I can't get enough...

of Radiohead's B-side tracks....

Seriously. It's like a whole new avenue just appeared. Where have I been all this while?

Of snobs, British men....and kisses

Put a bunch of half-drunk thirty-something girls together, and the talk invariably veers towards the topic of men. Men we like, men we don't. Men who hurt us, and men we hurt. Men whom we love to get it on with, and men who are completely clueless at kissing. Hurm. Wait, that last statement applies to all men. Ok, all straight men. There is a distinct possibility that a gay guy might have the right knee-buckling-inducing pair of lips, but since I've never had the fortune of being at the receiving end of one of those kisses, I can safely say (after conducting a short survey among the girlfriends) that a proper kiss from a heterosexual man is an impossibility. I'm still looking for that perfect kiss though. I've had way too many slobbering, missed their aim, too hard, too soft, too much tongue, too little tongue and generally clueless kisses.

Which brings me to move on to the topic of British men. Six and a half years living in London should have netted me many British dates. But alas no. I count only three - a cellist, a violinist and a pianist. The pianist proposed marriage after a month of knowing me, and the last I heard he was shacking up with another man some where off Notting Hill, London. Oh well. English musicians aside, I do realize I have a thing for British actors. Starting from the ridiculous crush I had on David Bowie in Labyrinth at age ten, till now, when the mention of Ewan McGregor, Christian Bale and Clive Owen gets my heart pounding. There is some thing about the raw sexiness they exude, their intense brooding stares. My girlfriends think I'm insane to go for men with such an edge... I believe the word they used was "animalistic". Erm, it's just a desire... A girl can fantasize can't she?

Anyhow, in our drunken discussion on men and kisses, I was labelled a snob. How this computes is beyond me. Golly, I'm still knotting my brows in bewilderment. I do not have a single snobbish bone in me. Yes, I can be rather uncompromising about what I want, but that stems from simply knowing who I am and what I'm made of. Settling for anything that doesn't fit or sit right with me is kind of silly. But, that doesn't mean that I make my choices and decisions based on some sort of lofty ideal. Then again, after being dragged to the movies to watch Twilight and swooning over Edward Cullen, I was rather tempted to pick up the Twilight series to read, only to hesitate because that would mean that I was doing what everyone else was doing. I can't allow myself to be that common. Hmm, maybe I am a snob after all.

I have no regrets, I have nothing to hide

I have always worn my heart on my sleeve. Right from the tender age of five, when I played with a pair of similarly aged Japanese twins (who lived in my neighbourhood and I was incredibly enamoured with) and told them that I loved them, I was never shy about expressing my feelings.

As an adult, I rarely mince my words or stop myself from expressing my thoughts, opinions and most importantly, my feelings. Did I get into trouble? Of course. There were and are a great number of people who either dislike listening to the truth, or feel that it was and is inappropriate for me to voice out what I truly believe in and hold faith to. There were also moments when what I did didn't fall into the category of "successful". And, I admit, there was a time when I tried to censor what came out of my mouth and what I did for fear that it would be met with disapproval or criticism. But, that wasn't me. Trying to conform to what others wanted me to be was just an escape. I lost myself there for a while, and it made me miserable.

I met up with an old friend for lunch today. She made two very astute comments. One, that I was coming across as being rather assertive. And, the other, that I was returning to my artistic roots. She is right on both accounts. I am returning to my artistic roots. I have recently started cello lessons with a renown cello teacher because I am determined to go back to the musician in me. I guide at the museum and I am reading viciously in the hope that some ideas will stick. While I may have uncomplicated and clear-cut talents in finance, it is the art arena that truly attracts my soul. It satisfies and completes me. I now know better than to compromise. It doesn't matter if I do not go some where with my endeavors. What is important is that I try. This has been a loooong work in progress. A long period of figuring out what I am made of, of what indisputably and unquestionably makes me tick. And, that is the reason why I would not settle for anything less that what I want these days.

Have I made mistakes, taken paths that did not point to this epiphany? Yes! But I have no regrets and I have nothing to hide. All the twists and turns, the trials, the tests, the pain endured, the mistakes made.... It has made me who I am. Without all those episodes, my life would be colorless. I would not trade anything in the world for anything that I've lived through. Looking back, I am eternally grateful for all my life experiences. What I hope to do now is to live a life worthy of all that I've been privy to, and a life that I can share true love. A love that is all encompassing, without prejudice and unquestionably selfless.

Years don't necessarily mean anything

I confess. I have a thing for younger men. It wasn't always like that you know. As a teenager, I majorly crushed on older, matured men in impeccable suits. There was some thing about their leisurely gaits hinting of swagger that made me swoon. And, ooh, the self-assurance that bordered on arrogance? Double swoon. I was often secretly pleased whenever a business associate of my father's paid me attention at various cocktail parties I was forced to attend. It thrilled me then that men managing billion dollar businesses took the time to chat with awkward sixteen year old girls like myself.

It's all changed since my mid-twenties. I don't purposefully go about looking for younger men to hang out with, but some how I attract them and I'm similarly attracted to them? Perhaps it's my youthful demeanour. I'm still mistaken for being in my mid-twenties when I'm closer to mid-thirties. Or perhaps I'm just perennially young at heart, and young hearts seek young souls. What ever the reason, I find that I am inexplicably and inexorably unable to untangle myself from the web of spending time with young men.

I recently recounted to J all the men I've had great conversations with over the past five years. With the exception of one guy, every single one was minimally two years younger than me. I tried dating a few men whom I thought were older, only to discover mid-conversation that the milestone dates mentioned indicated they were younger! So what truly is drawing me to the youths of the day?

This evening, I was accompanied by a man eleven years my junior to a Rachael Yamagata concert. There was nothing awkward about it. We both love good music, and sultry voices. He is also some one I can talk to about almost any subject under the sun without embarrassment. Yet, I am aware that any association with him might be frowned upon by most people. But I don't care. The beauty about being in my mid-thirties is finally acknowledging who I truly am. I have never been more assertive, or uncompromising about what I want or enjoy ever. And, so if I relish hanging out with people who share similar interests and have an insatiable quest for life regardless of age, so be it. I don't give a fuck what others think.

Deja-vu

I am at an impasse with regards to writing. Not that I haven't been writing, mind you. I have attempted to pen down my thoughts these past three months, but each time I spurt out a couple of sentences, the words screech to a halt. They refuse to be cajoled, enticed, lured out of the corners of my mind. I am at a deadlock, a standstill. I am suffering from a classic case of writer's block.

I had thought that when things settled down, the words would come back to me. It hasn't. Then again, my life is still as muddled as ever. Too many things stimulating the mind, the body and the soul. Which, should be a good thing isn't it?

So for now, all I can pen down is my frustration at not being able to succinctly express the exhilaration I am enjoying right now, the pleasure of some what living dangerously.