random

You can't pick up a newspaper or a magazine today without being hit over the head with report after report of how stressed everyone is. And now i found out that there's a name for it: affluenza.

Affluenza: extreme materialism which is the impetus for accumulating wealth and for overconsumption of goods; also, feelings of guilt and isolation from the dysfunctional pursuit of wealth and goods. (dictionary.com)

I would further add that the relentless pursuit of the perfect life - perfect career, perfect family, perfect friends, perfect holiday - is the problem. And is the main symptom of affluenza.

At moments where the mad rush blinds us all, I like walking.

I like the pace of it - how walking at a reasonable clip you can notice a reasonable number of things out of the corner of your eye - when sitting still there is the temptation to try to see it all (it is just sitting there, after all, and you have nothing better to do) and when driving it all turns kaleidoscopic anyway, smearing and spinning and rendering the whole vast changing landscape, invisible.

I also like the aches that come after a couple of hours, pains that, paradoxically, indicate that you are becoming healthier. Not much, just a little.

I like that you can walk intrepidly anywhere you go, but you can only drive intrepidly if traffic permits. I like walking and stopping and the resumption of walking. I also like: 1. handclaps 2. bass 3. rock songs with an attitude.

And while we're in enumerative mode, there are green and red grapes for $2.00 per 100 grams a couple of blocks down the road...the onset of a slow enduring 4th quarter filled with the senseless merry-making of christmas and new year, 27 years of life experiences, no. of reports due and stubble. And, on a final anti-enumerative note, there is exactly one mind who is barely superlatively fine, and it is mine.

Her Morning Elegance - Oren Lavie

timeless

I wish that i could be blissfully unaware of time. I'm down with stomach flu for the past couple of days and because i'm home, clocks and watches have been conveniently out of view.

Sometimes, you just have to let go of all those human constructs (because time or at least how we conceptualize it is a human construct, just like calendars and birthdays). And you just float through your day.

Eating when you're hungry. Drinking when you're thirsty. Lazing about in bed reading until your desire for tea drives you to get up. Making stuff if that's what you feel like - and really listening to your inner self about what you feel like. Drinking tea. Going for a walk when you feel moved to go for a walk in the sunshine. Going for a drive when you feel like going for a drive. Eating ice cream when you feel like ice cream.

Listening to the inner rhythms, not the outer ones. And it's bliss, i tell you. Absolute bliss.

Kind of like stonehenge. Timeless. Outside of time. Impervious to time. I wish i could do it more often. When i'm healthier, of course.

the thing about epiphanies

Sometimes they hit you so hard that it feels like someone socked you in the stomach. Other times, it’s upon you, slowly and steadily, like the waves licking the shore, till you eventually get the drift.

But whichever way it strikes you, if what follows after is not some form of realisation leading to a decision and an action, then the moment would have been wasted, isn’t it? It’s like finally admitting that there is no Santa Claus, but still continuing to leave a glass of milk and plate of cookies out, for a reason that no one can fathom.

losing steam

Forgive the silence. I’ve been feeling rather uninspired these days. It’s not that I’ve got nothing to say, but some days I feel this isn’t the best medium to log my thoughts.

Anyhow, I’ve returned to burrowing my nose in books and hopefully, the words will flow once again.

how convenient, but yet, true

“The question of whether a thing is right or wrong, good or bad, must always be considered in relation to a person’s needs.”

— Jostein Gaarder (Sophie’s World)

the passing of time

For those who checked in for my lack of presence. Thanks.

It has been a long while since I've been this heavy. I used to be like that years ago, but I found out that it was useless.

Like what Sumiko Tan said in her article recently, crying doesn't help (plus you look ugly to boot) and “a loss is a loss is a loss is a loss”. It is exhausting emotionally and if you are already in a position of extreme vulnerability, then shedding tears just adds to the insecurity.

It is easier said than done to just accept the thing that caused your sadness and move on, and the old, rather over-used advice that time will ease everything is often met with a cry (literally) of – it’s different, you don't understand.

Of course. No one will completely comprehend why you feel the way you do and the extent of it (and maybe no one really cares). But perhaps the question to ask is whether you really understand why your emotions run so deep.

Do they really affect you so much or is it because you think they should and you convince yourself so? As lame as it sounds, the passing of time really does help, not brooding, although this is something that you can only accept and agree when you have experienced it. But however improbable it may seem now, it will happen eventually.

in the dark

A week has never felt so long.

Increasingly i am starting to feel that being dependable means that (alot) more is expected of you. Being trusted means you pick up the pieces that others have haphazardly thrown and then having to piece them together quickly and accurately. Not drawing lines means that the circle around you grows wider and wider.

I don't want to forget the end in mind, and what this means to us collectively, or more selfishly, perhaps, what it means to me personally.

I don't want this to be just another job – watching the clock, getting through the day. I’ve been through that before and it is really not where i want to end up again.

I don't want to lose the determination, passion and pride in what i am doing. But disappointingly, i feel that i am losing sight.

(20 x 5) / 4 (- 23) = ?

The thing about mistakes? Even if you know it is a mistake, sometimes you gotta make them anyway so that you can look back and say for sure that it was a mistake.

Do we have to keep making mistakes, just so that we can say for sure it was one? What does that prove – that we have lived a full life? That we have gone forth courageously, trusting our instincts and if those turned out to be wrong, well, we tried?

The more intelligent thing to do is to make sure that you don’t make the same mistakes again. Yes, life is about taking calculated risks but please make sure that your math is up to mark first.

As I chew on my waffle …

Someone said to me today – why are most of your blog entries so melancholic? Where got – I said automatically, but the moment the words were uttered, I knew that I wasn’t gonna win the argument.

Ok, so my posts tend to border on the pensive sort. That’s because being reflective is quite the default mode for me although I can also be full of rubbish and nonsense too.

Nature or nurture, I don’t really know but I do recall that even when I was young, I was quite the loner, and prefer my own company to being part of the crowd.

Of course I can be sociable and I don’t really have problems talking to people – I wouldn’t be in this line if I am not. But too much of it tires me and time to be alone with my thoughts, emotions and dreams, is very important to me.

With all these reflections, there must be some form of outlet. I am not an expressive person and all these years, holding back how I feel seemed like second nature to me. I think I have improved though, and being slightly better with the written word, came the birth of this blog, where I dump all those swirling thoughts in my head.

But as little markers remind me daily to count my blessings, perhaps I should make an effort to inject a little more frivolity and fun in my posts. I do have a lot to be thankful for in my little waffle of life – all the little squares representing different things may not be filled evenly or to the brim with maple syrup, but it is how big or small a bite I choose to take to make sure that every mouthful is still tinged with some sweetness.

nightmare

Something must be bugging my subconscious mind. There has to be a reason for the rather tiring and stressful dream I had last night.

In that nightmare, I was in a perpetual state of rushing for work, which mystifies the me, since I detest my job. I can still recall the vivid sensation of stress and pressure as I rushed madly to iron my office attire, only to see that the shirt is in tatters. Then trying in vain to get on some transport to get me to office.

What is the source of the nightmare? I am not particularly stressed at work. Nor do I have any outstanding personal or official issues that need to be dealt with urgently.

Perhaps it’s my subconsious mind telling me that I am rushing to nowhere as I hit the middle age slump, and that I should really look for a new direction in life – professionally.

But like many Singaporeans, my options are restricted since I'll have a sizeable housing and car loan over my head. I would be more convinced to take action if my subconsious mind penned a resignation letter while I am asleep rather than triggering energy sapping nightmares like that one I had.

Jokes aside, I really feel a mid-life crisis up the next alley. The sense that I am letting my life pass me by is getting stronger. Problem is, I have yet to fully understand what I want with the limited time I have on earth.

Now, it’s my turn to fret.

sunrises, sunsets and a ticking clock

I dreamt, a week ago, of huge waves crashing, swallowing people, buildings and everything in its path. As the waves loom in front of me, threatening to engulf me in a matter of seconds, I tried, in a futile attempt to close the windows, bolt the door, to put as much distance as I could between me and the impending destructive force. But a deep sense of regret hit me first - that I will never have the chance to tell the people that I care about, just how much they mean to me.

Sometimes, I wish I know how much borrowed time I have left. Maybe then I will finally acknowledge what or who matters. A ticking clock gives you the courage to do or say things that you were never able to in the past.

Live the day as if it was your last - is really quite different from - live the day because it is your last. Yes, we can live each day without regrets now (or try to) but admit it, at the back of your mind, the thought – well, there is always tomorrow - sneakily pops out to do a little jig every now and then.

And it’s true that actions matter more than words - perhaps I don’t have to say anything at all. But because what is really felt is way harder to verbalise, because it is much easier to just swallow the words, and because if you really care, you should just say it and seal them with an air of permanence.

But unless there is a way of knowing how many more days of sunrise and sunset I will get to see before the world goes dark completely, the what-could-have-beens and the belly full of words, will likely be buried with me.

believing in george elliot

My life, and my career haven’t exactly gone according to plan. I’m not even sure what that ‘plan’ was ever supposed to be. I do know that where I’m at right now is not a reflection of where I want to be ultimately heading.

I take great comfort in the wise words of George Eliot, who said: You're never too old to be what you might have been.

I need to believe in the truth of these words. I need to trust that they have a chance of applying to me.

I have seen many inspirational quotes written and heard many motivational words spoken, but out of all of those it is these particular words that have stayed with me.

On those days when I need an extra nudge to remind me that anything is possible I simply look down on these words, and I remember.

live high

I try to picture the girl
Through a looking glass
And see her as a carbon atom
See her eyes and stare back at them
See that girl
As her own new world
Though a home is on the surface, she is still a universe

Glory God, oh God is peeking through the blinds
Are we all here standing naked
Taking guesses at the actual date and time
Oh my, justifying reasons why
Is an absolutely insane resolution to live by

Live high
Live mighty
Live righteously
Takin' it easy
Live high
Live mighty
Live righteously

And try to picture the man
To always have an open hand
And see him as a giving tree
See him as matter
Matter fact he's not a beast
No not the devil either
Always a good deed doer
And it's laughter that we're making after all

The call of the wild is still an ordination why
And the order of the primates
All our politics are too late
Oh my, the congregation in my mind
Is this assembly singing of gratitude
Practicing their lovin for you

And singing out
And just take it easy
And celebrate the malleable reality
You see nothing is ever as it seems
Yeah this life is but a dream

float away

A sense of calm and quiet peace hugs me – a feeling I have not had for a very long time.

No random thoughts that fight to catch a breath of air as they struggle against sinking.

No trying to fit answers bearing shapes that I don’t and may never know, to the little square pegs that anchor me to the ground.

Recognising that some things need to float – maybe they won’t land, maybe they will. I watch, with almost a detached sense of mild curiosity.

It’s not just about me – has never been and will always not be.I hope this feeling sticks around for a while.

It is difficult not to have plans, not to organize people around an urgent cause, and not to feel that you are working directly for social progress. But I wonder more and more if the first thing shouldn’t be to know people by name, to eat and drink with them, to listen to their stories and tell your own, and to let them know with words, handshakes, and hugs that you do not simply like them, but truly love them.

careful...fragile

On the way to the carpark, i chanced upon a dead bird.

That in itself wouldnt be very surprising since I am sure at one point or the other, we have seen roadkill before.

But this wasn't roadkill. It was the way the state of the body was in - no visible wounds or blood. It was just as if it was frozen.

Why is the body like that?

Maybe it committed sucide

How?

Maybe it just decided to stop flapping its wings

That struck me as one of the saddest things in life. Imagine the despair and hopelessness felt to make it decide to just stop doing what was so instinctive in its nature.

The fragility of life jolts me sometimes. All the time.

japan defence force

Don't underestimate the power of doraemon.

shhh...listen

Jeremy Monteiro said on composing - music exists in nature, it is in the air. One just has to be still, silent and listen hard for it.

If I shut out the cacophony of sounds surrounding us everyday, what will I hear and feel? Does every single element, when stripped down to its core, naked self, emit a harmonious tune?

Are we instinctively complicating things that are actually very simple?

Feel but not touch. See but with eyes closed. Listen but not with your ears.

What do you hear?

costumes

You wear happiness like a pretty dress or a smart shirt.
You smile, you laugh and you shine in it.

But how long is it before you have to change, you grow out it, it doesn’t fit anymore? You take it out once in while from the back of your closet - to look at it, to smell it, to feel it slide over your skin - all in a fruitless effort to remember what has long gone.

But grief - it stains your skin indelibly.

You try to hide it; you wear a pretty dress or a smart shirt. You wash, you scrub and you bleach. It will fade but take a closer look and you will see that despite all your attempts, there are faint streaks that never go away.