The parts of ourselves we keep hidden from others

I was just thinking and having an introspective moment. There's a simple beauty of having someone to ask you about your day... and also asking someone 'how's your day'... I can talk nonsense to a lot of people but sometimes I share like I don't give a damn. I can text more coherently than speak, so sometimes strangers who stumbled upon my words know me more than the ones that I see frequently.

And there's no one person that we can share whole-heartedly to. Like, everything, every little thing. I have no explanation for that. Maybe we wanted the so-called 'soulmate' to see us in a better light. So we keep the maybe-bitchy thoughts to ourselves. The scandalous behavior we only share to a select few, just to keep our consciences clear. The things we have observed and always wanted to point out; but being a 'mature adult', we stay silent... or perhaps respond later. Some people don't know how to respond later. Respond later, lah... I always needed someone to tell me how good it is, because sometimes, I've forgotten to appreciate the (free) things in life. Why did we become like this?

There has been someone on my mind, someone I think about everyday for some time now.
I didn't want to be the pining damsel in distress, so I tried my best to forget him. Afterall, by certain actions it proves he does not have as much of me in his mind as I have of him. That sucks, yes, but it also means I have accepted the reality (and not living in a delusion, though I wonder which is preferable, at times...) But I am forgetful (and thus the urge to want to document everything)... and too soon, I have forgotten to think about him daily. It took someone else to come here to make me forget, and maybe I am using the person like a pet puppy, and maybe I feel terribly guilty about such, but the simple beauty of it, is that we just needed someone in our lives to ask, how was your day. That's all. Like a huge puppy that keeps smiling at you and then tugging and pushing at you till you hurt or fall over, but the large braun eyes make sure you will not be able to find it in your heart to be angry at this thing. That's all. And then we will go on our own ways in the world, happily, forgetfully.

However. Sometimes someone still comes floating on a cloud like a bad dream, almost in front of my face. And then I get bad tempered for no reason. I start to jerk in my wakefulness. My eyes take on a sad look that says, make up your mind once and for all. Didn't you say, albeit cheesily, to him, that you wanted to find 'someone like you'? Until one day finally, you start filing the virtual silence with some upset words, perhaps, just to fill the silence, perhaps, just to see a reaction. He messaged back. I don't know what to say to make you feel better. I don't know what to say to that message.

One day, I will write a story about you.
I wish nothing but the best for you, too.

Sunset remembered yesterday

I was having a BAD DAY yesterday. In the recent spate of bad days, I was getting used to the feeling of just wanting to hide under the covers and not talk nor eat and mindlessly scroll through twitter and fb updates. It isn't so bad really, I have been on some small adventures, done things I'd never imagined I would, became quite fit actually, despite living on pratas and coffee... and increasingly being addicted to a guy with a super smiley-face who makes me laugh to no end.

But then I remembered a sunset I saw 2 weeks ago, the sunset on my birthday. I had organized a gathering of some old classmates, something in the past I would never have thought to do. I thought it was quite meaningful, and indeed, I was happy to see some I had not seen for more than 10 years. It spawned another outing the next week for other classmates who had wanted to meet but could not make it, so I was really happy I did this. Then, I went to changi coastal walk. I had only been there once in twilight and wanted to see how it looks like in the daylight.

With the smiley-faced friend I went, and at that point of time, the sun was setting, and I was blown away at how a sunset in Singapore could be so magical. There were brown rocks all around us, with small boats and yachts slowly bobbing nearby, the pathway had lovely wooden dividers chained together, and the sun shone through the clouds, streaming through a golden glow, with streaks of gold on the water, and the silhouette of coconut trees framing the entire scene. It was so perfect, such a perfect moment. I had almost forgotten about it (Took photos, but the film's expired, so I hope it turns out well), until yesterday. It was one of my deepest wishes to see a beautiful sunset, something a bit romantic, something uplifting. And it was so perfect I could not believe it.

on hiatus, still

Lately, I have been going on some small adventures.

For the first time as an adult in Singapore, last week, I took out Mom's bicycle for a ride around my nice, frenchified neighborhood (the only cyclists ARE French.)
I hit a wall, got some bits of it into my elbow, and bruised my leg. But just feeling the breeze on my neck... and the taste of a little adventure makes me smile inside.

Last Saturday, I organized an event for the first time. It was just a Saturday brunch and I wanted it to be a small cosy outing. I met a girl the previous Saturday and we both arranged to meet at an aussie brunch place where they had vegemite, poached eggs, pancakes and not to mention a stunning view of the city! We ended up going to an obscure art exhibition which was really good, and then having coffee and just connecting for those hours. One of the girls there had a red notebook exactly like my journal, my journal that accompanied me when the going gets rough. I told her I had one exactly like hers and she said a story about it, that it wasn't the brand I was using, but it was made by a couple and she used it as a sketchbook.

Curious, I leafed through it.

In the back pocket, there was a map of a region I wanted to visit, and another map of yonderland! Mystery Guy's country. Of course, I took out my camera and started to snap photos of it. The girl was intrigued at my excitement at, to her, a normal looking map. She asked me why was it important to me. 'Why is this important to you?'

After hearing what I said, she gave me the map. That was the best part of my day! I was filled with joy to receive this map!
ou
Now, I have a map of yonderland that fits exactly into my red notebook.
Sometimes when you go on adventures, you never know what it's going to bring you =)

I needed a hug...

I'm facing a bit of a pessimistic ending to the romance of last year. Mystery Guy seems to be wavering, and as it is, I know I'll miss the way I can be truthful about what I'm feeling to him, miss the way we neurotically enjoy some types of food, the essence of 'us', that seems but an impossible dream.

As always, I urged him to only remember the happy moments.
It was a rainy day, a long day we spent together, from visiting some rentals, to enjoying an exhibition, a little adventure on the luge, and ending with me falling ill with nauseated throwing up. =(

The happiest part of that day was, for me, when, after lunch, we had to traverse the road from the foodcourt to the exhibition...and as it was drizzling, he suddenly whipped out his newspaper and folded a paper hat for me, so that I wouldn't get wet.
I folded one for him too.
And we both wore our paper hats to the MRT toilet and all (knowing there's about 40 cameras watching our every move)... of course, lots of people looked, but we didn't care, we were in our imaginary world, where everyone wore paper hats to protect ourselves from the rain.

I was trying to remember, from Thursday, the best part of my day. I was very sad our happy times had to end when reality bites.

At this time, I was reading John Eldredge/Stasi Eldredge 'Wild at Heart / Captivating', J had lent it to me a month back. I was reading the part where John asked God for a whale (he wanted to see it at the sea) and he saw one, and Stasi asked God for something to show that He loved her, too. And God gave her a small starfish and more. I went, 'wow'... in these sad moments, the thing I wanted most was a hug from God.

So I just said a silent prayer that I wanted to feel a hug from God.

And for the next few days, I received things beyond my imagination... that only God knows I would appreciate! I really did not expect that each day, there would be something to look forward to... and I am overwhelmed.

God knows I love coffee... and there was a barista I knew from a long time ago who was the caterer for an event I attended on Friday. It was lovely of him, and unexpected, that he personally did this coffee for me, as his treat! He was the main key person for this event but he took time off to do it for me. Plus it was perfect - hazelnut + vanilla, not too sweet, milky and strong... =)

I had visited this shopkeeper uncle's shop for many years but never bought anything, it is some sort of retro display and for collectors to buy jukeboxes, old fridges, etc. When he saw me, we had a good chat, and suddenly he excitedly told me he wanted to give me something, he took a bunch of glass animals out... wanted to represent my birthyear, but there wasn't any dog, so he just chose something and pressed it into my hand. It was this tiny glass owl! God really knows why I need an owl =) I was so touched! Of course it is probably inexpensive, etc... but... wow.

Sunday, I had half an hour to wait at ECP, so I just chose a spot near the central beach area, alone, with a myriad of thoughts. As I was getting up to leave I realized that while I was there a super tiny baby coconut had dropped directly in front of me. It was unbelievably cute! It brought a smile on my face... and I'm sure it did to many others on my facebook where I posted it =).

Today, I had spent a long day out touring the city, and there was nothing remotely resembling a hug from God. Ah, I thought, maybe not everyday. In fact, I was aching so much to contact Mystery Guy to tell him random stuff.

I found this postcard for me! Sent by a random japanese... My heart skipped a beat when I saw it. I have received over 80 postcards, but never ever a lop rabbit one! And God knows I hold this rabbit close to my heart. Plus, there was an encouragement written behind...'gan ba rou nippon', telling me not to give up (actually, the true meaning is telling the japanese tsunami victims not to give up)... and if they, who have been through so much suffering, did not give up, how could I?

=)

This story continues... ...

Out of the Darkness, Modern Love

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/11/27/fashion/out-of-the-darkness-modern-love.html?_r=1&ref=modernlove


THERE was a time when my wife, Giulia, said “Yes” to almost everything I suggested. But before she consented, there was always an unnatural pause, a pause so small it may have gone unnoticed by others. But it was painfully obvious to me. That pause did not come from her; it came from the antipsychotic medication she had to take.

Two years ago, when Giulia and I were 27 and in our third year of marriage, she suffered a psychotic break. She had no history of mental illness preceding the abrupt arrival of delusions and paranoia. It was a bewildering decline that snowballed from typical work stress to mild depression to sleeplessness to voices speaking to her in the night.

The medicine combated the psychosis by slowing everything down: her metabolism, movements and response time. I didn’t like what the medicine did to her, but I liked even less what her unmedicated self was like and capable of doing, so I gave her the medicine. I observed her as she took it, making sure she did not hide it in her mouth and spit it out later. She still managed to do that a few times anyway.

To try to make sense of why she had to live in this medicated haze, I thought of her condition as being like an old television, the type where you have to turn the dial to change the channels. For some reason, Giulia had become stuck between channels, so all that was broadcasting in her mind was crackly white noise, and it drove her mad, right into the halls of a psychiatric ward.

The medicine was like turning down the volume. It was what had to be done until the channels could work again. And while the volume was turned down, her entire life was on mute. She wasn’t psychotic, she wasn’t delusional, she just kind of wasn’t.

She didn’t communicate much when she was on the medicine. When she did, it was mostly just “Yes” or “No.” More often than not, it was “Yes,” because I think she wanted to make me happy. If we had to go through this hell, she at least wanted to be agreeable. During this time I thought of her as the Great Validator.

The fact that she did not speak much also meant that I spoke a lot, about silly things, things that filled the silence so that I could try to keep her mind here with me, and not adrift in her illness.

But occasionally she spoke on her own, without prompting, and beyond “Yes” or “No.” Those rare moments of self-initiated conversation were always about one of two subjects: suicide or love.

The suicide conversations were never fun. They happened over and over. Out of nowhere, in the midst of one of our agreed-upon dog walks, or while washing the dishes or whatever, often as I talked about something insignificant, Giulia would interrupt and say, “Mark, if someone kills themselves, do they still get a funeral?”

Long pause on my part. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know that if you kill yourself you go to hell. But does that mean they don’t let you have a funeral? Do you still get a funeral if you’re going to hell?”

“We don’t have to think about that, Giulia, because you’re not going to kill yourself.”

“Maybe.”

“No ‘maybe’ about it.”

“We’ll see.”

She’d smile. Thoughts of suicide tended to make her smile, like she was a little child being told you can have your ice cream later. It was something to look forward to.

When suicidal thoughts made her happy, I knew it was my cue to remind her of other reasons to feel happy. So I told her I loved her. And that so many other people loved her, too. That she was so strong for holding on. That none of this was her fault. That the feelings would go away. That she just had to keep holding on.

These suicidal conversations could be quick or they could be slow. One time we were biking to yoga together, and we had to pull over and sit on the sidewalk for almost two hours while she sobbed and begged me to let her kill herself. I pleaded with her to just hang on through this moment, and that it would pass, and that she would someday, somehow, start to feel better again.



When the suicidal feelings gripped her tightly, her whole body groaned and wailed over the loss of control of mind and feelings. I would hold her, but I learned that all I could do in those moments was to sit there and let it be, so I did. And then the fog would clear, the suicidal impulses would slip back under the surface, and the muted, agreeable Giulia would return.

“Are you O.K. now, honey?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Do you know how proud of you I am, and how much I love you?”

Pause. “Yes.”

“Are you ready to get back on the bike and go home?”

Pause. “Yes.”

In our conversations about love, which also would arise unprompted, Giulia would interrupt whatever we were doing to tell me how much she loved me.

Instead of questions like, “Why would God do this to me?” or “Can you agree to let me kill myself in one year if this doesn’t get better?” my lovely, broken, medicated wife would take my hand, look me in the eyes, and say, “Mark, you are the most wonderful person I know. Thank you for helping to save my life. I love you and am staying alive because of you.”

Just like that.

As her spouse and caregiver, one of my biggest struggles was to keep my own emotions in check. She was too fragile to witness how much her delusions, paranoia and depression scared and worried me, so I had to pretend that none of it bothered me.

I became a master at compartmentalizing my worry and anxiety, neatly packaging my feelings into the small, permissible moments when I had the time and space, away from Giulia. For the most part, though, I was her cheerleader, and nothing, no matter how dark or despairing, could shake me.

But when she told me she loved me? That I was saving her life? And that she was staying alive not for herself, but for me?

Those moments always left me stunned, teary-eyed and breathless. I had no defense against those. They left me reaching to her to find my stability, rather than the other way around. How can you shield yourself from the impact of someone saying, “I love you”? And why would you?

Giulia has since gotten better. She no longer takes the medicine. We don’t live in a “Yes” or “No” existence anymore. We now live with bills and iPhones and deadlines.

I’m glad to have left behind the anxiety and unknowns of dealing with a serious mental illness. It was a grueling year for both of us. And yet when I look back on that year, I have to admit there is a part of me that misses it — or, more accurately, a part of it that I miss.

I don’t miss the illness itself, of course. We’re still not sure where the darkness came from, or why it’s behind us, or even what the actual diagnosis was (psychotic depression, maybe). All I know is that it was exhausting to deal with on a daily basis, and so I am glad it is gone.

And I don’t miss Giulia’s sadness, a sadness that seemed to be without limits. Good riddance to that.

BUT I do miss how much we talked about life and love that year. It seemed like all we ever talked about. In one sense we have never communicated less in our relationship and never been in such different mental spaces, yet in another sense we were closer emotionally than we have ever been and more deeply connected. Her mental illness cast such a strange web of paradoxes into our life together.

Nowadays we bicker about things like doing the dishes.

One of us will say, “I cooked dinner, so can you wash the dishes?”

And the other will respond, “Well, I did the laundry today and folded it and put it away, so no.”

“But I walked the dog by myself tonight.”

“But I made the bed.”

Until finally one of us does the dishes.

When Giulia was sick, we did the dishes together because there was nothing else to do. As long as we were together, we could agreeably wait out the disease and show it that we were more patient than it was.

I think that’s what I miss. We weren’t in a rush to do anything else, because there was no certainty of a future. So we defaulted to living in the present, focusing on each moment of our “Yes and No” days. A time when only two things mattered to us: life and love.

Mark Lukach lives in San Francisco and is writing a memoir about taking care of his wife during her struggle with mental illness.

one last dance

The lawn was covered with red and blue, brightly lit tents. I found myself, once again, not in my homeland on Christmas Day, but somewhere very close by. Just a day earlier I had cried in the shower, remembering, after too much wine, the depths of unhappiness I was in. I had typed out my sorrows to him, just needing a friend at that point of time, a listening ear. Spontaneously, the next day, we traveled, each from different cities, to attend this dinner, but also, to meet each other. He was thinner from the last I remembered, a sign of his worsening anxiety and the dreadful situation he was in. I knew that we could not expect anything with each other for now, and sometime later I told him words that I did not mean, 'that one day, you will find someone who loves you the way you are. And for me... I'm going to find someone like you.' I cannot tell him that I feel like giving up on this impossible dream and at the same time I don't want to be with anyone anymore, I don't, but yet, I want to be with him, and at the same time, I worry it will just go awry, again.



The house was beautiful, it had a large porch built for dancing, and when we arrived, the party already had hundreds of guests, some of the bolder aunties and uncles had already started dancing. We arrived with travelers from different countries, we happened to be from all over the world, Germany, America, Costa Rica, Brazil... but we found ourselves in the old town I loved so much on Christmas Day. It was a nice way to spend the holiday, I thought, surrounded by people I don't know, yet feeling more peaceful than I've ever had for a long time.

We danced with each other the entire night. From the fast, popular songs, to the slow ones. I wasn't able to read when he wanted to twirl me, so each time we mis-twirled, we giggled madly and did some other cover-up moves. We bopped and hopped to the shufflin' songs and jumped and swung to the pop songs, and we rested during the cha-cha and bollywood songs.



He did something that touched my heart. From the sides, there were several kids, teenagers, who were watching us dance, but never daring to venture out. He just dragged them onto the dance floor, and once they were there, they never left. Thank you for doing that, it was a good thing you did. Then he saw a small boy in glasses and a checked shirt. He prompted me to go and drag him over. Initially I thought he did not want to dance at all, and he protested, I cannot dance! But once he was there as my partner, he glowed, and had a fun time. I was warmed that he knew this boy had the longing in his heart to come and dance but he was just too shy, and he helped to fulfil it. We danced till we were exhausted, and went to rest in a wicker sofa placed in the garden. Both sweaty, but also happy, I put my head on his lap and admired the stars in the sky. We told each other silly things and I could feel him laugh from the depths of his belly, and that was such a perfect moment. Although the place was packed with people, it seemed that we were just enveloped in each other, despite the loud music blasting just beside us, I felt a quiet, contemplative feeling as we were beside each other, for that moment, just putting away all our other thoughts, and the force of each other's presence making each other feel happy, just happy to see each other, not knowing when would be the next time. I had followed my heart, or my lack of common sense, to where he was.

Later that night, when I knew he couldn't hear, I whispered that I loved him very much.

we could be happy

And then, he smsed me, when he was leaving asia to yonderland. Little things like this makes me so happy.


We chatted, and I found myself sharing about a vivid dream I had, early this year. A dream I could not forget, and had not shared with anyone. I always thought that this dream was, perhaps, God-given, to inspire and encourage me. The personal hell I had gone through, a shattered heart and a lost faith, I never could bear to tell him, and never asked him about his personal sorrow, although, without words, I can guess that our sad stories had the same ending. Because, how could I tell him that I felt the same way, that I had also been very disappointed, that I was happier alone than with someone, yet, I had followed my heart to meet him, to find out something, something I can't even name. And this scares me more than anyone, because in the dream, I was old, and so happy, so in love, walking in a wintry place, cobblestoned streets, vividly remembering and loving the street in which we walked, old and gray but safe in each other's presence. And when I woke, I was hopeful again, that even though it had been a tough year, life is short and there are moments when we should be happy like fools, although we have tasted bitter moments, and we cannot anticipate the future, we should count ourselves very lucky to have met each other in a sea full of strangers. I would like 'us' to become a reality and I know we will not be as happy with any one else, but if the reality is that if it only lasts for x period of time, I would die, just die, and isn't it better just to let things be status quo? I don't know all the answers.

This was the poem I wrote then, trying to capture the essence of how the dream felt.

'Twas a girl's daydream of growing old,
And walking hand in hand through
Cobblestoned streets, a vision of
Being blissfully happy, though
Gray haired and bleary eyed, they walked
Slowly but surely
Seeming to saunter in spirit,
They were us.

Though we speak the same language,
Few truly understand
Or comprehend
between the lines
Of what the heart wants to say
Modernity seeks to banish the dream
The dream of love, the scene an ode to love

I wait in peace, captive to your thoughts
Your voice like it was almost always there
The time and place where it had not existed seemed a distant and forgotten place
While I have time more
With eyes half-asleep, I perceive the cobblestoned street
And the language of love
Our hearts both speak.

One Day (2011) Good Life - OneRepublic HD

One Day (2011) Good Life - OneRepublic HD

I've read the book on recommendation, and found the movie to be awfully dull.
However, I love the soundtrack that sounds hopeful.
This show reminds me somewhat of one of my male friends. He looks like the main character.
We used to be close, but just for a short short while in what seems like an eternity of a lifespan.
For that one year, I enjoyed that friendship, knowing that there's an expiry date to it.

I think that even if I knew things would be short-lived, I would still choose it this way.
We had each other, that one day.

This song also helped me make A decision. Just one decision out of the many I have to make each step of the way. My work, my future path...
I was asking myself one year later, would I have been happy in this decision I have to make if I chose this tough path.
I don't know why I must always make my own life so challenging when there are other options. Like the way how I'm so busy and never having a day free to myself.
Am I scared of being bored or growing old? Meanwhile I have tried many things for the first time, acting in two student films as one of the leads, incredibly exhausting but I would do it again... bouldering by myself, I have not imagined myself doing that... and others. So one year later would I be happy doing the same thing. The answer, I've found, chooses me, I've always been incredibly blessed this way. I hope 4 months later I will have some confirmation of the path I chose based on my intuition and nothing much else.

so so busy

Interrupting a catnap, I am sooooo bad! It's gonna glare at me.

I have succeeded in the impossible feat of attending 4 interviews in one day.
Yes! And I was inflicted with a sore throat that lasted 4 days.

I had initially scheduled 5 in a day, the day after I got back from my vacation, but after the first one took more than 2 hours, I had to quickly postpone 1, and delay the other 3. I am very touched by people helping me to send my contact and profile to the interested parties. In fact, I had not applied for any of the roles save one. And currently, I am being represented by 3 different headhunters from leading firms, both for inhouse and external roles, despite my relative lack of length of experience, I feel really touched by their supreme confidence because I do not have that for my depth of ability.

I had heard earlier from my colleagues that immediately after I had left, they changed the notice scheme for all employees. From now on, people who leave can only choose to stay 2 weeks' and serve their notice, thus getting paid for it, or, choosing to leave immediately (just declare you are joining a competitor) and forfeit the amount. I'm not sure if it's considered ethical to even change the notice period like that for all employees from prior employees able to get a 2 weeks to one month garden payout... (wouldn't it be?)... perhaps a sign of the tight labor market next year. So, I am the last one to get a paid vacation (garden leave) of 2 weeks and the benefit of encashing my leave too. Woooo.

The days are so filled with interview stages, I have to constantly pick up the phone, do job personality assessments, plus my ongoing volunteer work for labor movement, catching up with friends (after being away I have to meet some people in my life)... that, I hardly have a day to spend on my own, ideally, reading a book in a quiet cafe. Anyway there are no quiet cafes in Singapore... Not to mention, I have neglected scrapbooking for some time, my room is in a perpetual whirlwind, etc, etc. Finally tomorrow I have a whole day to myself, just for myself. I will be attempting 'bouldering' tomorrow, something I have always wanted to do for ages but could never find the time.

I have to keep reminding myself not to rush around, or keep looking at my watch. It's strange that we have a tendency to walk faster and rush around when people around us are doing so, sometimes this is not conducive or productive, we may have missed out several facets we fail to observe in the rushed state of mind. I was contemplating to stop by and browse at a 2nd hand bookstore, and my easily rushed-mode mind was telling me the thing I always say to myself,'the bookstore will not run away, I can always find time to come back again (honestly highly unlikely as it's in an obscure locale), besides, don't I have a few unfinished books?' Then, I literally closed my eyes and stood still right there, and asked myself what would I really like to do when I am not rushing anywhere (And I am not rushing anywhere.) I found two books of the authors I like, Isabel Allende, and one of Irving's (someone was reading it on the train), they are too niche for most mainstream bookstores to carry so I was really stoked to find them. And another one of short stories that won the Orange Prize. It was an enjoyable browsing for the better part of the hour.

And I smiled all the way back as I felt the weight of these books in my bag.

my hands are stained a smurf blue

These days, I feel like I'm going on some sort of adventure that I had not bargained for. And before I get old, too old for this sort of thing, I'm glad that I have had the time to live it up a little.

Unexpectedly, I lost my job. Or rather, it was expected, just that I had not expected it to be so abrupt. For weeks, I had already been anticipating the changes, so I can say that I was not unprepared. However, it was still a blow, to lose something that has already become familiar to you.

So on that very next day I found myself booking a one-way ticket for the first time. I knew where he was, and I knew we would not have many days together. I guess we needed each other, we needed to cheer each other up.

Then, without much thought, I did what people have been doing for ages, traveling through places. After Penang we went to KL, and now in Melaka for the week. I'm glad I'm here. Melaka always provides me with a deep, good sleep, perhaps it's the air or else the sun zaps my energy and I don't have burdensome thoughts, just walking around happily here.

It was a blessing to my heart that I found kind people who helped me along the way, to lift my spirits. I persuaded Uncle Clay to teach me pottery for a day; despite my wonderful art degree, I had never known how to manage a pottery wheel and fashion a lump of clay into a usable object. It was tougher than it looks and my hands were trembling from the day's work. I made two small seaturtles in memory of our huge sandcastle seaturtle we made on our last trip - we did not bring cameras to the beach, so this will serve as a longer keepsake.

Then, I kept speaking to different people in Melaka. A secondhand bookshop owner pointed me to a place I could paint. A shoemaker pointed me to a papercutter I could learn from. I went to paint. The guy who owns the art cafe gave me a piece of wood, surfboard length and half the width. He also gave me oil paints, to my delight. A Penang Uncle who painted on canvases, learnt that I wanted to paint, and generously brought a blank canvas for me, the next day. I did not need to pay a single cent for all these and I was humbled and touched. The canvas was quite a big size and in Singapore we would need to pay a 3 digit amount for it. Yet, he just gave it to me, not even wanting my gratitude. So, for the first time in my life, I started oil painting. I really like to be creative, only it's so expensive and ... I guess we do not really have the time to find time to do it. I painted in silence for hours, while people ate their lunches, drank with their friends. And I loved every single minute of it. The oil colors just melted into the canvas, and each day I couldn't wait to get up and continue my masterpiece. I'm using tones of blue, teal blue to smurf blue. Feeling the paint on the canvas, blending and painting the oils, I did this for hours and it is the best feeling in the world, which I discovered by chance, and I'm so thankful, for having these people in my life. My hair is frizzled here, my skin is dry and tanned, but I have such lovely toned legs, and when I look at the paint stains on my hands (oil is hard to wash out), a smurf blue, I think that I am glad to be here on a two-week paid vacation (my company paid me out, it lessens the pain), and having such an adventure.

One Day.

300-over sms (he counted, technically).
280 facebook messages (I counted).
One Day.
18 hours.

It must all mean something, shouldn't it?

But we'll never meet each other again, and one day, he will forget my name. One day, we'll feel awkward at even the memory of things that transpired. A crazy story we'll never tell anyone. You'll lead your life and I'll lead mine. We will stop and stare in silence at random people who remind us of each other. Perhaps the way they walked, or the exact color of their hair sabotages us into suddenly living that highlighted snippet of a memory that we had never even thought about until, the warm, tingly feelings besmirch us into falling into something we refuse to admit that we had not wanted to sidestep into.

After all, it was only supposed to be a meeting for one day and never again, not again for any good reason.

Otherwise, the distance may be good for both of us. It could be that I had followed my heart, or my lack of common sense. I knew what was going to happen between both of us those few days more, precious days - and I threw myself into it, wholeheartedly! I have never felt so alive; so incredibly, unbelievably happy.

I think of him in the shower. We did everything together, having this strange, familiar feeling that we have been closely acquainted for a long, long time. I know we'll never see each other again, based on the future choices we make. But I choose to meet him. And in essence, he chose me, too. Precious days, perfect moments, incredibly happy at these unexpected circumstances.



We chose each other, just for that one day.

if love came easy

I woke up at 5 am, unable to go to sleep. I thought I had heard myself talking to the unknown creature in my dreamscape, and in that conversation I said, 'I wished love came easy for me.'

I wished I knew for sure that this life, what everyone seemed content with wanting and having, would be something that I wanted, too. The Singaporean dream. We have it too easy, but if you ask anyone, no one would agree. They would say that life is too hard here. They did not have anyone else to compare with because their world is so small.

Not too long ago, I thought that was what I had in the grasp of my hand and many less lucky girls would envy me for it. And in the present I could see the future. 2 kids, an apartment, working in middle management, taking weekend holidays to Malaysia, and so on. There's nothing wrong with that. But I also see too many people trying to convince themselves that this is what they had waited all their lives for. They take photos of their possessions and holidays, their loves and lives, but some of us see that perhaps behind the words and pictures they are trying to convince themselves too, that this is what they wanted for themselves.

In countries worse off, this could be a dream never realized. In places where peace is fragile, where money is scarce, where people are unable to find a stable income, their dream might be just to live to eat another meal and keep warm for another night. But what about the next day, and the next year? I live in a country that has only known peace; and the days seem monotonous to me, so peaceful, in fact, that I suffer inside with the burden of my thoughts, daydreaming when I should be living instead. I see more than others; I see the momentary glimpse of someone's heart on the look of his face when he remembers years spent with someone he thought he loved; and then it turned out to be something of the past, and not of the future.  And this sort of morbid thing stays with me, long after the person has traveled to a faraway place.

And yet, in spite of it all, he hopes for a better day ahead, where all the pieces fit together. A love in his hand, a secure future, a genuine smile from within, that says, don't worry about tomorrow, God will take care of us, if it's as simple as that, it can be. And I who have never known a day of suffering in my life, I who spend way too much on expensive dresses I seldom wear, more books than I can ever finish reading, I see this in his eyes, I sense the suffering in his soul, just for that moment in time, and then it is vanished, replaced with the happiness of spending time with someone he wanted to spend time with, me, of course.

How can I ever tell him I understand, that the kindness in his eyes tells me of his determination for a better life.

And that if I keep thinking of that haunting look, I would be able to give up everything I had but never valued, to that war-torn city others call a promised land.

in a split second

I hate to make split-second decisions, but most times, without realizing it, we all do.

Minor decisions - what to eat for lunch, should I buy that nice earring that I fell in love with just 10 seconds ago or walk around the mall one more time, should I walk home or take the bus.

Some less minor decisions may have short-term, or long-er term implications - responding to someone calling to meet you, applying moisturiser religiously on my long legs, booking a flight ticket this or next week and missing out on opportunities or otherwise gaining things I might have missed... ...going to a music event despite being tired, vulnerable and sad... and meeting someone who fell in love with your beautiful eyes in 5 minutes...enjoying things that come your way, and taking any occurrences in stride... making friends who love you enough to tell you schtuff you don't want to hear in your naivete, despite them only knowing you vaguely; and that inspires and humbles you quite a bit... and also forces you to think, think, think... what should I do/feel/act towards another human being in full respect and understanding yet protecting my self-interests, of course!

As always, looking on the bright side of things, I can hardly say that my life is boring. In fact, it seems to have a life of its own... and I am just wanting to sleep for the next 48 hours or so.

==

find what you love - steve jobs

'Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.'

read that today and it was thought-provoking, a good read for us who are 'lost' in the everyday struggle of split seconds.

Read more: http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424053111903596904576520690515394766.html#ixzz1W6FVKho6

silent protest

Keep calm and curry on... new mantra!

I am happy that we citizens show our solidarity for the seemingly small situations that befuddle our minority neighbors. I think I can be proud of what/who we are! It gladdens my heart to see my Dad cooking curry just because I asked him to, though, he does not fully comprehend the issue, he understands the crux of the matter. Even those Americans (whom I've met a few last night) can see the funny side of it, and roared with support at the sneaky Singaporeans who in silent protest ate some curry for lunch or dinner yesterday.

Being idealistic does me in, at times.

It's really a pity, because I thought, I really thought that, this one's a keeper. These episodes of 'how I met your father' is turning out to be some sort of too dramatic. While I'm not unpleased about how easily I can attract the tall ones, not much good endings happen usually, and sadly.

Well, the intensity of feelings and emotional thought only proves one thing, that all I have said and done, it was sincere and felt from the heart. Better luck next time I hope.

sometimes, along the way

I hadn't really realized it, until I tried to explain to a traveler with the same name, 'Jeroen' about this cartoonist from Belgium, that I've been following this monthly cartoons for years!

It's quite fascinating to me how he can put some of my similar thoughts into these 4 boxes... And he's been single for years so I think all of us who follow his cartoons have been secretly rooting for him. And now he is finally attached and having the time of his life.

You can view it at:

www.kartoen.be

There's a million possibilities of what could go wrong. I always associate men whom I meet, according to the vague personas of my vast stable of male friends.' Oh this guy is exactly like Mr.Architect', I start to think, after he does or says something so similar to the category of friends of this 'pattern'. This guy is so much like Mr.Woodblock...blah blah.

And I know that I have immediately placed them in the 'friendzone', a word I've learnt from my affection for the cartoons by Jeroen.




'He's such a good man, good 'catch',' is what I've often heard single women say. And I have had the pleasure of having strong friendships with men of that caliber. A few good men. But now I realize that who's good may not be good for you or me. Yes, a good man, a good catch, but ultimately, I need someone who's good for me. And vice versa. We should make each other feel better about ourselves than when we were alone, with just the right dosage of encouragement and a natural need to reinforce the good things in each other. I've met 'good' people who are so wrong for each other in so many ways.

associated content: appearances and exposes

The days are getting darker in The Office. I'm literally sick to my stomach to see the colleagues being hired and fired one after another. Yes, I knew about the high attrition rate all over this industry. Still, I never expected such dark days to befall us. Especially when I'm now the last one in, if they practice the 'last in first out' policy then I have to start packing my bags and weighing my options. Already the walls seem to be closing in. I still get headhunted calls quite often, but I just dread to leave to a similar place. I don't want to go on and on about how miserable it is, but I'm starting to realize I've made the wrong decision.

As the Aussie from Sydney (M.) told me, 'the really brilliant ones don't stay for long', those words spoken at the right time gave me the conviction to be proactive about the opportunities that present themselves. Living daily under the fear of termination should you not have any closures, one month, is just not a way to live nor a good career. I consider myself blessed to have 2 candidates in the running for senior positions; and brought in some top-notch deals as well, but should they not materialize, the sinking feeling of chasing after a moving target would leave me filled with dread.

We have embarked on an unusual friendship of sorts, M. and me.

As he works in one of the buildings along my one-way street that touches tanjong pagar to raffles place, I've spotted him along this road, once each week in the last 2 weeks. I hope he doesn't think I'm stalking him. He always asks after me and wants to know what I'm doing over the weekend. And he would share his, too. We would be ironing or feeding our pets or inebriated (not me) or doing laundry or going to the gym. I'm such a girl to treasure the little silly things like these. Appearances can be deceiving and honestly I had never thought he'd have this sort of side to him, him looking every bit the man about town, grinning broadly in every photo that could be found of him, and so sporty that he has broken all his toes before (as he shared) and even plays for singapore in one of the leagues! He shared that to me shyly, almost in a whisper, as we were making our way back to our respective offices, 'I play for the Singapore Rugby League'. I smiled to myself all the way back. Most chaps would just huffily state their sporting achievements and expect women to swoon all over them, but the way he said it was almost as if he was afraid I would disapprove.

I think he was rather disappointed when I said with a deadpan expression that until then I did not know Singapore had a rugby team ... really! I had no idea!

I hope to support the game as he mentioned it would be his last as he felt that he was getting too old for it. And as long as we're on the same street, busy as we are, I hope there will always be a place to share the little things that often goes unnoticed. I never imagined to see this side of such a guy, and it gives me hope that there are people like this who exist out there. I'm not being overly-romantic, but it's hard to find in this day and age, someone who slowly wants to get to know you, as a friend, and you'll be assured of his help, in any way he can.

associated content: the decisions your heart makes

I've never really thought about why I think the way I do.
It just...works for me. It may not work for everyone.

I miss melbourne and I had met a bloke who came from a different part of Australia. Knowing as I do that most people from that part of the country 'hate' Melbourne ("eurgh I don't know why Singaporeans love that place") I asked gingerly, tentatively, if he liked Melbourne, expecting him to say no. To my surprise, he said he loved it, in a manner that echoed in my heart - full of conviction and ... knowing the place enough to know what you like about it.

As usual, he is one of the many people whom I meet in my life and only meet once or twice. I do like meeting people but sometimes it is rather unsettling especially when you do want some of them to stay a little longer.

We, rightly or wrongly, make snap judgements of people.
For me, those who buy me a large cup of starbucks hazelnut latte scores highly in my book...
It's quite amazing about the little things we notice. I met a GM who opened up his 'typical black folder' and... hey! Inside there was a red moleskin and I felt this instant connection - I use a red moleskin too! I kept smiling at him from my heart after that, I guess he wondered why because I never did tell him. Subconsciously, I want to help people who reminds me of ... well, me. There are some people who we just remember on the phone because their voice reminds us of a good friend we love. And we tend to talk a wee bit longer to them and smile internally. On the other hand, people with weak eye contact and nervous behavior coupled with a bad handshake just does not help them go far and I really feel bad for them because it's all learned behavior.

It's a pleasant surprise to me to meet someone who really understands what I'm going through right now, and uses the right words to hit the right spots in my heart. Honestly, there are opportunities I should consider really soon. And there are no strong reasons why I should not consider them. As I remain half-hearted, someone told me with no mincing of words that the 'really brilliant ones' would do the same. And gave me some words of conviction for the issue. This person will be someone with a high level of influence in my life because he bothered to have a high level of understanding. For so many times we have been trying to meet, but we have had respective spontaneous pressing work demands that made it difficult. And we both understood the special requirements of our work that sometimes meant we couldn't keep to our promises. But if I had not bothered to understand, I would have just wrote him off and be very disappointed and maybe think badly of his character. Knowing him I just thought that this essence or what you call it, a curious mind that seeks to understand mine, is very appealing indeed. We all are so busy, so engaged with others yet we still seek to observe and understand others, well, at least the ones that has captured our minds as well.

This week I just needed that, that someone who wants to know what's going on in my mind.
It would be nice if he's the one in my mind too. The next time round this trait will feature highly. Someone who will see beyond the physical and find the spirited force of life within.

associated content part one

One of those 'social night outs' I had (distinguished from the usual 'hermit' nights) , I was in a taxi with a male friend whom I had just met. We had, with our puppy eyes, influenced the driver to make a last trip for the day and bring us to Dempsey to end the evening.

Friend: 'Where do you live?'

Me 'Serangoon, you?'

Friend 'Bukit Batok.'

Me 'Oh, that's rather far...'

Taxi Uncle 'Eh I live in Jurong, if you all don't mind, I drop both of you at Bukit Batok.'

Both 'Umm... buttttt, we want to go Dempsey...'

Taxi Uncle 'Go Bukit Batok lah! Already so late still go Dempsey. I drive you all to Bukit Batok then I go home'

Me 'Eh Uncle you very open minded...'

Anyway, we finally ended up at Dempsey, though he was rather insistent.

Lately the people in my life have all been trying to dispense love advice. I think that when your hairdresser does it, it is still okay. But when your doctor stops writing about your cold and swivels facing you, taking out his spectacles, and asking 'how is your love life', it is a bit too much!

I can see (it is so obvious sometimes) how one person likes the other, that sort of hopeful look, the way it is written so clearly, that this person is on her mind. In the snapshots of her heart. I've seen it recently. I tell the hapless dude, she is really yours, no? She really has a thing for you. Then oblivious blind as a bat dude will say, non, non, we are friends, that is all.

So maybe they see the same thing in me. The youthful idealism of a perfect romantic notion.

Hairdresser (while I am lying prone getting the dye washed out, a vulnerable situation) began chirping excitedly and said I had to be proactive. Proactive works! That's how she snagged her local husband (she's a foreign talent, they all are) by hanging out at the cafe where he works. I almost sniggered but thought it dangerous since she was sudding my hair. You have to let him know you are thinking of him, but not so obvious. Just sms - what are your plans this weekend. That you wanted to watch this new movie, or explore this new mall.

Doctor after prescribing me medication, said I had to give them a chance. Don't just meet once or twice. Don't intimidate them. Go out more! Less hermitlike. Hmm, how did he know that...maybe he reads my blog too...?

Even my new boss (I really like this bloke) gets in on the action. As busy as he is, he said that I should show some initiative, in fact, put up signposts. (In my mind I saw myself carrying a wooden sign that said.... "Be mine!".) Boss said I had to do something (and even gave me some examples of which I said vehemently I am not going to do that)...if not, nothing's going to happen, ever. Really? I thought his countrymen were more... initiated.

Well... I'm rather reticent and I think... the sweetness has to last on its own, if not, if it's engineered, how can it be credible?

Of course, I recognize that I do need to show some 'open doors'. I am wary of sharing my woes, or needing help, but when I do, I am always pleasantly surprised by the fortitude of those males in my life who step up to the plate.

I started out wanting to write about 'associations', but I am pleasantly intrigued by the people who can see that 'something' in my eyes, maybe, and I feel they are propelling me along this strange, almost magical journey that I just had to write about them. I will not forget their kindness and I also will be kind to those who might end up like me.

After all these episodes, I am learning, to just be myself, and show my true self to the ones who will love me for a long, long time.

my little squirrel

Fell asleep.

Exploring the world
Sebastian and Samantha...

Their mom was murdered by school authorities, one of which was Dad. The murderer took the orphans home. In a prestigious boys' school, squirrels running into classrooms to steal breadcrumbs would be frowned upon and terminated. That was how their mom came to her end.

And that was how we ended up with 2 baby squirrels, trying our best to take care of them for these crucial months before re-releasing them into the wild. They did nothing but sleep and gingerly explore around. One of them, the smaller, male one, seemed particularly attached to me. I named him Sebastian after the most recent guy I met (also seemed apt as it started with 's'). He somehow recognizes his name when I squeal 'sebastiannnnn!' at him, and would be very excited to come to me. But he doesn't seem to eat well lately and is quite scrawny compared to the other one, now round like a ball. I hope he survives, but like most wild animals they often don't. Sobs.



Today, a guy asked me out on a date. Unexpectedly.

I should move on. It's for the best.