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...

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

To-do-lisT

I wondered how I wandered into this trap.

You know, that trap.

That trap.

The trap that there is so many things to do, so many things to tick off and sign and finish doing that it feels like the list never ends.

Was talking to GrannyGoose and Blondie and Blondie was going on about how us Asians would always plonk ourselves down at our computers and then start typing frantically until the day is done and that we would never stop doing anything until we clock out. In a sense, that's true. I think that's our workaholic side coming through. After all, in a business, there's always things to be done.

Sure, sure, we have to stop and smell the roses but that's for after work, isn't it?

I thought back to when I was working in a rest home and I would be working for 1 hour and then having a tea break and then another 2 hours and there would be a lunch break waiting for me and then after that, half an hour of work and there would be another afternoon tea break and then I'm done for the day. Flip, I spend half my time eating rather than doing anything else! Was chilled out, though, I must say. Spent half the time doing nothing rather than something.

I guess for Blondie to think that we Asians are stressed out people kinda makes sense. We do have quite shocking suicide rates here in good ole' Merlion City. Money's the thing to be worshipped here and you have to work and work and work to get it. There's no other way, no two ways about it. And children and even us young adults are scared into the alternate lives that we might possibly live if we fail to make the cut/get the grade/score that promotion/work up the ladder/earn that pay rise. I mean, heck, even the Internet knows all about the 5 C's of Singapore. Not exactly something to be proud of, really.

But I find myself tired and not just a little bit disgruntled. I'm blurred out of my mind and I'm not even sure that makes sense.

In other news, my Facebook account is back. Welcome back after a year of absence, Poet. Welcome back, indeed.

Lucky

I always tell people I'm lucky.

I tell them, "I'm born under a lucky star" or that "When I was born, the stars aligned in the sky and then I'm just been showered upon with luck ever since." For the religious types, I use the oft quoted phrase, "I'm blessed."

But I guess, indeed, I am. 

Yeah, sure I'm a bit disgruntled with where I am in life. I'm still looking for more options out there regarding my career, my lifestyle, where I want to be. I have my sights set on high lofty goals which I am too chicken to do anything about so that's probably why I still have something to blog about. 

But I'm getting to that stage of my life where the damn cursed wanderlust is kicking in again. And perhaps its more than just that, you know? 

Last night, whilst chilling with the Girlfriend during dinner, I found myself in the mood to not do much at all with my current situation. Preferably, I would have liked to have submitted my resignation letter to my current employer and call it a day. However, my common sense of self-preservation decides to deny me that small self satisfactory action by reminding me that there still needs to be a roof over my head and food on my table. A starving tiger cannot be a plump tiger, right?

But you know how sometimes, there must be something more to the current life that you're living in? I 

I really cannot say that I am unsatisfied. 

I'm living in an awesome room, the Girlfriend is a dream come true (save the little squabbles about my levels of hygiene), I have a job that pays me double of what I would usually get working in a normal company/hospital with my level of experience. 

I guess I have to count my blessings more often. 

But you know, I do not think it is as simple as a matter of waking up and thanking the Almighty for the wonderful things. Call me ungrateful, because that is what I probably am. Ingrate. Meh.

Day's coming to an end though. But I'm finding myself being pushed towards the more teeter-y side of the chessboard.

Tootles.

Yep. Here we are.

I think now I remember why I don't celebrate my birthday.

It's always been too much of a hassle for me.

When I was young, back in the day, I used to enjoy having birthday parties and try to figure out what my friends would get me for my presents.

But then, as I grew up, I started having less and less parties. When my parents asked me what I wanted, I would usually just ask them to cook a favourite dish or two for dinner, and that would be it.

When I moved out on my own and I was flatting with other people, again, I would decline big celebrations and just accept "thanks" and prepared morning tea for the staff that I was working with. Nothing major, mind you. I would then go home, pig out on junk food and play computer games.

Quiet celebrations usually worked well for me. Especially with ones where I end up having existential crises and wondering when Life passed me by.

Today's birthday celebrations went okay, I think. Dinner with colleagues, along with a celebratory cake. Leave from work for a week.

But little things crop up, as per usual, and like flies, it made things not as good.

Made me remember why I've always made my birthday celebration a solitary one.

Next year, remind me that I should disappear for a day and reappear the next day, safe, sound, and sane.

Happy 26th Birthday, me. You ole' ugly piece of work.