My Epiphany

Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the time of the year. I had a sudden realization as I walked down busy streets all by myself with a haversack on my back and converse sneakers on my feet.

I realized I have been living my life wrong. Maybe not wrong but not in the way my heart tells me to.

All along I had thought I wanted fame, sense of importance and everything else that comes with having a rather reputable job. The corporate ladder is not for me, I don't wear heels. And I'm not for earning the riches and driving fast cars. I want to create and make something that will change the world. I want to save something. I want to help.

So last evening before bed, I made myself promise that I will never buy another leather bag or purse. I told myself I will cut down on my meat intake and I will try to be a vegetarian. I told myself that no animal have to die just so I could enjoy its meat. (Carl and my mom are going to be rather sad over this)

I saw yet another article on sport hunting of the largest elephant in Africa killed. I saw its lifeless body, its long white beautiful tusks. Then I saw a disgusting human being squatting next to it, posing for the camera. With a smile so wide that I just feel like giving him the Joker's scars.

I realized I have a vigilante in me. I can't stand watching the helpless being bullied. I can't stand not helping anyone.

So I promised myself that I will give unconditionally from today onwards. Do my best to protect those who can't protect themselves and help whenever I could. I will save the animals. I will.

I will even speak up for the rape victims in India. I will and I will.

I will be the voice for those who can't speak or tell a story. I will and I will.

I will save the world. Even if it means me being murdered. I will not live and die like this. I will live a true life, a meaningful one. I will not leave this world without contributing anything to it.

P/S Tony, if you're reading this, please lend me one of your suits?

Closure of Cs

I left Carl today. 

Left whatever we have built over the last two years. Left Keppel Club, Snoop, Sunrise Terrace and all the feeling of him being around, the memories and his smile. 

Love is a choice. Leaving is also a choice. 

I did my best. I really did this time. 

29th September 2015

On this fateful day, something rather big happened.

It is to me.

I had duly gone to the Superdry store at VivoCity to meet up with Alicia for a product sponsorship. Before that, I had gone to La Senza to check on the new arrivals and returned the goods I had previously loaned. Met up with Alicia at about 5:05pm and spoke with her a little on what our requirements are. Managed to catch up a little on our common friends and went on to talk about Yoga Movement.

Then the phone ranged, ding ding.

I had to look at it again. For a good 10 seconds I couldn't believe my eyes.

"[WhatsApp] B K. Siew Hi, xxxxxxxxxx"

I took the SuperdrySport collection I've picked out for Alicia and told her to go try them out. Spoke with her a little while my brain was racing up and down, to and back. And I said bye to her.

But I didn't leave the store. I had to breathe.

I hid in the storeroom and reread the message a good ten times. I was panting very heavily and for a moment I thought I was going to faint. If I were to faint there, I am sure my colleagues would have sent me to the hospital. And they will notify my boss in the office. Which will then be ridiculous so I tried hard not to pass out.

Thank god I didn't.

So it finally happened. The day I always somewhat knew would come.

He had dreamt about us the night about, about our quarrels and fights that were surely, unforgettable in his words. To me, I had let go of the unpleasant times and remembered the good ones for these two years.

Glad he remembers it's been more than two years since we last spoke. Not pleased to know that he has only been able to think about the bad times we've had for the past couple of years.

If fate has a nickname, let's dub it wicked OK? Let's agree on the existence of sheer coincidence as well because two nights before, I had dreamt about him vividly.

If I had subconsciously been practising LOA on him, and even in my dreams, I've manifested him back into my life again. Not trying to sound arrogant or cocky here, but I've always known that Thor Tan Tui and Mrs Thor will always find their way back to each other somehow. Maybe not in the romantic way, maybe not even on friendship basis. But maybe for a closure.

And this is our closure.

He had decided to let go of all the resentment and anger that he has been keeping for two years.

"Are you serious? For two years, he's only been able to think about the anger?" asked Tracy.

Later that day, I went home and had a good long stare at the diary he had previously gotten for me when he went to Germany for some military training exchange. I took it out from the box that usually sits at this corner on my bookshelf. Inside were his photos, our photos, air tickets, receipts, a couple of letters, a card and March 2013 tore off from the calendar. I am a sentimental freak.

I opened the diary and skimped through some of its pages. The last entry was dated 28th September 2015. The day after I had dreamt about him.

Through the years, there were a few entries written. Sporadically.

"Wow, I was so childish," I felt disgusted with myself.

For the next three days, I contemplated whether to return everything to him which I had meant to for the past two years. Imagine if I had given the diary back to him in 2013, there would never have been entries dated 2014. There wouldn't have been entries written just because I had wanted so much to talk to him.

You see, we did really talk a lot when we first met each other and when we're not fighting. We usually talk to each other as soon as we wake to when we sleep. Never for more than an hour did we not text each other. We have endless subjects to talk about, ideas to share and identical habits to discover in each other. That was us. We're almost like best friends. Or I would like to think now, we used to be best friends in our past life. But not this life. The Universe had decided that this is the end of this arrangement which has spanned across a few lifetimes.

On 3 October when Carl left for LA, I picked up my phone and told Benjamin I have something for him. I have my closure and that was it. I want to return everything to him, the piece of him that he had given me. And if by reading all the entries I've written him all these years could give him the bit of solace he's been seeking for for years, then please let him read it. Please let him know how I felt, how I used to think and perhaps, allow him to understand why I reacted the way I did, which resulted him in not being able to let go of the resentment and hatred he has been habouring for two years.

I wanted us to say goodbye. I know we can never live with each other. Have we been thoroughly happy for the last couple of years? At least, I would like to think so. Even though Carl and I aren't officially back together, I know and hope we will one day be able to commit to spending the rest of my life together. Whether will I be thinking about Benjamin on my deathbed when I'm 85, I don't know.

***
14th March 2013 Thursday

It was a warm night. We took off to Sentosa after our dinner at Piedra Negra. You had a beer and I had a sangria. We sat by the beach and listened to the waves. For a good moment, we both kept quiet and allowed ourselves to be, to just be in the presence of the moment, right next to each other.

"When I went to the states for this military training, Schofield Barracks to be exact, we had potatoes for meals all the time. But the food was good, they were good."

Silence

It was September 12, 2015 that I decided to disappear and live a life of a recluse. I didn’t want to take a shower but decided to because I desperately wanted to brush my teeth. I had this unspeakable paranoia that if I don’t brush my teeth for a day, they will all be gone the next day. Sitting on the toilet bowl and emptying the little of which I’ve consumed the day before, I found out that the bathroom felt safer than my bedroom. It’s where I smoke and clean myself.

“Since you’re taking a shower anyway, why don’t you make sure you clean every inch of your body real clean?”

I have a habit of buying and keeping toiletries as and when I visit Watson’s. I always have a fear of running out of toiletries. Even when I do have a lot of travel sized ones, I still feel safer with the full sized version. I am worried about having no shampoo, no shower gel, no toothbrush and no facial foam. Funny thing is, I never worried about running out of toothpaste. My youngest sister was the one who worries about that so she always has it covered. I guess I take this for granted.

*

How could one who live in the light of day comprehend the depths of night?

*

I had to put away the Haruki Murakami book that I was reading. Once again, I fear that if I ran out of his books to read, I’ll be lost again in the depressed funk that I’m very familiar with and start crying. I made myself noodles and coffee for breakfast this morning. When I was still hungry, I had three crackers and felt bad for having nothing nutritional but carbohydrates.

*

“Hey, are you OK?”

“No.”

“OK.”

The phone ranged and exchanged were three short sentences that lies a whole lot of underlying meaning beneath. The display of concern at the beginning, followed by something which the asker didn’t want to hear, followed by something which the respondent didn’t want to hear. What’s the point of checking in on someone when you know you are incapable of doing anything if she’s not OK? Don’t anyone realize it makes people feel more helpless than she already is?

*
I can’t talk today. Or rather, I’m tired of talking and I have nothing I want to have a control of anymore. Things are not expressed don’t exist. If we strictly abide by the learning of this, reality will crumple. Kingdoms will fall and the government will cease to exist. It’s as simple as that.

“If you don’t say it, how will anyone know it?”

“It exists within me and I know it.”

“Bullshit.”

Goodbye Kitteh.

Everyone damn girl I see;

they look like they will make you happy.

They look like your dream girl...

one of them must be. 

Everyone, anyone

but me.

When Is Too Much Too Much?

I've been sitting alone pondering about the failures I've had in life and asked if I'm indeed as what they have labeled me to be - not strong enough. If I take away the self blaming element of this entire career saga that I've been going through, I realized it isn't me who's flawed. It's the work and elitism system here in Singapore that is. Having been out and about MNCs and SMEs, I noticed the huge jaw dropping difference in both. MNCs care a great deal about employee welfare, SMEs only care about the business. And when you only care about your business, guess what, you shall forever remain as an SME.

I've been down in the rut recently questioning myself once again what is the matter with me. I ran a barrage of questions I had with my friends who worked or work in creative agencies in hope to determine if I've being fairly treated at work. The answer they gave was no. I'm on the client side and rightfully speaking, it shouldn't be as taxing as it is on the agency side. Yet my friends from agencies can tell me, that they think it's too much.

No more self reproach. For I've taken far too much medication to calm myself when I wake in the middle of my sleep to weep like a child. I haven't been sleeping well that's to say. No, I haven't been sleeping at all without the aid of my medication. I'm most probably labelled as flawed and weak in the eyes of workaholics and control freaks. But in all honesty, I don't give a damn. This is my life after all.

Paying Dues

The saying, "You'll never know what you got till it's gone" is real.

Long time ago, I had the luxury of what people consider surreal of knocking off on time every day, granted Public Holidays and all weekends off, and not having to work when you're on sick leave, on paid holiday and after-hours. These days I find myself trying to comprehend what's going on in my life. It seems, the further I dive into social media, the more I lose the luxury of me-time. I'm always on call it seems. Emails and whatsapp messages just keep coming in no matter where you are and what time it is.

It seems Singaporeans hardly have an idea on what work/life balance is. And fortunately, I was with John Wiley & Sons for a good two years that clearly showed me what it really should be. We were discouraged to work after-hours, on weekends and public holidays. When we're sick, we be sick. We recuperate and get well, get ample rest so that we could return to work asap. If you're sick and replying emails, your boss in the UK is going to question whether you're really sick. If you have to work after-hours and on weekends, it shows you're unproductive during your usual working hours. That was their culture for you. I didn't mention that we too received an additional half day off before every ethnical holiday in Singapore because people in the UK/US understand that when Malays and Indians get to enjoy half day off prior CNY and Xmas, then Chinese too should enjoy half day off before their new year. Make sense?

The irony is, no Singapore company I've worked in practises this even though the country prides itself highly on celebrating multi-racial, multi-religion.

Singaporeans have a warped idea of the entire paragraph I wrote above. If you are sick, you should be replying emails and texts. If you don't work after-hours and on weekends, you're lazy. That's something I cannot seem to understand. Such cynical thinking it is isn't it?

I miss my life back then in the publishing industry. Where authors, professors and doctors were a better bunch of people to deal with. Not to mention, the perks that John Wiley spoilt me with have now been deeply etched into me. It has raised the bar to this high that no company (except for Google) could top. 

Where I would walk into the office not worrying about politics, plugged in to my music as I worked throughout the morning, in an environment where it's conducive, quiet and peaceful. I miss the two hour lunches my colleagues and I take every day, just sitting at the pantry, talking about ideas, politics instead of gossiping about people. I miss knocking off at 5:30pm and walking down to the lobby to see the black Mazda waiting for me. 

I've finally learnt that fame and prestige isn't what I'm after, after all. I want to be careless but be recognized as an academist, someone who's into books and literature. I don't wish to write ostentatious press releases nor fancy copies. I don't enjoy the limelight of the social media world because it's so pressurizing to have to deal with the internet crowd. If you've been in social media for a while, you would totally get what I mean. Some people just have venomous tongue and there are people born evil.

Becoming Freer

I've always believed there's something more in me. The ability to put thoughts into words without sounding phony, the crisp style of words usage without flamboyance. But the funny thing is, I always thought I was never good enough until I read how Haruki Murakami started writing.

I remember vividly when I was 11, I received my marked English essay and was very surprised that I had scored a high 38/40. The teacher then announced that my essay was the highest in class and also I had topped all combined 4 classes. I wasn't very impressed with myself but I was nonetheless surprised. Because on the day when I handed in the essay, I had thought I was going to flunk it or score really low. My classmate who sat next to me borrowed my essay to read and then returned it together with a black facial expression. I returned the favour with a blank expression as well.

The both of us clearly didn't know how I had managed to top all classes.

The writing style was nothing to boast, the story plot was nothing spectacular where there's a hidden plot twist at the end, the main character was named John.

I had a thought just earlier today (I always have a lot of thoughts) that I could live on $50 a month at a backward village where if I want to drink, I would have to fetch water from the well. That way maybe I could write something, figure out my life and quit smoking altogether.

My Sacrifice

I think this little speck here in the cyberspace is the most brilliant example of paradox. You see, I fucking well know there's no one reading whatever I write here YET at the same time, these words are possibly the truest form of my reality. No pretense, no lies and a whole load of swear words. Yes yes, and whatever that has taken place in the last TEN years of my life. So I am honestly documenting every thoughts I have, every struggle I go through, every breakup, every men I've known and the list goes on.

Ten years later, check back and you might find baby photos. Fifty years later, my writer daughter is going to turn this into a book.

I have 198 songs in my favourite playlist on iTunes that I can never tire of listening. It should be 199. I had forgotten to pull Foo Fighters - Everlong in.

It's 9 August today. One more day and Carl and I would have known each other for two years. He's been really sweet today. It feels like we are back together. Alas, we are not. According to him, he needs this space to be on his own to figure himself out, as well as his future. I mean... What's there to figure out about his future? I am YOUR future babe. But it's okay, you'll see it in due time. You'll never meet another person like me. You know this all too well. How often does one meet someone who's:

1. all your friends love (without having to buy them rounds of shots)
2. watches football with you
3. plays games with you (and bought you Football Manager before anyone in SG gets to play)
4. debates whether 2pac or Biggie was the best rapper ever lived with you
5. eats whatever shit you eat
6. travels with you and carries her own bag
7. fashion savvy enough to style you
8. has a Mensa IQ
9. almost became a Googler
10. am the best in bed that some call her Sex Goddess
11. has a fucking wicked sense of humour

And the list goes on.

So babe, if you're ever reading this, you're really just plain stupid if you never come back. If you did, which you will, you're being wise.

If you're the new girl of his, well, I have a longer list. You might even start to think I'm perfect for him, not you.

12. i speak my mind all the time.

50 Years Into The Future

Lying semi awake in bed, I can't help but to log in here to write down some of the much random and melancholic thoughts I have. As Singapore ushers in her 50th birthday, I tried to flash back as much as I can, peering into my childhood and teenage years, all since the year 1985 in which I was born in. 

Hello 30. 

Time has its way. Whether you think of it having a good horsepower or one akin to a Picanto, it travels linear without showing a tinge of mercy on us. Hitting 30 made me realize I am no longer young. While the days of incessant partying has long gone, I can still smell the sweetness of the residue left behind by the days of my 20s. The rebel, the carefree, and the careless. My body has failed me quite a tremendous bit where four hours of sleep no longer suffice. Aging is real and so is our race against time, the one thing we can never beat.

50 years into the future, Singapore will be celebrating her 100th birthday. Technology would have taken yet another huge evolution and the politicians we see now would have long died. Without doubt, my parents would have also died. And I, will be 80 years old. The idea of losing my parents is devastating in an abstract fashion I would call my own. I do believe there's a paradise which we all go to after our time here is up. That thought makes me happy. Alas, before I can confirm whether this is true, the absence of their presence would be a thing I will notice with regret. They were after all, once roaming on this land, living in the same dimension.

What would I be like when I'm 80? Will I have a lot of children? Grandchildren? Will I still remember this feeling I have right now when I'm old and feeble? Will I be placed in a nursing home thinking about my husband who had died before me? Will I be a happy elder? Will I still remember I do social media for a living? Would I have, by then, be able to decide whether 2pac was a better rapper or Biggie? 

How will Singapore change? How will the world change? Will it be an apocalyptic one which Interstellar best depicts? Will mankind be struggling to find a chance to live in the unknown dimension? 

With so many questions on hand and I have no answers for. I know I can only wait to find out. Knowing that we are all in fact dying, and time is the one which will eventually kills us, I no longer wish to chase fame, prestige and money. 

I only want more time.

Just One of Those Days.

I have heard this saying for a million times, "When something doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger," and I have a very opposing view of this. Sans the belief that everyone lives a life that's akin to a bed of rose, I am absolutely certain that you too have had something in your life that didn't kill you. It may have made you stronger, it may have made you a better person but sure, you would have changed quite a bit from the experience. To quote a book that I read years ago by Marian Keyes, this sentence she wrote has been deeply etched in my head which I stand proud to believe even until today: 

"When something doesn't kill you, it makes you funnier."

I have always thought that from the photographs one takes, you're able to sorta tell what kind of emotional landscape she happens to have at the moment. I have always wished that I was a better photographer, but on a self-comforting thought here, I perhaps fare better at words than capturing moments. 

Today is one of the days where I will work once again. After a newly found disgust for weekends, #TGIF hasn't meant anything to me since. I find myself empty and lost on Friday evenings, not having the same dose of joy that once meant a lot ot me. So I diverted a lot of attention to work, online and offline shopping and also alcohol and cigarettes. 

I had successfully quit smoking for about a hundred days. Kicking an 18-year addiction, I became a social smoke with a snap of a finger, just because I had wished to be healthier, a lovelier person for Carl. At the end of the day, I realized when I'm in need of company and something to do, cigarettes never betrays. And alcohol is my temporary solace that I could have from all the madness I have within myself when I am sober. 

Who the fuck says it's wrong to drink to escape from problems and woes? Does this person even understand how it feels like to be miserable and yet pretending to be positive and strong on the outside for 150 days? Does this person know how it feels like to cry for 150 nights? 

My escape consists nothing short of alcohol, cigarettes and the utmost desire to run from the reality that's right before me to a past where I was carefree and happy. 

Good Woman

I have a thing for giving the title of any entry here the name of the song I happen to be listening to. When others think of it as nothing special, I think there's a lot to it. If the Universe chose to play the song (Spotify) when the urge in me to write was brought forth, then it must damn mean something. I believe, in some extent, that this is how the Universe is communicating with me. At this point of time, the Universe is telling me something.

I don't want be a bad woman

And I can't stand to see you be a bad man

I will miss your heart so tender

And I will love

This love forever

And this is why I am leaving

And this is why I can't see you no more

This is why I am lying when I say

That I don't love you no more

'Cause I want (to) be a good women

And I want for you to be a good man

And I was right wasn't I?

These four months have come and gone in a fashion that is not favoured by me. During this period of time that has passed, I have cried and bawled more than I ever did in my life. I have cried in the shower, I have cried before bed, I have cried when I took the train, I have cried when I was on the bus, I have cried at work, I have cried in all places you could possibly thought of. And surprisingly, I am still crying today after Carl and I have broken up for four months.

I have not gone on a holiday, reserving myself for him. I have not gone on any dates and I haven't had the desire to find someone new. They say the best way to get over someone is to find someone new. But what happens when you are sure you want no one else but that one person who doesn't want you? Do we give up and let go just because it's easier to do so, or do we stay put standing at the same spot because pain is the only feeling that you could feel in order to feel closer to the person? Whether it's walking away from a love you cherish so dear or staying put, it hurts nonetheless isn't it? Crying is my expression of hurt and pain.

"Yes, you can leave and hope for the best," I thought to myself on the train ride home this evening. I can hope for the best. But I too wish to fight for what I really want. It's my way of survival and I was taught that this is the way to do things. I have fought for who I am now, what I have now, and possibly the little achievements I have now. So when it comes to matters of the heart, why shouldn't I put up a fight? Isn't perseverance the only ingredient anyone need to achieve anything?

It's 2 July today and Carl and I are still not back together. It's my birthday soon and I don't want a new bag, not riches, not fancy dinner at fancy restaurants. I only ever want Carl and I to be back together. Not the same manner we were before but better.

Is this too much to ask for?

Opera Ghost

It's Saturday and I'm at home reading A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami while listening to The Phantom of the Opera. How long have I not listened to it? Quite a substantial amount of time. How long haven't I stayed home on a Saturday to read, have coffee and listen to the opera? I can't remember but this doesn't feel brand new at all. This feels like I've once again returned home.

[At this point of time, Prima Donna came on. It's one of my favourite segments of the opera. Mainly because, if you realized, there were six of them intersecting one another at the same time. How they managed to keep up to the arrangement while not forgetting a beat and remember their cues while not getting distracted by others absolutely amazes me. Wait, there were six of them right?]

It's once again Saturday. What used to excite me a hefty lot now hurts me. There is anger building in me and I can feel myself gradually slipping away, choosing to be angry while I try to regain my worth by being myself -- the same and only bed of roses that Carl has managed to trample on and destroy. I'm a train that has run out of steam. The irony is while there's something burning inside, it's not the same kind of fuel that's pushing me forward to chase my dream. On the contrary, it's the kind of fuel that's pushing me the other direction. 

Of late, I found myself thinking about Ben a lot. Maybe because I've started to listen to The Phantom of the Opera again. I suppose one can hurt thinking about one man and seek comfort in another who used to hurt you. With time, all anger has dissipated and faint are the memories of the both of us fighting every night. All that are brought forth now are fond memories of the both of us together. But we're over isn't it? We will never have our paths crossed again. One thing I don't understand is why are people generally OK with loving someone who had once betrayed them mentally, physically and emotionally? I can't do that. Maybe because I'm a Leo and I pride loyalty above everything else. 

Never say Never

I wonder who still visit this space of mine here, one that I've been diligently updating every now and then since 2006. It's been 9 years and this space could well be the only thing I can easily trace back the forgotten past and the perhaps revisit emotions trapped somewhere if they are ever found again.

My insides are churning as I pen this now. My eyes are welled up with tears yet I am not crying. My heart rests the same, surrounded by my rib cage, beating in clockwork. We know a heart is a fist that pumps blood but at this moment, I wonder how a broken heart is able to do that. Still, I am living, I am breathing and I am in pain. 

So much has happened since February. I have lost the man of my dreams, the one who I thought I'll be with forever, the one who told me that all he's ever wanted of me is for me to be happy. Yet, all this unhappiness I am going through right now is summoned by his decision to end us. If our relationship is as what he's claimed, cherished, memorable and precious, why was the decision made in the first place? If I am one, who he's claimed to be, significant, important and valued, why did he choose to lose me? If this isn't love that he's feeling, to be crying, to be caring a damn lot about what I feel and think even until this day, then what is it? 

God, Universe, I wonder if you had heard me the other night where I pray to release me of this grief and pain. I would rather forget everything than to go through this again and again. I want to forget. I want to forget every thing. I want to forget him. 

So it seems,
the way you feel,
your frustration,
your patience running thin,
is all that matters to you.

And what I've been through,
what I'm going through,
doesn't call for a chink in your armor,
doesn't call for a bat of eyelid,
doesn't send a wrench to your heart,

You're the human.
And I'm only an object.
I have no feelings,
no thoughts,
no voice,
of any sorts.

Fortune Telling

There was a year I went to have my fortune read.

"In the future, you will meet someone who you will love a lot but he won't reciprocate. When that happens, it's crucial you surround yourself with family and friends for you might do something foolish."

He then continued, "You will never be happy working. And you will only be happy when you are in your 40s."

At this moment, I refused to let him be right. He then went on to pass away the year after.

I Wished

I wished I had controlled myself better
I wished I was stronger
I wished I hadn't gone down this path
I wished I am not back at square one

But I am

I hate this. I hate you.

White Noise is The Artwork Installation Babe

I wonder who still reads this here. As compared to other blogs where people only post glamourous photos of themselves, this is obviously the opposite. And no one enjoys reading a blog where there's no photos, beautiful girls and body expose shots.

Sometimes, I wish someone will agree with me when I said Time is our best enemy. Time is the best weapon to kill things. I slowly feel I'm drifting away with each minute. I'm standing at this place right now where I could clearly see things that happened in the past now. I'm seeing things that had taken place over the last year. Engulfed with sheer memories, I realized I couldn't shed yet another tear anymore. I guess that's what people refer to as complete numbness.

Left behind is self that doesn't feel.

And I noticed the departure of my soul with dismay.

Monotony is inevitable;

The sense of loss of things,

The loss of sense of time. 

***

And under the water you scream so loud but the silence surrounds you

But I hear it loud and you fall in the deep and I'll always find you

If my red eyes don't see you anymore

And I can't hear you through the white noise

20,000 leagues away, catch up to you on the same day

Travel at the speed of light, thinking the same thought at the same time

Heart beats at a steady pace, I'll let the rhythm show me the way

No one can find us here, fade out and disappear

- Blue Ocean Floor, Justin Timberlake 

***

Do you still remember how I smile when I first tasted medovick at pasarbella?

Do you remember the hello kitty pancakes I made at slappy cakes?

Do you remember our marketing spin for it?

Winter in March.

I am known to be expressive, creative and very good at articulating my thoughts. That's what I'm known I guess.

A lot of people don't realize about me, is that my thoughts tend to erupt in a dynamic fashion, they are never linear. When I look at things, I see its future, its past and the possibility of having it altered some way along the road. If I look at someone and I want that person near all the time, I look at his future, his past and wonder if there's anything I could do to his past to help me better understand him in this present, which may lead to me having him near me in the future. Thus, I have an undying curiosity about everyone's past. I like to know you from your past before I could go on to know you in this present and dive into your future.

Many think I'm expressive and outspoken. The truth is, I am not. I'm one better with written words. And my journals are my chambers of thoughts. I have a journal for everyone that matters to me. And I have one journal that I keep for myself. They are all my written thoughts and I know my memory is as fleeting as time. When time pulls me away from something I want to remember, I'll end up forgetting somehow. I yearn to remember the way Bennett and Benjamin made me feel. But time has pulled me further than I was meant to. I couldn't fight it.

As humans, we all feel pain. It's only right to express pain. It's only right to feel pain. Winter has fallen on me this March. And I'm left here alone to deal with my thoughts that don't travel in linear, my pain, my solitude and all the cold.

For Carl:

Winter came this March.

Gentle snow befalls around

a heart left alone and cold.

She can't make you stay

because you were never hers

She could only let you go

and wait for Spring

Till then

it'll be gentle white snow, 

soft, cold and lonely

Sun, will you ever shine?

Spring, will you ever come?

Let's hit restart all over again.

I kinda have a lot to say so I'm on my phone (my tiny iPhone 5) writing this out. Good thing Apple has got quite a remarkable predictive language build in. This will explain the lack of typos in this entry here but anyway!

You know I just returned from Bali right? Right. I had a helluva great time and couldn't remember when was the last time I did. So yes! I had a great time holiday making in Bali and damn I love the laid back vibe of it. Though it was helluva short, 3D2N, I thoroughly enjoyed myself. So I came back to Singapore on Sunday.

Now this is where the twist of fate comes in and bit me in my ass. I think because I went out to the beach on Saturday, I started to develop really itchy and bad rashes all over my body. They come and go and Carl assured me that they will go away eventually. Unbeknownst to me, Sunday turned out to be a terrible day where the itch was unbearable that when I was having massage, I kinda felt my massueue was tickling me instead.

So I came back to Singapore on Sunday evening thinking they will go away eventually as really, this is my fucking first time having sand rash. On Monday morning, it didn't go away. So I had rashes all over my body that is really uncontrollably itching the shit out of me. I had to see the doctor for relief I know. So I called in work sick. Taboo right? MC right after a holiday? Please, if it's your body having all the rashes I bet you won't even want to leave your house without wearing a brown lunch bag over your head. I went to the panel of GP that my work recommends and the doctor merely gave me oral medication for relief and what I call, temporary tripping sensation that is sleep inducing. Why didn't he give me some cream to apply? I have no fucking idea. Maybe because the rash had subsided a little but really I highly doubt the case because I went to my family doctor just today and he gave me Elomet cream and which the entire consultation turned out to be 60 bucks! So I concluded that the GP I went to yesterday was just stingy.

So who's to blame that I couldn't recover in time? That GP no fucking doubt.

But you know something? After this itch saga, I found out how unhappy I've been at my job for the longest period of time. Persevering all this while, I couldn't help but to type out my resignation letter this afternoon. You may call me rash (hahaha! The irony) but seriously, a couple of red flags were raised just because I'm covered in rashes after I returned from my Bali trip. I didn't choose to be a monkey I repeat.

For the longest time, I had thought I had the perfect job around. I really did try to hoodwink myself into believing I did. But no, just today, I finally was able to pin point what's wrong in my current placement. Firstly, there had been no propped training and i really feel that I have been misinformed of what my role entails. Since the beginning, there had never been a proper flow or standard way to do things. Most of the time I feel I was just a headless chicken trying to find my answer, in hope I'll seek enlightenment. Which, you guessed it, most of the time I don't get things done right. How am I supposed to when I wasn't given a clear set of SOPs or instructions to follow through? And when I didn't get things done right, I have been bestowed the feeling of being penalised (note that I am only barely four months old at the job and I was entrusted to deal with a lot of business as usual stuff as well as being actively involved in the rolling out of new initiatives and projects). Why is it my fault then?

In addition, I came to a conclusion that I am not a right cultural fit for the organization. It's never easy to work for a local company for me. I should have learned this aeons ago. Wait a minute, I've worked in local companies before and I didn't feel I wasn't a good fit? Ok, whatever. Let's just say I'm not living up to expectations and I am certainly not a right fit for the company.

I quit.