sleepless at changi

You know the trip is going to be an adventure when you start off with an overnighter in the airport of your own country. Yes, I did it again - I missed my flight. Work crisis, habitual lack of punctuality (this habit really needs to get out of my life pronto) and the horrendous taxi/traffic situation did it. Amazing race style, I planted my ass at the nearest Starbucks, plugged my batteryless iPhone in to charge, and booked the next flight out on my iPad. (I've already checked out the cheapest flight while stuck in the cab.) Thank goodness for technology.

With 12 hours to spend at the airport because I refuse to brave the commute to and fro the ends of tiny little Singapore, I sat at Starbucks people-watching, had my dinner with my huge backpack and pretended to be a traveller on a long hurl adventure. Later on, of all people, it was a colleague whom I met at work and have spoken to for a grand total of 10 times who came to pass time with me. At quarter life, they always tell you that it gets exceedingly difficult to make friends. But where I am, I keep finding myself surprise after surprise.

Anyway, quarter life crisis stuff aside and back to Changi, I was expecting the place to be magical after hours. I had imagined it to be a sacred place of transit, where tired travelers rest in comfort, but it wasn't. People were sprawled over hard benches and dark corners, pretty much like any other airport I've been to and slept in all around the world. The only difference is probably the police coming around to check your passport at 4am when you have a shawl over your face.

But there still is magic - straddling a space that's neither here nor there, everyone 's poised for flight. This is where the sleepless have dreams - of bathing under a waterfall, of reuniting with a loved one, of swimming with sharks in blue oceans, of starting on a new job in a new city, of walking on ancient ruins under the moonlight.

Then morning dawns and everyone moves on. A flurry of activity as people pack up their makeshift sleeping bags and rub the sleep out of their eyes. Bedsheets are transformed into scarves and pillows into backpacks. Shutters of duty-free shops are rolled up with a metallic twang. The morning light streams in through the huge slanted glass panes. The majestic birds of titanium remain in stillness, quietly awaiting orders to take flight.

I took a deep breath to take it all in, and thus ended my adventure in the space of in-betweens, and started on the first step towards a new one.

i love flying

I love flying. I love the moment when the plane lifts off the ground and quite suddenly, we are defying gravity. I love soaring above cities and tracing the outlines of the land against the deep blue oceans. I love how the ships and ferries leave streaks of white in the shimmering blue. I love being amongst the fat white clouds which make up the landscape of this alter world. I love the anticipation of emerging into a different universe while the whole time it feels like we've been in limbo, not moving at all. I love the international chatter going on all around me, people from all over the world converging at this point, which is really in the middle of nowhere. I love recalling the last phone call in the +65, imagining life going around around the small gap I've left, like a stream flowing around a bedrock. I love falling asleep to the lull of the engine and waking up in a new country.

YOLO

Lately, I've been having many of those YOLO moments. Until recently, I wasn't quite cool enough to know what YOLO actually stands for. For the longest time, I'd thought it was one of those new words invented by the Internet, to express some nuanced expression through a combination of random letters. 

I ruminated for some time, and decided that I love the expression. YOLO is loud; it's a shoutout to the world, "HEY! LOOK! I'm doing whatever the hell I want because I want to." YOLO is fun; it's throwing caution to the wind and living in the here and now. YOLO is the zeitgeist of our generation. 

What has YOLO meant for me? In my newfound freedom, I discovered a girl who is 24 and gainfully employed, with time and money to spend on herself and the ones whom she loves. It feels good to say I can afford it - the 2 hours to laze in bed and do absolutely nothing, the few hundred bucks to splash on a bag, the afternoon to spend reading and crying with the fictional characters, the plastic card to charge Mama's present to.

Life, in every moment, is about me and my happiness. Having no one to account to but yourself, you decide how you want to live you life because you only live once. It could be the devil's partner-in-crime whispering in my ear, but lately I've been hearing little creatures asking in chorus "Why wait? Why not now? You only live once!" 

It has given me more courage to do the things that I've "always wanted to do", to strike things off the bucketlist without worrying so much about consequences and regrets, and go step outside of my comfort zone because when you consciously remind yourself that you truly only live once, you look at life differently. You no longer wait for that opportune date/time to do that one thing you'll want to remember for life. There is no grandiose moment; there is only the here and now. And you embrace it. 

So ladies and gentlemen, remember, YOLO. So whatever it is - a city you've always wanted to explore, the stranger you've always wanted to kiss, the tattoo that you've always wanted on your lower back - whatever it is, just do it, and do it right now. See you on the other side! 

hello 2013

It's been awhile, and much has changed. The calender has turned another page; it's 2013. Half a year later, the world feels like a different place.

2012 saw the closing of many chapters, including a particularly long one involving a certain man I met and fell in love with 4 years ago. Yes, it broke my heart, but we grow up into different persons from who we were and then life goes on. We move on.

On a happier note, 2012 saw me toss my mortar board into the air with great joy. I finally made it out of school, after 16 years. Woah, such a long time! My thesis was bound into a book and found a place on the library shelves. I'm immensely proud that I wrote on a topic close to my heart and dedicated the most important essay that I've ever written to the girls who fought and sweat and bled alongside with me on the field - my touchrug girls. In the same year, we also won the IVP championships, after a 4 year drought. Champions!

Enough of closures, 2012 marked many new beginnings as well, such as that of adulthood. In the span of 3 months, I went for no less than 10 interviews, got myself so stressed up that I almost decided to go back to school and then landed with 3 job offers, although not simultaneously. I rejected the first, accepted the second, tendered within a month and finally found myself back at HDB. It's the perfect first job, because it felt like homecoming, going back to where I knew I'd be happy.

I travelled a fair bit in 2012 as well. Right after graduation I took a holiday in Bali with the family, then G and I went to Vietnam in the later part of year as friends, and we also went to Bintan for a short getaway with our other friends. And as the year drew to an end, I went on a long trip to visit my lovely, lovely grandparents, who turned 80 as the rest of the world turned 2013.

It's been an arduously long time since I last saw my grandparents and spent time with my aunties, uncles and cousins who love me and dote on me as if I were the only baby at home. Oh, how I've missed them! I think somewhere along the way I've forgotten how many people in the world truly love me with all their hearts. Before 2012 ended, I remembered, thankfully. I found respite from all that heartache, and then strength to cross over to the other side.

The first moments of 2013 were spent with those who love me most and love me best. And for the rest of my life, I'll always remember the happy smiles on the faces of my grandparents as they clinked glasses at the end of the first day of the new year, wishing each other a long life of love and happiness. This is love, and in 2013, I hope I find love.

i miss new york

i miss new york

So many of my friends are all over the world on their grad trips now. And I've been just short of dying of wanderlust. I particularly miss New York. Something about that city is so amazing that you remember it for a long time after you leave. The smell of dreams in the air. The bustling streets that never sleep. The secrets in the nooks and crooks of the city. Ahh, what I'd give to be back there right now.

For now, I promise myself a decent post of the lovely city, complete with pictures and stories. We'll see what memories NYC has left me.

ten years and counting

ten years and counting

So thankful to have these girls in my life. 

It's been ten years and we're still going strong. How precious!

best wednesday ever!

best wednesday ever!

I had the BEST Wednesday ever. Made myself happy food for breakfast (without burning down the kitchen!), went for a nice long swim in the afternoon sun (and had the pool all to myself!), saw a spectacular sunset from the train (which didn't break down!), had awesome teppanyaki with Glenn (on a weekday!), took the dog out for a walk (and didn't have to pick up her shit!) and... got myself a new hamster (who tried to run away within an hour of reaching home and had me crawling around the house like an idiot while Mama laughed at me). Whoever's up there, thank you! :D


And to myself, I want to remember this day because I hope I'll always remember what happiness is. Eat well, exercise, read good books, stop to smell the flowers (or watch a sunset), love people and spend time with little animals.

i think i'm gonna miss school

i think i'm gonna miss school

People have been telling me that I will miss school when I leave. To be honest, I've never believed them. I thought I've had enough of school over 16 years - the endless deadlines, the enormous piles of readings, the mad rush to get to class on time, the ridiculous school rules that I never understood, the loss of weekends to mugging sessions and the list goes on. I was right. Those thing I've had enough of, that I'm pretty sure.

But there are a thousand other things that are not quite school but share a close enough affinity for me to say, I think I'm gonna miss school.

Things like inspiration. School inspires me. I read a line of immensely profound thought, put into words by a man from hundreds of years ago, and find myself wondering for hours. It's as if my brain had gone on a spontaneous adventure.

Spontaneity. That too. The long hours between and after classes. Reading, swimming, talking, napping, shopping, eating, dreaming. You could do anything. The time is yours and yours alone. Share it with whoever you want. Steal a kiss in a secret hideout. Cry your heart out in a lonely corner. Have an impromptu manicure session with your girlfriends. Stalk a new crush.

Or better still, take a day off school. Play truant and be a rebel. Hold hands and smile at the reflection of your unintended couple wear. School uniforms have never been this sexy. Fear the consequence and laugh off the punishments, feeling like heroes and heroines afterwards. Break the rules because the worst that can happen to you is detention.

You'd meet all the cool people at detention. The ones who are like you, who don't give a flying fuck about establishment. That's how the most precious friendships are born, isn't it? Meeting people who are exactly like you at the most unlikely of places. Practising the awkward pronunciation of bonjour at French class. Trying to find a new classroom in an unfamiliar building. Figuring out how to use the library card.

When you've got that sorted out, you'll spend mornings, afternoons and nights sitting in the library, poring over words that make absolutely no sense. The thrill of figuring it out. The pride in speaking of postmodernity as if it's the latest fashion. The joy of rolling your tongue over je suis une etoile. The victory of A+. The intellectual challenge.

And then between essays and exams, we become our own persons. So much of our days spent in school, conforming, resisting, disintegrating, growing, failing, learning, questioning, living. It must have meant something. For me, it was rebirth. A thousand times over.

And now, it's the real world. No second chances. No detentions. Will I make it? I will. School has taught me well. Metamorphosize yet again. Rebirth. 

story of a bracelet

story of a bracelet

I've never had a trinket with a story to tell. You know, the locket that her grandmother passed to her on her wedding day, the pendant that she thought she'd lost but he picked up, the necklace that her father bought her the day they received her sister into the world, the moonstone ring that an enigmatic sorceress bestowed her.

This bracelet with a heart-shaped charm is probably the closest I've come to that. A little history now. When I received this bracelet, I've had yet received any kind of jewelry from G. It was Christmas in 2009, my first at his family dinner. His sisters, all of them incredibly sweet girls, gave this to me. I loved it.

A couple of days after Christmas, I left for Canada, and him Glasgow. I wore this bracelet as a reminder of home and love. It'd be one of the only few pieces of accessories I wore for special occasions. I loved fiddling with the charm, a heart angled like a girl poised for a kiss.

When we saw each other again four months later, the heart would sit between us as our hands joined. An amulet, it saw us through. I wore it on the road when we backpacked Europe because I wanted to see the heart-shaped charm to dangle from my wrist in all the special photos.

And there it was, tinkling with its secret melody as we mock wrestled on the beaches of Santorini. In an instant indiscernible to the human senses, the bracelet broke free and sailed through the air, freewheeling. My wrist was bare. The tiniest of splashes. A fleeting glimmer. Like a lover's silent rustling of the sheets in the morning. A gentle kiss on the forehead while he sleeps. Then the reluctant goodbye.

We splashed about and groped blindly amongst the waves, picking up fistfuls of wet sand and letting it run through our fingers. No bracelet.

"It's probably gone, babe."

But I stood there, for a long while, watching the waves crash into the sand, shift a few grains and retreat back into the ocean. The sparkling water hurt my eyes, but I stared. In my head, I imagined the string of silver twirling and wreathing in the deep blue. Goodbye.

But only till we meet again.

It wasn't really gone, I know. I can see it suspended in the ocean, like it was locked in time, like an immortal mermaid poised for a kiss that would bring her to life. Maybe someday a snorkeler would find it, polish it until it shines with all its former glory. Then it would become someone else's story.

Meanwhile, we held hands, without the silver heart sitting between us, and made a wish. Ocean for well; bracelet for coin. I leaned in for a kiss and felt my own heart twirl with love, dancing in the indigo blue.

le weekend

le weekend

Weekends are for staying in, 

so that we can nap while the rain pours, 

and walk the dog when the sun shines. 

Like monochrome, two elements make it whole; 

sleep/wake, rain/shine, you/me. 

Stable, therefore our staple. 

Until the next.