with you?

What DO you do with a job? Do you work for the salary? Do you follow your passion and then miraculously, everything falls into place a la one of those movies where everything will be all right once you follow your heart? Or is it the daily grind where you postpone and you learn to delay instant gratification for the one thing that you know will come to you...or you hope will come to you if you put things off long enough.

I wish I could have a decent, solid, hours long conversation over a hot beverage with someone about my job. I want to spill all and sundry about everything I hate about my workplace. About how I don't think I was meant to be a physiotherapist to begin with. Maybe this blog is the best place to do it. For some reason, even though I keep complaining about it, it seems like it's brand new. I can always come back to this same topic on the blog and it never bores the crap out of me. I hate being that person who whines continuously about my job and I know I'm too much of a coward to back out so quickly. I kinda like my financial stability.

I used to have a friend - this person - who would bore me to tears and technically make me a little depressed after I talked with him on the phone. He would continually whine about his job and how much it sucks and how much he hated his dad who made him stay at home with the family and he didn't want to do that anymore and how he doesn't earn enough and that he can't find a girlfriend and the world sucks ad nauseum. I really don't wanna be like him.

I met up with a friend of mine from 4 years back - awesome woman who had a brain AVM - had a bleed and nearly died - ending up surviving with stroke symptoms all down the left side, decreased sensation, no movement in the left hand but she's so positive and happy that it scares me. I always thought that if I had a stroke or something that left me permanently disabled, I would have committed suicide. But she's content, she's telling me that there's a purpose in her life if she was to have made it back from the brink of death.

She asked me a question repeatedly last night, "Are you living the life you want?"

I paused for a moment, smiled at her, and said, "Yes and no."

When asked to justify why I said what I said, I told her, "Yes, because my dream of teaching dancing has finally come true. No, because I'm still doing something I don't really enjoy and I'm doing it just for the sake of the money." And then she spoke a truth that I probably knew deep down all along but I never chose to acknowledge it.

"When I was able to work, all I thought about was money. On-call, being able to bill the hospital $140 for 10 minutes of work, yeah, why not. But now I'm in this wheelchair, I'm not able to work, it doesn't matter anymore."

She's found God as well in the process. She says that God has been good to her. When she first woke up from the coma she was in, she asked her parents for her Bible. A friend of hers had given it to her and she had put it in her room, without looking at it. Now, all she wanted to do was read it. And she found Him. Didn't get to hear the full story as she said that it would probably take forever but wow. Just wow. Isn't it?

Sometimes, hearing these things just make you believe in Him a little more than a mega church or a traditional white chapel.

And her words still ring in my ears, "Are you living the life you want? Really?"

Jie jie, you are awesome. So good to see you and I hope to see you again when our paths meet. 

Worth v2.0

It's one of those times again.

For some reason, after dance parties or any major dance events that get me all hyped up and excited, the emotional crash afterwards really don't seem to be worth it.

I taught a class today. It was quick, witty (so I thought), and I had heaps of fun. I went for supper afterwards with the usual crew and we had our laughs. And then after that, I came home.

And sitting in the taxi on the ride back, a thought came into mind.

"Maybe all of this isn't worth it."

Maybe if I was to invest my heart and soul into this, it would get torn up, chewed out and spat back in my face. Am I willing to take that risk? To be honest, I'm not sure what I am afraid of. What scares me? If you were to ask me that question, I actually cannot give you an answer at all. This is the hardest I have ever worked for ANYTHING, and yet, I cannot tell you if I am fully dedicated to it.

Dance is going great for me. Got my fattest "paycheck" this week from a combination of the workshop that I taught on the weekend as well as class tonight. I've come up with a dance routine that can potentially become the best choreography I've done in a long while. So many things that I'm looking into. But yet, I'm holding back.

A proverb I used to hold on to quite dearly quoted, "He who hesitates is lost."

This particular phrase got me doing so many things that I would never ever do. Salsa dancing. An impromptu trip to a city for a dance weekend. Buying my $1000 tailsuit. Packing up my life and travelling halfway across the world for a girl I loved and wanted to have a real relationship with.

Starting Ceroc Merlion City.

So many things have happened this year and I remembered bitching previously about how when I was all ready to leave, this happened. All the excitement and commitment into a dance business occurred and I had to make this impromptu decision to stay. When the immigration papers come through for the Girlfriend and myself, I have to decide whether we stay or go. On to our new lives? Do I decide to put down roots here and end up here for good? Is this destiny? What if it isn't? What is right and what is wrong?

Is happiness the benchmark? The end by which all means is acceptable?

*****

I found a piece of myself from 2010 on the Internet the other night. It was an impromptu Google search and a hastily typed in URL which, surprisingly enough, existed. I read the one and only entry that I had written on that particular blog and I remembered the social dance event that we were practising for that morning. It was a chilly morning and the winds had picked up after the rain had stopped. I remembered not thinking about the French Lady when I woke up that morning and that made me smile. I wasn't emotionally drawn to her that much anymore. Every small victory counts, I guess.

My blog always had the title of "Chapter Life - Prologue" as a nod to the fact that I felt that my life has yet to truly begin. And I was not sure when it would. What would I be doing when the moment finally struck, when lightning zapped me from head to toe and I could comfortably write on the blog, "My life has begun."?

On this particular blog, my new blog title was Chapter Life. That's it. Finito. Nothing more than that.

Because for me, this was where my life started. I buzz cut my hair. I got contact lenses from a friend of mine who started up an optometrist shop. I got heavily involved with salsa and earned a 2nd place medal dancing cuban salsa in the National Champs. I was so proud of myself. This was my life. My own choosing. My destiny is shaped by my hands.

And now, I'm here. Has Life begun afresh? Is there now Life - Chapter 2? Is dance going to take over the next decade? Am I going to see the realisation of a dream that took nearly a decade to come into existence?

I don't know, really. But at least at the end of the day, I still know that this destiny is mine to make.

*****

I'm probably a closet voyeur. Yes, Sociologist, I know. Sometimes, I want to put my blog out there, splay it wide like a naked, de-feathered chicken for the world to see. And yet, I am fearful for the fact that I will be criticised. My thoughts torn asunder. My deepest darkest secrets, defaced into oblivion. So I keep typing in the dark, the glow of the keys keeping this blog a secret, only known to a handful that I know will bear this to the depths of a grave.

*****

Once upon a time, my love asked me if I was ashamed of her. She did not exist in my social online world. No mention of her has ever been made, no inkling of her being in my life was ever recorded. Am I ashamed? I don't think so. But the alternative to splay myself like a bloody chicken is for me, not an option.

One day, I won't have to hide in the dark. I may be able to blog publicly. I may be able to share my thoughts and dreams to the world and let the love of my life come into the light.

One day. One day.

Uncertainty.

How do you ever know if what you're doing is the right thing? How do you know that you want this, you really really want this and this leap that you're going to make into the chasm is not going to be one that you're going to want to backpedal out of 10 seconds into the free fall?

How are you really sure?

Clairvoyants then will tell you seek their advice, look into their crystal balls, watch the ways the tarot cards fall, follow deeply ingrained lines in your palms, and drink and read tea leaves. Whatever.

The more faithful will ask of you to seek the will of the Almighty, to ask for his blessing or his condemnation upon an ideal that is not part and parcel of the life that you were not meant to lead.

But it's fuzzy. So fuzzy.

Like radio static. You never quite get to the end of it. You never quite catch the last word.

You never do.

Scrambled...pieces.

I suddenly realised the reason why I used to blog so much.

It's because I used to be on my own so much. I was so used to living this life where yeah, I had a girlfriend overseas but apart from that, I was on my own. I had my friends, I had my family, and we'd talk but there were the glorious days where I would wake up and I would not say a word for the entire day. Bliss much?

Alone @ the beach

I could literally go on for days. There were weekends where I drew my curtains and shut myself in my room, gaming in the glow of the computer screen, playing my music out loud and fast, booming from my speakers. I would step outside my room to grab food or fry an egg or throw something that resembled dinner together and then I'll scurry back into my room again. I'd be a virtual bum for 48 hours and then I'd shave and attempt to look presentable for Monday morning work.

Solitude. It sounds amazing. Not to many but to me, it's something I crave for from time to time. The ability to disappear. Wander around, lost in the faceless crowd that is S'pore on a weekend in a shopping mall, and bask in my anonymity. [That said, I'm probably watching too many spy movies.]

The world seems to move slower when I'm on my own. 

I get lost in myself. Something I don't do very often now. There's too many things to read and see and do and I think I'm probably neglecting myself just a little. 

I miss letting my imagination run. I really do. 

* * * * * 

He's on the bus today.

There's usually this Japanese couple who sit right behind me whenever I get on the No.111 bus. They'll be chattering away in Japanese and she'll lay her head on his shoulder as he looks out the window, one arm draped around her shoulders. 

He's alone today. I take my seat across the aisle from him, dumping down my bag and adjusting the air conditioning.

He's looking out the window, gazing into nothing. His headphones are on. His head bobbed very gently but whether it was the bus or his playlist, I couldn't say. 

As I plugged my own earphones in, his phone rang and he slowly pressed the receive button on his headset. 

"Yes?" 

This was the first time I heard him speak English. Oddly stunted, thick with a Japanese accent. 

"Yes, thank you." His voice broke a little, twisting the "you" into a "yeah." "I'm not doing too good."

His shoulders start heaving, very gently. He blinks rapidly, quickly passes a hand over his eyes and he sniffs. He looks around, wary that he was about to lose it in public. I turn my head, giving him his visual sense of privacy. 

"I miss her too."

The sniffs are muffled by his sleeve as he buries his face for a few seconds. He shudders and then picks up the receiver. "We will be at the Assembly of God church at 9a.m. Saturday morning. I hope you can make it." 

Silence, his head bowed, as though in prayer. And then, a short, "Thank you. Thank you again." 

And then he ends the call. 

Our eyes meet and his are red. He smiles a sad smile and shuffles off the bus as the doors swoosh open. 

* * * * * 

*the above story is all part of my imagination. Really. The man was there today and the lady wasn't and I thought he looked a bit sad and then the creative side of my brain took over. 

Losing Control, Weird Dreams, and a fascination with the dark.

Walk the line.

I've been having this particular recurring dream, ever since I graduated, started working, and moved all over the world.

It's always me, in school. Doesn't really matter where I am. I could be in university, or high school. Strangely enough, I never dream about this in primary school or kindergarten. Huh.

It always starts off with a nagging, knowing feeling inside my skull, telling me that something is wrong. I'm not getting it. I'm not getting the hint. I'm not cued in. I'm not focused. Something lingers at the edge of the periphery of my brain and I'll be damned if I could figure out what it is.

I'm usually sitting down on one of the school benches either at the canteen or one of those that's scattered around the university. Sometimes, a classroom. Or lab. Or practicals. Or something. I'm busy and I'm on my own.

And then someone will come up to me. Sometimes, it's not even someone I know. I've read somewhere that everyone you see in your dream somewhere in real life but no, I don't recognise these people. But I greet them as though I know who they are. Cordially. Not really close friends or anything.

Then, the bombshell drops. "Hey, Paul, you all set for the anatomy test?"

HUH?

What test?

Oh, you know, the one that the lecturer mentioned two weeks ago.

The panic sets in.

There's always variations. It can be biochem, physiology, additional maths (calculus and stats, for you non-Malaysian folks), biology, physics, or something absolutely stupid. The key thing is that I'm unprepared for it. Life throws me a curveball and I get sucker punched by it. Sometimes, it's not even a subject I'm that bad at. Yeah, I wasn't the best student in school or anything but I actually passed those subjects with a decent grade. Funny.

I wake up. Sometimes a bit sweaty. And I wonder to myself, "I've passed this. I've passed all this so long ago. It's been years. Why do I still dream about it?"

Is it a failure thing? A fear of failing again?

Its the devastating, gut-wrenching feeling of having to go through something again. Of the disappointment that just drags you through the day. The constant feeling of needing to study again. Because you cannot. Really cannot. Afford to fail.

Gee, I'm glad it's raining

Some dream analysts have attempted to decode this odd dream phenomenon and they mention that it could be a feeling that I'm not achieving as much as I want to or used to. Hence, the dream of not achieving or failing. I don't know. I can't say. I'm not sure.

For me, it feels like a control issue. Some will say that the fear of falling off a cliff/high place is the dream about control and not having it. For me, I think it's the mental control that I'm losing control. I have no control over what is going to be happening to me regarding said test and it scares the heck out of me. I wonder if it might signify a future assignment/role/challenge of some sort that I am supposed to be facing.

I don't particularly like this feeling. Who would? The feeling that you cannot do anything that would even remotely make a difference. That you are trapped. Stuck. Control does not exist. Not here. Not in this moment.

Talisman.

I wear this bracelet on my right wrist. My watch sits on my left. And my brother's hei matau drapes itself around my neck. One, a reminder that time waits for no man and that a failure to act means a loss for a lifetime. Another, a reminder that I alone can control my fate and that I am responsible for the forseeable future. The last one, a reminder of strength and perseverance through the toughest times, that creativity and innovation is not only required but lauded, and a fact that a brother's love and dedication above all will result in a necklace to die for.

* * * * * 

I have a theory.

I have a theory that introverts are usually night owls. We crave the darkness not because that we're emo hippie beings but we live fully and truly in the darkness of the night. I remembered once writing a story for a competition that never got anywhere but I wrote the words, "I was bathed in sunlight that I could not care for. How I wished for the sun to die." Funny that.

In Aotearoa, the sun is something that everyone looks forward to. Even when the sun becomes slightly hotter than usual and everyone's pretty much stark naked looking for the coolest spot in the house, we all look for the sun. The sun is the healing balm in the midst of winter. It's the one thing that can possibly cure SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder.) But sometimes, the quiet steadfastness of the moon is what we look to. The world is painted in different shades of grey and black and the pearly vagueness of moonshine is what coats our lives in a bleak, yet certain future.

I've always told people that I am a night owl. I don't function too well during the day. Yeah, sure, I'm alive somehow. Maybe the coffee kicks in and I remain awake enough to perform my duties efficiently. But night time is where my fingers dash across the keyboard, seeking release. Night time is where I used to gaze at the moon and I wonder about my future. Night time is where I used to dance with myself, practising spins, hands flying through the air, dancing with a phantom of a partner, perfecting music in my head.

There's something about working at night. The solitude where the world slumbers and you alone hold the key, the secret to something no one else will ever understand because they're drifting off to lalaland and you're conscious. It's like you're part of a lucid dream. And as you end the night, you draw your curtains shut - to block out the sun - and you hibernate within the cocoon of your daylight comas.

That's me. I'm out.

Hindsight.

There’s a phrase somewhere that says that hindsight is a wonderful thing. Of course it is. Anything and everything looks better upon reflection.

I posted on Facebook the other day, “I’ll miss you when I go.” Thankfully, there has  not been too many speculations on that post just yet. But I think…no. I know that I will miss this place when I leave.

Merlion City is one of those places that I always thought of as far away, as distant as New York or London. Paris. Moscow. One of those places that I never thought I would be in. But here I am and I’ve been here for 2.5 years. And possibly longer.

Is it possible to love a place and hate it at the same time? What do I hate about S’pore?

I’ve lived away from family for more than 4 years now. I’ve always wanted to seek my own independence, my own time, my own freedom. And perhaps, I got it. I moved first to WangaVegas, had a whale of a time, and then it was on as far away from the cold as I could possibly get. And what better place than to come to the Equator? Merlion City was a distant jewel, like Dubai. Hm. Dubai. Might be a good spot. Heh.

I love it. I love the food. I love the heat. I love the fact that I could rock to the beach and it’s actually blisteringly hot. There’s such a thing as a tan. Pools are cool and not heated. I can jump straight into corrupted Singlish/Manglish whenever I wish and I feel like I belong. Am I really that much of a third culture kid? Possibly? Maybe? No? Whatever.

I think though, as times go by, and especially when work is such a big part of everyday life, things start to grind on you. Work for example. Little mistakes. Things that just get in your grill. I mean, work takes up 33% of your daily life. You spend at least 8 hours at work and the rest of it is either sleeping or eating or taking a shower or commuting. What’s the point of spending a third of your life at something you hate? Honestly?

I was discussing with Dory this very matter. What I would have done differently, giving me another 3 years, or even 5 years. Would I have signed that contract for Wangas? Would I have decided to abandon everything and come to Singapore? All over again? What would have happened?

I may have stayed in Wangas for another year. Easy. I had the salsa crowd. The rueda spirit. I was a “dance teacher” then. Hated my job though. Maybe Palmy would have been easier on me. My friend was there. I guessed we could have ended up competing a lot more and getting better. I could possibly have trained to become a ceroc instructor then. But then again, I never really thought that Palmy would have been a good destination for me, either. Too many cold winters. (Obviously, HEAT is a BIG issue.)

I like it here. Ceroc Merlion City here feels good. I like the crowd. I like the enthusiasm. I like what we’ve got going on here. I like being the pioneer to something bigger than myself. Something that I might possibly leave as a legacy. Don’t want it to be something I just leave behind though. I still miss the Wangas crowd sometimes and I know that they miss me. Dancing was good there, though, not as big or as good as I would like it to be.

I just wished that things could have happened sooner. A lot sooner. Then the regrets won’t be so late at this point in time.

Sparkle.

Your eyes sparkle, she says. 

What does that mean? I asked, a smile twitching at my lips. That said, people have said weirder things to me before. 

Your eyes, she again insists. They sparkle when you dance. I have never seen you this happy any other time of the day. 

Oh, come off it! I make a modest attempt at blushing. You know that is just ridiculous!

But it's true, isn't it? Tell me, what moves you? What else in your normal day makes you feel on top of the world apart from dancing? 

The world grows quiet. Just for a moment.

And then the question drowns in a rush of noise and haze. 

I've been growing through a bit of a rough patch. Yes yes, no doubt, my blog posts sound all good and fluffy and happy bunny rabbits jumping all over the place but those who truly know me knows that it's barely temporary cover. Yesterday, the first time in a long while, I posted an angry, full of swears, status update on Facebook. You know, it's one of those passive aggressive statements that is supposed to make people wonder what is going on and to question you about whether you're all right. It's stupid and really childish. In fact, I'm going to remove that. Hold on.

All right. Done.

It doesn't take a genius to see that, sometimes.

Count me in.

Life's been good to me. So far.

I'm getting good comments on my volunteer work. Dance class is getting exciting. I just had a dinner meeting with Goofy Girl and there's so many exciting ideas all up in the air about what we can do to make ceroc awesome in Merlion City. Of course, we're just starting out and we're still fresh faces but there's so many awesome ideas.

I'm gonna miss this when I leave. I definitely am gonna miss this.

Sometimes, I do ask myself why do all these opportunities come at a point in time when I'm so ready to go. Karma/fate/whatever, why do you do THIS to me? It's hard enough trying to appease everyone but right when I'm about to pack up and leave...suddenly, everything comes to this one point and I'm left literally fumbling a little. I didn't expect this. But then again, these things are NEVER expected. They crash up and out of the blue into your face and by the grace of all that is good and kind that you don't blink and miss out this one chance.

So much can happen. So little time. I mean, it's been 2.5 flippin' years since I've been here. Why now? Why all this suddenly? I like to think I control my fate but now, it just seems slightly cruel. Is my fate going to be in Merlion City for a bit longer? Or for a lot longer? I'm suddenly thinking long term about a whole lot of things that I usually would not think about. Too much to write here. Gotta clear the brain a little.

Birthdays, dance circles, and other shenanigans.

Quite a bit has happened recently. What with me and the Girlfriend aging a bit less gracefully, dancing helping me celebrate by making me dance with both men and women alike (no, not in that way), dinners, cakes, food, and more food, and oh well. I think I’ll let the pictures do the talking.

 
The Girlfriend hit the BIG 27 years young recently and of course, there was cause to celebrate. Cake, candle, a lovely sponge with crunch little bits on the inside and amazingly light cream ended an overly full Japanese buffet lunch.

As with all buffets, the more people eating, the merrier. So we took along one of the Girlfriend’s work colleagues who probably weighs half my weight but eats like a friggin’ cow. Good times.

 
Thought this quite cute so I plopped it up here.

It’s my 3rd birthday here in Sunny S’pore. I did not think I was going to make it this far for this long. There’s a proverb that I can’t quite grasp at that mentions something about time and perseverance and living life but I can’t really remember it. I keep thinking about the times I talked about hating my job so much and all the little different stresses but to be fair, Merlion City has been kind to me. I’ve enjoyed my stay here and with a few different exciting ventures popping up, I’m hoping that I’ll be able to stay for a little longer.

That said, I’m ending up feeling a little bit restricted. After all, tigers are solitary animals and they travel over large distances to get the space they need. (Click on the link if you lurve reading research articles.)

I like how the light blurs and sparkles in the background here. The Girlfriend is a bit up front and centre but I think she was getting slightly annoyed as I had more than a few false starts and with playing on the manual modes and getting apertures and shutter speed correct, she was like “HURRY UP!” Hence, the bad shot.

And here’s a hilarious video of me doing a dance circle at Ceroc the other night.

Thanks, y’all.

My dearest darling you,

To quote the infamous line from the Joker, "You complete me."

Yes, you.

Today, you turn 27. Today, of all days, 1 hour and 35 minutes after I came out into this world kicking and screaming, it was your turn. You yelled blue murder and your mum cuddled your bloodied body next to hers. 

Quite a picture, isn't it? And here we are. 8 years after I met you at Youth Convention, where I shook hands with you and hated your group of friends for taking away MY group of friends.

It was not a relationship that came easily to mind. No one would ever think that we would get together. A long distance relationship, over time, over many thousands of miles, and somehow, over the last 8 years, we kept it up. Crazy, huh? 

But we have changed. We certainly have.

Oh, we were so naive, both you and I. We were head over heels in love, falling all over each other, saving every single text message and email as though it held the life giving fluid in our veins. (On that note, I wonder why we always referred to it as veins. Maybe because arteries don't sound as romantic. Oh well.) Every goodbye was painful, every hello - a sunrise in a winter trodden world. In between though, there were tears. There were breakups. There were the awkward occurrences where we would talk again. Hesitantly. Not sure if this was the ground to tread this time. Not sure if it was worth it. But we gave it a shot. Again. 

And here we are. 

Sometimes, I wonder why you put up with me. I'm frustrating. Messy. Arrogant to a fault. Careless. Cynical. Sarcastic. Caustic tongued. I speak my mind. I live inside my mind and shell, talking to myself and then blurting out stuff you have never heard of and wonder where it came from. I'm incredibly dirty-minded and sometimes, I'm sure you ponder how much of a pervert I am. I have the fascination with video games and make believe characters that makes you shake your head and mutter, "Boys." I don't always watch your rom-coms with you. We disagree on our different passions. You head to the girlie stores while I am found wandering wide-eyed amongst the newest fangled gadgets and computers. 

So different. And yet, by some miracle (or probably just pure stubbornness), we're here.

I like how we've changed, both you and I. I like how, nowadays, we sit and we discuss things. Adult things. Like rent. Yes, I see you rolling your eyes at me. Or things like getting me to mop the floor today. Or planning exercise programmes to help us both lose some weight. How, back in the day, I would say something and you'd sulk about it for ages and vice versa. Now, we kinda just brush it off and consider it a done deal.

It's been an adventure with you, my love. It really has been. Having you in my world has changed what I thought my life would normally be. It's been great. 

So, darling, I want to say thank you. For putting up with my nonsense, the mess, the FAIL jokes, the occasional snapped remark after a day at work, the hardships that we both have been through. I hope that by hook or by crook, I'll be able to write another post next year for you, celebrating you, and the amazing woman that you are. 

I love you, Michelle.

Love,

Me.

The road not taken.

It's so cliche to quote Robert Frost. Really. Ever since I learnt that simple 4 line stanza poem in high school, it has always haunted the edges of my literary memory, to be thrown out at what seems like opportune times to bemoan the fact that things are not going my way and that I have to write down my sob stories. 

I wrote in the Moleskine the other night, saying, "This post is supposed to be about regrets." It is supposed to be about all the missed chances and strokes of luck that I have been brushing off and ignoring and how hindsight is a wonderful thing that I can look back on and inspect with a magnifying glass all the stuff I missed out on because I played it safe.

This is not one of those posts. 

Oh hell, no. It ain't at all.

This post is about the road that I took. Ole' Rob starts off his bit of poetry with,

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both,

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth

 Good old poetry/literature will never voluntarily tell you that a road is a road. It will tell you that it is a choice, a means of tavel, a silken whisper, a dark bridge to the unknown. To describe it as a tar-sealed concrete path is just boring, no? 

People who have possibly read me in the past would know that I have always been fascinated by dancing and I enjoy it to the fullest. Dancing thrives in my veins like oxygen in my lungs. The sore aches that assemble themselves overnight from an evening of dancing is nothing comparable to half marathon aches. Even something as "light" as ballroom sets the calves on fire and I feel that my shoulders have been dislocated the next morning. Or maybe I'm just really unfit. Who knows, eh? One of my biggest dreams was to start a dance studio, complete with dance classes, etc. I'd be teaching every night or every other night and every night was a party in and of itself. The ceiling itself opened up to the heavens and on clear nights, the stars would sparkle and the moon would shine and I would open it up so everyone could dance in the moonlight whilst "Dancing in the Moonlight" played over the speakers. What a dream. 

But I always held back. I'd like to fault the Higher Authorities who always told me to focus on something more solid and more firm, and that education is the way to go and I should be focusing on my career. But I think its as much my fault as theirs. I never bothered to do more than just b*tch about it. Never tried to focus on taking up a teacher's training course, never bothered researching into how much capital I would have to sink into making this dance thing a reality. Just whining. All I did. Maybe if I did show them how serious I was about it, they would have supported me. But never mind. 

I've been living in Merlion City for the last two years. I thought that I was only going to be here for 2 years. This is rapidly approaching the 6 month mark of my 3rd year here in S'pore. How time flies. Really, it does. And every time I got ready to pack up and leave, something comes up my way. It faintly reminds me of when I was in Wangas. Dance happened for me. I stayed and stayed and stayed. I thought that I would be there for a while. And it was a complete paradigm shift that allowed me to move my arse, submit a resignation letter and then find myself halfway across the world from where I pretty much called my life around me home. 

It's probably deja vu. Goofy Girl sends me a WhatsApp message asking me if I want to teach ceroc in S'pore as she was looking to get it started. Had a call from a clinic offering me ridiculous amounts of money to do part time work. Had the interview but that fizzled out. Friend of mine hooked me up with an opportunity to supervise junior physios. That went through. I actually enjoyed myself going through notes, chatting to them, finding out what makes them click, recommending treatments and therapies, and then I get paid straight away for it. Awesome. 

Getting registration in S'pore is a cinch. Paperwork is going through and I can show that I am maintaining my practice of my normal day to day skills that puts money on the table. 

I signed up for beginner teacher's training. I think I passed it (still awaiting results since April.) Taught classes twice and got super excited about classes. Dancing is back on my mind. After the disappointment of 2011, my spirit crushed and wilted, I think I've found it again. I'm playing music in my head again, thinking how I would dance it, how I would do things differently and then realising that it is not worth it and I should allow myself to move to the beat naturally rather than plan it all out first.

It's been great. I'm starting to find that dancer's body sitting under a whole year of non-exercise. Slow and steady though. I've yet to start rockin' my previous 4 pack but let's hope that with regular activity, I can finally flaunt six. *wink*

At this stage, everyone probably thinks I'm just living the high life right now with everything going great around me. I wish I could agree to that statement but I can't quite say that just yet. There's still a few things that I'm hoping to fall into place before I agree that my life is awesome. My health and level of fitness is still a topic of contention and I'm still hoping that it will improve rather than stagnate and I'm left still in the same level of health that I was before. I'm still trying to find a source of excitement on a day to day basis but I dare say that I don't think I'm willing to go that far just yet. G is getting used on a daily basis and I'm practising and hoping that I'll be able to get some pretty good shots in so this blog isn't all about words all the time. 

So.

Yes.

This is the road I've taken. 

And like Rob's poem, I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence. Because when Goofy Girl sent me that message and I replied with a big, enthusiastic "YES!", when my friend hooked me up with that supervisory role and I leapt at the chance, I took that road less travelled by, and by the grace of God, that has made all the difference. 

I Made it thru’ the Rain – Barry Manilow

We dreamers have our ways
Of facing rainy days
And somehow we survive

It has been quite a few days since I posted here. Probably because I’m now hiding in my diary quite a bit. Is that a bad thing?

Previously, I used to think that it would be cool that my thoughts were privy to the people around me. Of course, not everyone around but enough people that I care about and with whom I would share my thoughts with. But it is starting to get a bit more difficult. Maybe it is an introvert thing. Too much sharing = too little privacy.

This was a compression t shirt that I picked out for a bit of motivation. A Reebok shirt with a Crossfit themed “No Excuses” etched into the sleeve, it made me want a tattoo all the more. Heh. But methinks that my 21 minute a day workout is starting to take effect, eh?

We keep the feelings warm
Protected from the storm
Until our time arrives

 
And in an insane moment of wanting to be fit, I made probably smartest fitness choice of my life – I bought a a pair of gymnastic rings. It also allows me to do my TRX exercises and revise them and heck, the stability required to use them is a pain in the proverbial.

Cleaning up my nutrition recently definitely helps – eating less rice and more protein and veges along with Noah’s arkload of water has had people asking me if I have lost weight. The above picture is what I eat on my cheat day. Yes. Cheat day. A day where my nutritional values go to hell and I am allowed to eat whatever the
!@$#$ I want. I obviously love  my cheat days.

Then one day the sun appears
And we come shining through those lonely years

The above bracelet reads: “Invictus: I am the Master of my Fate, I am the Captain of my Soul.”

I made it through the rain
I kept my world protected
I make it through the rain
I kept my point of view
I made it through the rain
And found myself respected
By the others who got rained on too and made it through

It was taken from a poem of the same name, Invictus, and serves as a daily reminder for me that no matter where I am in Life or what Life decides to throw at me and as much as the Big Guy up there keeps me safe and trouble free, I am ultimately in possession of what happens to my life right now. And hence, I need to make sure that I take the steps to make it happen. Coincidentally, the great Winston Churchill quoted this same exact line in a speech during WWII where the Brits were having their asses handed to them by Germany.

So in the spirit of taking matters in my own hands, I go through literal sweat oceans whenever I exercise. It is definitely a psychological effect, sweating what seems to be the equivalent of a 1.5 litre bottle of water, that I feel slimmer after all the lactic acid burn although there is no evidence showing that more sweat = more weight loss. Unfortunately. And I am aware that it’s not a reputable source so shut up.

For the heck of it and also for the fact that I insanely signed up for a marathon (as in 42.195km, mind you), I joined a “fun” 10km run and dragged the Girlfriend into it. After early morning workouts where we are both left half dead at the fitness corner, she was able to finish the run with a glorious time of 1:30 hours. Not bad for someone who’d never run more than a 5k in her life, eh?

And to prove we managed to actually do it, here’s the related photo with her and her finisher medal. (That flashy thing around her neck with the repeated 2XU branding on it. Me, I’m not wearing the finisher medal but I rarely end up that red without a lot of physical exertion. Trust me on this one.

 
Pardon the poor shot.

This is a picture taken on the same day as the run where, as a treat for both of us for doing such a good job in running that torturous 10k. There’s a secret video of the Girlfriend somewhere repeatedly and breathlessly stating, “No more run” as we came to the finish line. She is soooo cute.

So to celebrate this achievement, we went to watch Le Noir, former Cirque du Soleil performers who portray the “intimate, dark, naughty side of Cirque.” I like. +)

 
That’s the photo blogpost for the last time I didn’t blog until now. Keeping quite busy and there’s quite a lot of things to think about and consider.

*****

On a completely different note, I have paid for and am getting my certification as a Ceroc UK Beginner’s teacher. The course starts tomorrow and requires two whole days of training for me, plus another 3 days of training after work with an intense video examination which will be sent to the UK HQ for dissection before they decide that I am good enough to be one of them.

I had a training session with the girls yesterday who are also looking to become instructors. In a way, I pity them, as they had to learn to lead and also learn to narrate and teach whilst dancing the moves, etc. They’re doing all right, though, but it comes to a serious realization that I might need to “hold the fort” so to speak, for the most bit. Out of all of them, I turn out to be the one with the most dancing/teaching experience so I’m hoping I will be up to the task.

It keeps me interested and this is something that I have always wanted to do for a long time but I have never had the chance or had enough interest to go ahead and complete. 

They say that on your deathbed, you never regret the things you have done [That, I can say, is a lie. There are things I regret already.] but you regret the things that you have never done/had a chance to do. Living it up and beyond? Maybe? Who knows.

The Road Not Taken/On the Rocky Road to Fitness (see what I did there?)

This is not going to be a Robert Frost regurgitation post.

13/3/13

My feet hurt, I'm tired and I'm hungry.

Maybe fast days aren't particularly good for me. I get moderately cranky, and after waiting for 1 hour for taxis (and get turned by by 5 in the process [a slight improvement from 9 taxis from the other day]), I'm at the stage where I'm saying to myself, "Ugh. Stuff it. I'm going home."

I'm currently doing research at NUS with a final year student and I am getting to meet all different kinds of people. Students, mainly, quite a number who are non-Merlion City citizens and one question I always ask them is, "So, what is your major? Why did you choose X?"

Oh, it reminds me so much of what I once was. 

A few of them proudly proclaim their majors - Biophysics, Life Sciences, and then proceed to astound me with what they are studying. Research, DNA stretching to understand how protein folds so that once this is plain for the world to see, how they can unravel the DNA of the Human Immunodeficiency Virus. Wow. How do you explain having a part in curing one of the most infamous medical conditions in the known world today?

One student I talked to is a BioEngineering student whose final year research project entails growing ligament cells - tissue engineering - and they currently practise using pig ligaments as human trials have been unsuccessful so far. By manipulating bone marrow stem cells, they will one day be able to engineer ligament tissue that will change entire perspectives of ligament repair surgery! Imagine the implications of being able to use your own cells to grow tissue that fit YOU. 

And then you get the few who obviously entered University at the behest of parents or friends, thinking that it is the right thing to do, to go and get a degree. I talked to this girl by the name of Melanie. Cute, young thing, obviously her first time away from home and her first year in Merlion City. 

"How do you like it?" I asked.

Slightly raised shoulders. Hand lifted, palm parallel to the floor, fingers splayed, wiggled side to side in the expression of, "It's okay." But her eyes said it all.

"Stress right?"

"Yeah." It was not a sentence meant to agree with my query. It was a death sentence.

"What are you studying?" 

"Accounting."

"Oh, wow. That's a tough subject. What made you choose it?"

She hemmed and hawed but in so many words (Or lack of it), she could not express to me why she had chosen that major. Maybe it was a major that supposedly put food on the table. I have heard that a lot. I use it a lot myself. Maybe her friends were studying that so for companionship, she chose it. 

I wanted so bad to grab her by her shoulders and shake her. 

"Don't make the mistakes I did! I'm stuck in this company with no future and yet I stay because it offers me a hefty paycheck! Pursue your dreams, live your passions, find something that will make you open your eyes wide every morning without a need for coffee or stimulants! Don't be like me, dragging my feet to work everyday, looking for something more!"

But all I said was, "If you could pick something to study, what would it be?"

She thought for a moment and as she was called to the research room, I heard her say softly, under her breath, maybe not meant for my ears but hers alone, "Something else."

I hear ya, sister. I hear ya. 

*****

Anyone else aware of the fact that Google Reader is going under? I'm needing to relocate all my feeds somewhere else and especially for those people, (ahem, Sociologist, ahem) who track via Google Reader, you might find this useful reading.

*****

So I'm attempting to get myself into some semblance of shape this year (yes, I have procrastinated for far too long and let myself go worse than a pregnant lady. No offence to pregnant ladies everywhere, I know your cravings for durians and mojitos during non-durian season is totally understandable. Plus, alcohol is not good for baby you) and reading up (as I do) on ways to try and lose a few pounds (hopefully, more than just a few) as well as bulking as much as required. I'm taking protein shakes with packets that scream, "MUTANT MASS! - LEAVE HUMANITY BEHIND!" and all that jazz, waking up at ungodly hours to bust out exercise routines/regimes, drinking cups of green tea in order to boost metabolism and hopefully stimulate fat cell apoptosis enough so that I can look something like this.

(courtesy of Muscle & Fitness)

Friggin' scorpion.

Today, so far, I have ingested two cups of green tea, enough water to start the Flood that Noah was building the Ark for, and soon, I'll be chowing down on my "mutant dose" of a protein shake.

Good times, eh?

As per Tim Ferriss's recommendation about thermal loads and how we need to stimulate brown adipose tissue, I also have an ice pack sitting on the back of my neck. It is not exactly uncomfortable but my skin tends to sting after a bit.

On a positive note, my clothes have started dropping off me a little. And I've managed to maintain consistent workouts for a full 4 weeks! Oh my! 

To be introverted.

It doesn't take much to diagnose who or what I am. Not that much, anyway.

I'm quiet, reserved, appreciate my sense of humour and a small, intimate gathering of people.

I do not always appreciate large crowds, a lot of things happening at once, having to interact with people that I am not familiar with, getting it of said comfort zone, and necessarily learning something new.

Funnily enough, I enjoy being in the limelight, admired, praised, exalted (heh), and all that. But at the end of it all, leave me alone with my cup of coffee/tea/hot choccie. I do not feel the need to talk to you.

So when this popped up in an acquaintance's Google + update, I had to read it. And I heartily agree.

The Higher Authorities have always commented that I was very particular and fussy about my personal preferences. Yes, it's true, I do like things just so and Heaven help you if you decide to make me break my stride. I guess there isn't anything too major about me though.

I'm not the kind of person who craves heaps of attention or needs to be left alone just because. I can actually meet people for lunch or hang out for the sake of it. Apples and oranges, perhaps?

Anyway, from a tech update side of things, there's now a dedicated official Blogger app for those of you on Android. There's been mixed reviews about it although it seems like the majority of people like it so far. And this blogpost is written on phone so for those of you interested in blogging on the go, this might work out for ya.

Holidays are ending and I'm heading back to Merlion City in two days time. Was just getting comfortable in not working. Lol.

Tootles.

In the spirit of the festive season…

So good ‘ole Merlion City is getting dressed up for one of the most economically boosting holidays of the year. What else but Christmas?

The Girlfriend complains that it isn’t as nice as it was last year. Or the year before, in fact. This year’s theme seems to be of the red variety whereas in previous years, it was more purple or blue. I don’t really mind. Colour blind people tend not to care too much. Heh.

  I tend to view myself as more of a Scrooge, bellowing “Bah, humbug!” at the idea of Christmas. It’s another day, after all, for me. I wonder if I’m losing the magic. Or whether there never was any magic for me in the first place.

As much as direct-to-TV movies, shopping propaganda, and general feel-good vibes in the atmosphere would lead most of us to believe, Christmas for me has never been anything more than another day. Sure, we’ll head to church, sing some carols, shake hands with people we don’t really know, and leave. Presents were never really a thing for us at home and I never grew up expecting presents at Christmas. Heck, I didn’t even get an allowance until I took a student loan for university! And when I started working, I never limited Christmas to the only day that I get myself something to enjoy. +P

  Walked out of work one day and came across this sloppy mess of sparkly lights that is apparently, supposed to wish us a Merry Christmas. Good heavens, look at that. It’s like management vomited on the shrubs.

St Nick wishin’ me a happy Christmas at lunch. Thought this was a nice touch to the holiday season.

*****

Every week, I get constant updates regarding new job opportunities in town. And I find myself deleting them one after another, not even bothering to read up and see what’s out there for me anymore. I wonder what this says about my working status here.

Aaaannnnyyyway, I’ve used up all the pictures I wanted for this post. 

Tootles.

Untamed Poetry.

It's been a while since I wrote some lines. I thought I might start. 

Blue? Or White?
Glow from the computer screen
I can never tell
Colour blindness keeps me hidden
From the secrets of the world
That I view through this window
To the rest of the knowledge of infinity

My keyboard is dark
I cannot see for the light
Is too bright
Inside my eyelids
I struggle to speak
For my fingers are blind

The light fades outside my window
As afternoon turns to dusk
The fading sun says good night
As the rising moon howls its hello

Silence is golden
Heavy with chains
Dripping with the words not spoken
And we all sit there with our mouths shut
For fear of tempting the devil
But the things we do not speak
Hangs in the air
On those golden chains

Flippity flap, goes those lips
Membranes thrum on the wings of a dragonfly
The beat of a drum echoes my heart
As it kicks a constant staccato against my breastbone

And the wild wind rushes in the evening
And the children rush to play on the bars, "One more minute, Mum!"
And I step out over the precipice of oblivion

@ Poet ~ 2012

Mid-Autumn Festival

So today's Mid-Autumn Festival.

Candles, tea candles, lanterns, floating lanterns, and sparkles adorned the park and the night sky behind my flat.

It's a different feel from the usual loud and noisy Chinese traditional celebrations where there's plenty of instrumental music and loud voices and laughter. This is the subdued version. Very subdued, I must say.

A lot of Chinese traditions are just an excuse for gathering together and having lots of food. This one is no exceptions. I went out to town with the Girlfriend for dinner and it was quiet. Merlion City? Quiet, you gotta be kidding me. But it was. And it was nice to have a quiet dinner without having to fight tons of people just to get food.

For some reason, this celebration provoked a sense of nostalgia and a sense of a need for contemplation and reflection. The celebration itself of the Mid-Autumn Festival can either be viewed as a "Valentine's Day" of sorts or for those with a more patriotic sense of the holiday, can view it as a revolution.

This was one of the few floating lanterns that I managed to catch tonight as it floated up into the sky. The fact that the moon was in the background was a bonus.

The night air was slightly hazy with all the different small fires that were burning. A creative bunch of teenagers had lit at least 50 candles around one of the outdoor benches. Strangely, when I asked permission to take a picture, they all pretty much got out of the way of the lenses. I was trying to make it more of a candid shot but now, it looks like it was abandoned instead. Oh well.

Walking back to my flat, I thought it was quite a nice shot to take the reflection of the light in the water of the condo next to my place.

This picture actually turned out a bit better than I thought it would. You can kinda look at it as one of pictures of bridges that symbolises a journey or something philosophical. I'm not quite exactly in that mood so I'll let y'all deal with the deep thought aspect of things. Heh.

And hopefully, within the next two weeks or so, I'd have the ability to have a better camera with me. A superzoom, to be precise. But let's see what happens.

On that note, 4 more working days and I'm off for a week holiday + attendance to the sister's bar admission in good ole' Aotearoa! Absolutely can't wait!