What is lost will be reflected back whole again

A blood-red moon.

A beautiful phenomena that occurs so rarely when Earth casts off the blue spectrum of the Sun's rays into infinite space, leaving behind the red ones left to travel towards the moon and reflect back to us. This occurrence is the third one in ten years, and combined with the recent volcanic ash activity, we are gifted a rich blood-red stained moon.

Many cultures view it as a bad omen. Me, I see it more as a reflection of life, something that haunts me... colors that belonged as part of the same rays are separated by an obstacle too big to avoid... one part is infinitely lost, leaving the lone survivor to traverse on and reflect in anguish.

There are so many good things happening to me now. Yet I feel incredibly isolated whilst surrounded by people who love and care about me. I prefer solitude, perhaps in acknowledgement that what makes me whole has been lost to an eternity of endlessness. I am that lone survivor reflecting in anguish.

But a small part of me... a teeny tiny part of me hopes... like anything that was one part of a whole knows... A sense that what is lost... isn't.... It is out there waiting to return. As destined it was one once, what is lost will be reflected back whole again.

Futile

"There was a hint in it of laughter, but of a laughter more terrible than any sadness - a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of life."

White Fang, Jack London

Only when you give it a chance

Tomorrow will be my last full day in London. I am reminded that I would travel back here many more times but I still feel a sense of loss. If I put these 3 months together with the rest of the time I lived here, it would amount to 7 years. Yet this trip is special. Because it belongs to me and me only - not like when I was in college and there was a huge community or when I was working here and living with LC. They were amazing times, but this feels more intimately "me".

Hmm... to explore London, to walk the small lanes, sit in those tiny gardens alone... To find the small things that make the place unique to me... I think I understand why I call this place home. It is not because I know everything there is about the city, but that the city affords me a certain peace. It never makes me feel like I don't belong.

Being here brings me back to the time when I was 12, when everything was ok. It is a very special feeling that can't be explained. Most people view London with disdain, but when you experience the quiet that is London, presented to those that give it time, you will be rewarded.

Like with everything, you need to give it chance. Do not expect to be wowed or impressed for those things flash away and never last. It is what you spend effort knowing, understanding and loving that will be rewarded. After all, nothing good comes at the snap of the fingers. The only heartwarming things come when you give it a chance.

Being alone... and an epiphany from a rabbi...

There must be something about being a girl alone. Like the other day in front of National Gallery, where an old man asked if I was OK because I looked pensive. I was actually there with someone who was sketching away, but I smiled and shook my head. And then there was the other time at a cafe when a Scot-American started chatting with me. He was lovely. He was an ex-fund manager that is now managing a small theatre in LA. I had tons of fun talking to him about art in the UK and in California.

And there was today. When I was seated quietly at one corner of another coffee joint, an elderly man with another male companion suddenly turned to me and asked "Are you OK my child? You look sad." I smiled, but could feel tears forming at the corners of my eyes and he continued "We have lots of time if you want to talk." He continued asking me questions, and I felt compelled to answer. A waitress looked at me to see if she should intervene but I was able to indicate otherwise.

It turns out he is a rabbi. And I poured my soul out. From how I felt I had ventured far from my own faith, to how I was emptied. I didn't know how to continue being myself, because I was hurt each and every time I cared and invested every effort I could muster. I didn't want to be petty, I didn't want to keep anything back for myself. But I felt that if I continued the way I was I would die of pain and hurt.

And he said, "You love. It is the most elusive thing in the world. It is obvious your circumstances allow you to give love so freely and so openly. It is a gift. I could tell from your smile earlier that there was a light about you. Don't stop. No one can extinguish that light. Keep on loving, even though it hurts."

"It's what makes you special.."

Naked.

The minute I close the door I kick off my shoes and place my keys on the ledge next to the wall. One hand begins to unbutton the top of my dress as I move towards the living room. I place my bag on the old leather armchair and shrug out of the dress.

I catch myself smiling at how you used to love watching me do this daily routine each day when I get home. Except you're no longer around. I stand naked and bare as the twilight breeze brushes past.

I cling on to your body...

Your skin on mine, I breathe in your scent. Our tongues touch in a kiss. Did I ever tell you how sweet your tongue tastes? I wonder if mine tastes of honey to you...

But that's just fleeting... True intimacy is fingers grazing, then intertwining... laughing over the smallest things... holding on innocently... teasing the other... nuzzling the nape... silent gazes... and comfortable closeness.

That's what I want. That's what I've always wanted. And I need to cling on to that, not all these fleeting moments.

Husband or Lover?

Crossroads.

I never thought that when I prayed for someone to love and cherish me, I'll be thrown three men who are definitely looking to settle down, who seriously scare me a tad bit when they look at me. I want someone I want to love and cherish me. While those blokes are good lads and make sense on paper, I don't know if I'm quite there yet. I don't know if I want them.

Yet, it feels like an opportunity to be grasp. Can love be quantified as an opportunity though? They would make great husbands.... A lover? To me? I don't know.

I know it sounds completely selfish to say this, but I wish I didn't have these options. I know when I don't, I whine about the lack of options. But the emotional turmoil I've been in for the past few days has been overwhelming.

I need to stop exuding pheromones. For the third time in a week, a friend thrusts his tongue into my mouth as we said our goodbyes. I'm too polite to push him away. Actually, how does one react to being kissed by a friend whom one wants to keep?

Babe knows me best....?

"You can't reveal your true feelings??? You're so full of shit. I give you to the end of the year, and I promise you'll have made your feelings known."

Perhaps. But what happens if it is different this time?

Waiting to expire....

I had always thought I would be excited about being a part of J's wedding. I think 5 years back, when she was almost engaged to Z, I was. We were in New York at Pastis planning what the wedding would be like, wondering what our kids would look like, and if they would enjoying playing with one another.

J's getting married next week. And all the politics with this person and the other person is getting a little to me. Weddings shouldn't be this complicated, should it? Of course, time has a way of changing things. My priorities and J's have grown apart over the 5 years, but we try to hold on to what was the time of our lives, even though it is often a failure. The last time we had fun together was while writing out those wedding invites. Her fiancee was out of town then, and I cannot help but wonder if perhaps that means something?

It doesn't matter anyhow. It's all about a passage of time.... Everything happens for a reason, a season, or a lifetime... What is mine and J's fate? Only time can tell.... Although at the back of my mind, I'm just waiting for it to expire...

A silhouette in the dark

As I stand at the corridor smoking my cigarette, I notice a dark shadow beneath my favorite tree. It is a man sitting by the curb. He sits so still it takes me a moment to realize that it isn't a shadow cast from the tree, but that of a Bangalore construction worker sitting and contemplating the passing traffic.

I wonder what he is thinking. He is all alone. He has no friends. The working conditions for Bangalore workers here are appalling, but he is doing this to aid his family back home. He is perhaps doing this so that his family can transcend their caste that they were born into. And, as I see him sit quietly, and so alone, I cannot help but feel the longing he has in his soul, his spirit to be with his love ones... that he might not see his love for another 5 years, that maybe she will forget him. Or that their love will stand the test of time, because it is one borne out of real bonds. I don't know. I can only speculate.

But as I look on, I can't help but feel incredibly small. Weak. That I am suddenly feeling a longing, a missing for someone... someone that I haven't spoken to for only a few days. Strange. But yes, I miss him.

Looking back, Looking forward

My last vacation marked the beginning of a new chapter. It marked a season of disappointment. Now, when I look back to the moment where I was at, packing my luggage last year, I realize how naive I was about so many things.

Perhaps it was a mistake on my part and I let my emotions get the better of me. I wanted to see where my immediate feelings would lead me to. I had no idea what would happen, I had only wanted to explore the sensations that were coursing through my skin, my brain and... my heart.

I didn't believe in posturing then. I still don't. It's not my nature to play games or strategize. What you see is what you get. No one else. I cannot begin to fathom why the world prefers to hide beneath layers of forgeries, of fake emotions, while shunning all that is real. The pain cuts deep.

So here I am, embarking on 2010's vacation. I have the cutest fedora to wear with my sundresses on this Baltic Sea cruise. I'm going back to Europe where I've always felt at home. The feeling of going home is comforting. But beyond comfort, I'm strangely hopeful. At the pit of my gut, I feel this trip marks a new beginning. A new beginning of acceptance...

I promise, this will be the last I write about the disappointments of the past year. I've had enough looking back. Onward, I say. The air reeks of promise.

I said goodbye yet again

Another wedding... another goodbye.

Tonight I said farewell to my dear KC. I first met him in 1998. I remembered my friend and colleague MH introduced her two male friends to the bunch of us at a dinner in the summer or 1998. Clemence, the German/Austrian guy I had the biggest crush on (at that moment) was to decide which guy was the better dude. The winner, to him, was obviously KC. I begged to differ. I preferred GC then. It didn't matter cause we all took different paths. We kept in touch through the years, but I started to know KC a lot better in 2003 when we were both in business school in the US. I enjoyed our discussions and for the first time, I begun to appreciate him. He had a depth of soul and troubled heart that parallelled mine. I would even say he surpassed me in his strength of conviction, in how deep his emotions and reactions were. Ms. P used to tell me that she could only feel and understand 10% of all that I professed. I felt the same way about KC. But we connected. Or perhaps, I indulged him simply because he made me feel sane. Similarly, I think he enjoyed my company because he didn't feel so out of place bearing his soul to me.

I have lost touch with him for the past two years. He has been busy in China, and well, I have had my share of new life experiences. I wasn't sure how to react when I first met him this evening. But, he greeted me warmly and held my hand while apologizing for his lack of communication this past year. Halfway through the wedding, he introduced his wife to me. I remember meeting her four years ago in Shanghai when I was there for the Shanghai F1 GP. KC brought me out, entertained me and we hung out together that weekend. He only barely knew her then, and she specially came to say "Hi" to me at our dinner place because he mentioned that a friend from home was in town. I remembered that incident. I remembered feeling smug that he was "mine", and she was just a "foreigner". I didn't think he remembered that incident. But he did. As he introduced me, he mentioned that she had met me exactly four years ago in Shanghai. I was floored. Of course, she couldn't recollect the meeting, but it didn't matter. At that moment, I knew that I still mattered. And I was glad that there was some memory of the magical year we smoked tons of ciggies, got drunk together and talked till the wee hours of the morning. I was glad there was some memory of the numerous times we sat in the car listening to U2, roamed the streets in Boston and SF and laughed our asses off at the most inane things. It didn't just disappear into thin air.

My legacy lives on... Well, not legacy per se. For the greater part of this year, I was wondering that if I were to disappear from the face of the earth, whether there would be anything left that would indicate I had lived a life here. I was convinced the answer was "no". After all, I did not find a cure to cancer, become a racing legend or was as charitable as Mother Theresa. My friends are preoccupied with their significant others and family, so I couldn't imagine that any of my youthful exploits would count in their consciousness. But, this evening, I am feeling very blessed that when I least expect it, I am made aware that at least someone remembers. And that perhaps in more ways than one, I have left an indelible mark on all those that I have had the pleasure and privilege to be mates with. I have made my mark, and for that, it has been worth every bit of time, effort and love...

Some times being alone isn't enough

I'm a loner. I consider myself a pretty introvert who tries her darnest to escape her little shell and appear sociable to various folks. But being sociable isn't me. For the majority of my adult life, I have lived alone. With the exception of ten odd months of intense cohabiting with various boyfriends, I have double bolted my apartment door each night and escaped to my lonesome sanctuary for the past fifteen years. And I like it. I like the quiet of the night, and breathing in the intoxicating sense of silence that cannot be replicated with communal living. I was given a choice four years ago when I moved back to Singapore to live in a separate wing of the house with my family or to stay out on my own. It was a no brainer then, and even now I would choose the same. There is nothing that can compare to the true freedom of not being accountable to anyone for that period in the deep of the night where I could smoke a joint, read ridiculous juvenile books, listen to depressing songs or post on this blog.

Yet, I am feeling edgy these days. I find myself all twiddly fingers, tappy feet and all. I can feel it in my bones that being alone isn't enough. Still, I delight in the exquisite pain of melancholy and then, I remember the grey skies of London and Boston and I'm strangely comforted. I have lived through those times and the friendships I had unexpectedly made then have given me the best memories. I will continue as I always have. I will make friends along the way, be as open to new situations and take pleasure in my lonesome self.

Some times it hurts to look back

I have been re-watching seasons 3 and 4 of Sex and the City. I'm watching these episodes to refresh my memory about the various stories as the Sex and the City movie follows on from what previously happened in the television series.

I have forgotten many of the stories. I have even forgotten how much it focused on love and heartbreak. At times it wasn't very pleasant watching those stories unfold as it only reminded me about my own relationships. It has also spurred me to go through some of the things I've kept; "relics" from my relationships. It was a bad idea. I should not have been tempted to look back.

It is never easy to let go. As I re-read old letters, I am brought back to the times when the sweetness of love overpowered reason. I doubt I will ever forget those moments. Perhaps one day soon, but right now I will just have to work through the pain of rehashing these memories.

Living alone

There is some beauty to living alone. Whenever it's a busy day or a day filled with tumultuous events, I like the feeling of opening my front door, dropping my keys on the ledge beside the wall and know that I can do whatever I want once I close the door behind me. It is a sanctuary to return to. I don't have to worry about grabbing dinner unless I really want to, or having to find a TV channel that is agreeable to others. I can walk about in my underwear and it's OK. I can just be me.

I'm not denying that it can be lonely at times, but I'm talking about these moments where you just want to do whatever you fancy and not have to consider others... It can be quite magical every now and then. And, there are the times when I'm simply grateful for the privacy of crying alone in my own space. That's all.