of utter tranquility & boundless excitement

Sunday afternoon, I'm sitting before my window, watching the steam rise from my cup of hot tea and float to the outside world, joining the lazy light dappling in and the light rain falling. The world that I see is seemingly still, but not quite. The curtain of raindrops adds movement and life to the image before my eyes; tiny droplets dancing, fighting, twirling, spinning, and gravitating towards the earth. The sounds of cars and buses and trucks are amplified by the water that gathers on the ground, swishing and swashing, like a makeshift ocean in the middle of this suburban cityscape. The still frame of life ebbs and flows with energy, like the tide being pulled and pushed by the silent strength of the moon. 

In this moment, I'm equal parts of utter tranquility and boundless excitement. The afternoon was spent in solitude - I've turned the last page of another book, and I've begun writing the first page of my new story. This is me, sitting here almost motionless, yet putting another stage of life into motion. This is me, abandoning the outside world for a day, and looking inside before taking the next step. This is me, striking balance, and poised for flight. 

The rain has ceased to fall, and the skies are slowly dyed a light gold and deep pink by the setting sun. When I breathe I can feel the air that is clean, cool and crisp in my lungs, and I can almost taste the warmth of the golden hues in the sky. I watch the birds take flight and think to myself again - you are always free to fly. In a moment, night will fall, and the moon will reign over the inky skies that are not quite as dark as they should be because of city lights. And then Sunday comes to an end, and the morrow will bring the chaos of Monday. But take flight, young one, you can fly and soar above it all. 

Oh sunday afternoon, how good you've been to me. 

so long, 2013

For most of 2013, I've been trying to be a grown-up. At 24, I found more freedom than I knew what to do with. With a decent amount of money and zero responsibilities, I spent freely on things that made me feel good - holidays, dresses, gifts, makeup, skincare and various things that have come to symbolise a certain coming-of-age. I filled my weekends with coffee, expensive brunches, drinks and long days out, and my weekday nights with extra hours in the office and in the gym. My schedule was incredibly busy, and I was almost always exhausted. I was never alone, yet 2013 felt like a lonely year.

In a city of strangers and fleeting interaction, we put our whole lives on display so that in that single look you share with a stranger, you're assured with a nod of approval - yes, that dress; yes, that pair of 4inch heels; yes, that shade of coral on your regularly manicured hands; yes, that stroke of precisely applied eyeliner. Strutting along the crowded streets, you blend in and stand out as a young adult who has made it far enough in life to look the part of perfection and walk with confidence and comfort. Scrolling through Instagram, every moment of life has been cropped and filtered to perfection.

For most of 2013, I've been learning to be single. I was never the girlfriend who grew to be a dependent half of a whole, incomplete in singularity. Yet singularity was a foreign concept to me. I tried to embrace being a single young woman and savour the journey. So I struck one off the bucketlist and went to a speed dating event just because I could. I even ventured into the crazy world of online dating. Men who wanted to date me were aplenty, and their admiration fed my big fat ego. I went on first dates, but hardly any second and subsequent dates. I didn't pay too much attention to anyone because there was always someone else. I didn't let anyone come close enough to mean too much. I didn't know what I was looking for, so no one else did.

This I learnt through the one boy who made it to second date. He was a lot of fun to hang out with, and for a while, it was nice to see the same handsome face on a regular basis and have someone reach for my hand while walking to the cafe for brunch. We had a casual thing going on for awhile, which was the best place to be, between singlehood and commitment. Then there was a hiccup and as with all grey relationships, this one died pretty quickly. For awhile I wondered what had gone wrong, and eventually realized we were two people who didn't know what we were looking for, and afraid of venturing into an unknown of our own doing.

For the rest of 2013, I reveled in the familiar warmth of friendship and family. Best friends took off for different continents and came home for the holidays. Old friends drifted apart and figured their way back to each other. Families squabbled and made up and found ways to stay together despite time and distance. Some nights I found myself in noisy bars, laughing over fancy cocktails about disastrous dates and reminiscing about better times and worse times. Some nights I found myself standing in the kitchen at a ridiculously late hour on a weekday night, telling Mom more than I had planned yet never enough. Some nights I found myself smiling as I fall sleep, overwhelmed by the love that's bigger than anything life could throw my way.

The best moments of 2013 were haphazard, unfolding in a way that I could never have imagined, much less planned for. Yet for most of 2013, I've been trying to orchestrate every moment of life to perfection. So in 2014, I will learn to let go and lose control, to let the best things happen as they come along. My calendar will be emptier, and my days fuller. It's 40 days into the new year, and I'm sitting at a new cafe on my own on a Saturday afternoon with nothing on my agenda.

For most of 2013, I wanted this moment so bad but was convinced that moments spent with no plans and company were moments wasted. But in 2014, the moment is here. To more of times like these, and to more of me. 2014, you'll be so good.