irreversible

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I became a student of my own depressed existence, trying to unthread its causes. What was the root of all this despair? Was it psychological (Mom and Dad’s fault)? Was it just temporal, a “bad time” in my life? (When the divorce ends, will the depression end with it?) Was it genetic? (Melancholy, called by many names, has run through my family for generations, along with its sad bride, Alcoholism.) Was it cultural? (Is this just the fallout of a post-feminist American career girl trying to find balance in an increasingly stressful and alienating urban world?) Was it astrological? (Am I so sad because I’m a thin-skinned Cancer whose major signs are all ruled by unstable Gemini?) Was it artistic? (Don’t creative people always suffer from depression because we’re so supersensitive and special?) Was it evolutionary? (Do I carry in me the residual panic that comes after millenia of my species’ attempting to survive a brutal world?) Was it karmic? (Are all these spasms of grief just the consequences of bad behaviour in previous lifetimes, the last obstacles before liberation?) Was it hormonal? Dietary? Philosophical? Seasonal? Environmental? Was I tapping into a universal yearning for God? Did I have a chemical imbalance? Or did I just need to get laid?

— Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

this was exactly me, aged 17.
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meaning believing in at least 6 impossible things everyday before breakfast

1. i will get into graduate school
2. i will get the internship/job i want
3. i do not need to diet
4. i do not need to prove myself to anyone
5. my dreams will be achieved
6. there is good in humanity


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i have escaped winter to return to the tropics and my sweat pores are ecstatic upon receiving the green light to perform to their full potential.

mmm nothing much has changed, at least not the bits that matter.
its strange how being away for so long (2 yrs) automatically makes one assume that some monumental breakthrough must have taken place.

not there havent been some improvements here and there.
the mrt now shows which side the doors open; fashion now includes more than just a variety of tshirts shorts and slippers. and theres a significant loss of public space now that orchard has undergone a major revamp and more shopping mall clones have sprouted and also all those other touristy attractions in the south. uhh not exactly an improvement as far as im concerned.

unsettled by the stillness of the countryside, i could never stay away from the city for long. ive always had a fondness for colourful neon lights, drawn to them like the proverbial moth to a flame. i secretly lamented about growing up in a city which cheated me out of experiencing the vibrancy and energy that came with gaudy billboards and neon signs. but now i fear that with the rush singapore is pushing progress in so little time and so much less space, we might just lose ourselves in the process. (that will be another topic involving prolonged discussion, stay tuned.)

on another note, it floors me why some people get offended when i joke about needing a tour guide when i come home. i dont intentionally act like a foreigner in my own country. (for the record, i also dont intentionally act or dress like a japanese, or singaporean or anyone in particular.) but for the most part im beginning to enjoy and look forward to these regular, albeit brief trips home. coming back from a foreign land with fresh eyes that dont exactly look at things with the same perspective as before is such a treat because you suddenly see the beauty in your hometown you had once taken for granted.

1. singapore should learn from japan the way to wait outside elevators, train doors, bus doors and the like
2. japan should learn from singapore how to maintain a perfectly smoke free environment

another year has come and gone, and i have not managed to ruin my life yet. i hope you feel as pleasantly surprised as i do. Happy New Year!
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if you’ve dropped by to read something cheery and heartwarming, sorry but im going to disappoint. discontent has always been a far more effective source of literary inspiration for me than happiness. but thats also because ive got a whole lot more of the former going for me than the latter.
i’ve been trying hard to replace that hard bitter cynic in me with something a bit… more positive less depressing. believe me i really am trying. hell, i make it my new year resolution every year to stay positive and tone down on that self-doubt. speaking of which. frightful yes, but 2009 is verily coming to an end in 12 days. so i guess, maybe not this year then. maybe… next year.


these days i find it almost impossible to extricate self from the covers.
tis the season, i tell myself. and the wonky radiator that churns out heat disproportionate to the electricity bill definitely isnt helping. but hey, i cant exactly see myself as the sort to bound excitedly out of bed, pull back the curtains, open the windows, and let the sun shine in! fa la la! anyhow im practising drinking a glass of red wine daily to keep the extremities from turning into popsicles. i hope that one day i’ll be able to actually swallow without wincing (like a true adult), and henceforth sweet oblivion, i shall embrace thee with open arms.


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