Saturday 21 December 2013

I wish her happiness

I guess the time has come that I must say good bye to her.  So many days have gone by and for most of those days, I fell asleep at the thought of her. She came into my life by accident, or perhaps, serendipity is a better description. Whenever I thought about how she came into my life, it was as if a missing puzzle had been found. It finally all made sense, that I was meant to be there, at that point in time, at that particular path, so that we could bump into each other. Except that, we did not just bump, we hugged. Not the kind of hug whereby you move towards the air space near the object of your so-called affection, but the one in which your bodies melt towards each other and in that moment, you experience beauty. The moment that makes life worth living, and each pain worth suffering. She was like a drug, she brought a new kind of high and then, with it, a new kind of low.

Not a day gone by in which a thought about her did not linger, or at least, pass by. I have pretty much exhausted all of the release avenues by now because it has come to the point whereby I have no words left to say. She has slipped away from my life. I tried to be happy for her that she had found what it was she had been searching for so long. But the truth is that I still miss her very deeply. I have always thought that she was not in my life just for a season; I have grown accustomed to looking at her face and watching her silently expressing what I thought was her affections. She had seen me through my worst and brought me back to reality. How could something so beautifully bonded together be separated without as much as a struggle. Sometimes I think life is so unfair this way. For the past decade, did those moments really happen and did we really bond like I felt we did.

My memory is fading not because of the time that has gone past, but because I have stopped trying to remember her. Those memories that we had crafted so effortlessly now seem so surreal; did we or did we not love each other like we felt we did. I can’t remember whether she held my hand when we walked together, but I remember her flinching every time I put my arm around her.  The little things that I brushed aside at the time suddenly assume so much for significance – but for what. The fruitless exercise of remembering she, who is now long gone, so quietly, so painfully.

Maybe in another life time, we would bump into each other again, and maybe, just maybe, we will hug tighter, even if it’s just for a second.

Saturday 14 December 2013

Random wisdom of getting older

So, I turned a year older.

I am one of those annoying people who continuously mention their birthdays before the day itself. It's fun, at least to me, and somewhat rather annoying to those who have to listen to it more than once. I am pretty sure I annoy the heck of my friends and I am grateful that somehow we are still friends.

They (as in the generic form of "they") say that it is all just a number once you passed a certain point in life. This certain point in life, to a lot of people, is 30. To others, it is when you have kids, and for the rest, it is like, err... 21. I am excited every time it is my birthday, for the mere reason that it is my birthday. And if I happen to like you, then I would  be excited it is your birthday, and make a fuss so that you feel special (even just a lil bit).

I am obviously one of the minority here, because I still feel that turning a year older is special even when I am supposedly past "this certain point". Because it confirms yet another one of my currently-tested-but-yet-to-be-conclusively-confirmed theories that life does get better every day. My life today is remarkably better than my life a year ago. Or at least, that's how I feel about it, and I think that's all that matters, to me, anyway.

Getting older is awesome because you discover a lot of things about life that you know is somewhat true because you've experienced it yourself. I really don't want to use this example, but I am going to because a lot of people can relate to this: dieting by elimination of major food groups does not work in the long run. If you want to look good, you really gotta be healthy and to be healthy you gotta exercise and eat properly. Eating properly means you eat a balanced diet - and what this diet is to you is something you gotta work out. After years of trial and error, largely because I was a fat kid who was perpetually on a diet, I think I have this figured out for now. As I become older and my body starts giving up and bla bla bla, this would need to change - and that's ok because I will make it work, somehow.

Change "dieting" to any other activity and you get the idea - the idea of figuring out what works and what doesn't work. If you know that something is "so not you", then don't do it. If you don't stay true to yourself, then who will? You owe it to yourself to do things right by you. If you don't like something, change it to something that you like. You may not like it forever, but at least you are ok with it for now.

You realise that change is a constant constant in life, and you figure that you may as well get used to it. This does not mean that dealing with change get easier, but it does mean that you can endure the hardships knowing that you are going to turn out to be better on the other side.

And once in a while, you stop, eat one too many friands and watch your friends twerk.

Yes, life is good, indeed.

Tuesday 26 November 2013

On not scrimping on shoes and being healthy

If you've seen my picture on instagram, you would have been aware that I am now onto injury number two. And since I've been trying to recover, I have been to a grand total of ONE running session, which was yesterday (at the time of writing). The run was fine, I was not in pain and my time was alright, given that I haven't run for some time. I did not die of exhaustion and my body did not ache that badly at the conclusion of the run. This temporary feel good moment almost enticed me to go running again the next day and the day after, but I did not because I've been told to take it easy. Easy as in running like a maximum of 3 times a week for the time being. I suppose I can take up other forms of exercise but I really really loathe the bike with a passion, which pretty much means I can either do rowing or lift some weights - both of which I don't dislike that much, and may actually like it eventually  if I were to push myself in that direction.

I made a passing comment to (then) le boyf (now husb) the other day that since I've gotten these (then) new shoes, I've been down with two injuries within 3 months, whereas with the previous pair, I was injury free - well, okay, I had hideous blisters that were painful in their own right, but nothing that band aids could not alleviate. So if I were to pick between constant blister or muscle-related injuries, is it so wrong if I actually pick the former? I am pretty sure that I must have done more than my fair share of complaining when I had the said blisters, and I must have mentioned something along the lines of "every step is a painful step" and had to abstain from wearing heels for months on end. Actually, that last bit doesn't count because I can't wear heels whenever I am injured.

As some of you must have picked up by now, all of these is just a ploy for me to get a new pair of shoes. Come on, I used to run almost every day and I conquered 700 plus kilometres in my previous pair, so these shoes are legitimate investments, right. I mean, if you don't invest in your health, then what the fuck do you invest in? Investing for the future is useless if you don't live long enough to enjoy the fruits of such investments. So, don't scrimp on health, people. Or shoes.

Anyway, since I've significantly reduced my running, I have lost weight. I am pretty sure this is because my muscles are less toned, so I feel flabby (yuck), and all the more reason to take up weight lifting and all the hooha, so I can maintain my non-existent muscle tone.

A few months back when I was consistently running 6 days a week, I actually put on weight. Put on weight as in my body got bigger, not just firmer. No one noticed that of course because I was bundled up in winter coats, or maybe if they do, they are too scared to tell me. Ha! One day I asked one person that I know would always give me an honest answer and I had to dig out the answer from her over the span of 2 days - she said I still looked too skinny. I am a bit scared of what she would say right now. Although if it is really true that my muscles are not as refined, then that means I look fatter and flabby, despite what the weighing scale says.

But you know who is going to tell me when I get fatter? It's my Dad. He would tell me to my face and that's my cue to lose weight. He would notice the smallest little gain, nothing escapes his eyes. And I don't even want to discuss what sort of weighing scale he's got at home. It's such a shame that we don't see each other often enough for him to be my regular weight police, but he is my weight police, all right; although these days he doesn't ask as often as he used to, probably because he knows that I've been exercising a lot more than I've had in my whole entire existence. [UPDATE: He has not mentioned my weight the last few times we chat. I take this as a good sign that my current weight is somewhat acceptable in his eyes. What? Looking this good makes me happy and makes him happy. Two birds, one stone. I am sure le husb is happy too. That's three birds, one stone.]

Personally, I think it is better to be monitoring your weight and wanting to look your best every single day. But people who exercise this habit are labelled as shallow and materialistic by the fatties of the world, possibly because they want to make themselves feel better by manifesting in their own laziness and calling other people who are bothered to look good with names. [EDIT: I was told that this last line may be construed as borderline offensive. Le sigh. Interpret it however you want to.]

Yes, if I hear one more person calling I am too skinny, I will totally retort with the "you are fat" line. And for fuck's sake, to the next person who suggested that I have an eating disorder, please kindly obsess with your own body and eating habits.

Monday 11 November 2013

On marriage

I think my biggest achievement to date is being married. Anyone who’s been married would know how big an achievement it really is. Not because of a big celebration or lack thereof, but because of everything else that makes a marriage, well, a marriage.

Don’t worry, I am not going to go all Oprah on you, or write a lengthy article on my personal reflections on what I think love is, or should be (whatever). Don’t have the time for all of that right now. Maybe one day.

There is no easy way to get married. There is no universal checklist of checking compatibility, there is no to-do list to ascertain compatibility, and even if such lists do exist, completing them do not always guarantee compatibility. Because those lists are merely suggestions and never indicative of (one of) the real indicator of compatibility: your willingness to work on your marriage, right now and over time, especially during the moments that are, you know, hard.

Because the questions that you need to ask yourself is not whether the other person is the perfect match for you, but whether you are willing to be the perfect match for that person. To what extent are you willing to further yourself so that you can be the best version of yourself every single day over and over again, for the mere reason that this other person notices and appreciates that, even when he/she doesn’t always tell you so.

You come to the realisation that it is impossible, unreasonable, not to mention unhealthy, to ask this other person to be everything that you want your perfect partner-to-be. You stop wanting to change him/her, and instead, focus on changing yourself to be the perfect person for him/her.

And if you two can easily agree on what sort of wedding you want, form a united front in the face of parental and family-related pressures, well, that’s like a bonus.

Sunday 3 November 2013

Something new

Hello.

Obviously, I have been somewhat mia from this space. Lots of things happened. Good shit. The kind that requires you to be away from your blog.

Moving on.

It has been one year since I started running and I have not given up. I think I can now safely say that I like it and that this whole running thing is not as bad as I thought it was. So is being thirty for that matter, but that's another story for another day.

In the spirit of taking up something new, you know, kind of like last year I started running, I think this year I would start cooking regularly. I mean, it makes sense right, regular exercise should be accompanied by healthy diet. Plus given that coconut oil is like taking over the world, I really have to minimise my chances of getting into an anaphylactic shock.

To those who said "but you have cooked in the past, so this is not something new" - you morons. Read the above paragraph again. And if you still don't get it, I can run before I started running regularly last year, so you're going to say that that was not new too. Puh-lease.

Of course I know how to cook. I can survive cooking random things if I absolutely have to, and people who've tasted it said that they were good. And they finished the meal. Admittedly, these people have love for me, so this feedback was very likely to be biased, but at least it was a good start, right? Right?

My favourite is to cook without a recipe. I can never replicate the same dish and I can never write down what I put in or what I did to the dish. Someone has to watch me cooking and take notes if he/she ever wants to have a repeat dish. Plus I don't generally plan my meals that well, I cook because there are things in the fridge/pantry that desperately need to be cooked else they go off. Hate wasting food, okay.

So, no, there won't be a single recipe up on this space. But there may be more food pictures on my instagram. Yep, that's where all the pretty pictures are.

Until then, eat well.

Tuesday 1 October 2013

If you love me, then cut me some fruits

I openly struggle with this thing called cutting fruits. Yes, I know that some of you are rolling your eyes right now. As I said before, in the spirit of sharing personal stuff, I have decided to share a personal challenge that I face every time I want to eat an apple, or an orange, or err... durian?

(I have braces so I have to have my apples cut up into bite pieces. And that goes for every other fruit that's not bite pieces except for bananas. I cannot finish a whole banana so I need someone to share it with me.)

All my life, I always have someone to cut fruits for me. And these days, to bake me cakes I can actually eat. (This is technically not true because I can buy gluten free cakes that's also coconut free. But a lot of gluten free cakes, for some weird reason, often contains coconut! Shock horror! Coconut is like, all the rage these days. Coconut water is like everywhere and everything has a dash of coconut oil.)

Or to bring a jar of chilli to my desk on Monday morning, half of which I promptly consumed in a day. It's kind of hard to control yourself when you're eating something that's like that good.Plus in my defense, the jar is on the small side,  you know. So, I totally do not have self-control issues when it comes to this. Boyf thinks I am addicted. This is a statement that I gladly go along with.

Yeah, I digress.

Back to fruits. When it comes to cutting fruits, I quite frankly see it as a fruitless activity. This is quite possibly because I do not like a lot of fruits out there (and this has nothing to do with their levels of sugar content). I ate fruits when someone cuts them for me, but I never quite been bothered to peel/cut fruits myself because quite simply, I do not like fruits that much in the first place. And no matter how much watermelon I had consumed in the past, it has no bearing whatsoever with my true feelings towards that fruit: waste of time, waste of space, and no, I would not exert that much effort to purchase, peel and cut it up for my own consumption (let alone yours). The same sentiment goes for rock melon, honey dew and whatever melons out there, except maybe, winter melon, but that's technically a fruit that one cooks? So maybe it's on a different category?   

I avoid cutting fruits as much as I possibly can. Unless if I have this crazy yearning for a piece of fruit that's within my reach and I have no other choice but to peel, cut it and then consume it, which doesn't happen very often. Because I always have someone to do so for me. In fact, my best friend often comes over and hang out at my place and cut fruits up for me us to snack on. One huge bowl of fruits. And she also cuts up all the vege to make an equally massive bowl of salad.

I always thank God and my lucky stars for the undeniable fact that I am lucky. Lucky as in very very lucky. I quite frankly don't know all the good deeds that I've done in my previous life that have resulted in such joyful life for me today, particularly when someone is cutting fruits for me.

I swear it's the simplest things that make life so enjoyable. 

Thursday 26 September 2013

Own it (aka being yourself part 2)

One of my frustrations about our education system is the fact that no one told us how difficult it is to be ourselves, even when we are encouraged to be ourselves every single fucking time. Or to put it differently, to be the person that we actually like. Perhaps the means are not available, for whatever reason, but I personally believe for a lot of people, myself included, the issue is finding out who (and what ) you actually like to be (doing).

As we grow older (and hopefully become mature yadidadida), life happens in a way that gets in the way. Life gets in the way in the form of rent to pay mostly, and then there is this thing called... pride about getting the job. In my cohort, it was getting a Big-4 job (banks and/or accounting firms). I did neither, I completed a doctorate instead. Best decision of my life? Naturally.

I get to write the prestigious two letters in front of my name for the rest of my life. Yes, I am a doctor. I kind of like being one.

And it helped me worked out what I wanted to do afterwards. 

To summarise: I completed the project (that was my thesis) about 6 months early because I just couldn't wait to get the fuck out of there. My supervisors were (and still are) incredibly talented and lovely academics (well, most of them anyway), and the support they've given over the years was literally one of the things that kept me going. But I was bored to tears with the whole program. I wanted out, stat. Quitting was never an option (this is what happened when you grow up with a dad like mine). So I had to focus on getting it done, stat. I discovered that when I put my mind into something, I end up achieving my goals.

More importantly, I learned that I can own it, you know as in, own the fuck out of it. I learned that when I don't like something, I have to change it. I accepted that change is the only constant in my life and so I learned to be friends with it. I learned that to be friends with change, I have to interact with it. I embraced it, just like any other friends I have, and incorporated it into my life. I started making time for it, basically. And for some reason, it decided to respond to my friendship and my life has never been the same ever since. 

This is quite a breakthrough for me because in this life, I was so accustomed to conforming. I insisted on being different ... just because. I lacked the courage to pursue the things that I actually like (and be the person I am comfortable with) because I have this fear of missing out. What if I miss out on that life while I am busy pursuing this life? What if that life ends up being better than this life? But if what I truly want is this life, then why do I still consider that life as an option? Why can't I just be comfortable with the fact that what I want is actually this life, especially when it seems like no one else wants it.

A lot of things in my life did not go according to plan after graduation. I would be lying to you if I told you that everything was a bed of roses and all the hu-ha, oh please: the GFC happened. I realised that everything in this life happens for a reason or three, and those reasons are usually fucking good, even when you aren't necessarily aware of it at the time.  

I still get a plethora of people saying that it's such a waste that I am not in academia on a full-time basis because that's what doctors do. Well guess what, there are some doctors out there, like yours truly, who are not in academia and do not believe that it's such a waste.

Simply put, this is what I want for my life. I own this. If you don't like this fact, something is wrong with you. I am just being honest with myself, who I am and what I want in my life. This is my recipe for a comfortable life: I devote myself into working out the things I want to do and spend a chuck of my time doing them. Or to put it differently, I am not comfortable spending my efforts to conform to society's standard of being just like anyone else. I am not about that life.

Ok.

It is difficult to stay true to yourself. To be able to do this, you have to do this for the rest of your life. You have to remind yourself why you are doing this. For reasons that are intimate to you and most likely private to you, you are responsible for keeping your dreams alive. If to be able to do this means you have to be deaf to certain people, then be deaf to certain people.

Nobody is forcing you to live your life this way. But this is your life; and because this is your life, you live it at your best.

You only have one life.

No pressure.

Tuesday 24 September 2013

A case for dating

I have always admired people who marry their first girlfriend/boyfriend. I am not sure whether this is because (a) they are lucky to have found "the one" on their first go or (b) they have an incredible sense of commitment. In my opinion, the number of people who marry their firsts is declining, or maybe this is a function of the people that I know.

I am not exactly surprised. Because I certainly do not want to marry my first boyfriend (and I am not sorry, thankyouverymuch) for reasons that I do not wish to disclose right now (maybe someday). I view this whole "dating" thing as a journey of discovery of many many things that I otherwise would not have found out.

I mean, look at it this way. I was raised in a family whereby dating was (is?) discouraged. My mum put it as "the more guys you date, the more your value declines", as if my worth as a person can be measured by the number of people that I am not with. In her view, the best way to get married is to marry the first person you date. In order to do this, you must not date people that you don't want to marry. There is a certain kind of madness to her approach, and I admit that it is not without its merits (and yes, judging by the double negatives that I just wrote, I had convinced myself of the merits instead of actually believing it in the first place).

The negative correlation of the guys you date and your worth as a person, whether imagined by my mother, or deemed as real by society (or imagined by my mother as deemed real by society), is to a certain degree reflected by the negative connotations of a woman who is promiscuous. The difference is that in my mother's case, you do not have to sleep with those guys to experience personal value reduction; it automatically happens as you date the guys in question. Sometimes, depending on her mood, she even classifies guys who are close to you into this category. Yes, that's right, you don't even have to date, you only need to be friends and whoops - you are suddenly "less" of a person.

The ultimate merit to this approach (that I can think of) is that it prevents you from repeated heartbreaks. If you have not experienced a heartbreak in this life time, you can count yourself lucky. The rest of us, mere mortals, well, we've had at least one, and it was nasty, and it took all of the ounce of strength in our bodies to recover and "mend" this broken heart. And for a while, we exist in this vacuum whereby we do not think we can ever love again. Yes, all of these sounds really dramatic, but it is also true. It felt like life was not worth living, at least momentarily. And to be spared of this pain, yes, okay, I will completely and totally sign up for it, not withstanding the invention of the break up pill.

But of course deep down I believe that experience has its own value and this is why the workforce places a premium on experience (that is, more experienced workers are paid more than their relatively inexperienced counterparts). Perhaps personal experience is not exactly something that you can put a dollar value on; however, it does not negate its value. If anything, it is even more valuable because it can't be bought by money. You can only acquire such experience (and grow from it) by experiencing it yourself. Experiencing pain is how we grow, and hopefully we grow to be better versions of ourselves (some of us don't). Protecting children from pain is the instinct that every parent in this planet has (well, almost all). I try to remind myself that if ever one day I am blessed enough to have children, then I need to make sure that I treat them like the person they are, because that's what they really are. And I may as well be saying all of this because I do not have kids yet, but the one thing that resonates with me is Khalil Gibran's poem titled Children whereby he stated: your children are not your children.

Don't get me wrong, this is not a license to go around and break people's hearts. That is so terrible. Whilst deep down I do not believe that such people exist, I have witnessed quite a few experiences whereby it is actually true. If you've never come across such people, count yourself lucky. Because there are people like that, for whatever reason, and they all sleep like a baby at night. As to how they manage to do this, that remains a mystery to me.

My preference is to date as many people as possible before you get married, if only to get to know yourself and what is it that you want from a life partner. According to my mother this would devalue you as a person, according to me, this is just a part of finding out who you are and what you want, if you do not know it already. Or maybe, it can be as simple as this: you think you know what you want, but you have not experienced this part of life that you may end up liking. I mean, really, there is no harm in experimenting, insofar as the experiment is done within reason, no?

I've dated quite a few people, which means, I have quite a few people with the label exes. Somewhat rather fortunately, most of these people I am not exactly in touch with. That's another thing, by the way, I do not believe in being friends with your exes, but that's another blog entry, another time.

I admit, there was a time in my life whereby I seemed to be attracting the wrong kinds of men.
Y’all know how it panned out: bad boy met girl, dated, broke up, bad boy went into a downward spiral of self-destruction, girl was seemingly oblivious blab la bla.

Occasionally, I received unexpected updates from random strangers about how my exes were travelling along. I was told that one of them in particular was not doing well.

They say “Never explain yourself; your friends don’t need it and your enemies never buy it.” I am about to break this rule.

Do I feel a little bit guilty for the fact that some of them are still not over me? To the extent that I contributed to the issue, i.e. I fell in love with them, sure, I take responsibility for that. I don’t think I forced them to love me, and I don’t want to apologise for being loveable. As such, sure, ok, I take responsibility to the extent of my role in that brief stint that we had together (yes, brief stint, because the maximum length of my failed relationships is 24 months. When you take into account that we have all lived for more than 20 years, 24 months is definitely not significant at all.).

Do I want to help them? If I can turn back time, sure. But last I check, I am not god yet, and I don’t have a time machine. So despite my desires to help in some helpful way, I don’t believe I have the capacity to do so. I don’t believe that meeting them and talking to them would yield any benefit whatsoever. I don’t believe explaining why we can’t be together would be beneficial at all. I think all of these are a waste of my time.

Whenever I get ex-related updates that are to the extent that they are not doing well, I gotta say I am not amused. My standard response is always the silent reply in my head, no wonder we broke up; you are incapable of taking responsibility for yourself, let alone a family unit. Yes, I just said that. That’s the whole point of a relationship: to create a family together eventually.

Dude, seriously. This is your life and the least you can do is to be responsible for the things you can control. Other people may and will hurt you. It’s up to you to respond to that, hopefully in a way that’s somewhat along the path of maturity.
[I debated long and hard before publishing this piece, for a variety of reasons. First, this is not a how-to on dating. This is also, to a certain degree, inappropriately labelled as "a case for dating", it is more like a one person's opinion on why dating a few people before settling down is encouraged (but that's too long for a title). There are also some ex-es that I am actually friends with, despite my earlier views on not believing on being friends with exes. So in other words, this is one heck of a controversial entry. In the end, I hit the publish button because well, I quite like it. And things like this are meant to be shared with the whole world, yes?]

[In the interest of full disclosure, yours truly is currently attached, i.e not single.]

Tuesday 17 September 2013

On friendship

Time and time again, I come across people that I bump into regularly enough for a period of time, before that person, for one reason or another, needs to leave and in doing so, eliminates the chance of us impulsively hanging out. These temporary relationships (in the general term) happen in life because these people are meant to teach us something, I reckon, and the lessons are quick and short, and are often repetitive in nature. The prevalent theme is what I call how to let go.

When you think about friendships in general, you realise that an element of the said friendship is called effort of spending time together, doing things together, and talking and listening to each other. This is precisely why in my life I don't have a lot of people that I can call friends, because friends are difficult to come by. There are plenty of people I am friendly with and I like these people, and it's fine that we are not friends.

Almost all of the people that I used to bump into regularly who decide to pursue their lives else where say "we will stay in touch", "we will continue to hang out", "call me and we will have lunch" bla bla bla. You get the idea. They say that they want to continue the "friendship". I am pretty happy to give these people a chance, but I must say that I have quite an aversion to those with a chronic lag in responding to my emails or my sms-es. I don't call that often, but when I do, you better pick up, unless if you have a really good reason not to. I realise that I sound like some spoilt brat, but really, it is basic common courtesy: someone contacts you, you reply, thankyouverymuch. Even when the reply is to say, sorry, I can't make it, thanks for thinking about me. Actually, make it especially when you can't make it because the people who are inviting you do have lives too you know and they may want to make other plans with other people. It is not fair that you expect them to hold that spot for you when you have no intention of spending time with them.

I realise over and over and over again that I am pretty dumb when it comes to certain lessons. Maybe this is because I like giving people the benefit of the doubt a tiny wee bit too much. These days though, I am happily learning this lesson of letting go: that people's actions speak louder than their words, they leave because they want to pursue their happiness elsewhere and that has nothing to do with me. If they can't make time for me in their next pursue of happiness, then that's fine because that is something beyond my control.

Despite that realisation, I still get peeved from time to time when I have to deal with people who say that they want to keep in touch but hardly ever stay true to their words. I am peeved by the chronically lagged responders and I end up, more often than not, ignoring their correspondence altogether. I mean, what should I say to an email that says like this:

"Hi sweetie! Long time no chat! How are you?"

My friend said, "Good thanks"  and then delete the email.

My response - I just don't reply. I delete straight away.

Because that is not how you keep in touch with someone.

Another equally annoying correspondence goes like this

"Hi babe! We should hang out! Are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

This is all great if I am free for lunch tomorrow. The chance of this happening is zero. I am a planner, I always have plans. If you ask to meet me tomorrow and I say yes, that's because I have decided to move something for you. Yes, you do not ask, and I gladly do it for you anyway because I value you that much.

I am happy to give my time to my friends and people I like in this life. And conversely, I am not happy to give me time to people I do not like in this life. People I do not like in my life include people who waste my time. People I do not like include those who are not true to their words. People I do not like include those who are morons and do not realise that they are.

How to keep in touch with anyone

Despite my hang-ups about Facebook, I must admit that it is somehow a rather useful tool to keep in touch. Because we do not have to use words anymore: we can just post a picture and yeap, that's my holiday to wherever and that's the places I saw. I find it rather annoying when someone comments oh did you just go to (insert destination)? D'oh, of course I did. Need you ask that question? A picture speaks a thousand words, words that apparently did not get through to you.

Facebook is useful that way, sure. This kind of connection is relatively new and has only been around since Facebook has been widely used by the global community. It is kind of similar (not the same) in nature to blogs, but it is slightly more personal, if you only add your real life friends on Facebook.

But with my friends, I actually want to know how they really are. How they are going on with their lives. Their dreams, their aspirations, their fears. The things that they only share with their friends. The things that are deep within their souls, and are often intense and are a form of emotional exercise in human connection.

I guess this definition is rather extreme and people are scared by this, which is why "keeping in touch" has been reduced to a "hey how are you we should hang out" that never quite eventuates to a real life catch up.

Sometimes all I want to do is to (1) see you, (2) hug you and (3) make sure that you're ok.

And that is all there is to it.

Thursday 12 September 2013

A crisis of identity

Most of the people who know me in real life are subjected to one phrase that I like to use to get me out of sticky situations: English is my second language. This is one free pass that I use over and over and over again whenever I make grammatical errors and exhibit poor diction, or when I am drunk enough to use double negatives in my speech. I don't think I will ever stop using this free pass because (1) it is actually a statement of fact; (2) it is effective most of the time, including the times whereby people instantly bond with me over the fact that English is also their second, third, fourth language; and (3) it's free! Ha!

Then the day came that one of my favourite persons in this planet openly rolled his eyes in front of me and said something along the lines of "until when are you going to use that excuse" and to which I replied, in all honesty, "for the rest of my life".

Whhaat? See reason (1) above. 

And it so happened that we dined at an Indonesian restaurant, whereby I got the opportunity to actually orally converse in my first language. Naturally, I jumped at it and chattered away in Indo, how hard can ordering food be, and got the reply from the waiter (whom was joking and laughing in the kitchen moments before he rocked up at our table) in English.

If this happened one time, I would just totally brush it off as ... err... a case of mistaken identity? And of course, this just had to happen several times with several people on a number of different occasions, and the next thing I know, I rock up in an Indo church and not understand what the sermon is all about. (Kidding. But there was one time whereby that exact thing happened at an Indo church. I attributed that to the fact that the pastor was a poor speaker. Yeap, that totally got nothing to do with my language skills.)

Despite the fact that I speak my first language poorly, one thing that would forever remain true this is: English is still my second language. There is like absolutely nothing weird about preferring to converse in your second language, right? Right?

Tuesday 10 September 2013

The bigger person

One of the things that I often catch myself saying is this: why can't people just be normal? This would've been fine if I actually know what normal really is, except that, I think, the only definition I have is what is normal to me.

I get that the rest of the world may not always agree on my perceptions of reality, or my opinions on irrelevant things, however, there must be a certain standard of normalcy that is widely acceptable in all parts of society, which goes beyond saying thank you after someone has done something nice, unexpectedly or not, for you. Or is it just so happen that the people that I hang out with on a regular basis just exist on a different level altogether such that what we consider as normal is considered as ... beyond normal to the general population.

In that case, I am not normal to everyone else, but I am most normal in the spaces that I spend most of my time in, and because I am biased towards liking myself a lot, I take it as well, a good thing to me. Besides, if in this life you are not concerned with (1) how you feel about yourself and (2) how those who care about you feel about you, then I am not sure how you would derive good feelings about yourself. (Sorry, this is terribly articulated, so please, fill the gaps with your logic.)

So then, who we are as people is partially dependent on the people that we hang out with because these people define what is normal for us to exist in this particular continuum. Like it or not, we are somewhat a reflection of our friends, or people we hang out with. In this respect, I get lucky. I have the best of company.

Take for example this particular situation. I was annoyed about something up to the point that I had to tell someone about it. So I tell Person A, who told me to be the bigger person, which I followed because I actually agreed that it was the best course of action... until the next time that I encounter a pretty much similar shit that annoyed me in the first place. Real life re-enactments of things that shit me are just beyond annoying. For some reason I am yet to comprehend, instead of telling Person A, I ended up telling Person B, who happened to be there and most of the time were not exactly privy to information I told Person A. So Person B's default response is for me to be the bigger person. It would take a bit of encouragement and I usually relented and agreed to be the bigger person again. But this doesn't matter to Person B since in his mind, I am just being the bigger person, period.

In retrospect, this is actually good because, oh well, anything that can assist me to be the bigger person is useful, right. However, I am not that nice a person and by the time it's count three, I make no promises that I will continue to exhibit the well-edited characteristics of a bigger person. There's always the raw version, the one that involves you actually standing up for yourself, if I am bothered. Most of the time, I am not. Because once it gets to this stage, in my opinion, that person is not worthy of my time and efforts.

I am writing all of these because I realise that the friends that I do have these days are the people that I can be honest with; the kind of people with whom I don't have to edit my thoughts with. As it is right now, these are rare, and I am grateful. I am also grateful that their default position is to tell me to be the bigger person. But boy oh boy, being the bigger is hard work.

Friday 6 September 2013

It's hard being a girl and in her twenties

It seems like everyone is watching Girls. And if you haven't heard of Lena Durham, well, don't know where you've been hiding. I find the series hilarious; it got me laughing so I gotta say, I kind of like it. The lost generation. The misunderstood. It's like finally, a show about almost mimics real life. Or at least the issues that we, real-life girls are facing. Not all of our issues (yet), but some of it. I think to a certain extent we struggle with the question of where am I going in life, what do I want in life, or some even say, what's my purpose of living in this life. I know that I struggle, for sure. There are people who know exactly what they are doing and are very passionate about where they want to be and know very well that they are well on their way to get there, and I know a few of these people personally, and I am definitely not one of these people.

Take for example, courting and dating. The excitement, exhilaration, the potential hope of meeting the one, and the chance for that moment in time whereby your life is going to change forever in a way that you don't know just yet. I am a proponent of dating as many people as you possibly can, I liken this process to research. And why the hell not, especially if you can. My parents will kill me as soon as they read this because they obviously have a different view. But trust me when I say that I form mine not because I want to rebel against them. It is because I believe, just like anything else in life, meeting the one is a process that we can't rush, somewhere in that process we need to discover ourselves (or at least part of ourselves that we have not discovered before), we get to know what we want, or at the very minimal, what we don't want, and take it from there. And we need to do this knowing that there is an option for exit, simply because just like anything else in life, this is a trial and error. It is an experiment that involves two adults (or more) and their feelings, so there is that risk that someone, anyone, will get hurt. That someone may be you. This risk may or may not be worth taking depending on how important it is for you to have that moment in time whereby your life is going to change forever in a way that you have not yet begun to anticipate. No risk no gain.

Another thing that we all struggle with is our careers. The struggle, in my opinion, is not so much about us not knowing what we want to do because we inherently know what it is we want to do (whether we are honest with ourselves or not is a different issue altogether); the struggle is more about leaving something we are good at and starting something that we really want to do. In a way, the challenge that we are struggling with is more universal in nature: leaving the comfortable life and starting something new, fear of the unknown and the uncertainties of this new path that looks alluring and something we think we may enjoy more, which does not mean that we dislike our current professions, but rather we are curious of exploring a different option that appears to be more attractive to us. This is a very personal choice and one that is perhaps the hardest to make. Because if you ask someone from your current profession, they will say stay in this profession because that's the only thing they've known all their lives. If you ask someone else from a different profession, they will say do it for the same reason, that's the only thing that they can speak about. Everyone can only speak about their experiences and their choices may not be suitable for you. This is not a bad thing per se, chance is that most people are actually honest in their responses, but we must recognise that these responses are very subjective in nature and may be biased towards the individual. Or to put it differently: you gotta decide what's best for yourself and run with it. Easier said than done. But nothing worth doing in this life is ever easy, so it is worth all the hard work and deliberations and the sleepless nights of you working up enough courage to make the decision in the first place. The decision that you know is the best and most suitable for you. 

I admire the character of Hannah Horvath who stuck to her guns of being a writer, struggling to find employment while being forced to be independent by her parents. Will people acknowledge that being twenty-something often means we hardly have any spare cash. Seriously, starting out in our career and being independent often mean most of our salaries goes towards this thing called rent, and that paying this thing takes some time to get used to (i.e. the adjustment period) because for all of our lives we have lived free of rent thanks to our parents who put roofs over our heads. Plus the fact that we are young and we want to have fun, and we are still figuring out so many things about ourselves including what we want in life, that just mean our lives are full of experiments, and the outcome of these experiments may or may not be favourable. We all make mistakes. We've been told that we need to make all these mistakes while we are young, and so we experiment. This does not mean we are reckless in our experiments, in fact, most of us actually think about it and devise ways to make it successful. But just because we want to be successful does not mean that we are immune from failure. I have come to realise that the good people in my life are the ones who are forgiving and tolerant of the mistakes that I make. They are the people that say: ok, thanks for telling me, now go fix it. And then, they don't even bring it up. But I remember my mistakes and I occasionally still get mortified from thinking about them. Of course I strive not to repeat them, which is why I remember them (and get mortified) from time to time.

Sometimes I think being young is so ... ironic. This is meant to be the time of your life. Lately I am beginning to wonder if older people are saying that only to make the younger ones feel better. I guess I belong to the camp that regards life is hard, and it is beautiful because it is hard. I don't know why this is the case, but whenever someone says that life is beautiful, I somehow equate that with life is easy, which we all know, is not true. Sometimes life is easy, but most of the time, it is hard work.


Tuesday 3 September 2013

Accentuating the positives

Instagram is fast becoming a verb in my vocabulary.

In using that word as a verb, I run the risk of offending people that I use that word upon, i.e. "can I instagram you?"

Most people who are of my generation (I am a Gen-Y, by the way) would say ok and its variants. Most people who are older would say no and its variants. That's ok, I get it, some people just do not like to be a part of my instagram account.

I instagram because there are moments that I would like to remember. As I get older, I realise that quite a lot of things are becoming fuzzy memories. I am not sure if it's a function of my brain capabilities (God forbid, at this age?). I sure hope not.

Some moments are meant to be remembered and therefore instagramed. These moments come in the form of your smile when you see me (my personal favourite), or the funny faces that you make (I got away with this once, and I did not ask for permission, I am yet to withstand the wrath of that person).

But since you said no, I have to resort to something else, like say, the coffee that we are about to drink, the dessert that we are about to gorge, or the food that you just cook. I am not showing off, believe me, I am just sharing some good moments.

Instagram is full of good moments, which is why I like it. Facebook on the other hand, well, it's sort of full of rants. Twitter is full of random useful facts, which makes it infinitely more interesting than the other two.

But out of the three, Instagram is the only one that promotes good feelings. I think it's because the filters make everything look better than it actually is.

At least the illusion is believeable. Afterall, life is as you see it.

I see mine through Instagram, sometimes.

Oh, in case you want to know, my account is @drbelleb

(The link requires you to login to your Instagram account.)

Thursday 29 August 2013

There is no reconciliation to exercising options as an end customer

I find myself increasingly in situations whereby I engage in some form of discussion about the price of goods, particularly, in light of the recent factory collapse in Bangladesh.

I would readily admit that given the choice, combined with my currently limited fund availability, I would go for the cheaper option, provided that the quality is on par with the more expensive option. It is not that I do not want to pay for something more expensive, it is more like, I want to stretch the buying power of my money. This is what happens when your funds are limited. You constantly come up with ways to stretch the value of your dollars.

If the options are between two exact same goods, one is sold at the mall for $100 and the other is sold err.. at a store that's not in the mall, and that's not at the CBD for a smaller sum of $70, then of course I would go to the store that's not in the mall, even when it entails a trip out of the CBD (yes, time is also a factor, but let's just assume that you do a mini-excursion at the same time).

Because when this happens, it is because the difference in price goes towards financing the store-at-the-mall's overhead. Yes, I like the mall, it's mostly pretty and I quite like it, especially in summer whereby it is like blasting hot outside. And yes, I probably should buy from the mall as a way to show my support.

But point is this: more expensive does not mean that the end workers are better off. In fact, as an end customer, there is no way for us to ascertain whether clothes (and other shitte) that are sold from one particular retailer were produced more ethically than the other. And we are not just talking about human issues here, we are also talking about environmental issues. (Yes, I do find it rather ironic that the environmental impact of stuff has been discussed for years and never quite leave the spotlight, whereas it is only recently that human impact of stuff takes centre stage again.)

As an end customer, I can only take the business' words. And if they don't say anything, does that mean I get a free pass to assume the worst about them? What if, what these businesses are incapable of doing, is actually communicating? So they have good ethical standards, high quality goods, but they are hopeless at communicating - and subsequently they generate lower turn over. While the businesses that are relatively more dodgy in practices but are better at communicating gets all the customers.

The older I get, the more I realise that nothing is what it seems. First impression is everything, and the whole fashion industry is predicated upon making first impressions after first impressions. Why? Because people forget easily. In order to stay relevant, you have to impress continuously. No, it is not enough that you conform to industry standards. You have to exceed the bloody thing, and you have to appear to do so effortlessly (and make sure people know about it).

Sometimes I ask myself if I would behave differently if, say, I had unlimited funds. I would love to say yes, but the honest answer is that I don't know any better because I have never had a way to compare the two situations. My guess is that the answer would be yes, simply because people change, and I am not immune to this phenomenon. But the curious discovery would be how different would it be.

Friday 23 August 2013

Friday night football

(At the time of writing) I am watching the State of Origin. With my boyfriend.

I must confess that prior to dating him, I've tried to familiarise myself with football, or rugby, NRL, AFL, and I've had countless people explaining the difference to me, and how the game works and all that. These people are very nice and very patient because I just don't seem to get it.

I still don't get it. Even when my boyf patiently explains the rules of the games to me over and over and over again. At times like this, I am not sure why he is dating me. Because it is not that I was not listening to how the game works, I was, I just ... er... don't quite get it.

As in, I need someone to (1) watch the game with me and (2) explain what the fuck is going on. Explain why certain moves are awesome, you know. Why certain guys are better than the others. Bla bla bla. You get the drill.

The game of rugby never ceases to amaze me. I certainly do not want to play it and for the love of rum and raisin, I can't understand why anyone want to suffer that much for sport. Whenever I think about this when I am running, it makes all the running-related suffering falls pale in comparison. Sure my leg muscles may be burning, but even then my quads burn more when I am on the bloody bike machine. And at least, I don't have to watch out for a massive rug sack to hit me and knock me off for like a good 18 seconds.

I mean, really, compared to rugby, everything else seems easier by comparison. I can't even find a legitimate complain about running anymore because when I run, I just, uh, you know, run, without worrying about passing around a ball, avoiding tackles and scoring a try. And trying not to get injured, bleed or be killed in the process.  Or having someone pull your pants down.

I totally understand why parents want their kids to play rugby. If you can handle rugby, you can handle everything else in life. [Yes, I know, this is an over-generalisation on my part given that most professional football players are not exactly err... whatever. But there are some good ones. Just sayin'.] 

[In the interest of full disclosure, (1) when I say I am watching the State of Origin with my boyfriend, what I really mean is "I am lying down on the couch with my boyfriend, who is watching the State of Origin, while I am doing something else, namely blogging" TV and I are not a good match generally, which is why I never watch it watch it, I always end up falling asleep; (2) he is not the only boyfriend that I watch the footie with, I have done it in the past with other people who were my boyfriends at the time and were somewhat rather obsessed with footie, which is seemingly the norm if you live here in the land of oz; (3) I have tried watching the State of Origin on my own and it was a very confusing experience because there is no one to explain what the fuck is going on, so I gave up, turned off the tv and followed the live-updates instead. Don't ask me why I bother doing that because for the life of me, I don't really care about who wins or who doesnt; (4) I used to say that people who are obsessed with footie have no life, I am sorry, I take this back. I should not have made inferences like that since some of the most wonderful people I know in this life is somewhat obsessed with football, and these people are not my ex-boyfriends. Peace out.]

Tuesday 20 August 2013

Why I buy shoes

I love shoes. I have a tendency of buying the ones I like, which means I have amassed quite a collection. I have purged the ones that are falling apart, i.e. holes in soles. But for the most part, I have kept quite a lot of the shoes that I bought.

I know that this is borderline, if not already, excessively excessive. I don't even have an explanation except for the fact that I.love.them. Give me shoes any day, baby! Or just like what we did the other day, sat down and looked at a shoe catalogue. (It was the Nude catalogue and they are available through The Iconic). 

I was side tracked. I clicked on The Iconic and saw the additional 20% off already discounted items, with minimum spend of $80. I was this close to buying 3 pairs of shoes. I obviously did not go through with the purchase, but that gives you an idea as to how cheap some shoes can be.

Anyway, where was I? 

The whole point of this piece is actually to tell you a conversation I had yesterday evening. It went like this:

Me: would you be angry if I buy another pair of shoes?
Him: no
Me: okay
Him: buy them
Me: okay
Him: I will buy a new shoe rack

I kid you not. That was what my other half said. Boyfriends/husbands take note!

Why I buy shoes
Asked this question without any reference to any particular pair of shoes, my answer is that it is an extension of satisfying my desires in life. Yes, I am aware that it does come across as extremely shallow and superficial that one of my desires in this life is to acquire a collection of shoes that I love. There is no further explanation other than this is a hobby that is ok, very consumerist and also takes up a lot of space, not to mention somewhat painful for the bank account for someone like me. 

In falling in love with a particular pair, a necessary condition before purchasing the said pair, it is usually the design that caught my eyes. Somewhat rather unfortunately, these shoes have a tendency to be the ones that are most impractical, that is, they are the ones that I buy only to look, not so much to wear. I know, I know. This is all so ... wrong that there is no word to accurately describe it. 

I have not counted the number of pairs that I have currently. I am a bit too scared to find out, to be completely honest with you. In a way, as soon as I find out, I think I am going to be so shocked that it might actually stop my from buying new shoes, which sounds like a good idea at the moment. So maybe, I will do this at some point. Stay tuned!

Tuesday 13 August 2013

Work life balance

Sometime around the 5th Jan 2013, there was a coverage in SBS news about work life balance. Sorry that I can't be bothered googling it to find some references for you, but the story goes like this.

Apparently, in the land of OZ, a lot of people think they are working waayyy too much. For example, this 26 yo female who is in the education industry and is currently working on her second book while editing her first book. She said that the demand of her working life is too much, and that has taken a toll on her marriage.

I am not sure if this is just a terrible story telling, but the impression that I got was along these lines:
(1) you work in the education industry - yes, your schedule is somewhat erratic because you don't really have the regular office workers' 9-5 (or 9-6 or whatever) because you have this thing called... marking. And also school fetes or open days or whatever.
(2) you don't have to write your books, do you? Are these not technically "personal" projects? As in you are not required to do this as part of your daily job? If you want to work less, how about you... write less?
(3) she appeared (at least on TV) to have a comfortable lifestyle - her apartment, for example, was way more spacious than mine. And she was carrying a Louis Vuitton Speedy. I can tell a lot from a person's handbag. In case you fail to make the connection, how about googling how much a Louis Vuitton Speedy costs.

I am of the firm belief that our lifestyles are a consequence of our choices. I get that some of us don't really have a choice (which is something that a lot of us say when our choices are limited), but for most of us, there is the choice of living a comfortable life (with all or the occasional luxuries) or just living a life, one that is enough for us to get by and enjoy it. In the latter option, I imagine you work in any job just enough to earn a living, and that's it. Nothing wrong with that.

What bugs me, is when people who for one reason or another ended up choosing the former option, are complaining on a later date because they feel they are working too hard. If you don't want to work that hard, then pick a different life standard and work less hours. There we go, I said it.

There are some of us in this planet who are pretty happy working hard. And this has nothing to do with the fact that we have no children. There are some us who are happy being productive and would prefer to spend our time at work. I mean, is this so hard to believe? Granted that this may not be for the rest of our lives, but the point is this: once you think that option is no longer bringing you optimum solution, then change your life. Of course it is hard(er) once you are used to a particular lifestyle, so you either suck it up and maintain the lifestyle or downsize.

An equally annoying thing is the mentality of human beings in general (and I am guilty of this too) - that we want everything to be easy. Most things in this life are not easy. Running, for example, is not easy. No matter how much I have been running in the past few months, running 5kms still takes effort, some days more than others, because I have to literally drag myself to the gym. I choose to run especially on the days that I don't feel like doing it. The effort is more on some days, and that's ok, because that's my choice to do those things.

I think it is worthwhile for us to remember that we have choices in this life and maybe, just maybe, take ownership of how our lives are turning out. There is nothing wrong with working hard because you want a bigger house or a better car or more travel - you don't have to apologise for wanting to work harder than the rest of the population. You just have to do it. Be different. Make a personal statement.

Tuesday 6 August 2013

Missing you

I am missing my cousin.

I am sitting in my apartment listening to Elf Radio, because that is what you do when your ipod died and you have absolutely no back up for whatever that's in it (let's not go down that path). Because that is what you do in the days leading to Christmas (at the time of writing) and you want to immerse your soul into this once-a-year event, to just simply be like most people in this city: remembering what's important, why they are important and more importantly, giving thanks for all of those, and so much more.

My cousin, the one I am missing, is my biggest fan. She believes in me all the time without fail, and especially when everyone else seems to give up. If there is any lesson on the power of love, then this would be it because this is definitely a love that moved me to be a better person. It is a scary realisation when I first discovered that there is someone out there who for some reason I am yet to comprehend, genuinely believes that I am awesome. I used to attribute this to her age, or lack thereof, and as such, it was easier for her to maintain a seemingly unrealistic belief, something that we often call idealistic, as if everything that she thinks about will just make their way to reality eventually. But time proves me wrong, and this is one of the things in life whereby I am happy to be wrong about.

Because despite her youth, in a lot of ways she has matured way beyond me, and her stoic belief on her ideals meant that she has worked out what she deems important and that subsequently drives what she wants to do and how she lives her life. This trait seems to run deeply in my Dad's side of the family (how it bypasses me is still beyond me), and thus means that this side of the family produces some incredibly awesome people who work out what they want in life and then get out there to achieve them, and doing so enthusiastically and unapologetically, as well as persistently, especially when obstacles are on their way. Brick walls are meant to be overcome - either you dig a tunnel or you find a ladder or you practise your high jump.

Such tenacity is something I always find admirable in a person, especially a person so young. It is also something that I seek to have each and every day as I live my own life and struggle with whatever it is that I have to struggle with, and the battle is, for lack of a better description, never-ending and exhausting. And to be able to do so every single day, overcoming all uncertainties and still focusing one's effort towards the destination, oh, can anyone imagine how tiring it is? Plus doing all of that with a smile on your face, an undying enthusiasm and a blind belief that one day you will get there, somehow.

My cousin always sees the good in people, and it is natural that her opinion on me is biased because well, we are related. That's ok because in this life we need people who love us like that because even when we are separated by the Pacific ocean, the thought of someone like that warms our hearts and makes this life that much better.

I am missing my cousin tonight.

Tuesday 30 July 2013

Soul mates

People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. - Elizabeth Gilbert; Eat, Pray, Love, p 149.

Is it possible to have a few soul mates? Because it feels like I have one for this one time, and then that person leaves, and that's ok, because another person becomes it, and the cycle goes on. I have never thought of one as the one person that is going to stick around forever, although it is nice when they do. Those people are eventually given the labels friends by me. I will admit that it is hard to replace history, if only for the mere fact that I don't have to explain to you what happened then, I could just use the phrase "remember that time?".

And from those who left, some come back, and it is awesome for most of the time. This is why we insist on space, don't we? So that we can, like, grow, you know, in our own terms and our own schedule. And it's not like we can't grow together, of course we can, but it's more like our growth rates are independent of each other. You being in my life has been a catalyst for my growth, and hopefully vice versa, but you, yourself, cannot make me grow. That is something that I have to do myself, because there is no other way around it. I can't short-cut the process and neither can you. We all wish we could, but some lessons take time, and most of the time, growing takes time. And sometimes, despite the best of intentions, growing doesn't happen.

We are back to square one, at a different space, on a different time.  

Tuesday 23 July 2013

The things you do to better yourself

So, I received a phone call today from the Heart Foundation (NSW), thanking me for the fundraising page that I setup for the City2Surf run.

Yes peeps, I am running the City2Surf.

Yes, it is my first time running.

Yes, I am still regretting my decision to run. Like really, seriously. I find it hard to get out of bed and train these days. I blame the cold weather.

Yes, would really love your monetary support. I am not kidding when I tell you that support and encouragement is accepted in the form of something monetary. Either that or you buy me new shoes ok. Just this time, I am willing to forgo the shoes for your support for the Heart Foundation (NSW).

I didn't expect the phone call to be quite honest. I imagine that a lot of people must be raising funds for them. They are what I call by complete strangers, I don't know anyone associated with the foundation and I quite frankly picked them out randomly.

I mean, really, the other alternative is to run for the MS foundation, again, another one picked at random. Maybe next year. I really shouldn't have said that because I do not wisht to pre-commit myself to something that I am increasingly dreading by the minute.

My bestfriend, Jo, the ever supportive loving friend that she is, is giving me $2 for every kilometer, plus a $2 tip. You can tell that she's an accountant, right? You can also tell why she's my bestfriend, yes?

Anyhoo. Click here https://city2surf2013.everydayhero.com/au/drbelle

And then click "Give Now", okay.

Thanks in advance.

You are not obliged to have sex

To all the single women out there: you are not obliged to have sex with men who paid for your dinner/lunch/dates/movies/whatever.

That's pretty much basically what I want to say in this post.

I am sick and tired of men who paid for dates and consequently expect the women to have sex with them. It is so insincere of you to pay for something in exchange of sexual favours. If that's really what you were after, there are prostitutes that you can do the exchange with. You are not a nice person. What the fuck happen to sincerity?

In case you are wondering why I am writing this, it is because of some of the males that I do know in real life who share their "dating" stories with me. The inverted commas are there because they would never classify these stories as dating stories, more like... just stories.

I get that everyone, given the option, would choose to be nice over something else. I don't know what it is about the label nice, but it is so friggin' attractive that it is hard not to choose that label. We all want to be nice people because we like nice people. Nasty people, not so much, obviously, because they are nasty people. Nice people on the other hand, they make us feel good. Either they look nice, or they smell nice, or they say nice things, or they do nice things, or whatever else that makes them nice, we like them because they are nice.

Nothing wrong with that. I am hopelessly attracted to people who dress nicely and have been in danger of falling down and hitting a pole (literally) just because I turn my head a little too long. I can't help but look at nicely dressed people because to me, they are nice. I can totally understand if you stare at me a little too long for your liking, however, when our eyes meet, please, at least give me the courtesy of a little smile. So that you don't appear so creepy.

One of these guys told me a story that sticks to my head months, or even years, after the story has been told. It goes like this: guy met a girl online. Guy finally got a chance to meet girl. Guy was (and still is) a lot richer than girl and had subsequently been funding her life in one way or another. They spent a lot of time together, dinner, dates, sex. Girl was a virgin, by the way, but was old enough to have sex.

The next day, he told me the story, and after one too many stories like this one, I asked the question that I had always wanted to ask: how do you sleep at night.

I get that there is this off chance that I probably shouldn't have asked that question, but I did ask the question and I forgot to give the usual escape option of "you don't have to answer if you don't want to". That resulted in an answer that was, to his credit, an honest one. His reasoning was along the lines of: I paid for her schooling, her plane tickets, hotel, dinners, etc etc etc, so it was natural for us to have sex. And I am still paying for her education.

Granted that I do not have the liberty to ask for the girl's point of view in these series of exchanges, but tell if what he said was not along the lines of "I am a nice guy, therefore I deserve sex."

Before we go, let me just conclude with this: I do not have a problem with guys who want sex. I just wish they do not disguise their motives under some supposedly "nice" deed and then justify themselves as a nice person afterwards. A nice person is someone who is sincere, and when you expect or demand something in return, I am not sure that exactly qualifies as nice. I KNOW that a nice person would reciprocate a good deed, but this does not mean the reciprocation is demanded.

Tuesday 16 July 2013

The things that define us

Are you defined by your career?

When people ask me "what do you do?" - and trust me, that question comes up pretty often whenever I meet someone new - I find it easier to tell them what I spend most of my time doing. If I really think about whether it is really what I do, the answer is somewhat not so accurate any more. This is not about me being dishonest; rather this is about choosing the socially-expected answer. Plus it is also easier to explain, and it is also less overwhelming, or in other words, acceptable.

Am I defined by it? I don't know. Does it influence my lifestyle? Yes - because it dictates how I spend my time. But doing it in the first place is my choice, so it is not like I have to do it, it is more I want to do it. I have said this before, I actually like it a lot more than I confessed to. There are good moments, there are mundane ones, and it's ok because to me, it is pretty close to perfect for now. And yes, I am very grateful each and every day for this.

Are you defined by your major/school?

I am a doctor, but not the kind that medically helps people. I used to borrow Randy Pauch's mom's line of "not the kind that helps people" that initially brought a lot of laughter on my friends' faces, but over time, it stopped being a joke; it ceased being perceived as funny by the people that matters to me. Needless to say, they not only stopped laughing, but they got marginally offended. Reason being, it was not true; helping people is not confined within the medical sense: "of course you help people, just not in the medical sense."

The same people gave me (and some still do) give a lot of frowns as to why I am not on the conventional, "expected" career path for doctors (if there's such a thing). Why work so hard on attaining something that you end up not pursuing? That, or something along those lines, is the question that everyone has been asking. Some of them even said "but you are so good at it" - and I think this is because they were being nice, encouraging, concerned - all of the above. I never gave any proper explanation - until today. Because of this, a lot of people wrote me off as a spoilt brat with a strong sense of entitlement who could not commit to anything and could not decide what she wants. Yeap. Typical Gen-Y.

The reason I never gave any proper explanation is because I got the impression that as much as these people matter to me (and care about me), the real reason behind the question is merely their curiosity. Nothing wrong with that, of course, it is natural to be curious. Because I got such impression, I never felt the need to explain myself to anyone. Actually, that's not true. I explained myself to one person, and that is, yeap, myself. And no, I am not willing to share this explanation just yet. Maybe one day I will. Maybe, just maybe.

Back to the question - am I defined by my major and/or my schooling to date. The answer is leaning towards yes. I am happy that I underwent those years and persisted through the highest level of education attainable. I could have gone further towards post-doctoral years, but decided not to, and no regrets here. The great thing about being a doctor is that the foundations of my research skills are established during those years and this is a great tool to have in living life in general. Of course there are other skills that are useful and have made my life easier outside the classroom, such as, time management and stress management. Having a good foundation for these skills gives me the confidence to live life and face whatever may come. I mean, one of the most useful skills we can have is learning skill, because that quite literally means, you can learn to do anything, even when you've never encountered it previously. Things change, all the time, and we gotta equip ourselves with an ability to adapt to these changes (otherwise we become stagnant and irrelevant).

As to the fact that I got intimate with financial reports and accounting standards - well, that's just icing on the cake :-)

Are you defined by your (romantic) relationship?  

You know when people say that they know someone who loses him/herself every time he/she is in a new relationship? I always wonder why it is easier to spot it in other people rather than to spot it in ourselves. Because I think the answer to this question is almost always a resounding yes. I mean, if there is one person whose opinion matters quite a lot to me, then this person I am in a relationship with would be that person. Quite thankfully, he seems to think the best of me, especially when I am incapable of thinking that about myself. To have someone who loves you like that is pretty awesome. And yes, I got very very lucky in this department.

It is not a bad thing, no, to be defined by your relationship? Not defined in the 100% sense, but at least letting it have some influence in your life. Like your free time is not just about you and your friends any more, that it takes effort to synchronise your schedules so that you can spend quality time together. To have this one person in your life who matters so much, who loves you that much more than anyone else, whose opinion, undeniably, would influence your decisions that much more. I hate hate hate to admit this, but of course, your relationship changes you. It brings forth a new array of old familiar things that are experienced as new over and over again.

Are you defined by your friendships?

The friends that we have in this life time are very likely to be seasonal friends. They are some friends that we've been friends with for a long, long time, and these friendships have survived the seasons. They are very likely to have been tested and the bonds that we have with these people are something that we cherish on a regular basis, usually over a meal and one too many glasses of alcohol, some conversation of  a random topic that turns deep, somehow, and a great deal of exercising of listening skills. Yes, these are the friends and the friendships that define us. The friends who are workaholic to the core that we love anyway because we do see ourselves in them. The friends who are definitely not perfect, but we love anyway, for reasons that we are yet to comprehend, and as such, probably will never articulate. These are the people who drive us nuts, but we love them anyway precisely because they drive us nuts.

From these people we learn what it really means to love. From these people we learn what time really means. When we ask them "how are you", we would hear something more than the usual, polite "I am fine, thanks", we would instantly hear the new things that they've been up to, or the things that have been bugging them. When we ask "how was your weekend", we really want to know what they were up to. These are the people that we deem as worth knowing. 

Are you defined by money?
You do know that because this is my blog, this discussion is going to come up. I think a lot of people are defined by money but these people would never admit this in a million years. This is because for some reason, we as a society think that it is not good to be defined by money. But money does define us, to a certain degree. Back in the day when we were struggling students, our food budget was like err... $30 a week, and that's being generous. Most of us spend most of that money in the pub on Friday night when happy hour is on, while surviving on instant noodles the rest of the time. And now that we are working adults, we hopefully have more money and we would spend these funds differently. Well, for some of us, we still spend most of them in the pub, albeit the pubs are now funkier and subsequently charge a higher margin. Some of us inflate our food budget to include funky restaurants and the like while some of us dive straight into designer clothes. (Ok, some of us dive straight into the equity and property markets.)

Do you not feel good when there is money in your bank account? Maybe you don't see it that way but imagine, just imagine, if your bank account balance is displayed as close to zero, or even in the red, how would you feel when that happens? Yes, of course there are a lot of things in this life that money cannot buy, but there are a lot that money can buy.

[This writing falls under the general heading of what people would talk about if they would openly admit to the fact that life is actually hard and requires constant effort on our part to ensure that we are living the best life that we want to. Somewhere along the lines, we fall in love with the idea that life is supposed to be easy because we see life's representation in the media (all various forms of them) as beautiful, and seemingly easy. We got it into our heads that we are princesses living in invisible castles and we started to believe that we are beautiful not because of our efforts and merits but merely out of the power of our beliefs. While this blind faith is useful at times, I believe that at the end of the day, we have to be practical, otherwise, we will be spectators in our own lives, instead of being good drivers.] 

Thursday 11 July 2013

#ThrowbackThursday: Another one from my personal archive

I have been battling a cold in the past few days. It's like I escaped the flood to much drier lands, and promptly got sick as my body's way of just releasing all the stress hormones that had been accumulating prior to landing in Sydney. This, coupled with homesickness, equals resting, in bed for most of the time. Yesterday I felt strong enough for a fried chicken feed and life got infinitely better ever since.

Being sick meant I had too much time in my hands to do ... absolutely nothing. It is a weird feeling and while this was exactly what I intended to do while I was in Jakarta, it is somehow rather odd doing that in Sydney. I am perpetually grateful being here where it is dry and currently not too hot, and my apartment is comfortable; and needless to say, the presence of both my laptop and internet meant I have that constant desire to work. I am a workaholic after all, and workaholics don't switch off when they can switch on.

But I did switch off since I landed and I intend to remain in this state for a few more days, after which I will be back full swing and enjoying life differently than I am now. Something to look forward to.

*
I can't stop thinking about ... life. That's perhaps one of the most terrible ways to describe it, and I am out of words to even begin to explain my thoughts. Here I am in Sydney, feeling comfortable, there are moments whereby I feel luxurious, not because I have a maid to attend to me, but because I have running hot water.

Does it bother me that I am so comfortable here while the majority of Jakarta's inhabitants were eating out of a common kitchen (dapur umum) and could not go back home? A little bit. I do feel guilty, a little bit. Then I realise that me feeling guilty is not contributing to the betterness of the situation, so I made the decision to stop feeling so and start focusing on the things in my life that I do enjoy. The things that I get to enjoy, first and foremost because I won the genetic lottery (to which I have no say to), and all the subsequent blessings ever since. But does it bother me to see that there are people who work harder than me and are less fortunate than me?

The last time I spoke about this topic, I got into trouble, and because of that I am now very reluctant to talk about this again. I am human, I do have a heart, and I do feel guilty occasionally. Then again, this is life and I do not have a say on a lot of things in this life, including the state of the world and the fact that some economies collapsed (or on the brink of collapsing) and that a lot of people are hungry or are poor. I can be one of those people who devote their lives to a course towards the betterment of the world, but I am not that way inclined, so much so that I know that I am going to get depressed if I were to live my life that way. A depressed me is not going to be useful to the world, so I choose to keep myself happy instead.

Let's face it, my sphere of influence is limited.

Plus, I am selfish. A lot of the things that I do are geared towards improving myself and the people around me, and not so much the world. I try not to do so at the expense of deterioration of the world, so I recycle and what not, you know, the stuff that we all do here in the land of Oz.

It annoyed me when people say something along the lines of "you grew up privileged, therefore you do not know hardship/how hard some people have to live/etc". It is not so much because I do not know hardship, perhaps it is true I don't know hardship at all, I never spend a day feeling hungry or not having enough to eat.  It is more because for the life that I have right now, I do work hard for it. None of these things come easy for me. English is my second language and I spent the last eighteen years perfecting my communication in this language and even so, I still make mistakes, some errors are blatantly obvious, requiring numerous corrections by various people, only to be repeated the next time I said the same thing. That is a daily battle, for me. Because I am a perfectionist like that I want to be able to articulate my thoughts exactly as I think them. Because I am rather judgemental when I see an arrogant person flaunting their wealth while not being able to speak English properly, especially if they live in a country whose national language is English. [CHILL people, this is directed for people who are (1) arrogant in (2) flaunting their wealth. If these two things do not apply to you, then this sentiment is not applicable to you. A lot of people (whose English is a second language) do not speak English perfectly. Stop being so sensitive.]

Anyway, back to the point. I grew up privileged. I work hard for my life. That work is hard for me, and its value is not negated by the mere fact that I grew up privileged. I mean, in this society, everyone is rooting for the underdog. Everyone wants the little guy to succeed. Everyone loves a transformation story. What about the guy with the upper hand?? It is not just the pressure to perform; it is the pressure to perform well.

I am still human. Running 5kms for me is the same as everyone else, ok, perhaps different because everyone else seems to be fitter than me, so they run faster. I occasionally run as hard and manage to pull of a personal best. Being stuck in the flood is the same for everyone, regardless of their social standing. You are surrounded by deep water, you have no food and no clean water. And you can't go anywhere unless you have a boat. Arguably, a richer person can pay his way out of the flood, compared to someone who has no means to get himself out of the flood, but trust me that either way it is still unpleasant, and it is not nice to write off the relatively well of person's feelings just because he is relatively well off.


Tuesday 9 July 2013

Superficiality, again


Between telling people to stop commenting on my weight and thinking about money in a way that apparently annoys quite a lot of people (because apparently, that particular way of thinking about money is afforded by someone who grew up with money, who have had no taste of what it's like having without), as well as telling people that I am superficial, that day finally arrives when I am called superficial to my face, or its variant, a snob, and spoilt brat.

Just to clarify, I am superficial. The biggest problem that I face on a daily basis is what to wear. And that's because most of the things in my wardrobe is too big for me. Or actually, that's probably second biggest. The biggest problem is running out of time to do all the things that I want to do. Admittedly , this is not because I don't have the time, but rather becase I try to cramp too many things into the 24 hours. Or maybe, that's not my biggest problem. My biggest problem is that I want to buy all of these shoes, and if I do, I have no where to put them, so I have to refrain from buying them.

Yes, I probably should've been thinking about worldly issues such as poverty or saving the environment. Oh please. I am not that way inclined. Yes, I am aware that fast fashion is bad for the planet, and that a lot of people gets exploited in the process, like the ones in Bangladesh. Yes, I do feel guilty hearing the news that the Bangladesh workers died in the collapse of the building. And when I looked at the labels of my clothes and they said "Made in Bangladesh", *gulp. I do feel absolutely bad.

It is not easy and there is no reconciliation for this. But here is the deal. I am human and I have feelings, so when I hear about something as mortifying as workers being forced to go into a building with numerous cracks, yes, I do feel sad because (1) they end up dead and (2) they had no choice but to walk into the building. This lack of freedom to choose their fate is painful for me to hear and accept. But that was what happened and that is the situation in Bangladesh and that there are people who profit from this kind of arrangement. The same arrangement probably exists in Indonesia and for all I know, I probably know some of these people. I have wined and dined with them while drowning our sorrows arising from the numerous issues that we face that are actually non-issues on the general scheme of things. But they are our issues and they exist nonetheless, albeit only in our world.

I get that we are not supposed to be too fixated on ourselves and our lives and that it is useful for us to broaden our perspective and our minds and you know, get more involved with the world because it will make us feel better, or so they say. I believe in the value of having a broad mind, but at the same time, I think, the reason that people go to therapy is not because they are dying from starvation but because they feel severely misunderstood. They just want someone, anyone, to acknowledge that they are experiencing pains from these so-called non-issues and that they want to get over those, and they just do not know how. So how about that, eh?

My biggest peeve in life (one of them) is when people trivialise my parents' divorce. Anyone who's been through a divorce would tell you how it impacts their lives and that this impact is on-going, despite our best efforts of managing them. We cannot eliminate it, for starters, and we can only do the best we can to deal with it given our current circumstances. For as long as we are still alive, it will continue to haunt us forever. So, parents out there, here is the deal: you get divorced, your kids suffer. The least you can do is to make life easier for them when they have to deal with the fact that you are divorced, which has got nothing to do with them, but affects them nonetheless. Try dealing with one thing in your life in which you have no control of but you are directly affected by both the process and the outcome and see whether you like that. See how you deal with that.

It is not easy, but hey, life goes on and I for one would like to make the most of my life. So I shall continue to dwell in the beautiful shoes there are out there and the beautiful people who wear them and continue wearing my clothes that were made in Bangladesh because I think wearing them till they are worn out is the best way I can possibly maximise the value inherent in the particular piece of clothing (however that's defined). I shall not be too depressed when I think about poverty and the fact that there is a widening gap between rich and poor because hey, I am going to contribute to the disability levy anyway, so there goes my contribution towards the betterment of society.

This is how I cope. And when you say that people cope differently, get this into your thick heads that this is how I cope. Is this right or is this wrong - who the fuck cares, except for the person directly involved, i.e. me. This works for me, this doesn't work for anyone else, I don't give a fucking shit, really. I am not here to solve all the problems in the world, just sharing particular aspects of my life, thankyouverymuch.

Thursday 4 July 2013

#ThrowbackThursday: From my personal archive

It has been almost a month since I am back in Sydney post that brief break in Jakarta. I can't help feeling that it is so ironic that I have not been back for like 4 years and only manage to spend 4 days there. So much for tasting and sampling the local cuisine. I still have craving for those long clams and giant prawns. And of course, fried chicken.

I haven't been writing much in this space because I don't have the time. I know that it is so ironic that I say this almost every time I write something here, but I do feel the need to tell you that it is hard to keep this up. The options are between living life or writing about life, and my choice is a no brainer.

***
I don't know what it is about Valentine's day, but there seems to be two trends that I saw: (1) people getting engaged and (2) people going through break-ups. I guess it sort of makes sense, that you would pick the day of love to declare your intention to love your significant other forever; and for the rest of the mere mortals who are coupled up and not on the same wavelength, well, they start evaluating their relationships and decide whether it is something they want or something they don't want, and in the latter case, they break up.

Break-ups are never easy. I have been through a few and they never get easier. And no, yours truly is still very much coupled up and was spoilt rotten with Valentine's gifts. I kind of like my current relationship the best out of any other relationship that I had. It is not so much that the men I was with weren't up to scratch, it was just that we were terrible matches. Most of them have moved on to be with other people, married with a child or two. Some have difficulties letting go and are still contacting me randomly. Go figure. No wonder we broke up.

One thing I learn though from all these break ups is that the true character of a man emerges after a break up, irrespective of whether he is the dumper or the dumpee. In fact, this goes on for both man and woman. The true character of a person emerges during a difficult circumstance, like a break up. Break ups tend to be emotionally stressful and they are, for lack of a better description, totally shit, so it is consequential that we get to see how someone handles this stress. Some withdraw, some lash out, some focus on letting go, some focus on making their exes' lives hell.

Eventually, we all need to let go of something that is not meant to be. I get that it is hard to let go of something you love so terribly and you could not comprehend how something so beautiful is not a meant to be, but things happen for a reason. Let it go and move on. Eventually we all have to move on, so we may as well focus our efforts on moving on. The sooner it happens, the better, right? At least we think that to make ourselves feel better. In reality, it is more likely that it is something that we can't rush, we need to make the mistake, learn from it and then move on, with the hope of not making the same mistake again.

Recently, I have been talking to a friend who's been through a break up, whereby he effectively dumped his then girlfriend. The hard truth about his decision is that it was a hard decision and it was emotionally taxing on him. The decision was honest, he stayed true to himself and what he wanted from life and these desires do not coincide with his then girlfriend's and obviously neither of them were willing to compromise, so the union had to end. He was devastated. I am pretty sure she was devastated too. Sometimes the truth can be difficult to face and live with, but it just so happened that at that point in time, they were not a good match. Of course there is always that hope that they can be a good match in the future, but who knows what the future brings.

That gets me wondering, at what point do you make that decision to break up and pursue something else? At what point do you assert and insist on the things that you want in your life? At the point that you are extremely unhappy and miserable? What if you don't know how miserable you really are because ... you don't know that you can be this happy?

I might sound some what dramatically melancholy right now, but I can't stop thinking about how much our decision affects our lives, and at the same time, there is this thing that we call fate and destiny and that no matter which path we choose, we would always come back to that one thing, no matter how hard we try to run. And the sooner we accept this, the more at peace we would be with the life that we are in and the destination we are going towards, and our efforts can be focused on getting there, not necessarily sooner, but just getting there, you know.