Word association: adjustments

Less alcohol, more caffeine. Less eating, more exercising. Less sleeping in, more rising early. Less coasting, more awareness. Less consumption, more creation.

Less diffidence, more initiative. Less settling, more thoroughness. Less introspection, more expression. Less idleness, more action.

Less moping, more walking. Less regret, more excitement. Less worrying, more doing.

Less cowering, more dancing.

Hello, 2012.

I should’ve met you on my feet and started the new year with some forward motion, any motion, however small. I should’ve cleaned up my room, my computer, and gone through the items remaining on my before-I-go-back-to-SG list. I should’ve hunkered down, shut myself in my room, and sat down to have a nice long thorough think.

Well. Instead, I gave in to a thoroughly lazy, improvement-free Sunday filled with food, naps, Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, Gilmore Girls, and more food. The night is drawing to a close and it’s only now that my guilty conscience rears its head, waggles a finger, tut-tuts.



So, here we are, here I am. Which is where, exactly? Well. It’s the first day of the year and I’ve shut myself in my room and just lazed about, leading to this horrible guilty first night of the year. Maybe it’s delayed onset holiday depression, but I’m feeling rather lonely and especially unsure of myself and what I’m doing with my life.

For instance, I’ve been back home for a month, yet I haven’t really done much with my time. Worked (admittedly, this did take up most of my time and energy), went out a couple of times with the few friends I have remaining, treated my nieces to fast food and ice cream and the like a few times, and of course performed the requisite Christmas season pigging out. I feel like I haven’t made the most of my time here.

In particular, I believe what’s really bugging me is that, despite all historical evidence, I had been hoping that I would somehow automagically emerge wiser, more in charge, surer of myself, and happier at the other end of this little trip. Talk about high, unrealistic expectations, right? Yet even though I do realize that, it still is a major bummer that, instead, I’m still here where I’ve always been and where, it seems, I’m fated to stay.

Maybe I’m looking at things all wrong and all I really need to do is to make peace with my stupid, unempathetic, waffly, oblivious, useless, depressive, physically, morally, and mentally flabby self. (Or maybe I’m just once again resorting to the tired self-deprecation trick in lieu of coming to actual useful conclusions.)



Well, I suppose I’ll allow myself to stay in this mood for a while longer. Calmer reflection has convinced me (somewhat, or maybe I’m just getting sleepy and tiring of this fruitless line of thought) that this is a normal feeling that should pass soon enough. Feeling unsure and sad about one’s life doesn’t indicate that everything’s wrong and is headed for ruin, and in fact, it doesn’t necessarily indicate that anything at all is wrong.

I’m not saying that I don’t think there’s room for improvement in my life, because there is perhaps a couple of warehouses’ worth of room, but that, I guess, it’s counterproductive and stupid to let vague little doubts grow into vague large doubts.

I can and will do better this year. A little too undefined for a mantra, perhaps, but it’s at least an optimistic start. Here’s to us, 2012. Hajimemashite, douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu.

Home stretch

The all-too-brief holiday weekend is over and it’s time to kick off another workweek. I didn’t really want to go back to work just yet (it was perhaps a horrible idea to decide to try to get into Oblivion again when I know I won’t really have time to play and in any case will be leaving the country and my gaming desktop behind in a week or so).

I should cheer myself up with some happy music, some happy thoughts. As ever though, it’s quite a struggle against my natural melancholy inclinations (I suppose that makes it sound less pathetic than it actually is), and the composition of my music library isn’t helping at all. (That seems like a worthwhile New Year project: liven up and diversify my music!)

I think it’s partly barely having had any vacation time or time off this whole month I’ve been home, and partly that this interlude is ending soon and I’ll be heading back to Singapore to live and work there once more. I can’t say that the prospect isn’t exciting -- getting my time to myself again, being in the First World, having a room to myself, not having to commute -- but at the same time I suppose I’m beginning to realize that there are a lot of things about being back home that I’ll miss: home-cooked food, being around the family (despite the persistent distance), being around the few friends I have left in the country, the places and people I bump into on my daily routine here, and the basic familiarity of the language, the culture, how everything looks and sounds and feels.

At the same time, I also feel as if I wasted this opportunity to reconsider and re-evaluate the course of my life. In a week or two I’ll once again be swept out of the country and back into the life I’ve been leading for the past year. This more-than-a-month-long sojourn should’ve provided me with some time to get much-needed perspective and finally do the thinking I feel I’ve been putting off for too long, but, well, it hasn’t seemed to yet.

And finally he gets to the obligatory quarterlifing

Although, really, it hasn't been quite as bad lately, due to greater excitement (read: stress, but closer to eustress than distress, most days, anyway) at work. After all, who would have time to worry about such vague fluffy things like a sneaking sense of directionlessness, or a lack of perceived agency, or the feeling that the past twenty-three years of existence haven't - on the balance - amounted to much, or, in short perhaps, a fear of just "not getting" something terribly important (and terribly obvious to everyone else), when (whew) there are much more clear-cut concerns to deal with, like bug reports and deadlines and task lists?

Still, well, ahem, I guess I would have to admit here that I would. I would always have time to worry, it's just the way I'm wired, and the way I've comported myself for most of my life, though it never really showed to people who never got to know me. To most, I was and am just that quiet harmless dude with a reputation for being smart and aloof, and some have even called me carefree, oy, little do they know.

Don't worry though, gentle reader, I'm not about to launch into that practiced, desperate roll call of everything that, over the years, I've determined to be wrong with myself and my life. We've had just about enough of that over my blogging lifetime, haven't we, and now it's time to grow up and move on. Instead of dwelling on the negatives and on feelings of helplessness and doom, why not look forward and ponder solutions? 

I once believed with all my heart and mind (such as they were and are) that enlightenment would eventually come if I just continued mentally chewing the cud. The act itself also held a strange, masochistic allure, or maybe it just became more comfortable to worry about the same things over and over than to actually act and do something about them. I didn't think I knew what to do, I couldn't get out of the cycle of thinking, and so I bemoaned many ruts and periods of depression. (Clinical sufferers may scoff at my use of the term; I've never had myself diagnosed, but I can say those times were no walks in parks.)

Bit by bit I think I'm making progress. Right now, I do still feel as if I have no idea whatsoever what I want to or should do with my life, but it hasn't got me quite as down, and I feel as if I've also grown much less tolerant of stupid wallowing in that years-fermenting muck of useless self-recrimination. I'm grateful to be where I am now, despite still not being able to shake the feeling that it's all just been a series of lucky stumbles. I mean, if I've just been lucky so far, I should be in for even better times now that I'm beginning to actually pay attention, right?

Making lists helps, and writing thoughts and hypotheses down, anything to concretize the vagueness and thus make it manageable, even for instance this little exercise of acknowledgment and making light. Maybe it's a false sense of accomplishment that such items arouse, but at the same time it can't be denied that doing anything is better than doing nothing. (Well, in most cases, and if you keep from doing stupid things.) Move, make mistakes if you must, but just keep moving.

I promise, if I ever figure anything out, I'll tell you all about it. (Or did that come off more like a threat of more stories from a boring uncle?)