End of the Affair. - Copyright @ Poet 2013

It's been ages since I wrote stories. It's been so long since I have flexed my creative muscle and hence, I'm deciding to write a story based on a random set of words given to me. I'm totally looking forward to this. 

Cigarette smoke curled upwards towards the ceiling of the taxi. No one said a word. She inhaled in heavily and sighed, her breath scattering the ashes that she carelessly tapped onto the dashboard.

"You do know that you're going to have to pay for the burn marks, right?"

"Yeah. Whatever." She took another drag on the cigarette and then wound down the window a tad before flicking the smouldering remains into the storm outside. The rain lashed unrelentingly against the perspex, its staccato beats like popcorn popping on a stove.

"You don't have to do this."

"I have to." She hesitated. "I must."

She leaned her head against the coolness of the window, wishing it was so easy to just step out. Get soaked in the rain. Knock on the door and give the letter to the maid who she was sure will open it. And then disappear.

"What would you do?" she asked.

"Who, me?" The man turned to look at her, jaws chewing energetically on a puck of tobacco which he spat into an empty beer can with gusto. "I wouldn't even bother with that sort of shit."

"But would you just leave like that? Without saying a word?"

"Look, lady," he grunted, working the puck a little longer and enjoying the taste. "If I was looking to leave my husband, I would just go. If he sounded as bad as you said he was, turning up at his front door with a letter explaining it all might get you a bullet in your brain. I'd rather save him the hassle and the mess by just disappearing."

A pause. "He is my husband, after all."

"Yup. He also beats you when he's drunk and it looks like you're hiding more than just your hair under that shawl you're wearing."

She flinched at those words, as bad as the bruises behind her ear when her husband had choked her and smashed her head against the wall in one of his alcohol-fueled rages.

"What about loyalty?"

"What about it?"

She chuckled quietly to herself. "You know, when we first got married, I promised to be with him, through thick and thin, for rich or for poor. And now, I'm getting ready to break that vow. I've cheated on him with a man who's nothing like him and you know what? It feels good. Samuel loves me. He takes care of me." A sigh escaped her lips.

"I need another cigarette. Damn, I'm out."

The man tossed his pack into her lap and with practised ease, she tapped one out, flipped it between her lips and lit it with a lighter.

"Lady, I've never been married so I wouldn't know. Call me a romantic, but I don't see nothing wrong about leaving a man who thinks he's married a punching bag."

"It never was like that, initially. Daryl was sweet and kind, the kind of boy that all the girls wanted. But then work was tough and he started drinking to take the stress off and sometimes, he would come home and dinner wasn't ready..." Her voice trailed off as it cracked a little. She dabbed at her eyes quickly.

His tone was gentle. "We all make mistakes. And it's okay. What's important is that you do something about it. And don't do it again. Obviously."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and shiny with tears. "There's some mistakes that can't be taken back, though." Her hand rested on her stomach and she smiled a sad smile.

His eyes widened. "Oh."

They sat in silence again. She, inhaling deeply from her cigarette and him, sitting in the driver's seat, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. He scratched the back of his neck. "So, uh...how many months along are you?"

"3."

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"Who's the father?"

"I don't know."

"Ah."

She took out the letter from her jacket pocket, envelope crumpled and a little torn. She unfolded the letter and read through it, lips moving silently as she mouthed the words.

"Did you mention that you're pregnant?"

"No. It would be better if he didn't know."

She made to crumple it up and he put his hand over hers. "Tell you what. Leave it in the mailbox. If it helps you sleep at night, do that. And then I'll drive you wherever you wanna go."

She smiled at him; this big, rough man in corduroy pants and a thick fur jacket.

"Okay."

The door opened quickly and she stuffed the letter in the letterbox slot before rushing back again. Her shawl had been blown asunder by the wind and her red curls were scattered across her shoulders, damp with rain. She slammed the door shut and blew into her cold hands.

He started the engine and warm air from the conditioning ducts poured out into the car, mingling with the scent of stale tobacco.

"What's the plan, Miss?"

"Well, I'll probably go to my friend's place. She lives in a small town a few hours from here."

"Oh? Is that so? Well, I'm from there myself so I'll just drive you there, eh?"

"But...I probably don't have the money to pay you, sir..."

"Ah, no worries about that. I'll need to drop by and see my old man, anyway."

As the taxi drove off into the distance, car lights blinking through the night, the letter, half stuffed in the slot, slipped out and landed on the wet grass, ink smudging slowly with the raindrops.

Crossroads.

I stand in the middle of one of those crossroads, a decision to make in life as to what is going to happen next, as to what is going to me, as to make the choice about where I want to go.

And I'm lost.

I'm so lost it's not funny anymore. There's been moments of tears and frustration, moments of hate and anger, moments of feeling lost in a world that's way too big for me to handle. I would like to cuddle up and disappear but that's not the way to do things. Oh, no way.

And I don't know where to go. Where to turn. I keep marching on ahead, to a requiem's deathly music, and I'm lost. I'm not sure if I'm going to get out alive. Or at all.

*****

I've been reading good blogs lately. 

You know how sometimes, you read blogs that make you wish that you could write like that? You wish you could get into that person's head and just spill all the wonders of the universe out onto a page or onto a browser window and you wished that everytime your fingers touched keys, your words were heaven-sent/inspired. If only.

Instead, you get stuck with the crumbs that fall out when you decide to finally clean your toaster after a year. And the bonus is where you find a fried lizard as well. Imagine that with your morning sunny side ups. 

*****

I've been having a rough time with the dance crowd. 

It didn't start off that way. But a harsh word, a possibly misconstrued sentence, and that was it. Done. I've kept my silence for about a week now, not wanting to say anything or do anything necessary for the group. I've got my friends and people there that I still miss and I'd love to go back there a bit more often but to actually claim that I am a dedicated crew member? Unfortunately...no. It's harsh when you end up throwing in the financial gauntlet in a stupid argument but honestly, my time is worth a lot more than that. 

I possibly take things too seriously, especially when it comes down to dancing. Have me on your side and I'll slave for you. Literally. My time, my worth, my all, danced out on the dance floor. Whenever I seriously dance (no rolling eyeballs, no half-assed dancing), there's no holds barred. It's a full on chain of emotions that I end up, gasping for breath, my dance partner pressed to my chest, we're both giddy from multiple spins, and it's all I can do from collapsing whilst ending with a seducer. A dance like that deserves respect and knowing how rarely a good dance happens for me, when I experience it, I pay homage. It's possibly happened twice this year out of the 8 months that I've been dancing here in Merlion City but to be honest, I miss a good dance. 

I really do. 

I've had amazing dances with the Sociologist. The Redhead. The DanceEngineer. The AspiringPerfumer.  All these dancers have pushed me beyond my limits and made me so much better than what I used to be. And with all these people, I have had those moments where if I had an unknown brain aneurysm and it was to have burst at that very second, I would have died happy because I had gotten the dance I wanted. For that few minutes, I lived life the way I wanted it to be lived.

I finally lived life the way I wanted it to be lived.

*****

Life just keep dragging on. And I keep feeling like I'm left on the brink. 

*****

It's been such a long time
And I really do miss your smile

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. 

Plunge.

It started with one of those instant message doodads. She couldn't remember the name.

But it popped up, innocently enough, chiming on the computer. She took a quick glance. And her heart stopped cold.

That cheating, lying bastard!

This thought remained in her brain as she drove the chef's knife into her boyfriend's back.

It did help that he was asleep, of course. A moving target would have been a lot harder to pin down. Literally.

It would have been, should have been, pretty simple. That's it. She aimed for his heart and lungs. They couldn't say that she was heartless. She wanted to spare him a long, drawn out death. Guessed she still loved him, after all.

But as the tip of the knife didn't slide in between ribs like a hot knife through butter, but instead glanced off a rib, the present emotion of a calm, calculated plunging arc of death evolved into a frenzied, repeated thrusting.

At one point during her furious murder of her boyfriend, he had somehow managed to turn in the now swamp of a bed that they shared and the knife, slick with blood, sweat, and tears, now slipped, like a contact lens onto a naked eyeball, gently upwards to pierce his heart.

He gurgled - and blood cascaded from his soaked lips. He smiled sadly, accepting his fate/destiny/guilt as his eyes closed and he sighed a breath of relief.

At least you're mine, she smiled. No one can have you but me.

And she curled up on his chest, breathed in the coppery scent of his life, and went to sleep.

Self-loathing.

I'm in a self loathing mood again.

I don't really know why I get into these moods. I like to blame it on introversion. It's kinda cheating and saying that I am depressed because my inherent nature makes it so but I think it has a huge part to play in this kind of see-sawing mood that I get myself into.

It happens after every single dance night. Every single dance party. I have a good time somewhere and then I come home, unknowingly mad at myself that I had a good time. Am I restricting myself from having a good time? Is it a bad thing that I want to have a good time but yet, I'm inwardly sabotaging myself? And why on earth would I voluntarily do that to myself? Set myself up for failure?

I dance and dance and have an amazing time and then I hate myself for it.

Time and again, I wonder whether it's worth pursuing this. Maybe they are better off without me. Maybe they would be doing better if I wasn't in the picture.

I wonder, sometimes, about my self-arrogance. I tell myself all the time that I'm an integral part of a team, that I'm part of something bigger than myself. And that's something I tell myself everyday. I wonder if what I really am afraid of is the fact that the words I tell myself on a daily basis is actually a lie. A big fat comforting lie. I want to hear that I am wanted. Needed. Validated. And yet, at the end of the day, I'm cringing because deep down inside, there's a part of me that believes that I'm lying to myself and that it isn't true.

What part of lying do I not understand? Funny, 'cos I lie all the time.

It's too late for thoughts like these. It's too late to want to think about things like these.

It's all or nothing, I tell myself. I keep telling myself that I'm this kind of guy. I am either all in or I am so far out of your universe. I don't play in halves. I'm either in or out and that's that.

But I know that if I pull away, I'm gonna miss it. And yet, if I continue to stay in the game, there'll be repeated moping posts on the blog. What the hell right?

Sigh. Never mind...

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. 

So what am I up to recently?

The quiet once again beckons.

I'm sitting in a completely dark room. The modem glows its customary yellow and blue lights to indicate that somewhere out there, fields of data is being transmitted as if by magic into my computer and these words that I'm typing are being transmitted out. My MacBook Air keyboard glows, making my job of hunting keys a little easier. Scary, huh? No wonder why our ancestors probably thought any new inventions were the works of the Devil.

[That said, I've got my eye on Chromebooks but the only one offering backlit keys is the Chromebook Pixel and it's OMG, SO EXPENSIVE!]

Sooo. Pretty. Courtesy of regmedia.co.uk

I'm making it more of an aim now to do at least one consistent blog post a week and making sure that I'm not just typing rubbish/gibberish to fill up the space.

I'm also typing in a webapp called Writer (really cool app on the Chrome Web Store, by the way, but focuses on minimalism so using pics or videos and YouTube links isn't exactly possible) so there may be only words and nothing more to entertain you. I'm sure you understand, yes?

Nothing much has been happening as of late here in Merlion City. The Company is apparently, pretty impressed that I was able to lecture to the public regarding knee osteoarthritis (they somehow managed to miss the part where I wrote state representative - public speaker in the 'ole CV) and they're gonna sit down and discuss my "future" in the Company. Scary and yet, I can't really give a damn.

Dance, as usual, is awesome and I'm still loving every second of it. I only wished that it would grow at an exponential rate and really kick things off here in Merlion City.

I'm also joining the Commando Challenge, which is an obstacle race in December set by 2 ex British SAS officers - should be fun. That said, I need to get my fitness levels up to speed and nothing more exciting than a possible chance of death by mud pit, I guess? The Brother and I are doing a Burpee Challenge where we start off with Day 1 and the 1st burpee and increase it by a burpee per day. So Day 10, 10 burpees. Day 65, 65 burpees. Good heavens, that will be fun when it gets to that point. Also told the brother that videos would need to be taken in the event that one of us starts becoming less accountable than usual.

The Girlfriend is home from a weeklong holiday and I'm excited that I get to hug her to sleep tonight.

Oh wells, that's it then. Time for cuddles.

Tootles.

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.

Blessings.

I sometimes think of what I'm writing here on this blog and I wonder whether I'm writing for the sake of filling some pages or am I writing this as an outlet - an unleashing of my thoughts and my unspoken words.

I had a chat to the Higher Authorities yesterday and I must admit that it was one of those talks that kept me very happy and enthusiastic about my life here so far.

Personally, I have always wondered whether, if I had pursued a different path, whether or not I would have gotten more "blessings" on it.

Now, that's actually a really Christian thing to say so for some people who are a bit lost about what I'm talking about, let's do a bit of an explanation. It may be a bit simple and probably it's just me who thinks this but hey, to get a better overall picture regarding this blog post, see if this works.

For those non-Christian readers, in Christianity, one really big thing for us if we embark to do something or go somewhere is to get divine approval, hence "blessings." It could be a "go to church and pray that God smiles upon this mission/act/whatever" and that "circumstances will lead you to God's favour."

Now, I'm also of Asian descent and I think it's really important to have the blessings/favour from the parents as well to say that they agree with my decision and that I am going ahead with their well wishes. For Caucasians or people who are probably a bit less traditionally minded and more liberal in their thinking, you may be thinking, "WHATEVER FOR?" Well, here's a new way of doing things so here's a good chance to take some notes.

It could be a luck thing, I guess. Some people have suggested that these well wishes/blessings/favour upon this may be a kind of a chance thing that whatever I am doing will go more smoothly or successfully just because I've got this additional "+10" blessing thing going on. Reminds me of those RPG games where you can change your luck by casting a particular magic spell or get healed by the healer/priest/magic caster unit.

I think it's important, anyway.

This reminds me of a scene out of the old classic, "Fiddler on the Roof" where Perchik asks for Hodel's hand in marriage and he says, "I'm not asking for permission. I'm only asking for your blessing."

I digress.

When I first planned to come to Merlion City in the hopes of a better paying job and a different life outside of WangaVegas, I never really had any particular prior approval on this world-gallivanting adventure. Talking to the Higher Authorities, they were always very skeptical of me moving out of Aotearoa and they wanted me to stay in NZ and do the whole hospital job thing and/or possibly move down to Dunners to be with the family. Any potential talk of Merlion City was "forbidden" and I would be asked to discuss my options within Aotearoa at that point in time.

When the time came, I felt as though I left with a bad taste in my mouth and the ensuing "dissatisfaction" of the folks. They would occasionally talk about how I could leave the country when they just migrated over and how it would be nice to have the family together, la dee da, the usual.

But I was ready for a change. And I wanted something different. I didn't want  to stay in Wangas. I felt that I was rotting away day by day. And as much as I had cuban salsa and I had my room and my comfort zone, I had enough.

So I moved.

It's been a crazy six months.

I spoke to GoofyGirl six months ago. She remembered me from the first time we danced together in 2011 when I first went to the dance workshop with the Ceroc teachers. She asked if I wanted to get involved with the setup of ceroc in Merlion City. We would need to take part in teacher training and then after that, we would be getting it up and running. Scary thoughts.

I discussed with the Higher Authorities regarding this. I was keen but cautious. After all, we're all young and technically, I'd never set up a business before and wanted to just dampen my toes before I jumped in the pool.

And unsurprisingly, there wasn't too much support with the whole dancing career thing either.

Putting down slightly more than a grand and a half was my sign of commitment that I was serious about this. No, I didn't want GoofyGirl to pay for it. The Higher Authorities played the Devil's Advocate. I was upset and frustrated.

And then, at the end of the day, I thought to myself, "Stuff it."

Dancing and teaching dance has always been a hidden passion. I danced, sure, people knew that, but to tell them that I aspire to dance and teach dancing every single day, every single moment? That took guts and a bit more than just lip service.

I transferred the money and told myself that I am going to make the most out of this experience.

And I did. And heck, it's been one hell of a ride.

I've had so much fun since ceroc started up in Merlion City. It's crazy. Tuesdays cut the week in half and I'm waking up on Wednesday morning itching for another session. Too bad there isn't one available. We're having ceroc socials and events and pub crawls and workshops and I've been asked to do my 2nd private lesson along with another lady who wants to improve her technique. How can I NOT enjoy what I'm doing?

Chatting with GoofyGirl recently at a dance party that we were out at recently, she mentioned to me that if ceroc ever made it big and rich in Merlion City and I wanted to quit my job, she would hire me as Dance Director on the spot.

[On that note, though, I did tell the Higher Authorities that I appreciated the fact that they played the Devil's Advocate and that they stopped me back in the day from going out on a limb and starting a dance business stat. I'm no organizer and my work is shoddy. That said, I love dancing and teaching. So GoofyGirl and I are a pretty good team, if I do say so myself.]

I've told the Higher Authorities about the excitement that's coming up out of this and the one thing that they told me, that shook me to my very core, was "Maybe I should take out some money and give it to you to invest in this business."

For me, that was my "blessing." And after a long, soul searching talk with the Sociologist last night, I realised that it's not about luck. Or approval. It's not about getting an unfair advantage over the competition.

It's about knowing you're on my side. Knowing that you've got my back on this. And I guess, that's all I ever wanted.

Man flu down.

So the last few days was fun.

Loungin' around

I spent the majority of my time in my room coping with a b|tch of a flu/fever/cough combo and I visited the doctor 3 times in 5 days. Never have I ever been so keen to see that man.

He initially saw me and in 30 seconds diagnosed me with possible influenza. If my fever did not subside within 3 days, I will potentially have to go back for blood tests, lung scans, and a hospital admission for pneumonia. Woah.

As a health professional, yeah, I know, the common influenza viral strain kills hundreds of thousands every year, but for someone living in an area that has been exposed to all different animal variations of flu as well as SARS, to even whisper the word "influenza" is a flirtation with death itself. Naturally, I was a tad worried. 

Prayers from around the globe flooded in. I baked myself for the first two days, letting myself get incredibly dehydrated which is the worst rookie mistake you can do when you're down with the flu. Get that water in, stat. I just didn't feel like it and plus, I liked the sensation of being cooked slowly under my duvet covers. It's like a sous-vide, just a bit cooler, that's all. 

So I started early (as I am prone to do) on Friday, suffered the worst of it Saturday and Sunday, and recuperated to some sense of humanity on Monday and Tuesday. As of this moment, I feel somewhat reluctantly ready to return to work and be productive. Also, I have at least over a hundie dollars in medical compensation claims to make. I am making them work to have me there. I swear it. 

Talk 'bout taking your health for granted. I thought my garlic pills, 4 litres of water per day and a diet attempting to be less in carbs was helping. Guess I was wrong. 

Well, I'm back to the grind tomorrow. See ya all out there. And watch out for stray flu viruses, ya hear?

Flu-ish

You know how sometimes, you get the kind of flu that you battle for weeks on end? It always starts as an itchy throat and it rears its head some mornings. A bit of a sore throat, blocked nose, that kinda thing? A little hard to breathe initially and then by some miracle, it goes away completely and doesn't bother you.

So what does a normal human being do? Ignore it.

Annnnnddddd....now I've got it. 

Dammit, a month plus of not falling sick and then I finally succumb. Probably thanks to my awesome garlic pills and daily supplements. That said and done, I'm not taking enough veges which is probably causing part of the problem. 

I went to Bintan over the weekend with the gang and the Girlfriend for a quick getaway and just to get out of S'pore. It's amazing what just being an hour away from Merlion City does to ya.

Chill.

The sand wasn't honestly that great. It was cloudy for the best part of the holiday and the sun decided to peek out of the cloud cover 30 minutes into the entire day but meh. Who cared?

Lonely house

Being surrounded by sea and friends, with a fairly cool breeze blowing, we sat on the grass, ate junk food, suntanned, and played cards for a good 2 hours. By the end of it, we felt as though half the day had gone by when only 2 hours had eclipsed. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as the saying goes. 

Beeeerrrr...

I kept fairly sober although the others were ordering rounds pretty much during every single meal. It's a pretty light beer (local brand) and pretty easy to drink. I kept my head as I didn't want to wake up with no recollection of the holiday. 

Obligatory floral picture that everyone takes with a camera

It was a good breath of fresh air. I felt a bit sad having to come back to Merlion City after that. I had plenty of rest, good massages, and a long day of doing nothing but eat, drink, play cards, chit chat, and stare out at the ocean. It was a good break though. I felt ready to return to work.

One of those funky ginger concoctions they give you post massages. I liked the way it burned down my throat.

Bintan reminds me very much of my grandfather's village in Malaysia. The roads are not very well paved, motorcycles are the norm, the sand on the beach is a pretty murky colour, kids running around, and houses made of wood. We stayed in a swanky (by comparison) concrete block with air conditioning. Oh, we're soooo spoilt.

* * * * *

I once asked the Girlfriend what would happen if I uprooted our lives, moved to the country somewhere in the UK and became a farmer. Yeah, I know right. Me. Farmer. I detest animals for a living. Literally. Imagine me having my own bloody cow and chickens and planting veges in the backyard. Must be my introvert me rebelling big time for some stupid reason. 

* * * * *

Stairs

The Higher Authorities, when they call me from time to time, ask about stuff that's been happening in my life that's new. I can hear it in their voices that they're wanting me to go home. As in Aotearoa home. They're wanting to hear that I'm heading back, luggage and boxes in tow, that I'm going home. And I don't know how to tell them that as much as it would be nice for me to head back and see them, I really don't think that Dunners or Wangas or wherever is the right choice for me right now.

Call it a gut feeling, I guess.

I once wrote in an old blog post that I hated the fact that I danced. Because for me, it would be a solid pillar in my life that I would protect to the ends of the earth. But it's good so far. 

And scarily enough, it's the only thing holding me back from moving. If Ceroc Singapore ever ceases to be, I'm out of here faster than lightning, luggage and boxes in tow, Girlfriend in hand.

Blurred.

There's a whole world out there. It's right there, just beyond my reach. And my indecisive self questions whether I'm making the right choice by staying here.

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.

Don't look back.

I caved in again today. I let the negativity get the better of me and I left part of my soul on Facebook again. I wonder whether it is due to the whole mob psychology thing that I did it. You know, let everyone know how you feel. Look for that sympathy. Look for the number notifications that someone liked your status or that someone commented.

What IS the point then?

Do you see the fire die in my eyes today? As you were talking to me, did you notice that I really could not give a damn anymore? Could you see that as I got to work everyday, I did only what I needed to do and nothing more than that? I don't ask for much, I don't ask for more. Should I actually ask for more? I don't think so. Sometimes, it's easier NOT to commit when you know that there is no reason to.

I've had various people talk to me on this issue and I don't exactly feel like I get anywhere. The same topic keeps revolving the exact same way and I don't get anywhere apart from ending up in the same frustrated state that I usually start off with.

But did you see? Yes, I am talking to you. Did you see? Did you see how a part of me died when you were talking? Did you see how when you tried to make me see your point, I pretty much threw up in my mouth a little bit? You're happy, I can see that. It probably doesn't take you much to be happy. And you're being nice, I understand. You tell me to ask for your assistance when I need a hand. But I don't want your assistance. I want to be left alone. I don't want to have to bother to be nice and understanding and nodding my head trying to make you understand that I care about your pain and that I want to fulfil your WIIFM.

I sometimes wonder why I chose to enter into this particular field of healthcare. Maybe being a doctor would have suited me better. That said, I probably would have had to spend a lot more time trying to study and make it seem as though I care about patients (again?!?!) But I guess it would save the whole "Oh, I wished you studied a little harder, Poet" discussion.

Give me 10 years. 10 years of my life back. Sometimes, I feel that I have wasted 10 years of my life. It would have been a different me that stepped out at the age of 27.

Now, I've got to try and make amends so that I'm not quoting this line again when I am 10 years older.

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.