Drifting.

It's been awhile since I've met up with this group of friends. I've known them for a decade. The one who was pregnant, popped. The one who should be pregnant, got pregnant. The one who was learning driving, drove. The one who was the last to get a boyfriend, got a boyfriend. People who are happily in love are irritating in one way: By projection, they want everyone to be happily in love.

"Why didn't he come?"
"How long have you two been together?"
"When is your turn, huh?"
"Where are you meeting him later?"

To avoid answering these questions because that would mean a lot of explaining to do, I goo-goo-gah-gah-ed over my friend's new-born. It was the lesser of the two evils. It seems like, ten years on, everyone is moving forward into the future. But I?

I seem to keep sliding backwards.

I'd make a horrible mother.

Recently, a friend of mine popped. A healthy, shiny baby girl. I'm not the sort who would go ga-ga over a baby. Well, if they're well-behaved, cute, and belong to someone I know, I might stroke a cheek or go over the standard limit of "awwww" allowed per day. Other than that, I simply smile politely when someone asks "Isn't he adorable?!" or glare icily at toddlers who step all over me while I'm seated on the MRT.

So, out of pure loyalty to my old friend, I agreed to go visit her and her baby with our usual group of friends. I hit the malls this evening to find an appropriate gift for her. Two of my other friends are already going to buy her books on proper child-rearing. I thought something more functional and stress-free would be nice. I picked out Monsoon's knitted giraffe and was out of the store in five minutes.

As I walked further away from the store, I started having a nagging feeling in me. The toy is too cute. In fact, I think it'd be wasted on the baby. What would a two week old baby know about expensive knitted toys? Almost on auto-pilot, I slipped into another store as soon as I decided to keep the giraffe. Then, I saw this, the Angel Bebe cotton and lace diaper cover with removable satin wings:

Isn't it just aww-worthy?

Broken.

A wild mare grazes in an open field.
The horse tamer stays hidden, watching.
Curious, the mare wanders closer.
Springing forward with his stallion
The tamer throws a noose around her head.

Infuriated, she turns around to run
Only to find the tamer right beside her.
Fear, a feeling unknown to her, blinds her.
She loses direction and falters.
Sensing hesitation, the tamer leaps.

A foreign weight lands on her back.
But she has never known submission.
She lets out a wail, a cry of frustration.
The tamer pulls the halter even tighter.
He has never lost, the best in the world yet.

Her strength starts to ebb away
Like the cool stream she once knew.
She succumbs to her fate and sighs.
Her eyes soften, maybe there were tears.
She will adjust to her new life.

The tamer jumps off the mare
Kisses the long flowing mane and pats her back.
She wasn't easy but she was worth it, a prize.
He throws a new leather saddle onto her back.
She will still run, but only in circles now.

你是爱我的－张惠妹

同样的一场日落
同样你还是没说
只是抱紧我　时间一到就松手

你用一万个理由
都比沉默还温柔
为什么爱我又不断退后
你害怕的是什么
你想要的是什么
站在你背后
我连呼吸都痛

我要相信你是爱我的
我要相信你是勇敢的
我烦时间是最残酷的
我怎么等
我要相信你是爱我的
不要当我每次唱情歌
眼里总有太多泪
不停拉扯

我用一万个答案
解释我们的距离
到最后发现我全都猜错
你害怕的是什么
你想要的是什么
站在你背后
我连呼吸都痛

你怀里有太多问号
告诉我怎么依靠

Time.Change.Happiness.

My colleague ended his relationship with his girlfriend recently. They had been together for two years, and according to him, they broke up because they have different personalities. Somewhat angered by the shallowness of the reply, I asked him why it took them two years to realise that fact.

"We knew we were both hot-tempered. But we thought we could change each other. And we both have changed a little for the better. But there comes a time when a quarrel every night will hit a nerve. It has, and I am sick of it all."

Everyone is flawed in one way or another. I am well aware of mine, and though I am not the kind to be humble, I confront each and every one of my faults before I close my eyes every night. I may think about it for two hours, or I may just give it a passing thought as I contemplate my day, but not showing that I am regretful for my actions doesn't necessarily mean that I'm insolent.

As I age, my thought process matures. I used to think for the present, for the now, for today. My mantra was to "take each day as it goes". Even though age and the idea of settling down is not a concern to me, I've come to regard my life in "the long run". I am in a long-term relationship. I aim to be in my chosen career for a long time. I want to save for long-term commitments, like a home. My new goal, my new mantra, is to be happy. So when my own personality flaws hit me in the face, I think: "In order to be happy in the future, I should change."

Then.

"You are losing yourself," C said to me over lunch today. Of course, I am. How can I change myself without losing myself in some way? But the process of these changes have not been smooth-running. There will come a point in the transition where you will start asking yourself if it is all worth it. You will start to question your limits. You will start to fear that as you try to reconstruct yourself, you will suddenly reach your tolerance limit and find yourself back where you started. "You need to be a little selfish if you want to be happy," she says. As I listen to her, I wonder if I have come one full circle.

And then you will look into the eyes of the one you love and realise that you will always have these struggles within yourself. Because love means letting him into your heart. Because love means taking a risk at an unforeseeable future. Because there is no greater happiness for a woman than to be able to love.

That gaze.

Their eyes met at a cafe at a corner of a busy intersection. Bolts of familiarity shot through the both of them—it was hard to tear away from that gaze. Five seconds. That was all it took for her to make that awkward journey past the cafe onto the other side of the road. But the different combinations of emotions that must have passed through the both of them…

She held on to the hand that was firmly holding on to hers. She didn't look back. She didn't dare to.

Flattery gets you places.

Today, while in another male colleague's car on our way to a shoot, he turned to me in the midst of a rather droll soliloquy about his relationship problems and said, "You know hor, actually you're most men's type, but most men are not your type."

I slowly raised my drooping head to him in shock, not at the meaning of those words, but at the fact that he actually managed a sentence like that without getting his tongue tied. For a salesperson, this colleague of mine is just not a smooth operator. He usually has to repeat himself two or three times before he can complete a proper sentence. But I was so proud that he came up with such a quotable quote.

And of course, I have to admit I was very flattered.

Un-Girl Talk

"Are we okay, baby?"

"Yeah. You think we're not?"

"No, I just want to be sure you feel the same way."

"Kiss. We're okay, love."


My colleague and I had a little chat today. We walked to the coffeeshop around the corner to get our morning cuppa. He is just a little younger than I am, and had left the education system early to earn his keep. We have little in common, except that both our grandmothers are down with chronic respiratory infections, with that being the reason why our relationship went a step closer than being just mere colleagues from different departments. He liked that I behaved like one of the boys; I like that he treated me like a lady despite my crude jokes and loud banter.

We came to the topic of our respective partners. It wasn't a long conversation—it lasted all of five minutes—but the impact was significant. I was in deep thought the whole day after that. His response was candid, frank, and I totally trusted that everything he said was out of genuine concern.

Sometimes, you need to hear from someone who isn't close to you, someone who isn't afraid to hurt your feelings. Sometimes, good advice and consolation can come from someone really unexpected.

A deep, sinking feeling.

In these recent weeks, I have been dwelling deep in a very warm, moist, dank and uncomfortable cave of dissatisfaction. The soles of my feet have become prunes for having been soaked in what seems like a never ending flow of sweat and tears. I have to wriggle my toes to remind myself that blood is still circulating within me, coursing through my veins, keeping me alive, keeping my will to live alive.

I am dissatisfied with my work. I feel stifled. I want to get out. I can do more. I know I deserve more. I am a first-born. I'm an over-achiever. But I am suddenly claustrophobic in a work environment where I am being piled with information but I have no room for expansion. A wise career move would be to climb up a ladder. Instead, I am carrying that ladder on my shoulder like a burden and moving around, searching for a wall for me to lean on. It's frustrating, overwhelming, and it's eating me up inside.

I am dissatisfied with my blog. Unbeknownst to all of you, I come home every night, log into my blogger account, and stare long and hard at my blog. I have so much to say, but the words are not forming. I tell myself that it is because I am tired, and I already spend all day at work staring at the computer trying to form sentences, that it would be the last thing I want to do when I'm at home. But it's merely an excuse, an easy way out for myself. Who am I kidding? I love words. My love for words was the reason why I started this blog, the reason why I thought I had found my dream job as a wordsmith, the reason why I fell in love with my man. Because of my job, I no longer have confidence in myself. My words scare me. I am afraid to blog.

I am dissatisfied with my relationships. I am a good person. I love. I hate. I feel. I hurt. But I am bad at managing those emotions. In my rather turbulent journey of love, I've found that fear is the greatest evil of them all. I fear, therefore I hold back. I fear, therefore my imagination runs wild. I fear, therefore I make wrong moves. I fear, therefore I might lose it all. But that is exactly what I fear. How do I resolve this? I want to love. I am capable of good love. I am surrounded by good love. If only I am removed from this persistent cloud of fear that floats over me as I lay in bed, confronted by ghosts of memories past.

I am dissatisfied with my life. I want my own house. I want two cats. I want to go to bed next to my man and be woken up by his kisses every morning. I want my parents to stop giving me disapproving looks. I want to be free of their clutches. I want to break loose from the invisible moral hold they have over me. I want to own everything I possess. And I want them all now, Now, NOW.

But I am deeply, deeply dissatisfied with everything right now.

And that sucks ass.