Girl on the move

Time - About 3 years ago. 1 am in the morning.

I remember being enraged. My then boyfriend and I had had a fight, which had ended in me storming out of his apartment in a fit of rage, and realising shortly after, that I had locked myself out with my handbag and keys still inside. It was like those very rare moments in life when things are going so horribly wrong that you stop reacting and become an audience to the whole idiot-fest instead. 

The argument had gotten ugly so I wasn't expecting him to start a search and rescue mission for me anytime soon. There were two locks - one on his front door that locked automatically and required a key to get in, and another guarding the lift lobby which required a separate magnetic card. When I said I had stormed out, I meant all the way out to the street so there was no way I could get back in, or head back to my own place. 

Luckily I remembered his phone number, so I headed to the guard house. There were two guards - one seated with his back towards me and another standing and facing the little window. I asked him if I could use the phone. He recognised me from my previous visits and got an inkling of the situation from my slightly smudged up mascara and frantic mutterings of abuse at every unanswered ring. I tried both my boyfriend's phone and mine but nobody picked up. If I were hulk, that would have been my moment to begin the transformation. 

"Having trouble with your guy?"

I looked up.

The security guard, a young lad in his twenties, wearing an old tweed jacket and grey worn out pants, was giving me the 'You poor thing' look. I nodded and told him what had happened. He didn't have the spare keys to help me get in, but he said he could get me through the lift lobby so I could go up to his floor and try knocking on the front door. 

So off we went. Part of me didn't want to face my boyfriend, but the more tired part of me wanted to get hold of my bag and head home to a nice shower and warm milk. He got me through the gate at the lift lobby and I took the lift to level 13 (that should have been a red flag). At this point I believed a 100% that my ordeal was over, that this was it. There was no way he wouldn't hear the knocking, except that's exactly what happened. I knocked, nay, banged against the door, called out his name for several minutes - silence. I was to find out later that my boyfriend had actually not been home then, because he was outside looking for me the whole time. Now that you have this knowledge, it should make him look like less of a villain. However at that point in time, it was almost 2 am and I was seriously beginning to worry. 

I headed back out for some air.

"What happened?"

It was the guard again. This time his companion, a scruffy looking old man was seated facing my direction, waiting for an answer. He must have been brought up to speed about this situation. 

"He can't hear the knocking I think. The doors too heavy."
"Oh dear. Wait I'll get you a seat."

He ran to get me a stool and I sat outside the guard house for the next hour talking to the two folks through the tiny window. 

"Your boyfriend is that fella, about yay high, who leaves for work real early dressed in formals right?"
"That is precisely right haha"
"Well he's funny. I mean this one time, he got trapped in the elevator and called for help and we told him it would be a while till the technician got here and he-" He looked at his older companion and together they burst out laughing.
"Well what?"
"He started crying! We could see him! It was just - oh I'm sorry - it was just so funny."

I couldn't help but laugh along with them. I was mad at the guy anyway. 

The young guard went on to tell me about how his girlfriend recently left him for another man.

"It's the worst. Absolute worst. You seem mad at your guy now but trust me, he seems like a nice bloke. He'll make up for it. Just don't leave him for this. I can't wish this pain upon anyone."

I smiled. "I am mad alright, but I'll try to work it out."

"That's the spirit! Never give up on people. You want some coffee?"

It was close to 3 am and coffee sounded like just what I needed. I nodded and saw him as he got up to take some old sachets of instant coffee out of a drawer and proceeded to heat up some water over an old electric hot plate. It seemed a little unhygienic but I didn't want to sound too arrogant and was just glad that I had someone to talk me through the night.

A coffee later, he got up and started packing his stuff.

"End of my shift, lady. It was lovely meeting you. Wish I could have helped."
"You did. Thanks for the coffee." He smiled and rode off. 

Just then a car pulled up outside the apartment and a large group of skimpily clad women got out. They, very obviously drunk, staggered towards the lift lobby. I looked at the watch - 3.20 am. Deciding to have one more go at the knocking, I headed towards the lobby, hoping I could follow these ladies in. Turned out, they had seated themselves outside the lobby. I went over and asked if anyone of them had the card to get it. It didn't seem like they understood me. 

"Hey you over there!"

One of them, sitting in a corner, heels off, wearing a green off shoulder dress barely reaching her thighs, was calling for me. She looked like she was in her mid-30s.

"Hi yes I just wanted to know if you guys had the card to get in."
"Oh the card. No no no. We're just waiting for this guy, our agent. He'll get us in. He should be here in a minute. Sit."

She pulled me down next to her. I complied. I was too tired to care.

"So what do you do for a living?" She asked
"Oh I write code. I'm a software engineer." 
"Oh my God! Really? You must be so proud! Guys!! She's an engineer!" She announced to the rest of the women and broke into her native language mid-sentence.

Then turning to me, "We are all from Philippines. We work at this club nearby. It's mainly for rich Japanese businessmen."

It made sense all of a sudden. Their attire, the drunken state, the agent. 

"Oh" I didn't know what to say.
"It's okay. I'm sorry we're all pretty drunk. They actually pay us at the club to make the guys buy us as many drinks as we can, so we always end up like this at the end of the night."

"Oh" I still didn't know what to say. Some of the girls were looking at me smiling. I felt like I shouldn't be here having this conversation but maybe it was the lack of sleep or how the preceding moments of the night had passed, I stayed. I knew she just wanted me to listen.

"You know I have a son." she continued.

"Oh?" I was genuinely surprised. 

"Yes, back in my home town. He is turning 5 this month." She quickly pulled out an old flip phone and showed me a picture of a young boy standing in a field next to an old lady. 

"That's my mother. I'm not married, so my parents are taking care of my son."

"He is adorable." I finally found my voice.

"Isn't he? You know last month when I went home I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he said he wanted a bicycle! And I was able to save up enough so I can buy him one! I'M SO HAPPY!"

She shouted the last bit and all the girls cheered. I looked around and thought that life was so richly layered.

"Girls! Let's move!"

Their agent - a shabby looking man, wearing a black leather jacket, black jeans - had arrived with the key. I joined them as they entered the lobby. 

"You know we live on the top most floor. You should come with us. You're so sweet."

I had to draw the line there. I wasn't that sleepy.

I got off at level 13 and they shouted good byes and best of lucks at me as the lift doors closed - just what I wanted to hear before diving into a second round of knocking and calling out for my boyfriend - still no response. It was almost 4 and I have no recollection of how I felt. I don't remember feeling anything. The night had been a rollercoaster. I headed out again.

There was a small playground next to the apartment with a clear view of the street. I went and sat on one of the swings and in a few seconds, spotted my boyfriend walking towards me from the guard house. The older guard must have told him I was here, I remember thinking. 

As he walked closer, I closed my eyes and thought of the young guard making me coffee, serving it in an old cup with a broken handle, of the young woman with a son who was so happy she could afford to buy him a bicycle, of myself knocking repeatedly at the door and not hearing anything back. I felt relief from knowing that soon I would be indoors and tucked in a nice comfortable bed and life would be normal again. But I also felt grateful for having experienced the kindness of strangers. It almost felt like waking up from a dream as I opened my eyes and saw my then boyfriend standing right before me shaking his head.

I've been out of the writing game for so long, that I wonder if I still have the patience for it. What have I been doing instead you ask? Well you know life - it has a way of making time disappear.

But in all honesty, I've had many thoughts and experiences along the way that I'd like to dole out in subsequent posts. For now, I'd like to leave you with a recent sketch I drew. You can check out more @sketchremix on Instagram.

Have a lovely week!

This Friday I went down to the Fort Canning park to watch the much awaited Merchant of Venice performed by the talented lot at the Singapore Repertory Theatre.

Aaaaaaa! Shakespeare!

People settling down with their mats and picnic baskets, it was super hot!

The case taking a bow. The play ended close to 11 pm.

It was a scintillating depiction of the classic play, with a great cast and a wonderful ambiance save for the excessively dry and sultry weather at the beginning of the queue-up. My friend and I reached the venue an hour before the show time, and had to wait outside the park gate for over 30 minutes along with thousands of other Shakespeare enthusiasts. Here's how the conversation went:

It's such a vague transition to the other side of the line. From the insecure rebellious dissatisfied teenage to the more stable and self-assuring young adulthood. Suffice to say, there never was a more varied journey than life. 

I've been meaning to take this step ever since the beginning of this year. My reasons to go on being a part of this unavailing parade?  Friends, Family, Professional connections, Social circles and the general need to "stay in the loop".

It's no hidden truth that Facebook has swept over the entire world like a giant wave of consumerism, marketing and social media. It's easy to be a part of it because it's free. But you know what they say "If you're not paying for it, then you're not the customer; You're the product being sold."

The question I most deal with these days is why I took this step. Some of my friends (including my mom) thought that something had "happened". I'm writing this post to clear the air and try to explain myself.

The thought crossed my mind last week. I pictured how it would be like if I left Facebook. It was random, like a fleeting thought that often crosses a weary mind. I wondered, what if something wonderful happens, what if I decide to take a trip around the world, what if I meet a celebrity, what if really good things start happening; how am I gonna share all that, where will I put all those pictures, all those memories, how will I show-off? How will my 1000+ friends get to know what's going on in my life? I laughed at my haughtiness and brush those thoughts aside.

Yesterday, however, I wasn't thinking. I logged into Facebook first thing in the morning and disabled my account. Maybe it was easier because I wasn't thinking. I was just consumed by this overwhelming urge to quit the site. Once safe out of its reach, I gathered my thoughts.

Being friends on Facebook doesn't mean a thing in real life. There were people I was friends with online, whom I never speak with otherwise. It was ridiculous.

Secondly, it makes it way too easy for people to contact each other. If you wanna see a friend, you get off your ass and walk up to where they are, or at least pick up your damn phone and give them a call. Facebook has literally reduced the sense of friendship to a bunch of digital signals. Instead of bridging the gaps, it has only created more walls.

There was a girl in one of my classes this semester, whom I saw once a week. We would always sit together, talk about our lives and share a chuckle or two over the jokes that our professor cracked. She was not on Facebook. So I couldn't add her. The first time this hit me, I felt sad that I won't be able to keep in touch with someone I connected so well with. But then we would talk over the phone and hang-out after our class. I would actually look forward to Mondays when I would get to see my friend. It was a different kind of thrill. And rest assured, I felt closer to her than most of my other close friends who're too cool to step off Facebook and spend time in person.

The truth is, your real friends will always find you. They'll always know what's on your mind. Not because they saw it on their news-feed but because they care enough to actually ask you. They don't need to be reminded that it's your b'day or that they need to wish you new years. They'll always remember.

Funny thing is I joined Facebook almost 4 years back, right before I started my university life; and I quit now when I am mere weeks away from graduating. It's like the end of an era. I wont be completely starving myself technology-wise though; there're always ways to telecommunicate with your loved ones. All I want now is to focus on living my life, rather than sharing it.

There's a lesson I learnt very recently, from a most unexpected source - video games.



Craig Benzine or better known as WheezyWaiter has never failed to amuse me. While surfing his YouTube channel last week, I stumbled upon a playlist of him playing Dark Souls. A few videos down and I felt that old gamer in me shift a little. I used to play a lot of video games back in high school and then completely stopped after joining university. Well needless to say, I revisited an old steam account, and downloaded the first game I saw in my library: The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. I started playing this morning, which went by quicker than I could realize.

I've always been a cautious player, you know the kind who has one eye on the game and the other switching  between the scores and the health/power/strength levels, one who never lets an unopened chest or an unvisited room go by, one who needs to find all the keys, all the treasure, the kind obsessed with perfect scores! I must admit it's hard to enjoy the game, once your attention's split between all the rest.

There was a simple task I was facing in the game. I was supposed to pick a lock in order to open this chest. It required perfect timing. I was still learning how to do this, so I missed the first few times, but even as I was gaining on the confidence and knowledge, I was losing on the number of attempts I could make, and eventually, I had to pass the chest and move on. I found myself thinking of that chest for the next 20 minutes or so, I felt I couldn't move on until I knew what's in it. I even considered starting the game all over again, just so I could get another shot at it.

Then I remembered.

Having watched Craig play for so long, I suddenly remembered his style. He would focus on only one thing: moving on in the game. I would see him miss so many instructions and items on his way (and I would cringe a little) but he would somehow always make up for them later. He would never get stuck. He would go around smashing stuff, figuring things out along the way, making mistakes, learning from them, and never stop having fun!

There is a lesson to this, don't you think? It reflects a way of life. Unlike in video games, you cannot restart your life, there's no point worrying over the opportunities you missed or the mistakes you made. There's always gonna be a way to make up for them later. There's no going back so you might as well focus on moving forward and enjoying the game for what it's worth.

I'm gonna forget about that chest and move on.

You know one of those scenes in an insanely emotional flick where the protagonist stumbles upon something, an object, a phrase and suddenly he has a detailed and accurate flashback of the story behind it, complete with dialogues and expressions. I never thought that were possible in real life. Needless to say, this post is about how wrong I was.


This morning, having trudged all the way to the library to carry on with my preparation for the university exams next week, I was pretty groggy and quite plainly stressed. I've always (like millions of other students) had a habit of highlighting my lecture notes. And there I was studying and highlighting my astronomy notes in yellow when a particular incident from my childhood came back to me like a flash and I stopped.

I was 6. Having submitted an article (more like a bunch of incoherent sentences about something stupid) for a little competition at school, I was told the previous week that it had won a place in my school magazine. I must've been thrilled. I don't remember. At a following event, our principal had read out the names of the winners in his speech, a copy of which was given to all present, which included my mother. That evening at home, she carefully laid out the speech on my desk and asked if she could borrow my yellow crayon. I nodded and handed it over. She then began looking through the 5-page speech. After a couple of moments I heard her go "ahhh!" as she made a thick yellow line over a particular stretch on the page using the yellow crayon. I had no idea what she was doing, but I was curious. So I leaned in and saw the line she had drawn over. It was the part of the principal's speech where he had announced my name. I still didn't get it. I looked up and asked her what the yellow color meant and she said "well it's a way of highlighting something important that you might wanna see again, only you won't have to search for it a second time!" I was swept off by this simple idea. To me, she was a genius.

Back in the library, still holding that yellow highlighter mid-air, I couldn't believe I had such a fresh account of that memory locked up in my mind somewhere. But having looked back 15 years into the past, I couldn't help but feel humbled and grateful for having all these right forces in my life. I mean I was like a handful of freshly kneaded dough, and thankfully I was shaped in the best ways possible by people who cared and still do. I put the highlighter back, grabbed my phone and got up.
"Where are you going?" my friend asked.
"Just need to call someone who taught me how to highlight."

I've been busy. Clearly. And only recently did I happen to realize how much I miss blogging! It was an unintended hiatus and I beg for your pardon.

What I did, while I wasn't blogging

So these past few months are spent in travelling, visiting my homeland, and getting started with my final year at college. For some reason it seems like a promising year, I've grown as a person, coming to terms with the way things are and will always be, I've figured out some of my own priorities and dreams, although for most part it still remains an enigma.

Pretty many thoughts have crossed my mind over this break but given my miniscule-termed memory, it would be an impossible feat to pen them all down separately. So I've decided to categorize these random thoughts under one word "people".

Born quite normal and alike, people grow on to take the shape of this weird and varied lot. It's always been a habit of mine to just gaze at people (not in a creepy way) specially at public places and observe - observe how they all cling to things that feed their sense of worth, how they try to hide their deepest insecurities and how different they are in their demeanor, yet sharing a connection with each other at some level.

People think, people communicate, people are privileged enough to be the creators of their own fate. Why is that so hard to comprehend?

Yesterday a friend informed me about these 2 documentaries that were being screened in town, Yagoon Calling (based on the Punk culture in Burma as of June 2011) and Wariazone (based on the transgenders in Indonesia). It had been quite some time since I'd given my wholehearted attention to a socio-political issue so I was more than willing to join him. Long story short, the movies were good. I'm probably not gonna review them here for my own thoughts on these matters are not concrete. However, what kept striking me for most part of the evening was how different people are, in their beliefs, in their approach to a problem, even in their sense of who they are. I'm no anthropologist, but it wasn't quite hard to gauge the complexity of my race.

Recently some of my friends have been feeling under pressure, a few because they can't get their parents to agree with their choice of a life-partner, a few because they've been trying to excel academically for so long that they're exhausted and want to give up, and a few like me, who just can't figure out what they wanna do next!

If only people could ease-up a little, try to rise above those obsolete social norms, and picture the world in a different light, things could get a lot better.

This post is about gratitude. Something so simple, yet so rare.




We have a canteen system in our university. Each one having stalls representing different cuisines. Over the years of feasting at your favorite canteens, you grow familiar with the stall owners. In return they start recognizing you too, often to the extent of catching on with your taste and preparing your order in advance, and if kind and trusting enough, they might sometimes let you pay them later or round up your bills and spare you from rummaging your pockets for change.

Some of them however make you wonder.

There's this old chap who mans his stall with the help of an assistant and a cook. If I didn't know any better I'd say he was the reincarnation of grumpy the dwarf. The only thing that makes me look past that perpetual frown on his face, is the mouth-watering assortment of dishes on display at his stall. These few weeks I've been visiting his stall on a regular basis and each day seems to lay on him fresh griefs and miseries. He would be stingy in the portions he gives, would haggle over the prices and always sound pathetic, forgetful and miserable. Almost enough to make you lose your appetite even before the start of your meal. My first reaction towards his behavior was pity. I figured the guy had a lot of troubles to deal with and the least I could do was not hate him for that, but sometimes his insolence would cross the line and I would wonder if things are really that bad or if it's just him.

They say with gratitude the universe is infinitely abundant.

There's a metaphysical idea (as showcased in the movie happythankyoumoreplease) that the universe is listening to you, it's always hearing you and so if something great is happening, you can say, "I'm happy! Thank you! n yea yea yea I'll take more of that, I'll order more of that you hear me?" Gratitude is this really powerful force that so few have ever really felt. Like that old guy we're all a little restless and dissatisfied with what we have because everything culturally is trying to show us what we don't -"if only I had that I would be happier" but even after getting that, we wake up the next morning, still unhappy.

The only worthwhile prayer is a prayer of thanks. To be grateful for what you have and not sad or angry for what you don't. I wish he'd realize that.

I maybe 12 years late but I don't think my reaction was any different from those countless kids in the 90s who cried themselves to sleep the night the final episode of Alf was aired. The show has been one of those special childhood memories for me but I'd never managed to see the end. Few weeks back I happened to dig up the old episodes and after numerous fits of laughter, I felt myself falling in love with the furry alien wise-guy all over again!




He stood for everything alien to us, simplicity, innocence, pure joy..I loved to see his take on our day-to-day issues, and realized how easy it all becomes if we for a second, detach ourselves from who we are and think as an alien, like they say, the simplest answer is most likely the right one.

This is perhaps the first time that I'm writing a blog post without anything on my mind. It's probably gonna end up as a major fail, but who cares? Life is too short to worry about the consequences of things that give you happiness! Like that dessert you skipped last night? Who cares if it makes you fat? You'll get back on your ass and jog it off in a few laps! Take charge of your life, be the person you've always wanted to be! A while back a friend of mine seemed to be worried about this rift she'd had with an old friend of hers. Here's how the conversation went:

(friend) "I dunno man, I never have a problem with anybody, she's the only person I've ever managed to have a clash with, I feel I should make things right. I feel like its wrong on my part to not like her over such a small reason" 

(me) "Dude, know that girl from our database lab? Ms.know-it-all? Well I hate her, for existing. Its okay to not like someone sometimes, we're humans, we're complicated, we're not built to get along with everyone" 

"Still man, we were friends once, I mean she did wrong me, but then I just feel like I should forgive her and make it right, you know, like no enemies no hatred? 

"You're just trying to live a saint's life, don't be guilty about things that didn't turn out well, there's a reason behind everything that happens. Clear your heart and let go of the past" 

"Okay you're not the right person to talk to about this."

So I'm considered the less sentimental one. Whatever. I had a dream about high-school few days back. And waking up, it struck me how long its been, how those days appear to be millions of miles away, how fast everything changes and how little all our worries matter! It was overwhelming but also scary. It's like in the blink of an eye this present will turn into past and all we can do, is give it a longing stare over our shoulders once in a while. As of now, I feel excited to discover how life unfolds for me, there are so many things to do, so many adventures to face, who has the time to count one's enemies?

Earlier this week a bunch of people and I decided to scale the 884 m high Gunung Datuk in Malaysia. Now this being my first hiking experience, I spent several weeks googling anything that might help. It all came down to a few do's and dont's. What these websites never mention however, is how much the right company matters. We were 18 strangers when we left for Malaysia on the morning of Feburary 27th but the next 2 days were to make us really grateful for each other.

At the start of the hiking trail

It takes quite a strenuous physical effort to get to the top. And the trail isn't meant for beginners. It's steep all the way up with only rocks and tree-roots as your steps. The group was queued up in a particular order before the hike began so that each could keep a track of the other. I was to be the second from the front. The 4 hour early morning train ride and the bare minimum sleep we all got the previous night did not stand in way of the excitement we all felt standing there.

Within about 30 minutes however, the excitement was over and I started feeling what any beginner would too on that trail - shortness of breadth and heavy palpitation. The 50L haversack was not helping either. I decided to take a break and drink some water, which by the way was to happen several times along the way, we were all sweating like pigs! 

And that's me! Queen of the Jungle! :D

I can't stress enough on how much it helps to go with the right people! The support and encouragement and the numerous squeals of laughter I drew from my companions are what reduced the feat to a mere trifle. We took about 3 hours to reach the camp site.






The climb wasn't over because we were yet to reach the summit. Having pitched our tents and sheltered our luggage (it was about to rain), we started mounting the steel ladders and ropes that were to bless us with the most breathtaking view of our lives!

The Summit (and it was raining!!)

Later that evening, we had a delightful experience (calling it "dinner" isn't fitting enough). We had enough food with us to last us for a day and a half. With an assortment of noodles, rice, chicken nuggets, sausages, baked beans, soups, marshmallows and fish balls, we started putting together a decent meal. By now everyone was familiar with everyone else, it hardly needed any amount of coordination for us to work in sync. The dishes were being served around and sometimes fed by hand as and when they were prepared. That night those people felt closer than family.




The stomach's were full, the night was young. Some of us (including myself) climbed back to the summit for some star-gazing. The wind was at its ferocious best, while we were mere specks on those rocks. I was reminded of the movie horton hears a who! and of how little we were before the grand scheme of things. The sky was so clear and the stars were so bright, we laid down flat on those rocks and it felt like I could almost see the entire universe. It was an overwhelming and humbling experience.

Our failed attempt at lighting those lamps (it was wayy too windy)

We got back to the camp site around midnight, I was planning to wake up early in time to catch the sunrise next day so I slid into my tent and called it a day. I would be lying if I say it was a comfortable night. It was freezing cold and many of us did not carry our sleeping bags to avoid the weight. Result? I was curled up in a ball the whole time.

A little movement and noise from outside woke me up at around 6. Some of the people were up for sunrise-viewing. I had a tough time deciding if I should join them or go on sleeping for a few more hours. I finally gave into the temptation and dragged myself out of the cozy tent. We climbed up to the summit once again and...I'd say it was worth it :)

 

The Early Risers

So happy I wasn't a lazy bum for once!!

So around 8 am we got down to the camp site and started preparing breakfast for ourselves and the other lazy heads who were still sleeping. We had bread, nutella, canned tuna, rice balls, milo, sausages and all of last night's leftovers!

On the mountain..or under the sea..nutella with us forever will be..lol

By 10 am we had packed everything and were ready to start our descent. Now normally people would think that going down is easier. It is in the sense that you don't get as tired and it's faster but at the same time you have a lot more tendency to slip, fall, get hurt, scratch your knees, sprain your ankle or twist your elbow..I did nearly all of those, but it was all in the spirit of adventure, like wounds from the great war that people show off..haha

This is me on my way down

This is me slipping

This is me finally reaching the start! YAY!

There were shower facilities nearby (which I wasn't aware of earlier so I didn't have any spare clothes to change to), but we all got fresh, took cabs and treated ourselves to a well deserved KFC meal.




It was a short walk from there to the railway station, and then another 4 hours in the train back to Singapore. It's hard to recount everything that happened in this short journey, but it certainly gave me memories and friends that I'll cherish for a lifetime :)

Friendship Friday 1 - Weekend Blog Hop

I love being a part of a community with varied interests in writing, creativity, food, travel, etc. I feel like I can learn something from everybody here and in turn use it as a canvas to express my own raw n deep-felt emotions. It's a great symbiosis :)