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. 

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...

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.

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.

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.