Remembering.

Someone wrote an article in Female about the "then" and "now" of her classmates, whom she managed to track down a decade later. SF, who remembers the writer from JC days and also recently met on a gameshow, thought that the article lacked emotive connection. Why bother writing if it were only to "report"? Perhaps, the writer wanted to be diplomatic? Indeed, she did come across as eager to put everyone in a good light, eventually, including the annoying "class clown". Or perhaps, she didn't know any of them that well afterall.

Emotion. This is precisely what, IMHO, differentiates a good blog that engages, from one that is just hard core word-porn (term coined after talking to SF about porn) to fill online space: all action, no feeling. Heh.

I believe in "losing" myself in writing, and giving myself over to the magic of words as they draw out my unspoken thoughts and breathe life into them; to let my words reach out to touch and be touched.

Noticed too, that the writer had only mentioned the outstanding ones. Does anyone ever wonder what happened to the quiet or "average" ones?

Am terrible about keeping up with people. But sometimes, I do wonder about my best friends from secondary school and JC. Have never been one to keep in contact, or maybe we had just drifted apart, as we grew and chose our own paths. Was a pretty angst-filled teen and that might have frustrated my best friends after a while. Heh. At least I can still remember their names! There was Yong Fang, Kai Qin, Michelle and Lilian. They were always the ones who first sought me out; sociable (obviously); characters whom everyone would unanimously describe as "very nice" (Although KQ had a rebellious streak, and YF didn't like her guts, and I was accused of "two-timing" my best friends. Yeah, it can happen! Serious!); had good taste, with a knack for style and picking up stuff that one would normally pass over for more overt fashion); attractive, with their fair share of male attention (which drove me somewhat crazy during my ugly duckling years -- OK, I'm just not so ugly now); and shorter.

Now, allow me to clarify: It's not like my best friends have to be attractive. When I did my own "pick-up", would more often than not, deliberately pick the plain-looking ones to hang around, coz I thought they would be "easy". Laugh!

It's been years...but I do remember that they were really special people in their own way. Well then, time to revisit those year-end autograph books that we used to pass around in school?

Please don't make me say "it".

Funny, never thought of SF as the type who couldn't say "No." Had thought I was the one who had a problem with being assertive. So, just how do you reject a guy, and I should add, "gracefully" (the keywords here being the "male ego")? Afterall, the male would not stand to be led on by false hopes while letting slip other opportunities, no thanks to the female's intentionally vague (but hopefully diplomatic) responses; the woman must also have the social graces to turn him down "gently" so that he doesn't have to slinker away with tail between legs, and wouldn't forever remember her as the ungrateful wench. It's a thin rope that we women have to walk, not least in our high heels. Sigh. Men...

Anyway, suggested that she pretend that she never received the email, and pray hard that she doesn't bump into the guy again. Emails do get lost in cyberspace, don't they?

AND, before any hot-blooded male who happens to be reading this blog decides to power up his flame-thrower, I do NOT believe that rejection should be an exercise in humiliation. But trying to reject someone "gently" is akin to breaking up with someone "amicably". Is it actually possible to reject someone without leaving a bitter aftertaste in the mouth?

Now then, complete this sentence "Singaporean men are..."

Back to the drawing board (I).

22 December. Sunday. Midnight. Was drifting into dreamland, ready to put the day behind me, ready to start another day (and week) afresh, when was summoned by an SMS and follow-up phone call to contemplate the meaning of happiness and life.

The year-end makes us contemplative of what we have and could have done; how we have and could have lived our lives.

And then, there are the unhappy people; in spite of having a job in this economic uncertainty; even though they are married and will not have to spend Christmas or New Year's Eve "alone"; even though they still have the mental faculty to choose how to live their lives.

Perhaps the world, in spite of having more than it ever had, is becoming increasingly unhappy. In our pursuit for that elusive meaning in our individual lives and that of life in general, have we lost our bearings and our selves? Have we become blinded in our bid to keep up with the Joneses? Are we in an existential crisis?

Have we been running after the wrong dreams, the 5 C's, those dictated to us by society? Have we been running in the wrong direction, further and further away from our selves -- when all we have to do is to look within ourselves for happiness and the meaning of our existence, and not at external sources. Even for some of us who look to religion, it is said, God already resides within each of us. Is that why in spite of all we have, we are still unhappy?

In the human race's bid to exercise its creativity and answer the question to the meaning of life by recreating it, have we instead made an artificial reality which falls painfully short?

The most elegant solution is usually the simplest one. Perhaps the answer to the meaning of life is really a very simple one. And one that can be found within ourselves.

- - - - - - - - - -

This Christmas, have not made any attempts to spare myself the bittersweet memories and pain of having to spend it without a loved one. Don't see how losing myself in deliberate activity is constructive to my psyche long-term. Been almost indulgently oblivious most of the week, except for the occasional bouts of heartache and bitterness, which is pretty much how I've been the past few months. And I think that's fine.

Have also been reflecting and thankful that have not lost myself in the midst of the past half year. Am now looking forward to the new year, a week away by the English calendar, and a mere month away by the Chinese calendar -- the Year of the Sheep is supposedly in the favour of the Rat. Time flies, doesn't it?

So, do you believe in cosmic influences?

Are we there yet?

So during the party, someone suggested driving down to Sebana the next day (since SF was already going to be there at her dad's weekend place) to chill out.

It turned out to be an interesting weekend, which would have been spent at home and catching up on sleep otherwise.

The trip down (in heavy rain, no less) was kinda awkward. You know how men would never ask for directions? So there the 2 guys seated in front were, bickering on and off; while the one beside me resolutely kept his face glued to his study notes for an upcoming exam (which was a good idea, coz I don't think I would have survived if all 3 started to bicker!); and I was engrossed in the charming countryside scenery AND praying that the increasingly stronger menstrual cramps wouldn't give way to the flow in the middle of nowhere. Yeah, definitely some major hormonal fluxes going on in that car.

When we eventually checked in at the hotel, I found out that I would be sharing a room with one of the guys. Okaaay...the thrills just keep coming, don't they? It wasn't like my room-mate was a total stranger or a creep (was told over supper just a few hours ago that other girls would kill to be in my place) -- but having him see me pottering around the room in glasses, sans make-up, didn't sound like my idea of a stress-free weekend.

After dinner, we picked up SF, hung out at the bar, and then did some night fishing. Caught a wriggly eel with evil-looking teeth, that nobody would touch, but decided should be returned to the water...somehow. Well, the architect (who brought the fishing rods) was too squeamish to go anywhere near the eel and just stood by quietly, while the U.S. Navy lieutenant did what officers do best, and issued "commands" from the comfort of his seat on the breakwater. SF and I? Why, girls aren't expected to deal with disgusting, wriggly things :-P We just did what women do best: we shriek and let the men do the macho thing, right? Heh.

So we watched the baby-faced lawyer with the angelic dimples, drop a huge rock on the eel's head (while the women gave voice to the dying eel), hoping to knock it unconscious. Nope...the lawyer found out, as he poked at the tail and then jumped a few feet away, that the eel was still wriggly. So he dropped the rock on the eel a second time, and then stepped on the rock for good measure, hoping to ground the eel's brains into pulp. Nope, bottom of rock ain't flat, eel still wriggly. Lawyer drops rock on the eel a third time. This time, we heard a wet splaaat. Yep, one dead eel coming up...right back into the water. Heh. We packed up and called it a night, amidst jokes of avenging baby eels coming through the filter pipes of the pool to look for a certain lawyer's ass.

And oh, you definitely don't ever want to owe this lawyer any money. Heh.

Started the next day with more laughs, swimming, and joined SF's dad for a good lunch of fried beehoon and wild boar stew (the latter from a neighbour who used to be the executive chef at Shangri-la, ahem). After that, we started on the drive back, caught dinner in JB just before we hit Customs, and then it was home sweet home :-)

Definitely an interesting weekend.

And yes, the officer was a perfect gentleman :-) Guess it also helped that I fell asleep with the reassurance that I wasn't sharing a room with the "murderer"! Laugh!

- - - - - - - - - -

Just reflecting on my reactions to people and what R said about me being judgemental.

Maybe that's why I just don't count many people as my friends (much less GOOD friends), and I find it increasingly difficult to let people into the inner sphere of my life. It also has to do with my self-consciousness, which has always been a problem, but less so in recent years. In fact, it did take me a while to get used to the idea of letting the bear in -- I tried to run, just as I did with a few guys where the attraction was mutual.

And just as I make judgements about people, while watching them and snippets of their intimate selves, and obsess about what I perceive as flaws, so it is that I hold parts of myself back from people, expecting that they judge me as I judge them.