Don't miss me too much,
we both said
coincidentally.
coincidentally.
But it's tough not to do
what we're told
not to do.
Then again,
we brought it
upon ourselves.
Then again,
we brought it
upon ourselves.
Dear R
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Saturday, August 10, 2013
How can people possibly have more hashtags/tags than words in a post? IDGI. I face a stony-wall of Where Should I Begin whenever I need to tag a post. And then some sites like Wordpress has Categories, Tags and Subtags (or something like that), which should actually make things easier to find but looking at how the a fair number of people are turning into extreme taggers....
Monday, August 5, 2013
While reading blogs on travelling and in particular, solo women travellers, I realised that alot of the entries revolved around tips&advice or lists of top 10 mistakes/things to look out for/ etc. Much of it comes from a 'I've seen it, been there, done that' point of view that's been shaped by one or a collection of particular experience(s).
Similarly, when I dropped by the orientation camp for my course, the answers to the questions from my doe-eyed, bushy-tailed, fresh-faced juniors all came from the same position. We try so often to dish out advice, mistakenly thinking that there is always a set path or a formula to achieve a certain result. And inadvertently, we create an illusion of expectations for others (and ourselves) that might in fact be a stumbling stone. While hearing about past experiences can help to calibrate expectations of the future, the danger lies in expecting the same to take place for you. That never happens.
And so, while I don't deny that taking the cautionary advice of those who have gone before you can be infinitely useful, I realised that we've just got to figure out our own way. Shrugs. It'll be fuzziness with a touch of chaos thrown in, mixed with some surety that should eventually give rise to a degree of certainty that allows for the next step to be taken. We're made of tougher stuff; not knowing what the hell's going on is not gonna break us any time soon. Just gotta figure it out our own way.
Similarly, when I dropped by the orientation camp for my course, the answers to the questions from my doe-eyed, bushy-tailed, fresh-faced juniors all came from the same position. We try so often to dish out advice, mistakenly thinking that there is always a set path or a formula to achieve a certain result. And inadvertently, we create an illusion of expectations for others (and ourselves) that might in fact be a stumbling stone. While hearing about past experiences can help to calibrate expectations of the future, the danger lies in expecting the same to take place for you. That never happens.
And so, while I don't deny that taking the cautionary advice of those who have gone before you can be infinitely useful, I realised that we've just got to figure out our own way. Shrugs. It'll be fuzziness with a touch of chaos thrown in, mixed with some surety that should eventually give rise to a degree of certainty that allows for the next step to be taken. We're made of tougher stuff; not knowing what the hell's going on is not gonna break us any time soon. Just gotta figure it out our own way.
Friday, August 2, 2013
After almost a month since arriving in the City of Lights, I found myself some me-time to set some goals for SEP. They were simple.
To Live. And indeed I have, at least a heck lot more than I did while getting too comfortable in Singapore. I had moments so perfect they could've been dreams, found myself in strange situations, stepped into the shoes of people and lived their lives and consciously let go of doubts that held me back. There was also a silver of reckless thrill that I pursued, subconsciously, on hindsight.
To Make Good Friends. One point on my bucket list was to make a friend in every city I went to. It didn't happen, but in the places I made friends, I made friends I'll dream of bumping into somewhere in the world. Some were Five Minute Friends whose transience made the company all the more intense; no knowledge of the other but we're just pushing buttons and being pals. Others were there for a while longer and that extra time meant exploring differences and heart-to-hearts. And some were there from day one and their presence was like hot chocolate on a wintry day. To have people think of you, throw chocolate at you on a bad day and insist on your presence at events cos they know you'll enjoy is something I have grown to appreciate so much (usually, my tendency is to be a hermit).
To Travel. Enough, as the Mothership puts it although I suspect she is nowhere as convinced as she sounds. Enough for now. For. Now. Wanderlust isn't water that can be cut off at a turn of the tap. It's a tension that builds up and will eventually need to be released. I would love to travel with my mom and have her see the sights in person because I know she'll enjoy it so much more than me.
So three ticks & a cross. May the next time be three double ticks.
"To Live. To try new experiences, step out of my comfort zone, dare to be an individual, be brave enough to be spontaneous.
To Speak French.
To Make Good Friends. The world's so big. And coming here, I realise the vastness that is everything outside Singapore and how Singapore has boxed us in.
To Travel. Wanderlust. Who doesn't want to see the world? I want to discover new places and make memories that matter with people that matter."That was exactly 160 days ago. Fast-forward to now, have I actually achieved what I want out of this exchange? Yea. I say this not with the fierce conviction of an activist for his cause, but with a wistful smile and my mind's eye running through all the moments I can gather off the top of my head like cinematic film flashback. Everything that ultimately mattered at the end of the ride, I addressed. Speaking French was a real priority initially until the task of studying French while travelling (that often) became a real challenge. So something had to go and it wasn't too hard to make a decision.
To Live. And indeed I have, at least a heck lot more than I did while getting too comfortable in Singapore. I had moments so perfect they could've been dreams, found myself in strange situations, stepped into the shoes of people and lived their lives and consciously let go of doubts that held me back. There was also a silver of reckless thrill that I pursued, subconsciously, on hindsight.
To Make Good Friends. One point on my bucket list was to make a friend in every city I went to. It didn't happen, but in the places I made friends, I made friends I'll dream of bumping into somewhere in the world. Some were Five Minute Friends whose transience made the company all the more intense; no knowledge of the other but we're just pushing buttons and being pals. Others were there for a while longer and that extra time meant exploring differences and heart-to-hearts. And some were there from day one and their presence was like hot chocolate on a wintry day. To have people think of you, throw chocolate at you on a bad day and insist on your presence at events cos they know you'll enjoy is something I have grown to appreciate so much (usually, my tendency is to be a hermit).
To Travel. Enough, as the Mothership puts it although I suspect she is nowhere as convinced as she sounds. Enough for now. For. Now. Wanderlust isn't water that can be cut off at a turn of the tap. It's a tension that builds up and will eventually need to be released. I would love to travel with my mom and have her see the sights in person because I know she'll enjoy it so much more than me.
So three ticks & a cross. May the next time be three double ticks.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
There is home and then there is Home, with the capital H.
Home, with the capital H, is the place that holds the people I love most, where ever they may be. Home, with capital H and welcoming arms, is where I'll eventually return to. Home, with the capital H and comforting broad shoulders, is what I'll miss when I start tiring of the road. Home, with the capital H and all round familiarity that I slip into so easily, is what I'll want, but not now. Home, with the capital H, is as concrete as it is abstract; it is conversations at the dinner table, lazy family-day-Sundays, the disembodied voice over the phone asking when I'll be home, little notes left in folders and on the fridge.
home, on the other hand, refers to the places I found a familiar comfort and a certain security. home was the 16 square metre room in Cologone filled with warmth and a chestful of plants in the middle of it all. home was breakfast in a pavilion with a dear friend and his family in Bad Hersfeld. home was the warm embrace I slept and awoke to in Marseille. home was a comfortable couch, freshly cooked pasta and movie nights in Rome. home was the sincerity with which strangers opened their lives to me. home was the inexplicable touch of commonality and understanding about the Way We Live Or Travel. home, too, would've been a week in Riga with a soft-spoken, sparkly-eyed friend.
There is Home, the permanent place I dare to take for granted in the short term, in which I was missed before I missed. Then there is home, which I missed at times because some were fleeting and I hadn't the time to properly appreciate all that surrounded me at that point. home was where I left with a mere hint of reluctance, where the neighbourhood playgrounds were more memorable than the house itself, and where I would've loved to stay on indefinitely and left with great unwillingness.
Be it Home or home, while the physical spaces played a part, the people took up massive spaces in my heart.
Home, with the capital H, is the place that holds the people I love most, where ever they may be. Home, with capital H and welcoming arms, is where I'll eventually return to. Home, with the capital H and comforting broad shoulders, is what I'll miss when I start tiring of the road. Home, with the capital H and all round familiarity that I slip into so easily, is what I'll want, but not now. Home, with the capital H, is as concrete as it is abstract; it is conversations at the dinner table, lazy family-day-Sundays, the disembodied voice over the phone asking when I'll be home, little notes left in folders and on the fridge.
home, on the other hand, refers to the places I found a familiar comfort and a certain security. home was the 16 square metre room in Cologone filled with warmth and a chestful of plants in the middle of it all. home was breakfast in a pavilion with a dear friend and his family in Bad Hersfeld. home was the warm embrace I slept and awoke to in Marseille. home was a comfortable couch, freshly cooked pasta and movie nights in Rome. home was the sincerity with which strangers opened their lives to me. home was the inexplicable touch of commonality and understanding about the Way We Live Or Travel. home, too, would've been a week in Riga with a soft-spoken, sparkly-eyed friend.
There is Home, the permanent place I dare to take for granted in the short term, in which I was missed before I missed. Then there is home, which I missed at times because some were fleeting and I hadn't the time to properly appreciate all that surrounded me at that point. home was where I left with a mere hint of reluctance, where the neighbourhood playgrounds were more memorable than the house itself, and where I would've loved to stay on indefinitely and left with great unwillingness.
Be it Home or home, while the physical spaces played a part, the people took up massive spaces in my heart.
Friday, July 26, 2013
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I left Paris on a clear afternoon, landed in Singapore on Sunday, slid into my dad's car and right back into the life I led before I went chasing my previously elusive dreams in Europe. It was a Sunday, just like every other Sunday I had lived in Singapore. The family went to church, had lunch then came to pick me up.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I stood in front of the house fiddling with the lock and key with motions still second nature, and walked through the door just like I would have on any other day. Nothing's changed. I slept in the bed I hadn't touched for five months and it felt as if I had been sleeping on it all the other days that I wasn't.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. The humidity embraced me like a long-lost lover and the heat merely reminded me of the scorching sun of a European summer. It's actually cooler here. I took the public transport like I have been the past many years and still mixed up certain places on the MRT line like I have been the same many years.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I jumped to hang my towel on the overhead bamboo poles out of habit when I returned, turned the difficult doorknobs with practiced ease, skipped up the stairs without looking at the steps, left the curtains half-drawn before I realised it and automatically checked the letterbox too.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. Everything came back too quickly and too easily. I was hoping it'd be a little harder, so that I'd get to know my home again in a slightly different light, perhaps. But nay, everything came right back like I'd only been gone for less than a day.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I would've liked to miss home a little; to feel a yearning for something comfortable and familiar. No such luck, however. I did wonder about this apparent callousness of heart and arrived at a certainty that I'd be going back. And soon enough too. So I focused on my being there, in Europe, and chose to Live to my heart's content before I was pulled back.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. The day I left five months ago still remains a fresh memory. It just feels as if I just walked right out of a dream and back into reality. Not sure if I like this perspective.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I stood in front of the house fiddling with the lock and key with motions still second nature, and walked through the door just like I would have on any other day. Nothing's changed. I slept in the bed I hadn't touched for five months and it felt as if I had been sleeping on it all the other days that I wasn't.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. The humidity embraced me like a long-lost lover and the heat merely reminded me of the scorching sun of a European summer. It's actually cooler here. I took the public transport like I have been the past many years and still mixed up certain places on the MRT line like I have been the same many years.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I jumped to hang my towel on the overhead bamboo poles out of habit when I returned, turned the difficult doorknobs with practiced ease, skipped up the stairs without looking at the steps, left the curtains half-drawn before I realised it and automatically checked the letterbox too.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. Everything came back too quickly and too easily. I was hoping it'd be a little harder, so that I'd get to know my home again in a slightly different light, perhaps. But nay, everything came right back like I'd only been gone for less than a day.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. I would've liked to miss home a little; to feel a yearning for something comfortable and familiar. No such luck, however. I did wonder about this apparent callousness of heart and arrived at a certainty that I'd be going back. And soon enough too. So I focused on my being there, in Europe, and chose to Live to my heart's content before I was pulled back.
It doesn't feel like I've been away. The day I left five months ago still remains a fresh memory. It just feels as if I just walked right out of a dream and back into reality. Not sure if I like this perspective.
Monday, July 15, 2013
The thing about summer romance is that when the weather is warm, you feel different; you are different. You feel more free, more beautiful, more of who you want to be; more of everything good.The thing about summer romance is that you never quite see it coming. It just sort of happens, serendipitously, unexpectedly, unassumingly.The thing about summer romance is that even if you didn’t plan for it, it can be exactly what you needed, and you didn’t even know it.The thing about summer romance is that the kisses are always better. The taste of somebody’s lips in the hot summer air stings your mouth in a way that makes you feel refreshed yet aflame.The thing about summer romance is that it can change from subtle to intense in the blink of an eye. Your usual careful nature is transformed to a carefree person who only wants to exist in the present.The thing about summer romance is that you learn that affection doesn’t need to have the promise of forever for it to be real and true and timeless.The thing about summer romance is that it can be your wake up call. It can be the reminder that you are worthy and deserving and wanted.The thing about summer romance is that it makes you feel alive. It makes you feel like you’re not just passing through the motions. You’re enjoying every breath in every moment.The thing about summer romance is that it gives you the heat of summer sunshine, and you bask in the ecstasy of that heat.The thing about summer romance is that it leaves you wanting more from life, knowing that the coolness of fall and the harshness of winter don’t need to consume who you are.The thing about summer romance is that it lets you know that life doesn’t always have to be a beautiful struggle; life can just be beautiful.The thing about summer romance is that it feels like a wonderful secret that you want to tell the whole world. But at the same time, it feels like no one needs to know.The thing about summer romance is that it’s a fallen piece of paradise that you stumbled on and you always want to keep it with you.The thing about summer romance is that it’ll teach you about yourself. Who you become when you have no worries, when the earth feels a little bit lighter; and you’ll always want to be this person.The thing about summer romance is that more often than not, it is finite. And before you start dreaming dreams or making plans or breaking hearts, you accept that it likely has a definite ending even if you’ll always hope for more.The thing about summer romance is that even though it likely ends, and you might not have endured a great love, and it might not be there to keep you warm in the fall; you know that that is not its purpose.The thing about summer romance is that it always has sweet beginnings and mostly bitter-sweet endings. But you cherish it; you’ll cherish it all the same.
And the thing about this summer is that it leaves photographic impressions upon your heart and smiles upon your face at the most random times. With or without the romance.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Words, oh words.
What you do to me when you paint nostalgic pictures of summer afternoons in my head.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
The goodness of people surprises me all the time. Not because I don't believe that there aren't wonderful souls out there, but because they are much nearer than I imagined them to be. And it fills my heart with gratitude. I've never appreciated a community so much before. Now there's a stupid happy grin on my face at 12 in the morning (x
Saturday, June 8, 2013
For a supposed week of intensive study/preparation before finals, it has been very eventful.
The shit hit the fan tonight. Or perhaps calling it a nuclear meltdown might be more appropriate. While spectacularly fascinating, it's also potentially damaging and I shouldn't watch people crash&burn. That said, I don't even know where or how to begin picking up the pieces; it's feels foreign to be rendered this helpless.
The shit hit the fan tonight. Or perhaps calling it a nuclear meltdown might be more appropriate. While spectacularly fascinating, it's also potentially damaging and I shouldn't watch people crash&burn. That said, I don't even know where or how to begin picking up the pieces; it's feels foreign to be rendered this helpless.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Next drunk person who tries something stupid is going to get ass-whooped so bad.
Like broken arm kind of bad.
Meanwhile,
I finally met someone whom I hold much distaste for.
I am
not. amused.
Physical payback is amateurish.
Just wait for it.
Pissed off.
Physical payback is amateurish.
Just wait for it.
Pissed off.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
In 17 days, I will be leaving this school with a heart full of memories with people who've become dear. I saw opportunities when I first arrived and till now, those doors have led to many more that I've yet to walk through; there are far too many. 17 days and it's Time gently nudging my shoulder, saying wake up, you're reaching your stop. Dix-sept jours. Right from the start, people have been a big part of my life and now they seem larger than life.
Quite possibly, it's a human reflex - to instinctively grasp what we're about to lose. Something like fleeting friendships except that I've just crossed the ravine but the ground's still unstable. I'm enjoying myself here too much to miss home and I'm not ready to give it up just yet.
Quite possibly, it's a human reflex - to instinctively grasp what we're about to lose. Something like fleeting friendships except that I've just crossed the ravine but the ground's still unstable. I'm enjoying myself here too much to miss home and I'm not ready to give it up just yet.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
I dearly wish I could give you the tightest hug and tell you "Don't worry about me" and have you do just that. I know it's not about not having faith in me; it's a worry that stems from concern and I appreciate it far more than I let on. I'm aware of the dangers but I'm also know that most times, we imagine the worst scenarios that may befall people we love and freak out for them. Please don't pin me back with guilt over making you worry. While your heart may hold motherly worry, have faith in the goodness of people - strangers. Give faith. And give me this space to grow up a little more; I need this. ♥
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
I asked myself, several years ago, if we were friends by virtue of the fact that we've known each other for so long and I got my answer this weekend. No; it's a resounding no. And I was plenty naive to have thought so. We're friends because we've grown up together, seen each other at our worsts, most unglamourous moments and talked about things we'd never talk about with any other soul. Four years of no contact didn't change a thing but I didn't think I'd enjoy the company so much. When I said I missed you and will miss you, I meant it. I miss you already. And with the exception of my mom, you still give the best hugs.
The weekend in London was an absolute dream but like most dreams, they are over too quickly. Nevertheless, it didn't diminish the immense sense of peace and fulfillment this weekend getaway brought to my soul. Thank you God.