Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
possibly
I’ve never swept anyone off their feet
and probably never will
want to do so to anyone more than you
I’d take you to a shed by the sea
slightly rickety but cozy
where the breeze sometimes blows just the right way and
I’d pull you close
against my stubborn belly and
run clumsy fingers through your hair
I’d give you a bracelet, a necklace
a string of souvenirs
from all the places I’ve been without you and
I’d open every door
of my unexceptional life to you
and hold your hand and let you in
I’d write you a poem
and all my poetry would sing of you
slightly off-key but true as I can make it
I know I can't change your life
only show you the world I’d give
anything for you to live in with me
Sunday, October 14, 2012
island vacation
It rained again today.
Sand’s less white than beige
and not quite fine
but still I felt the quivering
of the spaces between my fingers.
I walked as slowly as memory-
you and me once did
on that rainy beach more beautiful than this.
Now it’s too quiet.
Across this ocean pretending to be a lake
another island where you are not
unrolls across the horizon.
Glassy gray reflects bright blue.
Fellow travellers slice dark lines across the water
that, like them, disappear.
And what about these, my lines for you?
What about the curve of you
once right next to, once touching me?
Just another skein of rain from sky to sea?
What of our once-parallel trajectories,
the sharing of presents and histories
in effortless communion?
The same saltwater may lap at all beaches
but will our footsteps again follow the same shore?
Here’s another dispatch from where I am
to where you are. When you open this,
remember my lips against your forehead.
Remember the nearness of my smile
and the soft clarity of my voice beside your ear
and know that I think of you always.
Know that though my lines may sometimes bend
they always - will always - reach for you.
Friday, October 12, 2012
here.
here the same wildflowers
first I ever picked you
(tiny perfect delicate)
peek out and shout your name
here the same trees grow
shady spaces to shelter us
here the same clouds form out of reach
here the same wind blows
here the same sun
descends the same sky
into the same ocean we once watched
slowly darken together
here the same ghost
suffuses the same world
flows out of the same void
your absence continually leaves
hear the same distance
hear the same wind
hear the same flowers
hear the same longing
Thursday, March 08, 2012
Death Cab for Cutie in Singapore!
So now the concert high has more or less subsided (after a full workday, and, well, two or so re-listenings to the setlist). In short, it was an awesome, amazing experience. In long, well, keep reading.
Minutiae, mundane details / pre-concert
I went to pick up my ticket early (at the venue itself), got a little lost and ended up taking two different long ways around from Dhoby Gaut to Fort Canning and back. It was on the walk back when I started regretting my decision to wear one of my long-sleeved button-up shirts (that I never usually get to wear): too friggin' hot in this country!
Met up with Nai whom I haven't seen in a long time (since his internship with Insync ended last year, actually), had a quick yakisoba dinner then we were off. It drizzled almost imperceptibly for a short while on our way there but thankfully it stopped and didn't develop into actual rain which would have dampened (get it?) the outdoor event. Arrived at the venue a good 30 minutes before the scheduled start time of 8pm.
Stood around and waited, caught up with a bit of shop talk (Nai's current consulting firm is involved in some pretty interesting projects at the moment), made our way to a spot as close to the stage as we could still secure at that point.
The main event
And then they came on and started the show. I remember a weird feeling of detached disbelief that lasted for a few more songs even as I thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful live performances, so much more vivid and immediate than studio recordings.
There's nothing quite like hearing a familiar song, a song that you love and have loved for a while down to memorizing the particular dynamics and shifts and progressions of its record, performed live and pleasantly surprising you and slipping free of your expectations at every turn. (To a lesser extent, I also enjoyed the slightly jarring feeling of not hearing the next song in the album order, as I've developed the habit of listening to music by album instead of shuffled or in my own playlist order.) I could go into details here regarding which songs I particularly loved the live versions of, but I'll restrain myself from fanboying to that extent!
It was pretty awesome to know all but a couple of the songs in more than a passing way. It felt great to sing along with the crowd during a few of their more well-loved songs, although even then I was still keenly aware of the presumption of my act (I never did develop any skill or confidence at karaoke...).
I really really loved the encore set, mostly for the last two songs: Tiny Vessels and Transatlanticism, which are among my favorites separately, and even more so played together. They're great, sad songs in their own rights, but I'll admit to having some personal (perhaps sentimental) associations that increase
(Minor quibble, though -- the crowd seemed rather sedate. There was just one guy off to my left who was appreciably moving his body, and I could've sworn some people were shooting him disapproving glances. Well, to each his own, I would've wanted to been moving more freely, but I'm too self-conscious about being graceless.)
Aftermath
My enjoyment of their music has been enriched in a strange, nearly undefinable way. I know it doesn't really make much sense, but listening to their music now, after having heard them perform live and having been within spitting distance of the actual human beings that make up Death Cab for Cutie, is just subtly different and better.
And it got me to thinking about which other bands and artists I'd like to see live while I still have the time and resources to go to concerts. We'll see, we'll see...
Minutiae, mundane details / pre-concert
I went to pick up my ticket early (at the venue itself), got a little lost and ended up taking two different long ways around from Dhoby Gaut to Fort Canning and back. It was on the walk back when I started regretting my decision to wear one of my long-sleeved button-up shirts (that I never usually get to wear): too friggin' hot in this country!
Met up with Nai whom I haven't seen in a long time (since his internship with Insync ended last year, actually), had a quick yakisoba dinner then we were off. It drizzled almost imperceptibly for a short while on our way there but thankfully it stopped and didn't develop into actual rain which would have dampened (get it?) the outdoor event. Arrived at the venue a good 30 minutes before the scheduled start time of 8pm.
Stood around and waited, caught up with a bit of shop talk (Nai's current consulting firm is involved in some pretty interesting projects at the moment), made our way to a spot as close to the stage as we could still secure at that point.
The main event
And then they came on and started the show. I remember a weird feeling of detached disbelief that lasted for a few more songs even as I thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful live performances, so much more vivid and immediate than studio recordings.
There's nothing quite like hearing a familiar song, a song that you love and have loved for a while down to memorizing the particular dynamics and shifts and progressions of its record, performed live and pleasantly surprising you and slipping free of your expectations at every turn. (To a lesser extent, I also enjoyed the slightly jarring feeling of not hearing the next song in the album order, as I've developed the habit of listening to music by album instead of shuffled or in my own playlist order.) I could go into details here regarding which songs I particularly loved the live versions of, but I'll restrain myself from fanboying to that extent!
It was pretty awesome to know all but a couple of the songs in more than a passing way. It felt great to sing along with the crowd during a few of their more well-loved songs, although even then I was still keenly aware of the presumption of my act (I never did develop any skill or confidence at karaoke...).
I really really loved the encore set, mostly for the last two songs: Tiny Vessels and Transatlanticism, which are among my favorites separately, and even more so played together. They're great, sad songs in their own rights, but I'll admit to having some personal (perhaps sentimental) associations that increase
(Minor quibble, though -- the crowd seemed rather sedate. There was just one guy off to my left who was appreciably moving his body, and I could've sworn some people were shooting him disapproving glances. Well, to each his own, I would've wanted to been moving more freely, but I'm too self-conscious about being graceless.)
Aftermath
My enjoyment of their music has been enriched in a strange, nearly undefinable way. I know it doesn't really make much sense, but listening to their music now, after having heard them perform live and having been within spitting distance of the actual human beings that make up Death Cab for Cutie, is just subtly different and better.
And it got me to thinking about which other bands and artists I'd like to see live while I still have the time and resources to go to concerts. We'll see, we'll see...
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Never Let Me Go
Currently in a strange but not-too-unfamiliar funk after finishing reading Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go: reflective, melancholy, a little bit restless and feeling as if my perspective and the boundaries of my life could do with some stretching and expanding.
The book (Spoilers in this section!)
The book is great, an absorbing read but very subtle and restrained. Events unfold with wistful inevitability, and the reveal of the central science fiction element (the characters are clones created to be organ donors) is gradual and done quite straightforwardly and without fanfare, as the focus is instead on the characters dealing the best they can with their situation, trying to live their lives the best way they know how.
The inherent tragedy of their existence only serves to deepen the already-significant pathos of the strange interdependent love triangle between the main characters. Following their stories from being sheltered at the boarding-school-like Hailsham through to their eventual fates was delightfully bittersweet.
I also liked Kathy's narration. The adjective "impassive" pops up in my head but I'm not really sure that's the right way to describe it. Straightforward, matter-of-fact. Or perhaps the word I'm looking for is just how natural and easy it seemed to get inside her head.
The funk
Although I do find myself getting into a quiet, reflective mood upon finishing a good book, melancholy ones such as this induce such a mood much more easily and intensely. I'm still reeling a little even now, almost two hours after.
The first feeling I remember was one of narrow-mindedness or lack of perspective. I suppose this is something common to most good books and literature -- they do tend to (are supposed to?) show things in new lights and induce new ways of thinking about the same (important) things. In this particular case, I felt distinctly unknowledgeable in the matter of friendships and relationships and dealing with people. And to think that I don't have any tragic fate to contend with!
The next was a momentary feeling of loneliness and inevitability, but thankfully it quickly passed into this final urge to finally fully think about and do something about my own life, which is much less complicated or fraught. Perhaps "thinking fully" about my life is an unrealistic pipe dream, but I do feel as if there's a threshold I've been afraid to or too lazy to cross. I haven't been pushing myself hard enough to be honest and unafraid, to confront the truth. (And now I get a flashforward to that future time when I finally do so only to realize that I've been afraid of stupidly pathetic realizations all this time.)
In any case, planning to try my best to make this mood useful and actually get some thinking done, but I think I may be too tired (and still a little hungover) from carousing last night. (Oh, my tragic tragic life.)
The book (Spoilers in this section!)
The book is great, an absorbing read but very subtle and restrained. Events unfold with wistful inevitability, and the reveal of the central science fiction element (the characters are clones created to be organ donors) is gradual and done quite straightforwardly and without fanfare, as the focus is instead on the characters dealing the best they can with their situation, trying to live their lives the best way they know how.
The inherent tragedy of their existence only serves to deepen the already-significant pathos of the strange interdependent love triangle between the main characters. Following their stories from being sheltered at the boarding-school-like Hailsham through to their eventual fates was delightfully bittersweet.
I also liked Kathy's narration. The adjective "impassive" pops up in my head but I'm not really sure that's the right way to describe it. Straightforward, matter-of-fact. Or perhaps the word I'm looking for is just how natural and easy it seemed to get inside her head.
The funk
Although I do find myself getting into a quiet, reflective mood upon finishing a good book, melancholy ones such as this induce such a mood much more easily and intensely. I'm still reeling a little even now, almost two hours after.
The first feeling I remember was one of narrow-mindedness or lack of perspective. I suppose this is something common to most good books and literature -- they do tend to (are supposed to?) show things in new lights and induce new ways of thinking about the same (important) things. In this particular case, I felt distinctly unknowledgeable in the matter of friendships and relationships and dealing with people. And to think that I don't have any tragic fate to contend with!
The next was a momentary feeling of loneliness and inevitability, but thankfully it quickly passed into this final urge to finally fully think about and do something about my own life, which is much less complicated or fraught. Perhaps "thinking fully" about my life is an unrealistic pipe dream, but I do feel as if there's a threshold I've been afraid to or too lazy to cross. I haven't been pushing myself hard enough to be honest and unafraid, to confront the truth. (And now I get a flashforward to that future time when I finally do so only to realize that I've been afraid of stupidly pathetic realizations all this time.)
In any case, planning to try my best to make this mood useful and actually get some thinking done, but I think I may be too tired (and still a little hungover) from carousing last night. (Oh, my tragic tragic life.)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
What now?
Or, given this (the state, as far as I know it, of my world), what should come next?
I began reading Mindfulness in Plain English last week, in the hopes that beginning the practice of meditation would help me find or at least get closer to finding "the answers". I'm more than halfway through and so far I've found the book very readable, relatively no-nonsense (there are some offhand allusions to supernatural aspects of higher-level meditation that weren't too obnoxious), and most importantly, promising and encouraging.
However I've yet to actually even try sitting. Aside from never seeming to be able to just relax and take some time to sit and meditate, I also have the problem of finding a good spot to do so. The office does not really offer much in the way of comfortably private locations where I can sit and be still without getting distracted or feeling self-conscious.
As I continue to read and think about it more though, I'm growing more convinced that this may just be what I need to be able to actually maintain that rare sense of perspective that pops up from time to time in my head (through no fault of my own).
I began reading Mindfulness in Plain English last week, in the hopes that beginning the practice of meditation would help me find or at least get closer to finding "the answers". I'm more than halfway through and so far I've found the book very readable, relatively no-nonsense (there are some offhand allusions to supernatural aspects of higher-level meditation that weren't too obnoxious), and most importantly, promising and encouraging.
However I've yet to actually even try sitting. Aside from never seeming to be able to just relax and take some time to sit and meditate, I also have the problem of finding a good spot to do so. The office does not really offer much in the way of comfortably private locations where I can sit and be still without getting distracted or feeling self-conscious.
As I continue to read and think about it more though, I'm growing more convinced that this may just be what I need to be able to actually maintain that rare sense of perspective that pops up from time to time in my head (through no fault of my own).
Monday, January 23, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, January 01, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Short but happy
Splurged on a Fiio E7 DAC/headphone amp and a Grado adaptor to replace my dinky cheap one (which did last me a year), and am currently in the process of ooh-ing and aah-ing over the increased detail, crispness, differentiation, resolution, dynamism, insert-some-other-audiophile-term-I'm-not-really-worthy-of-casting-about of music I thought I already knew. How much of this is attributable to a placebo effect, I wouldn't really know. Merry Consumermas!
We've also released! Such a relief. Of course now the onslaught of bugs, but that's still preferable to antsy anticipation. Bring it on!
We've also released! Such a relief. Of course now the onslaught of bugs, but that's still preferable to antsy anticipation. Bring it on!
Monday, December 26, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Just a general update.
So, it's been a pretty crazy December so far, and I can't really believe that it's about to be over soon. I've been back in the country for almost three weeks now, yet I haven't really been doing much apart from getting buried in work.
It's been gratifying, sure, but the constant pressure and stress isn't doing any wonders for my already precarious mental well-being. Okay, being overly dramatic aside, I haven't really been able to settle down and have a good long think about all the things I've been meaning to have a good long think about.
My routine has mostly been: wake up when I wake up (usually just a few hours before lunch time), go out to have coffee and read or listen to music somewhere, then take a cab to work. Work until late (staying and sleeping over if necessary, though now there isn't an extra room to crash in so I've actually only done this once), then go home and turn off my brain and relax until I fall asleep. Rinse and repeat.
I notice that I've been rather free with my money since I got back. Not to a crazy extent, I don't think, but when I stop to think about it I do feel small pangs of guilt. (But I get over it.)
I don't feel entitled to go on for much longer about my own petty problems in the light of the recent flashflooding disaster in Cagayan de Oro and Iligan. This is going to accomplish nothing, not even assuage my throbbing conscience (I have one?), but here's a pretty useful list of ways to donate and help out: http://www.nowpinoy.com/typhoon-sendong-how-to-help/
(A more socially-minded and knowledgeable person would take this opportunity to talk about the environmental issues that caused the flooding, and perhaps suggest ways to improve the state of our disaster prevention, warning, and relief infrastructure. Just saying.)
Alright, regardless of the fact that this is my blog and I can write anything I want, I think I shall still resist segueing into another round of bootless introspection and personal woe-tallying. Life goes on.
It's been gratifying, sure, but the constant pressure and stress isn't doing any wonders for my already precarious mental well-being. Okay, being overly dramatic aside, I haven't really been able to settle down and have a good long think about all the things I've been meaning to have a good long think about.
My routine has mostly been: wake up when I wake up (usually just a few hours before lunch time), go out to have coffee and read or listen to music somewhere, then take a cab to work. Work until late (staying and sleeping over if necessary, though now there isn't an extra room to crash in so I've actually only done this once), then go home and turn off my brain and relax until I fall asleep. Rinse and repeat.
I notice that I've been rather free with my money since I got back. Not to a crazy extent, I don't think, but when I stop to think about it I do feel small pangs of guilt. (But I get over it.)
I don't feel entitled to go on for much longer about my own petty problems in the light of the recent flashflooding disaster in Cagayan de Oro and Iligan. This is going to accomplish nothing, not even assuage my throbbing conscience (I have one?), but here's a pretty useful list of ways to donate and help out: http://www.nowpinoy.com/typhoon-sendong-how-to-help/
(A more socially-minded and knowledgeable person would take this opportunity to talk about the environmental issues that caused the flooding, and perhaps suggest ways to improve the state of our disaster prevention, warning, and relief infrastructure. Just saying.)
Alright, regardless of the fact that this is my blog and I can write anything I want, I think I shall still resist segueing into another round of bootless introspection and personal woe-tallying. Life goes on.
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
Back in the Philippines
So, I've been back in the motherland for almost a week now, and I still haven't gotten into a good routine. I'm not used to having to factor in commute time when considering things such as what time to wake up and what time to start working (not to mention the experience of commuting and taking public transportation here again).
Haven't even visited all the old haunts yet - have yet to hang out at UP. Did spend a delicious, lazy, gluttonous weekend in Bulacan for a thanksgiving-type fiesta last weekend (lechon! kakanin! utter idleness!).
Haven't met up with anybody yet. I am friendless and aloof. Or just lazy.
Glad to finally have woken up early today, at least, though it was really a fluke more than anything intentional. Maybe today's the day I can start a productive routine again. (Or I could take this morning time and spend it finishing Snow Crash in UP, the weather seems nice and cool...)
Haven't even visited all the old haunts yet - have yet to hang out at UP. Did spend a delicious, lazy, gluttonous weekend in Bulacan for a thanksgiving-type fiesta last weekend (lechon! kakanin! utter idleness!).
Haven't met up with anybody yet. I am friendless and aloof. Or just lazy.
Glad to finally have woken up early today, at least, though it was really a fluke more than anything intentional. Maybe today's the day I can start a productive routine again. (Or I could take this morning time and spend it finishing Snow Crash in UP, the weather seems nice and cool...)
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Presents
I've never been the gift-giving type. I never know what to give people, and even though I sometimes get the urge to do so, I hesitate because it seems like it would somehow be unfair if I started giving gifts only selectively, but then it seems overwhelming to have to think of giving gifts even just to my very small circle of family, friends, and acquaintances.
Perhaps I'm just too prematurely self-conscious about it, fearing that recipients wouldn't like whatever I get them, and that this would just make them hate or pity me all the more (if they don't already thoroughly loathe me, but then again, I suppose I really wouldn't be giving gifts to those people now, would I?).
It's December, and Christmas is just around the corner, and I'm not yet sure if I'm getting anyone anything. On the other hand, maybe I can guilt myself into finally getting over my stupid fear by thinking of all that I've received over the years, and how now it's time to give back. Hmm, no, not working.
Perhaps I'm just too prematurely self-conscious about it, fearing that recipients wouldn't like whatever I get them, and that this would just make them hate or pity me all the more (if they don't already thoroughly loathe me, but then again, I suppose I really wouldn't be giving gifts to those people now, would I?).
It's December, and Christmas is just around the corner, and I'm not yet sure if I'm getting anyone anything. On the other hand, maybe I can guilt myself into finally getting over my stupid fear by thinking of all that I've received over the years, and how now it's time to give back. Hmm, no, not working.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Keng Wah Sung
One of the things I miss the most about being home is having a room to myself, a private space where I can be alone whenever I want to be. Which, as it happens, is usually most of the time. I'm an introvert through and through.
Here at the SG office I share a room with two officemates and while I have no complaints about this arrangement (the room is more than big enough for the three of us, what with a relatively spacious loft, and there's even an extra bed up there), it does mean that I have no such sanctuary. My desk does feel private enough, and there is some sense of ownership and belonging there, but at the same time, it feels
I found this private space in Keng Wah Sung, a nearby mom-and-pop cafe (kopitiam, I believe, in the local parlance). Along with strong black coffee (kopi o kosong, no milk, no sugar), kaya butter toast, and soft-boiled eggs. No wonder I quickly became a regular.
There's something innately comforting about seeing the same people everyday, even if you don't really talk or interact, even if your lives remain mostly disjoint, or touch only superficially. I go there, I buy coffee and read or write. Sometimes at night I would change my beverage to one or two bottles of Tiger, and sometimes I'd also buy some sticks of satay from the people who set up nearby (only in the evenings). If they didn't close on Sundays, I'd probably be there at least once every damn day!
Needless to say, I'm going to miss that place when we finally move out of this unit that's much too big for us. I could always come visit on weekends, but it won't be the same, I won't have the luxury of just stumbling there from the house, still unwashed and bleary. Ah, well, I don't know whether I should just be happy that, at least so far, I haven't yet been able to really settle in and call this place home (I know, I'm slow, it's been almost a year!). The move, though it's still going to be a big hassle probably, will at least not be as uprooting as it could've been. (Then again, this is a tiny country...)
Here at the SG office I share a room with two officemates and while I have no complaints about this arrangement (the room is more than big enough for the three of us, what with a relatively spacious loft, and there's even an extra bed up there), it does mean that I have no such sanctuary. My desk does feel private enough, and there is some sense of ownership and belonging there, but at the same time, it feels
I found this private space in Keng Wah Sung, a nearby mom-and-pop cafe (kopitiam, I believe, in the local parlance). Along with strong black coffee (kopi o kosong, no milk, no sugar), kaya butter toast, and soft-boiled eggs. No wonder I quickly became a regular.
There's something innately comforting about seeing the same people everyday, even if you don't really talk or interact, even if your lives remain mostly disjoint, or touch only superficially. I go there, I buy coffee and read or write. Sometimes at night I would change my beverage to one or two bottles of Tiger, and sometimes I'd also buy some sticks of satay from the people who set up nearby (only in the evenings). If they didn't close on Sundays, I'd probably be there at least once every damn day!
Needless to say, I'm going to miss that place when we finally move out of this unit that's much too big for us. I could always come visit on weekends, but it won't be the same, I won't have the luxury of just stumbling there from the house, still unwashed and bleary. Ah, well, I don't know whether I should just be happy that, at least so far, I haven't yet been able to really settle in and call this place home (I know, I'm slow, it's been almost a year!). The move, though it's still going to be a big hassle probably, will at least not be as uprooting as it could've been. (Then again, this is a tiny country...)
Monday, November 28, 2011
This whole telling people about myself business...
...still sits more than a little uncomfortably with me. This is in no way just an excuse for laziness and mis-scheduling on my part, such that now I have no time to work on an actual entry for today. Not entirely, anyway. (I have less than an hour to come up with something.)
As a child and as I was growing up, I barely had any friends. Now, as you might imagine, this did tend to make me rather sad at times, and even up to now when my mind alights on the subject it can get pretty melancholy. I don't think it's surprising at all for a shy, withdrawn, chubby kid to keep to himself, and at times feel horribly maladjusted and unfit for society.
I kept this all to myself as I simply sat inside my own head, firm in the conviction that even if I had someone to tell, they wouldn't really understand, anyway. Perhaps at first I drew some little consolation in this perceived unfathomableness, but soon enough I grew to think that it was my own damn fault for being somehow defective, somehow not quite as suited as the average person to the average life by
You've heard this story before, I'm sure. I found solace in the solitary pleasures of reading (and for stretches in high school and during college, of trying to write and keep up a blog), and never got close to anyone even though a part of me must have always kept yearning for this so-called friendship so thought highly of by normal society, i.e., the people who actually had it.
Now I'm a little older, a little more experienced, and I wouldn't be so quick to label myself friendless. Even if I do still feel a little socially and emotionally stunted, clueless and clumsy (oh boy, the things my clumsiness have led me into and out of, but those are stories for another time), and not at home in the world of men, more and more I'm beginning to (finally) convince myself that this isn't a hopeless state of affairs: I'm young, the world is big, and I have time yet to grow into the life I want to be living.
As a child and as I was growing up, I barely had any friends. Now, as you might imagine, this did tend to make me rather sad at times, and even up to now when my mind alights on the subject it can get pretty melancholy. I don't think it's surprising at all for a shy, withdrawn, chubby kid to keep to himself, and at times feel horribly maladjusted and unfit for society.
I kept this all to myself as I simply sat inside my own head, firm in the conviction that even if I had someone to tell, they wouldn't really understand, anyway. Perhaps at first I drew some little consolation in this perceived unfathomableness, but soon enough I grew to think that it was my own damn fault for being somehow defective, somehow not quite as suited as the average person to the average life by
You've heard this story before, I'm sure. I found solace in the solitary pleasures of reading (and for stretches in high school and during college, of trying to write and keep up a blog), and never got close to anyone even though a part of me must have always kept yearning for this so-called friendship so thought highly of by normal society, i.e., the people who actually had it.
Now I'm a little older, a little more experienced, and I wouldn't be so quick to label myself friendless. Even if I do still feel a little socially and emotionally stunted, clueless and clumsy (oh boy, the things my clumsiness have led me into and out of, but those are stories for another time), and not at home in the world of men, more and more I'm beginning to (finally) convince myself that this isn't a hopeless state of affairs: I'm young, the world is big, and I have time yet to grow into the life I want to be living.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Keeping on keeping on
Finally got myself back on the treadmill this afternoon, after many weeks of inactivity. Who needs nicotine when endorphins are more readily available, and, even better, free? (Sigh, I wish I could say that with as much conviction as it deserves. I don't think my future looks too good, since we'll be flying back home soon, to that magical land of cheap booze and cigarettes, oh, and friends to enjoy them with, right, that's important too.)
While I was actually in the moment of exerting myself and trying to pull just a little more energy to run just a little bit further, it hit me: isn't this just what it takes to get anywhere in life, and to develop any skill or aspect of oneself? Yes, yes, to be sure, I was tired and endorphin-addled and much too proud of myself for breaking a sweat, but even now, calmer and cooled down, I think there's a lot of truth to that realization.
A truth, mind you, that isn't always as convincing as it is when it manifests itself in such a straightforward manner and in a simple situation. Keep running, gradually increase your pace or duration or distance, and you'll grow better at it. Simple, no two ways about it. (Well, maybe I do simplify a bit too much, since there is of course the problem of hydration and the dangers of overtraining and possible injury, but the fundamental concept is still one of progressive improvement, right? And that improvement can be measured quite precisely and unquestionably.)
Unfortunately with most other things there are many orders of magnitude more factors to consider, and it isn't always easy to see through all the perceived obstacles and reasons for hesitation to the fact that's still there, behind everything. Just keep on keeping on (hopefully of course learning and enjoying yourself as you go).
While I was actually in the moment of exerting myself and trying to pull just a little more energy to run just a little bit further, it hit me: isn't this just what it takes to get anywhere in life, and to develop any skill or aspect of oneself? Yes, yes, to be sure, I was tired and endorphin-addled and much too proud of myself for breaking a sweat, but even now, calmer and cooled down, I think there's a lot of truth to that realization.
A truth, mind you, that isn't always as convincing as it is when it manifests itself in such a straightforward manner and in a simple situation. Keep running, gradually increase your pace or duration or distance, and you'll grow better at it. Simple, no two ways about it. (Well, maybe I do simplify a bit too much, since there is of course the problem of hydration and the dangers of overtraining and possible injury, but the fundamental concept is still one of progressive improvement, right? And that improvement can be measured quite precisely and unquestionably.)
Unfortunately with most other things there are many orders of magnitude more factors to consider, and it isn't always easy to see through all the perceived obstacles and reasons for hesitation to the fact that's still there, behind everything. Just keep on keeping on (hopefully of course learning and enjoying yourself as you go).
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Singapore, Singapore.
It's really quite strange to think that I've been on this (arguably) First World island for nearly a year now. I've probably grown to take many things for granted, such as the first-rate public transportation system and public infrastructure in general, the almost total absence of crime and the attendant city-dweller fear, and, to get much closer to home, the blazing fast connection to the Internet at the office1.
The train and bus system here is a real marvel, especially in comparison with the Philippines' own paltry, overcrowded efforts. Combined with an impressive dedication to pedestrian-friendliness and accessibility, I feel as if I could get anywhere I wanted on the island cheaply, safely, and without any hassle. At times it feels almost like the open world of a sandbox game, where you could simply head off and walk in any direction and be sure you could eventually arrive anywhere within your field of view.
But enough one-sided gushing, I'm beginning to feel too much like the Third-World refugee that I am. My intended point was just that, hey, I've been here for a while in this place that encourages wandering around and going to places, and I haven't really stretched my legs that much. Sure, I've walked a couple of times from here to the Orchard Road area and back2, and sure, I've walked the Southern Trails, been to Bukit Timah Nature Reserve and the Botanic Gardens, but I don't feel as if I've really come close to the heart3 of this place.
What I mean to say, I suppose, is that I don't feel like I've been making the most of all the opportunities available to me here. Malaysia's just a bus ride away, yet I've never gone there and have only the vaguest intentions to do so. I don't have a curfew to worry about, and I'm free to spend my time however I want4.
I think it's long past time I started really exploring this place5, and living experiences to tell stories about. (And, no, the visits on weekends to the same cafes6 and restaurants don't really count.)
---
[1] Not to mention decent access to it almost everywhere else on my phone.
[2] Two hours or so each way. Not the most scenic route, as it's city street after city street, but the feeling of being able to take such a long walk is worth it.
[3] OK, this isn't the place to argue about whether there even is a "heart" to this place that can be found. I know too little about the local culture and can only rely on vague impressions and secondhand hearsay. But it does seem, on that scant evidence, that there is a valid concern as to the existence of a uniquely Singaporean heritage apart from the admittedly-impressive if boring one of order-from-chaos and First-World-from-Third.
[4] Only to an extent of course, I am after all gainfully employed and can't just hare about whenever I want.
[5] On a related note, it's also long past time that I started settling in and just maybe making more of a home in this place, but that deserves to be talked about in its own venue.) I'm young, unattached, and have ample resources to enjoy my life and mold it to what I want it to be.
[6] Oriole Cafe does really have excellent coffee, though!
The train and bus system here is a real marvel, especially in comparison with the Philippines' own paltry, overcrowded efforts. Combined with an impressive dedication to pedestrian-friendliness and accessibility, I feel as if I could get anywhere I wanted on the island cheaply, safely, and without any hassle. At times it feels almost like the open world of a sandbox game, where you could simply head off and walk in any direction and be sure you could eventually arrive anywhere within your field of view.
But enough one-sided gushing, I'm beginning to feel too much like the Third-World refugee that I am. My intended point was just that, hey, I've been here for a while in this place that encourages wandering around and going to places, and I haven't really stretched my legs that much. Sure, I've walked a couple of times from here to the Orchard Road area and back2, and sure, I've walked the Southern Trails, been to Bukit Timah Nature Reserve and the Botanic Gardens, but I don't feel as if I've really come close to the heart3 of this place.
What I mean to say, I suppose, is that I don't feel like I've been making the most of all the opportunities available to me here. Malaysia's just a bus ride away, yet I've never gone there and have only the vaguest intentions to do so. I don't have a curfew to worry about, and I'm free to spend my time however I want4.
I think it's long past time I started really exploring this place5, and living experiences to tell stories about. (And, no, the visits on weekends to the same cafes6 and restaurants don't really count.)
---
[1] Not to mention decent access to it almost everywhere else on my phone.
[2] Two hours or so each way. Not the most scenic route, as it's city street after city street, but the feeling of being able to take such a long walk is worth it.
[3] OK, this isn't the place to argue about whether there even is a "heart" to this place that can be found. I know too little about the local culture and can only rely on vague impressions and secondhand hearsay. But it does seem, on that scant evidence, that there is a valid concern as to the existence of a uniquely Singaporean heritage apart from the admittedly-impressive if boring one of order-from-chaos and First-World-from-Third.
[4] Only to an extent of course, I am after all gainfully employed and can't just hare about whenever I want.
[5] On a related note, it's also long past time that I started settling in and just maybe making more of a home in this place, but that deserves to be talked about in its own venue.) I'm young, unattached, and have ample resources to enjoy my life and mold it to what I want it to be.
[6] Oriole Cafe does really have excellent coffee, though!
This is harder than I thought
...or I've just grown to have higher expectations of myself and what constitutes blog-worthy material. I gamely jumped back into doing this regularly again, and while I don't regret that in the least, I have to admit that I thought I'd be coming up with better posts in much less time that I've been taking with these recent ones.
Perhaps it's just that spending much more than an hour or two of effort on blog posts seems like such an alien concept to me. Isn't a blog a place to be entirely self-indulgent and not care about what readers (if any) would think?
No, I don't think so. At least I don't want this blog to be such a place again.
Perhaps it's just that spending much more than an hour or two of effort on blog posts seems like such an alien concept to me. Isn't a blog a place to be entirely self-indulgent and not care about what readers (if any) would think?
No, I don't think so. At least I don't want this blog to be such a place again.
Friday, November 25, 2011
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?)
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