The age of non-dreadlocks.

I know I'm getting old when I see dreadlocks on an older man and think Eugh

Now I have wanted dreadlocks for the longest time. In fact, just last year (CNY 2008), I still thought dreadlocks was 'cool' (do people still say that?) and I wanted the same ones as Newton Faulkner's. Cool, hippie, bohemian VOLUME.

Today, being behind this (possibly) rocker uncle with VOLUMIOUS dreadlocks and some rastapasta accessories woven in, i just thought, 'wow what a hassle. must be a pain to wash. doesn't look too practical'. Yes, I sound like mum. I even tell the kids that I assess nowadays to make sure they wash their hands with soap when they go to the toilet, and make them use a towellete to ensure their hands are dry.

P keeps reminding us that we're not old. We're just 'refined'. We look down on torn tight bum-crack-baring jeans, short skirts, truckers caps, 'today's noisy bad music and R&B nonmusic', queueing up for the latest freebie/club etc...and prefer quieter places with live jazz, quality breakfasts, professional clothes and thinking films.

I do feel a little older, a little wiser. And even a little calmer (not longer the angsty emotional teenager who listened to Avril Lavigne and thought no one understood). But unfortunately, not more prepared for handling new tricky situations. Like work stress. Which is unlike self-induced academic work stress. Work stress has been a big boo boo in my life lately. Been tired, agitated/snappy and rather demotivated. Perpetually waiting for my next holiday (which incidentally is this Thursday, yippeee!). But is this normal? Or is it a case of work depression? Case in mind : I have a colleague who just recently went on long medical leave. We can only speculate that it's depression or anorexia. Or both. And from the comments she leaves on our msns, it's work-related. Is this what happens when you approach 30? Our badgered neurotransmitters give in and we pick up some mental conditions along the way? Is this why older folk sometimes seem Jaded?

What about other new, possibly equally stressful unforeseen life challenges? Like being bored, isolated and not being able to make friends easily as in school. Like figuring out what you really want and how to get it. Like prepping yourself to deal with the fact that your live-in boyfriend is going off to volunteer in Palestine for 2 months next year. I feel so unprepared and overwhelmed sometimes I can't even make a minor decision like where to eat. Or whether I want to go to Botanical Gardens or not. I just vegetate with my brainless magazines and eat loaves of Jap milk bread instead!

Growing up and getting old is not nice. Not at this juncture anyways. Somehow it seems to get uglier. Not so much physically (although i must say, my forehead seems to be less elastic-y and less dewy lately...), but mostly mentally. What happened to the ROCKING 20s that I looked forward to? Where you're young and free and you have the time of your life that you tell your bored grandchildren about? I always thought life would always be peachy and will turn out okay in the end (if it doesn't turn out the way I want it to). I hope I still believe that. I'm just not liking the transition phase before the peachiness. And I hope I still have it in me to cope with things if they don't turn out peachy in the end. Or not as peachy.

Note to self : Need to stop buying advert-loaded superficial fashion mags like Female and Bazaar. It's rubbish. Lots of pics, adverts and non articles (although i should've known better than to expect much from mags for rich housewives and LV-loving young executives). Maybe it's time to make Her World, Women's Weekly and Marie Claire magazines my staple instead. The older... *more refined* magazines. Or I could just opt to mature completely and appear intellectual by hiding behind brainy magazines.
Like The Economist. The Psychologist. Time. and Weekly Medical Reviews.

I think I have officially reached a loss-of-age-persona quarter life crisis.

The Maddening Silence

And so I'm back in SG! Sitting on this sand-coloured couch. Yet again.

Got BFM radio streaming in through my laptop. I have to have some background sound. The quietness is driving me nuts! I dreaded coming back here. Just knowing that I'd be alone and have to face the quietness. And of course, that it's Sg. Routine Sg.

Baahhh... All I've had the past few days is quietness, pretty much! P left for the UK last monday. It's been a week. Out of which, four days I spent back in Penang, and the rest, I've been really ill. Down with high fever, a cough and the flu. Looks like the swine kind to me. (Although my Doctor says it's a 'borderline' case, whatever that means!) The virus was so resistant to the antibiotics my course had to be changed. So yes. It was a pretty miserable time for me. Me, the thermometer and the couch. And 3 cans of soup.

I guess I should be enjoying this now. This solitude. The calmness and living for myself. Not having to do anything, especially when I'd rather just relax. But really, having a whole week of staring at our sand-coloured couch is driving me mad! I'm even starting to have conversations with the fridge and its contents!

I think I form too great attachments to people and places. When I was back in Penang, I didn't want to leave. My wonderful room, the wonderful laidback life in the house, and my mom. It was so hard to leave. It's always hard to leave Penang. My island retreat. And now I'm reeling from P being gone. Just for a week. I miss preparing dinner for us for when he gets back from work! (Ask me this again though in 3 weeks). I guess I just miss his company. Just having him around as part of everyday life, and doing things together. OMG I fear long distance again!

Just feeling really lonely now. Just loneliness I guess. And it's only 2.5 days till I fly anyways. I can't wait! P's sister's wedding in the UK, followed by our time in Portugal. Am pretty much packed now (I was so excited I packed a whole week ago!), and the house has been cleaned and tidied. So it's just some small bits to sort out. I can deal with it. Just loneliness. And quietness. Only 2.5 days...

What summer 04 holds...

My mind always takes me back to the summer of 2004. My last summer before any of the significant changes happened in my life. Good and bad. Almost like a final resting zone before I got sucked/plunged into the neverending moments and the whirl of life.

Sometimes I long to go back to that summer. I was 19. And I wore jeans. I wore jeans to the Psych Summer Beach Camp. The camp that defined that summer. I wore jeans when the others wore little board shorts and bikinis. I wore jeans through the 10 hour bus journey to the other side of the peninsular.

I wore my damn jeans, all the way over to the beautiful other side of Malaysia. With its untouched beaches and rural landscapes. It was so breezy, so warm, with its calming yet forceful waves. Leaving your skin with a layer of sea salt and sweat. You could always hear the sea. And at night, you could always see the stars. And there was that delta that could always be counted on to reach into the blue seas at different intervals every day. Exposing its different depths.

I don't know if I remember it so much because that was when I first started writing myself letters (few and far in between though, mind you), forcing an insight that was forever etched in paper, and therefore I have a memory of the time clearer than any other. Or if it is because it serves as my mind's refuge. Just in that moment, just before a turning point, the safety net for me, where it was all comfortable. And I was eager and full of hope for life and its promises. A simpleton. Just happy to be.

Team-building made new friends and we had fun. But we were alone too. We were alone some parts of the day. And at night, we were alone, even amongst friends, sprawled out on our backs on the beach to gaze up at the stars. We had plenty of time to go off and contemplate things. Little me-workshops, where you'd go away on your own, to find your own spot, and write...about things. Some people drew, some people talked. I did a bit of both. But most of the time, I tried 'finding my inner peace', gained insight and wrote lists.

I do that a lot. I write lists. It keeps the order. Or at least creates an order for the chaos that is my life. Maybe it helps me feel in control of something. Lists. My current list is a page full of scholarship deadlines. In addition to the usual lists for groceries to buy to try out a new recipe.

Does it really create order though? I don't know. Do I really need such an orderly system anyways? Maybe. I dunno. I went through a terribly upsetting time again just recently. Only this time, my body and mind reacted. Badly. But that incident has shown me that no matter how hard I worked at it or tried to control/prevent a situation, one can only do so much.

And since that episode, you could say I gained a little insight. A deeper one that is steeped more in practicality. You can only control so much. I only have so much energy, and two small hands. The rest is up to me to deal with when the time comes and if it does at all. And rest assured, that beyond dreams, my little beach refuge is tangible, and I can always reach it again, when I need it.

In the meantime, it sits behind the little trap door in my mind, ready to engulf me in its warmth and a vast blanket of endless stars amidst sounds of waves. When and if.

Currently listening to : Zee Avi
(very laidback acoustic jazz, reminds me of coconut trees and hammocks)

Demotivating Times

I didn't want to get out of bed today.

I couldn't see what there was to get out of bed for.

I didn't want to get out of bed yesterday either. Couldn't bring myself to get to work. The one thing that spurred me on was the realisation that it was Friday. THE WEEKEND. Woohoo. Although in retrospect, I'm glad I did 'pounce' out of bed. Being in the right place at the right time combined with initiative on my part, lead to me taking the reins over two projects at work that I can more excited about. And that would hopefully facilitate the learning and stimulation I crave so much.

However, this mood worries me. I've had this cloud of demotivation hovering above me for a few weeks now. Less smiley and patient, more moody and easily agitated. Not enough to garner a depression diagnosis. But enough to disable my enthusiasm for life at the moment. Maybe all I need is coffee.

On the other hand, my best friend could be right, I have reached a burnout. She's always said this country's toxic to me. She also said that if I kept at the rate I was working at the relationship, I might suffer a breakdown and hate myself if it didn't work out. The relationship's rosy now though. It had hard times. About a year of what I call the Dark Ages, where it was almost as if I was with a stranger. A year's worth of trying so hard, and pushing away my needs and any hurt, to make myself work harder at it, all for that intermittent happiness, however bleak the outlook of a future seemed at the time. All while doing a lot of housework, cooking and meaningless chores in the process. I also didn't have a permanent connection to anything, not belonging in Singapore plus always having to be ready to fend for myself and start anew (e.g. room-hunting etc) if my pillar were to decide to uproot himself back 20,000km where he came from. 'Nothing's ever certain' became my motto. My career was looking bleak too. My friends were advancing but I was held back by lack of money and a job that was increasingly mundane and intellectually unstimulating. All this while knowing that I am very capable and able to reach higher heights if only I was given the opportunity. I felt helpless and alone.

It was the recipe of disaster. A classic case study I was used to reading in my psychology textbooks.

But the relationship's good now. Something clicked and we're back to normal (pre-LDR) now. My life and job is still quite routine and mundane now, but I can keep trying little things to spice it up. In this city, activities aren't particularly exciting, and relationships aren't entirely fulfilling/stimulating. And money's still depleted, with no hopes of escaping the country and its crowds. I suspect that having no escape is making me this moody, high-strung, angsty person. Who can potentially ruin what I've worked so hard for. And then not have the motivation to pick myself up again.

It happens everyday. To people who think it won't happen to them. I won't say I'm invincible to it, but I have awareness of it. The triggers, the symptoms, the prognosis and treatments. That comes with the field I'm in. And with awareness, I'll hopefully be able to avoid myself falling into the traps that will send me on a downward spiral and dependency on Prozac.

I have to be positive. Resilience is my middle name! First of all, I have to get through this Saturday...and try come out with a different perspective.

Pre-quarter Life Crisis?

Is this all there is to life?

Something doesn't measure up. Life has not measured up to my expectations. Everything seems mediocre at the moment. I'm not developing, nor learning anything different, nor having too intelligent conversations (plausibly due to the lack of engaging people around me on a daily basis), working long hours and not seeing my savings budge, (rather I'm tired and broke a lot of the time with very little time to apply for scholarships). The same mundane routine every day, same mind-numbing commute, same boring city-scape and its bloody crowded malls. Is this a post-university-fresh-addition-to-the-workforce syndrome? Do I have too high expectations? Is there even SUCH a thing as 'too high' expectations?!

Maybe I'm too jaded now to count my blessings. There are people living in conditions of famine and poverty now, with barely enough clean water to drink, menopausal mothers who are forced to take on multiple jobs sweeping leaves in the early morning, work day-shifts at McDonalds and moonlighting at Geylang at night to pay for their sixth child, who perhaps has just become paraplegic from a recent spinal injury that left him suddenly in a lurch in a new world and a new kind of emotional depression to deal with. Broken hearts, broken lives, living in countries where beheadings are common and females are circumsised and stoned. Maybe worse things.

I should be thankful. Singapore is a clean, safe and efficient place. I have a job during the recession. I have Paul with me. We live in a cosy little flat in the heart of the best area in SG and have (barely) afforded two holidays already and a visit back to England coming up. My mom & best friend are not far away and healthy. Otis, despite his old-age cataract, still recognizes me. I'm healthy and happy enough most of the time. I have a couple of friends I can escape with for a cake/tea in the park. I guess I should be thankful. Just need reminders every now and again.

I thought I had it all sussed out as a kid. That I would miss my routine school life loads, but my teenage years would be fun, and I'd find more of me and figure things out more 'later'. In my teens, I found more of myself, lost some along the way, and was geared up to try out my 'stable' personality in university in a different continent, thinking that I'd have it all sussed out during uni. At uni, i complained of the weather and general racism i faced, and the lack of quality friendships, ploughed myself into producing quality academic work and actively engaged in co-curricular activities, met a terrific man along the way and found out what it really felt like to be in love. Life's settled then! I thought that with my holistic CV of a 1st class degree, achievements, accolades, support from the people I love and resilience from life experiences, I'd have the world at my feet. I had high hopes for the future. I knew tht when I reach the adult-y stages of work life, I'd have it all sussed out. But at 23 and paying income tax, I'll have to say, I haven't quite figured it out yet. I'm guessing that when I turn 24 this year, I'd STILL haven't found my answers nor a real direction in life yet. 25's probably not any less uncertain. Hopefully less empty though. *crosses fingers and toes*


Currently am crazy over :
- Glossy lip colours (Majolica range),
- Slumdog Millionaire the movie (I thought Jamal was the ultimate sweetie and the gentleman many femme fatale girls could start pinning their hopes on again. Until I watched an interview of the British guy who played the humble/determined Mumbai teen from the slums. Then realized that he reminded me of Z, my loud Asian Brit friend who used to date my friend. *note to teenage girls to crush hopes*)
- James Morrison
- sexy Jazz music (first inkling that I'm getting old. The young me swore never to like 'old man Jazz')

Being let down

Being let down tires me. Being confused tires me too. Worse, being upset or angry - zaps the logic out of me. When it happens a bit often, it's tiring and I need happy again. Happy and happy, fast.
In the end, as cheesy and 14yr old it sounds : It's your friends who don't let you down.
Others around you, even the closest beings to your heart, and on a bigger scale, general humankind, bring forth disappointment, sadness at some points...but miraculously, your friends are there at all points. Somehow they are a constant feature.
They don't let you down.

Best of Bali 09

Maybe

A 'When push comes to shove' situation on New Year's morning made me re-evaluate my thinking processes and a complacency I've fallen into recently. The day before the eve of the New Year, I thought, Maybe I don't forgive and forget as easily as I thought.

This doubt nearly destroyed what I believed in and what I wanted to remember to strive for. In my tormented doubt then, of my abilities to forgive, to forget and just doing, I thought, Maybe it’s something more inherent. Some psychoanalytical pseudoscience I was always sceptical about - some regression, transference thingmabob.

So I did the Attachment Style questionnaire again just for assurance. Results came out Secure again. And I breathed a sigh of relief, albeit a wee bit doubtful. But it being the last of 2008, I need to eliminate doubt. Doubt in myself and doubt in all the things I believe in.

With the advent of the new year, I have decided to just believe and DO it. Forgiveness and trust are powerful things. They change things, make things happen and drive forth a growing process. And above it all, love is a powerful motivator in any process (Fear is too, haha, but love and fear share almost the same brain limbic circuits). So, in the spirit of the city I'm stuck in : 'Die die must try.'

Maybe it’s me,
What is to be,
Maybe lucky,
All I ask is where we’re supposed to be.

Maybe learning,
Always searching,
Am I asking things,
I’ll know too soon, I’ll know too soon.

excerpts i can relate my end of 2008 'crisis' to, from Maybe, by Stereophonics)

It was all in the words. But maybe now, the words need to be changed.

Happy new year.