#yolo

"...the reason i’ve stopped liking blogging is this new and unwelcome paranoia and stinginess of spirit. i often find myself looking over a blogpost before publishing it, and thinking, no, i’m saying too much. or, i don’t owe anyone all these words and exposure — i don’t even owe them to myself! and then i delete it. but still longing to write, i wonder then about what kind of things i can write about that are consistent with my new misanthropy. candid and superficial updates about the day-to-day? pictures of food and travel? or the opposite: oblique thoughts on things i care deeply about but referred to tangentially and indirectly? i eventually settled on none of the above.

for a while i thought this was clever and that in time to come i would thank myself for phasing out the young and idealistic me who put so much of herself on the internet or in other people’s hands. some small shred of me still believes this. but i don’t know lah. the more i go down this path of losing my extraversion, the further away i feel from my locus. surely there must be some compromise that is both careful but allows me to be totally honest with myself about what i like and who i am. the crux of this strange newness is not merely about blogging or talking, or the risk/reward of sharing big parts of me with people i love or people i don’t know — it’s also about how little inclined i felt to interact with anything, how risk averse i had become, and worst of all, how i felt like i had all the answers to all the questions i wanted to ask and thus did not need to look any further. i was becoming disinterested, fatigued and hateful, and for some reason i felt that was okay, and that it was all part of growing up." -quaintly.net

***

she just described my life. and i guess that's why i do these things that disorient me, that push me out of my comfort zone and into the scary, unfamiliar unknown. i used to be a much bigger risk taker than i am now. somehow, i've been allowing myself to accept that becoming stable, safe, and reliable was all a part of growing up and yet i'm not ready to fully accept that as the rule for growing up yet. maybe for most people it is but surely it doesn't have to be for everyone?

i used to be known as the girl who had an opinion about everything and what frightens me these days is that i have opinions about nothing. when you start working, your circles in KL become too small, is what i tell people. you have to say the right things, never offend people, give diplomatic answers, and try not to piss anyone off. otherwise once you get a rep, it's incredibly hard to shake off. but anyone who's tried to be a people-pleaser would know that it never works out. you just disappear into yourself, trying to fit yourself into everyone's mold, until you don't know who you are anymore.

i'm tired of that. and that's why this blog is coming alive again. along with my couchsurfing profile. along with random, spontaneous coffee dates and long conversations about life and meaning. i may be growing up... but that doesn't mean i'm ready to grow old yet. there's still too much i don't know about life, and i want to experience the answers first-hand for myself, instead of taking someone else's word for it. or worse, not even caring. 

unspoken

for someone who makes a living out of stringing words together, i guess it's pretty ironic that i'd fall for someone i can barely communicate with in my first language. most of our conversations involve a mix of different languages, hand gestures, animated facial expressions, repeated attempts to get the message across, and occasional sighs of exasperation.

nobody thought you'd last - they said it was just a passing phase that i'd get over, just like i'd gotten over everyone else. it can't mean much, if you can't communicate with each other. how else can you really understand each other?

but what is communication, really? is it not the volumes that are spoken when eyes meet, fingers brush against skin, eyelids flutter over the nape of a neck? is it not noticing, then getting used to - and then finally, being able to anticipate - the little nuances and quirks that make up a person, from the way he tilts his head to one side when he's thinking, to the way she purses her lips when she's engrossed in her work? 

here we are, a million potential misunderstandings and misinterpreted signals later. so many things that could have been lost in translation. so many things left unspoken... or were they? 

i look around me and see so many people hinging their love on words - on how soon or how late she says those three words; on how he worded his proposal; on the affectionate names he calls or doesn't call. and i'm thankful for what we share. all this while, i thought i needed someone who thought in words, in prose and poetry like i did. someone who would validate the channel through which i most naturally express myself. 

but it turns out, it's the expression that matters. not the channel. when it comes to expressing love, there is more than one way to say it, and words may be the simplest and most obvious way. but not the only way. maybe not even the best way. 

we place so much expectation on words. and while i believe in the power of words, it is not only the words which are important, but what's behind the words. take that away and the words on their own are nothing - empty, hollow. 

but when you have the patience, understanding, empathy, and kindness that's behind the words, you can take the words away and it would mean the same thing. 

and you taught me that. you taught me that falling for someone at first sight is not as stupid as it sounds, if your eyes have been doing the talking. and i don't know, maybe i'm a little biased, but i'm thinking it's better this way. to meet each other halfway, not expecting to understand, nor expecting to be understood, but giving the chance to be understood. and taking the chance to understand. to graciously extend tolerance and acceptance for when communication fails, because we're human, and it always fails, sooner or later. the irony is that the faster you accept it, the less it happens.

so for that, thank you.

"...it is pointless to sing of the sea if you are lost in the sand." -tyler knott gregson

serenity. courage. wisdom / sérénité. courage. sagesse.

"Mon Dieu, Donnez-moi la sérénité / D'accepter Les choses que je ne puis changer / Le courage De changer les choses que je peux / Et la sagesse D'en connaître la différence." -Prière de la Sérénité

after yesterday's therapeutic little meditation, i decided to spend some time on the ride home today sifting through the million and one thoughts and feelings going through my head and heart. i decided to be honest with myself and actually articulate them in words - and from there, get real and acknowledge that no, my thoughts and emotions don't all fall in the same category. just because i think something, doesn't make it right. just because i feel something, doesn't make it truth.

we all have 'wants' that will be better off unfulfilled. we all have resolutions we should stick to more. we have some things we need to be doing less. other things we need to be doing more. some emotions we need to let slide off us like water off a duck's back. others that are okay - no, even healthy - to take the time to process.

right now, my unrealistic 'want' list looks something like this:

• to wake up to european summer weather tomorrow morning
• to not have to spend an hour each way commuting to and from work
• to find out what if things could have worked out with that ex
• to have more than 24 hours in a day
• to be able to be energetic and perky after less than five hours of sleep
• my mum to somehow be less of a morning person that raps loudly on my door every morning
• my boyfriend to write me heart-melting love letters
• to run away from the daily grind of life and escape to an island and be a beach bum

my more achievable but also slightly-scary-to-attempt-achieving 'want' list looks like this:

• to feel as passionately about things as i did when i was a teenager and to be less damn cold and rational
• to be able to cry when i'm upset or frustrated instead of detaching
• to speak the truth more, more lovingly
• to get four-pack abs
• to run the stanchart marathon in 2:45
• to sleep in the next 15 minutes
• to get up and jog tomorrow morning
• to meet tomorrow's deadlines and kill that to-do list

so tonight, i'm asking for the serenity to accept that i won't be able to change the weather, laws of nature, and other people,

the courage to change myself - to be vulnerable, honest, and disciplined even though it's tough,

and the wisdom to recognise that being a beach bum would probably get old after awhile too.

The girl of his dreams

via delacroix

Maybe as she lays her head on a tear-stained pillow for the 135th night - alone - and slips blissfully into a world more beautiful than the one she came from, a world with him in it, he wakes up.

Maybe the moment he wakes up he wishes he didn't - wishes he could go back to his dreams, where he found her.

Maybe he gets out of bed and puts on a shirt and goes through the motions of daily life, passing literally hundreds of girls everywhere as he commutes to work or to college and back - some of whom catch his eye but he knows will never catch his heart.

Maybe sometimes when he looks at them he wonders if he'll ever find a girl that understands him or inspires him like she does, and maybe sometimes, if he thinks too much about it, it makes him sad.

Maybe other times he steals a glance at every girl he passes, hoping he'll find something to spark a recognition.

Maybe he wonders if he really met her, or if she doesn't really exist. Maybe he gets tired of trying to find her.

Maybe sometimes, he gets so tired, he allows himself to be distracted by some other girl - if only to stop thinking about her for awhile.

Maybe sometimes it works for awhile - and he forgets about her - and then the slightest thing like a beautiful smile, a brush of skin against skin, a kind word, a gentle gesture from some other girl reminds him all over again of her.

Maybe somewhere down the line he realizes he can't ever forget her, even if he tries. Maybe this thought scares him. Maybe this thought gives him hope. Maybe it makes him want to keep searching harder.

Maybe the next day, as she wakes up, he gets into bed - alone - and escapes into a world where finding her is not so difficult, a world that doesn't seem to limit the time and space between them like the one he came from.

Maybe the last thing he remembers of his time with her in that world as harsh sunlight pulls him back into this one is falling asleep with his arms wrapped around her, and maybe the memory is so vivid, so fresh, that the empty space between his arms and chest is startling and jarring.