On a blue-skied Saturday...

On a blue-skied Saturday...

I attended Nabila's wedding reception, along with a bunch of the CS peeps. It was the first Malay wedding for several of us, so we depended a lot on Zak to guide us through proper wedding etiquette. For me, it was also the first wedding of a friend I was attending, but my ovaries thankfully didn't start itching!





No etiquette required when it came to getting trigger-happy though! Congratulations Nab. :)




And here's a CS trivia:



For those who are not already in the know, wanna try guessing which CS babe these pretty heels are on?

3:30 a.m. today marked the last of my drama endeavors. I've finished a total of five dramas since school ended, and these were on top of my usual Gossip Girl fix. Huge thanks to HM for staying up with me almost every night while I went on my visual trips to Taiwan, Korea and Japan; and also to Jinli who toiled the nights with me when I got her re-hooked to Coffee Prince. No more panda eyes!

Bali preparations start now. I had a good talk with Ceci last night because we were both feeling weird about the trip. I really didn't like associating the island with the unmentionables, but we had be practical when the need arose. The trip momentarily felt like a prison sentence, but I guess we both forgot that it is supposed to be our holiday. We've planned and we've paid so we're obviously going ahead with it, only with our senses a tad more alert.

I've cleaned out my hamsters' cage, and Ran's gonna be babysiting my babies while I'm away. That is after our Twilight date, and our now mandatory sushi meal.

The answer is 42.

The answer is 42.

Have you ever recognized the smell of change? An unusually strong breeze accompanied the evening sunshine on my way out. I slowed my pace and turned my face up to the sky for a brief moment, the smell of the wind transporting me back to evenings at Temasek Polytechnic. Gymming with Cat, strolling along the tennis courts with aching limbs and freshly washed hair, late night IG meetings, dinners at the kopitiam across the school...

My poly years didn't seem that far away, but it's actually been almost three years since graduation. My Indian exchange has apparently robbed me of all ability to keep track of time. Dinner with my CPM babes and our unchanging choice of crude topics made me feel 19 all over again, but speaking with an old friend on my way home made me realize how much I've changed.



Still gossipy, still slutty, still scandalous.

I came home, flopped onto the couch, and had a chat with my auntie with the Asian Food Channel on mute. I spoke about what I wanted, what I didn't know if I wanted, and asked her if she thought I've changed. "Since India. You've grown up, became less manja." She was the second person who'd made reference to my past tantrums that night and it made me cringe. I must have been quite a menace.

She didn't say much but when she did, her observations were astoundingly astute. "You think I don't know why you travel so much? It's because you really wanted to get away from what was happening here."

She's partially right. Traveling did start off as a need to get away, and foreign sights began as distractions to a cobweb of thoughts. Over time however, they have evolved into a ball of insatiable wanderlust at the pit of my belly. The urge to see and experience some place new seems to only grow with time, and I finally confided that I've been thinking of working abroad when I graduate, should the opportunity arise.

"But you will have to settle down eventually. You can't just keep traveling." She hasn't said it aloud in its entirety, but I know that she dreams of me getting a stable job and meeting someone who would make me settle down.

One day I would, I assured her, thinking how ironic it was that those dreams were once mine when I was 19.


picture from thescarlette.livejournal.com

I haven't got it all figured out, but maybe some things are better and more beautiful without an answer. Four more days to Bali. Though excited, a stray strand of dread unsettles me. I have thus drafted emails, and will be trusting a close friend with my mail account. Just in case.

I feel...

I feel...


picture from inmagine

Kinda warm and fuzzy.

Seriousleigh.

Seriousleigh.


picture from inmagine

I showered, deliberated over what to wear, dried my hair, slicked on some blusher, and spritzed on my tangy Escada scent as an afterthought. I picked up the phone to tell M I would be late.. only to be informed that our date was tomorrow.

Seriously, SERIOUSLEIGH.

The dance of sea breeze upon my skin.

The dance of sea breeze upon my skin.

I had a bit of trouble recalling my last beach holiday, but I'm inclined towards Goa in March. As much as Guethary in June was an awesome summer trip, France's beaches lacked the certain je ne sais quoi of Asia's beaches. Bintan was the getaway I didn't know I needed to realign my balance. It's not going to be easy reliving the trip without the 101 snaps I took, but I'll try.
*All the following pictures are taken off the Bintan Lagoon Resort webpage.

Though the dates were properly set, the start of the holiday seemed like a mad rush. The ferry website was down, and we were unable to pay for our tickets online. Mich only returned from Langkawi less than 12 hours before we were to board our 9am ferry to Bintan, and I was out late with a friend and thus unpacked till almost midnight. We were groggy and sleepy that cloudy morning, and only when we arrived to clear blue skies at the Bintan jetty did it sink in that we were on holiday.



Bintan Lagoon Resort was huge and sprawling, and basically one I would never have chosen if not for the free stay. All traces of fatigue were lost the minute we slotted in our key card and entered our room. It looks almost exactly like the picture above, except for our twin beds. A flat-screen tv, teak furniture, a huge window seat looking out to the sea, and a spacious balcony all had us squealing like seals in heat.



We wasted no time in changing into our bikinis and strolling to the beach. The last time I was in Bintan with Ceci, the beach was a 30-minute drive away and its waters were murky. This time around, the beach at our doorstep had powdery soft sand, rolling waves and crystal clear waters despite it being the monsoon season. With the sea breeze caressing my skin, I watched the uncluttered beach through half-closed eyes and felt the inexplicable rightness coursing through my veins. The rhythmic pounding of waves was nature's lullaby, but Mich and I proved too chatty for sleep. So we talked, and laughed, and walked along the water's edge picking up seashells.

Hours and minutes seemingly melded into moments, and if not for our evening spa appointment at Pasar Oleh Oleh, I'm pretty sure we would have lazed our day away till sunset. Pasar Oleh Oleh was nothing to rave about, though the massage was bone-crackingly good. We returned to the hotel and not wanting to feel like old ladies, we checked out the Silk nightclub, which was disappointly empty. I was served a really toxic Vanillatini though - by the time I'd drained the glass, I was popping peanuts at my chin and giggling a little too much.

It was pretty late by the time we made our way back to the room, and after a hot shower, I wrapped myself in the comfy cotton bathrobe and stood at the balcony watching the sea. The skies were fairly light, and it felt more like the early dawn than midnight. I turned my face up to the starless sky, feeling at ease for the first time in a very long while. I'd watched the seas too often with a hollow in my chest, but this time around, with the sea breeze playing with the lapels of my robe and the sound of waves crashing onto shore, I was whole.



I was dead to the world by the time Mich finally slept, and the next day passed by in a blur of breakfast buffets, sunshine and suntan lotions. It was a quick holiday no doubt, but this first trip with my bitch was truly an enjoyable one.

Reconnected.

Reconnected.

It happened all too suddenly. Firefox hung, as did Flock. But unlike the many times in the past where the system restarted, mine never did. All I had was a blinking "?" folder sign mocking me.

Still, I guess I should be pretty glad that my Macbook lasted me this long despite the rubbish I'd subjected it to. I've burned a hole in my dad's pocket and am now wired up with the new Macbook. No more copying and pasting my "i"s!



But of course, the Bintan pictures which I've uploaded before the crash are gone, until I get around to finding a reasonable retrieval service. Pity, for it was one awesome holiday and the hotel was gorgeous. Argh.

One day to Bintan, 14 to Bali.

One day to Bintan, 14 to Bali.

The scampering duo.

The scampering duo.

I’ve never particularly liked children, and I’ve never bothered masking my annoyance at the sugar-fueled ones running amok in shopping malls. Little mushrooms – that’s what I call them. However, I’ve recently realized that I am not void of all maternal instincts.

I thought it through long and hard before adopting two hamsters from Miak. While the new responsibility means I can no longer pack up and go without a care, I feel that I finally have it in me to unselfishly care for something else. When I hugged the cage to my chest to prevent them from getting carsick (apparently they do), an unfamiliar urge to keep them safe welled up in my chest.

Even though my beautiful rainy morning was marred by a morning bite, I find it impossible to stay angry. Even though one of them acts like a delinquent with his snarling and protectiveness, I still find myself feeding him seed after seed, hoping to win him over.

Me. Patient. Who would have thought?

13.5 and counting.

13.5 and counting.

I'm so sleepy. I really think I would have pulled an all-nighter if HM wasn't waiting up for me. Let's see if scones will really wake me up.

Death and old beginnings.

Death and old beginnings.

It’s the morning after a weekend so surreal I’m starting to wonder if it really did happen. Life played a series of unlikely events that absurdly spiraled to bring us to where we are today.

Wanderlust has gained me so many beautiful moments that had me wishing I could make time come to a standstill; but even as I lug my suitcase and my feet to yet another part of the globe, my mind almost always charts its own journey to this one particular place.

Mountains and seas; delicate saris dancing in the breeze. Is it really possible for two people who have lived so differently to still feel the same?

Have we finally come full circle, or are we only halfway?

The night of rain and stars.

The night of rain and stars.

I’d randomly surfed websites and watched news flashes the past few days, but just an hour ago,
I finally sat down with the newspapers for uninterrupted reading.

Besides the breaking news on the front page, human-interest stories and survivor tales made up a significant portion of the day’s news coverage. What stood out most to me was a story of a maintenance staff at the Taj Hotel who shielded a family he was trying to evacuate when they came face to face with a gunman.

I sobbed a little as I contemplated what I’d read. It’s almost unimaginable. The city I had only recently lamented to be too humid and chaotic to be comfortable, now in utter devastation.

There were several other snippets of people who helped usher survivors to safety, of people who put the lives of others above their own. I’ve been too jaded by youngsters who pretend to sleep on trains to avoid giving up their seats, and this was a reminder that humans are not necessarily all bad.

As ungracious and intolerable we can be, the stories have shown me just how unselfish and chivalrous the human race is. In the face of such adversity, it is humanity that truly shines.

I’m not sure how I would react if I ever faced such a situation though. In all honesty, my first priority would probably be to gather my traveling partner(s) to safety. I really don’t know if I have it in me to ever be one of these heroes who rush into burning buildings or plunge back into tsunamis.

It makes me feel incredibly small, and how I’ve been spending my time incredibly frivolous.

It could have been us.

It could have been us.

If you don’t know already, Mumbai was hit by terrorists earlier this week. I just heard from Erwin that Leopold Café, which we frequented while we were there in April, was hit by gunmen. I remember laughing at his paranoia when we were there, and it feels absolutely unreal reading the updates on BBC.

It could have been us. When we were in Mumbai, we were discussing how Leopold Café would have been a likely target for a terrorist attack due to the sheer number of Westerners who hang out there, and it’s painfully surreal to realize that the café was really in the plan.

And the Singaporean lawyer who was held hostage was killed just a few hours ago.

We often tempt fate, complacently thinking that we could never be that unlucky. As much as successes in life come from being at the right place at the right time, apparently so do deaths.

First Ahmedabad, and now Mumbai. Timing saved our lives.

In light of recent events, is there any one place that’s truly safe? But how does one draw the line between complacency and reclusion? We can’t just stop living, despite the pain and fear. Life goes on, and we’ll be damned if it doesn’t.

Upon a falling star.

Upon a falling star.

Wearing my heart on my sleeve does not equate to my life being an open book.

It was the end of a whirlwind fairytale, and though bittersweet, the timely parting crystallized the surreal beauty of what we shared. Logic couldn’t fully cushion the sense of loss however, and as much as I hate admitting it, sometimes I do need rescuing.

So E and I sat by the waters sipping bottled potion. Fuelled by alcohol and/or relief, I was at my giggly best. As the late night slipped into early dawn, I could not help thinking that it felt a lot like that very night in Palolem. That itself was an oddly comforting sort of closure.

And as if by nature’s magic, the cloudy skies parted when we finally made our way back to the car to reveal the twinkling stars.

Me: Look up, stars!
E: Woah.

With our heads turned to the sky, we contemplated an Indian sight I don’t think we realized we missed till then, and were promptly stumped by an enormous shooting star blazing across the sky.

Me: Oh my god!
E: Oh my god!
Both: Make a wish, make a wish!
-silence-
E: Eh, wish what?!?!

It doesn’t quite matter what we each wished for. I made a wish upon a falling star on a wintry Indian night in January, and it came true. Seeing the shooting star again was to me a secret conspiracy between the universe and I.

On an entirely separate note, the exams are finally over! I met Jane for a tête-à-tête right after my paper, and though it was awesome to have one of my best friends back for the holidays, I was almost falling facedown into my salad due to the accumulated sleep debt.

Seven hours last night barely made a dent in my debt, and judging from the rest of the girls on our JB day-trip today, I wasn’t alone. Despite the many instances where we monopolized benches and just about every other sitting surface, it was a great trip best left to the pictures (Thanks Jinli!).








:)

So, where next?

picture from thescarlette.livejournal.com

Rhapsody.

Rhapsody.

You can say it was a spur of the moment decision. I saw the sale prices, we spoke about it, and the next thing I knew, my bitch was whipping out her credit card and booking the tickets. The sheer irony of it all is that the trip isn’t for next week or next month for that matter… it’s for July 2009.

Hahaha. I wonder how Hong Kong and Taiwan would react to having two crazy women on their shores?

Grey.

Grey.

I had several depressing Grey’s Anatomy type inspirations as I tried to come up with a title for this post. I could imagine Meredith holding her heart in her hand, watching it in morbid fascination as her chest bled out. I could probably draw a dozen parallels to the drama right now, actually.

Like how D's haunting I with his presence, and M’s mother before death.

I can’t seem to make sense of the prancing thoughts monopolizing my head. I am just very thankful for the girlfriends who have offered to get me drunk, and the several “my person”s I am blessed with.

Are you as disturbed as I am by the sheer dark and twisty-ness of this entry?

What a difference a day makes.

What a difference a day makes.

In a span of 8 hours, I found out that I got both internship offers, and won myself a free night's stay in a luxury resort in Bintan for some photo contest I'd long forgotten about.

Didn't feel like it when I woke up this morning, but I guess it was my day aye?

My best friend wants to be a man.

My best friend wants to be a man.



Mich: if sex operations are so successful, then i might as well go change sex too
Mich: hahah. YEAH RIGHT.
Me: WTH. u did not just say that
Mich: haha i'm a closet butch.
Mich: can anyhow f*** around, without giving a heck whether the other party gets pregnant.
Me: i don't think you're a closet butch.
Me: i think you're a closet bastard.

ROFL! I love my bitch, even if she's kinda disturbing sometimes...

Just another rainy day.

Just another rainy day.





For the umpteenth time, I am waiting for the rains to ease before heading out. This time for a hawker lunch with Jinli and a session with our books. We're so exchanging coffee for margaritas the minute our exams are over mi amiga!

Some days.

Some days.

Some days, neither sleep nor chocolate can lift the cloud.
Today, all I want is to snuggle up with my best friend over a jug of happy hour margaritas.

Blurred reality and fitful sleep.

Blurred reality and fitful sleep.

My sinuses start acting up whenever I sleep under the aircon, and sleep inevitably comes in fitful spurts. B was also kept up by the fajitas we he made for dinner, which were doing a Mexican dance in his stomach. I ended up dreaming of him being sick, and waking up to a boyfriend in pain. Too weird.

Even in my dreams.

Even in my dreams.



Last night, I dreamt that I was in Bali with Ceci. I was making my way up to the veranda of our Ubud hotel when it started raining. In the warped way dreams work, we ended up in a nearby bar, gulping down cocktails served up by one of my poly lecturers. Really vague, really ambiguous, but I remember that we were happy because we were safe from the bombings.

I’d be lying if I said the news of the impending execution of the Bali bombers and possible retaliations don’t worry me. But I am unwilling to forfeit my trip, for reasons surpassing monetary losses.

The island and its inexplicable hold on me.

Birdsong makes me think of tropical rainforests.

Birdsong makes me think of tropical rainforests.

The wonderful thing about life is that it never always sucks. Some days, the dark clouds hanging overhead make you want to snuggle up and hide in bed all day. Some days however, you are so bright and cheery that even the dark clouds outside can’t put a damper on your mood.

Today’s one of those days. Despite the clear blue evening skies, rumbling thunder and pouring rains have the neighborhood birds flying helter-skelter. But I’m still chipper.

I heard birdsong in the trees as I walked the shaded pathway towards the train station this morning, and it made me think of waking up in a cabin in a rainforest. I think that brief but pretty daydream set the tone for my day, as did my lunch rendezvous with B.

And now, the rains have eased in time for me to leave for tonight’s Madagascar 2 premiere. That’s the perk when one of your best friends works in the cinema industry, heh.

La vie est bonne. ;)

Love, and other disasters.

Love, and other disasters.

B was right in the middle of a gunfight on his last night in Cambodia. The details are all kinda hazy, but what's important is that all of them are fine and back unharmed.

It’s inexplicable, but apart from incredulity, I didn't feel anything else when he told me the news. I did shorten my unproductive coffee/revision session to spend a few hours with him last night, but it was really because I missed him and not because of a gripping urge to hold him and reassure myself he's alive.

I’m typically a bit of a worrywart, and this lack of reaction has got me thinking.

When my first serious boyfriend enlisted in the army, I kept watch over my mobile phone every night, waiting for that one call before lights out. A 15-minute delay would have my overactive imagination conjuring up the worst accidents in my head, and I remember how his mom and i would speak on the phone about how worried we were. Life went on, but there was that subtle bit of trepidation that I lived with.

We all give a part of ourselves to a relationship, and we inevitably lose that piece of ourselves when it dies. My first love and I really gave it our all and when it fell apart, I felt like I lost myself, not just a part of me.

A vital part of my healing process was getting to know myself all over again. Many of you may have experienced it – having been one-half of a couple for years, it was unnerving to have to stand alone again. Still, hurt is an elemental part of life, and all I could do was suck it up and live. I traveled, suck solace in yoga and good friends, and did almost zero dating. Oddly, I think the pain gave me the courage to do things I normally wouldn’t have done, like pack up and go to India. The experiences changed me, and I like myself a lot better these days.

Even though I’m often unsure of my cultural footing when I’m with B, I feel somewhat more stable and able to have and maintain a relationship. I don’t obsess about his safety, and there’s an innate trust that he would know what to do and how to take care of himself. The absence of this obsession frees me from a lot of the trepidation I lived in when I was younger, but don’t the bizarre and underlying rules of love dictate that obsession be a part of passionate love?

Did I lose my ability for all-consuming love when my first relationship died? Was that the vital piece that its death took from me? In the movie Win a Date with Tad Hamilton, Angelica the bartender told Rosalee that when great love is rejected, one packs it up and waits for a second greater love. (Memory’s a little fuzzy but the key point’s in there.) But of course you love a little less than you did your great love.

Or could it be that living through the pain taught me that no one is truly indispensable, and that when I am truly whole, there is nothing anybody can take away from me? Or could it simply be that this self-assuredness I have with B is a sign of two proper dating adults?

Some questions are better left unanswered. Life awaits. ;)

Deadlines and boys in pinafores.

Deadlines and boys in pinafores.

Yesterday marked the last of my internship interviews, but as part of the suitability test, I had to churn out a short restaurant review and submit it at 9 a.m. today. I haven't been checking out new nosh places since returning from my travels, preferring to stick to old favourites like Cedele and good old prata joints. Those aren’t places the magazine would want to feature, so I was in a bit of a fix trying to find one I could head to for dinner without busting my budget.

Thankfully Jem was a good sport about altering our Ice Cold Beer plans, so we headed down to Kinara at Holland Village where I’d already visited for Daph’s birthday lunch on Monday. I think I churned out a pretty passable piece on time, so I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed until the editor reverts.

We didn’t compromise our beers though, and we sat and talked the night away at this Spanish tapas bar right across Wala-Wala. Bumped into an ex-colleague from Sentosa, which was a nice surprise, as was Ceci's impromptu decision to join us.

It was Halloween, so we had the random witch and devil strolling past our alfresco table, along with way too many boys dressed in pinafores. Was there a cross-dress theme party somewhere I don’t know of?

All the drinking and word crunching left me pooped, and I only managed to crawl out of bed at noon today. Took a lot of willpower to force myself to get on my yoga mat. My hamstrings have been extra tight since I started running, and I think Sunday’s 10km run pretty much knotted the rest of my leg muscles. All the yoga poses have been a pain, but my ego just wouldn’t let me accept the fact that I am not as flexible as I used to be under Sunil’s tutelage.

I haven’t seen any vast improvements since my first session on Tuesday morning, but I’m hopeful that the grueling mat work would pay off. All the stretching, though a torture, effectively unknots the muscles in my shoulders and back, so no complaints. No thanks to me being a slave to my Macbook.

Off to the showers, and out for an afternoon cuppa with Shaun. Been a long while since we caught up!