Dear friend,
I've moved here. See you. :-)
Regards
Me
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Sayonara The End
Dear friend,
I am discontinuing this blog. This will be my final post here. I feel compelled to do so for a few reasons.
It's time for a fresh start. They say you change your set of friends every 5 years, give or take a few years. I think what really happens is that your situation in life changes. You move up, or down in your work, you move in, out or away from home, you hook up, break up or end up with someone, you get drawn to new people and drift away from others. Constance seems to be a rarity in life.
Whenever I try to write something here, I find myself stopping. The things I want to write about are no longer the same.(I feel) with the rest of the post on this blog. I have found this to be a clear indication that a change is due.
When i was in college i wrote a lot about my family, specifically my mother. I remember a few people sending me teary emails encouraging me on as i struggled with my mothers mental illness. In many ways, it was me - at the brink of adulthood - but a minor none the less, struggling with the after effects of a broken home and more.
I started this blog after that, writing a lot about love and life in general. It was me, a young adult, struggling with the transition into adulthood, talking a lot about love, thinking a lot about meaning,purpose and direction. I also wrote about marriage, and how I finally tied the knot.
I also started a third secret blog (as if this one wasn't secret enough). You could say it was there that I wrote more openly (and vulgarly) about 'adult' things. When I say 'adult', I basically just mean sex of course. I wouldn't say it was an alter ego, rather a side of me that just needed to be let out. I wrote about sex, sexuality and my own struggles with temptation and dancing with fire.
Amazingly, I've ended up meeting or befriending at least 1 person from every blog that I've started. This considering the fact that I write anonymously and without any effort of promoting it to people. Some i became acquaintances with, others have remained friends and I'd dare say I've even fallen in love (or at least become infatuated) with certain people.
Anyway, I digress.
I find myself in a very different stage in my life now as I said. I'm 27 this year. Married. I own an apartment. I have a mortgage, I have rent to pay, bills upon bills with my name on it and 3 to 4 additional mouths to feed other than my own. I am not who I used to be barely 5 years ago. And the things I will write about from now on will probably not interest whoever it is who first started reading my blog. See what I'm getting at?
I will of course post the link to my new blog (when its finally set up) for those who are bothered to continuing reading this oh-so-obscure little blog.
But I want to thank you, dear reader, for your readership. I'd name you, but I dont know who you are, and those that I do, frankly I dont know if you are still there! Haha... But I do hope you continue following me and sending me all those comments or emails. You have no idea how amazing it feels for a writer to receive kind words from a reader, no matter how simple or short. A persons writing only comes full circle when it is written, then read and then responded to. It is the fuel that keeps the hand on the pen, or in this case, on the keyboard.
Take care my dear friend. See you elsewhere. Sayonara!
Warmest regards
Me
I am discontinuing this blog. This will be my final post here. I feel compelled to do so for a few reasons.
It's time for a fresh start. They say you change your set of friends every 5 years, give or take a few years. I think what really happens is that your situation in life changes. You move up, or down in your work, you move in, out or away from home, you hook up, break up or end up with someone, you get drawn to new people and drift away from others. Constance seems to be a rarity in life.
Whenever I try to write something here, I find myself stopping. The things I want to write about are no longer the same.(I feel) with the rest of the post on this blog. I have found this to be a clear indication that a change is due.
When i was in college i wrote a lot about my family, specifically my mother. I remember a few people sending me teary emails encouraging me on as i struggled with my mothers mental illness. In many ways, it was me - at the brink of adulthood - but a minor none the less, struggling with the after effects of a broken home and more.
I started this blog after that, writing a lot about love and life in general. It was me, a young adult, struggling with the transition into adulthood, talking a lot about love, thinking a lot about meaning,purpose and direction. I also wrote about marriage, and how I finally tied the knot.
I also started a third secret blog (as if this one wasn't secret enough). You could say it was there that I wrote more openly (and vulgarly) about 'adult' things. When I say 'adult', I basically just mean sex of course. I wouldn't say it was an alter ego, rather a side of me that just needed to be let out. I wrote about sex, sexuality and my own struggles with temptation and dancing with fire.
Amazingly, I've ended up meeting or befriending at least 1 person from every blog that I've started. This considering the fact that I write anonymously and without any effort of promoting it to people. Some i became acquaintances with, others have remained friends and I'd dare say I've even fallen in love (or at least become infatuated) with certain people.
Anyway, I digress.
I find myself in a very different stage in my life now as I said. I'm 27 this year. Married. I own an apartment. I have a mortgage, I have rent to pay, bills upon bills with my name on it and 3 to 4 additional mouths to feed other than my own. I am not who I used to be barely 5 years ago. And the things I will write about from now on will probably not interest whoever it is who first started reading my blog. See what I'm getting at?
I will of course post the link to my new blog (when its finally set up) for those who are bothered to continuing reading this oh-so-obscure little blog.
But I want to thank you, dear reader, for your readership. I'd name you, but I dont know who you are, and those that I do, frankly I dont know if you are still there! Haha... But I do hope you continue following me and sending me all those comments or emails. You have no idea how amazing it feels for a writer to receive kind words from a reader, no matter how simple or short. A persons writing only comes full circle when it is written, then read and then responded to. It is the fuel that keeps the hand on the pen, or in this case, on the keyboard.
Take care my dear friend. See you elsewhere. Sayonara!
Warmest regards
Me
Friday, September 14, 2012
Friday Evenings
Friday evening and I find myself sitting alone in a Starbucks yet again. Not by misfortune. Rather by choice. I had turned down 2 social invitations to go for dinner and made some sort of excuse for the Mrs. to go ahead with her friends for dinner.
I left work just at sunset and walked to the nearby lake to watch the sun go down as kids start returning to their homes for dinner. Then I drove around, rather aimlessly – trying to figure out just why the hell I turned down all those social invitations when I really didn’t have anything to do, nor anyone to meet really.
But it’s just one of those days when all I want – is to be alone. I’ve not met (or at least know of) many people who do what I do – making it a point to just be alone sometimes.
I parked at a small shopping mall nearby my place and just started walking around, looking at the shops, watching people go by. I sat down at a diner and ate alone. Listening to the family behind me debating rather amusingly about whether they should order bolognaise or carbonara. The place is not busy, but the waiters are all over the place. They notice that my drink isn’t served. One girl quickly gets it. I see the tag on her apron that says “Smile”, so I did. And she smiled back.
I pass by the supermarket and watch people line up to pay for their groceries. It’s interesting to look at their expression. People who line up for their groceries seem to all take on this same expression – a blank face that is just void of any kind of emotion. Kind of like the look on your face when you brush your teeth or do your laundry. It’s so utterly un-stimulating.
Strangely enough, it’s soothing for me in some ways – this time of solitude. Of course, one of the reasons I wanted to be alone was so that I can write this very post. But I didn’t really have anything to write about actually. I thought I wanted to write about my father. I just picked him up from the airport yesterday. I had not seen or spoken to him in the last 6 months. He lost quite a bit of weight and is a lot darker now. The sun and the people there haven’t been very kind to him. I also wanted to talk about the thousand dollars I had just lent to someone today. My mixed feelings of apprehension about lending money to people I aren’t entirely sure will return it, and my obligation to dispense grace in the same way I have received it in my own life. The last time I lent someone a thousand dollars, I never got it back. I also wanted to talk about children – or my lack of it. It’s been 2 years since I’ve been married (how time flies) and still no baby in sight. The parents are getting impatient, the Mrs is getting anxious, and I’m not sure how I really feel. But in the end, I don’t really feel compelled to write any more about these things that I already have.
Perhaps my lust for writing has waned. Or perhaps it is merely the impulse to talk about these things which has waned.
Many of us feel like the problems and emotions we are feeling are somehow unique to us. And understandably so – we are all different, our backgrounds are different, our way of thinking is different, our world view is different – surely the complex emotions we experience are unique to us. And true enough, there are things I feel that I’m just so sure no one can ever understand or feel.
And yet, unique they are not. We find other people who feel the same way we do. We find other people speaking the very words hidden deep in our hearts. We read or hear them and it feels as if someone extracted words right out of our own hearts and put it on their lips. We feel an instant kinship with them. As if you share some sort of common emotional ancestry with them. A long lost brother or sister of the soul. Have you ever encountered a person like that? They capture your heart and mind in a way that is hard to describe – you find yourself having them in mind, long after they have gone, or in some cases, even before you ever meet them. Perhaps it sounds cheesy – all this heart, mind, soul, touchy, feely thing. But I do believe that there is something special happens when two hearts made of the same stuff meet, even when their minds do not.
I guess that’s all I have to say for now.
Good night my dear friend. If you read this, as silent as I have remained, I am here thinking of you and wishing you well.
I left work just at sunset and walked to the nearby lake to watch the sun go down as kids start returning to their homes for dinner. Then I drove around, rather aimlessly – trying to figure out just why the hell I turned down all those social invitations when I really didn’t have anything to do, nor anyone to meet really.
But it’s just one of those days when all I want – is to be alone. I’ve not met (or at least know of) many people who do what I do – making it a point to just be alone sometimes.
I parked at a small shopping mall nearby my place and just started walking around, looking at the shops, watching people go by. I sat down at a diner and ate alone. Listening to the family behind me debating rather amusingly about whether they should order bolognaise or carbonara. The place is not busy, but the waiters are all over the place. They notice that my drink isn’t served. One girl quickly gets it. I see the tag on her apron that says “Smile”, so I did. And she smiled back.
I pass by the supermarket and watch people line up to pay for their groceries. It’s interesting to look at their expression. People who line up for their groceries seem to all take on this same expression – a blank face that is just void of any kind of emotion. Kind of like the look on your face when you brush your teeth or do your laundry. It’s so utterly un-stimulating.
Strangely enough, it’s soothing for me in some ways – this time of solitude. Of course, one of the reasons I wanted to be alone was so that I can write this very post. But I didn’t really have anything to write about actually. I thought I wanted to write about my father. I just picked him up from the airport yesterday. I had not seen or spoken to him in the last 6 months. He lost quite a bit of weight and is a lot darker now. The sun and the people there haven’t been very kind to him. I also wanted to talk about the thousand dollars I had just lent to someone today. My mixed feelings of apprehension about lending money to people I aren’t entirely sure will return it, and my obligation to dispense grace in the same way I have received it in my own life. The last time I lent someone a thousand dollars, I never got it back. I also wanted to talk about children – or my lack of it. It’s been 2 years since I’ve been married (how time flies) and still no baby in sight. The parents are getting impatient, the Mrs is getting anxious, and I’m not sure how I really feel. But in the end, I don’t really feel compelled to write any more about these things that I already have.
Perhaps my lust for writing has waned. Or perhaps it is merely the impulse to talk about these things which has waned.
Many of us feel like the problems and emotions we are feeling are somehow unique to us. And understandably so – we are all different, our backgrounds are different, our way of thinking is different, our world view is different – surely the complex emotions we experience are unique to us. And true enough, there are things I feel that I’m just so sure no one can ever understand or feel.
And yet, unique they are not. We find other people who feel the same way we do. We find other people speaking the very words hidden deep in our hearts. We read or hear them and it feels as if someone extracted words right out of our own hearts and put it on their lips. We feel an instant kinship with them. As if you share some sort of common emotional ancestry with them. A long lost brother or sister of the soul. Have you ever encountered a person like that? They capture your heart and mind in a way that is hard to describe – you find yourself having them in mind, long after they have gone, or in some cases, even before you ever meet them. Perhaps it sounds cheesy – all this heart, mind, soul, touchy, feely thing. But I do believe that there is something special happens when two hearts made of the same stuff meet, even when their minds do not.
I guess that’s all I have to say for now.
Good night my dear friend. If you read this, as silent as I have remained, I am here thinking of you and wishing you well.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Village of Contentment
TOPIC : Contentment
The city is often the forefront of human civilization. New or old, all our knowledge of science, all our ideas of philosophy were born out of a city. We in the city are so focused on breaking new ground and exploring new frontiers that somewhere along the line, we have forgotten to be content with what we have right now.
Have you ever been to some rural town in the middle of nowhere and observed how people there live their lives? Have you ever noticed how time seems to move proportionally slower the further you travel out of the city? Have you ever noticed people in these rural villages, hanging around seemingly doing nothing and wonder "Don't these people have anything to do? Isn't it a weekday?"
A while ago, I spent 4 days sitting in a small town 2 hours drive out of Bangkok, and these are the questions I have been asking myself.
It's always an eye opener for a city dweller like me, to go to rural places and observe how other people live life. It's not like I an unaware of them, or how they live. It's more that I am seeing it first hand how things are. While most times, we mentally note how rural life is, being there forces you to experience it in the flesh. And I must say, it makes a big impression on me.
On of the things I always observe is this - rural foll are just as, if not more happy than people who live in the city. This despite the fact that you do not get Wifi coverage, 7 Eleven, Starbucks or shopping mall every few hundred meters like we do in the city. All the things that we think make life in the city such a great thing really don't count for much when you look at it closely. People in the village have simple road side huts instead of Starbucks.They ride motorbikes instead of fancy cars. They use payphones instead of iPhones. But they couldn't care less. It doesn't bother them the way it bothers us.
They don't get swallowed into the pursuit of money, power, success or status the way we do. They seem so much more content in accepting their lot in life, doing the simple things they are in charge of - like working in the grocery store, or being the security guard or operating a simple road side hawker stall. The rest of us in the city often concern ourselves with the kind of house we live in, the car we drive, our career progression and most of all, we feel this need to be different from everybody else. We feel that we owe it to ourselves to make a difference in something, anything.
City folk live in state a of deficit. We feel the need to make up for loss ground, keep on par with others or simple excel in something before we pat ourselves in the back. We want to earn the merits, because we feel a person with no distinguishable merits is not worthy of praise. A person of value is a person with merits.
The city is often the forefront of human civilization. New or old, all our knowledge of science, all our ideas of philosophy were born out of a city. We in the city are so focused on breaking new ground and exploring new frontiers that somewhere along the line, we have forgotten to be content with what we have right now.
To me, it's a simple lesson about contentment.
Something I think those of us living in the city would do well learning
Something I think those of us living in the city would do well learning
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Christmas, or so it seemed
I was browsing through the library of music on my laptop. It's been ages since I last listened to music on my computer.
A particular folder caught my eye. I clicked on it and a list of 45 songs appear. I play them all. A strange combination of emotions surge through me as I listen to them. Mixed feeling of happiness and regret. Memories of things that were sweet and those that were painful, moments that felt like fireworks on a clear summer night - magical, moments that felt like a man running in front of a moving train - utter foolishness.
A particular folder caught my eye. I clicked on it and a list of 45 songs appear. I play them all. A strange combination of emotions surge through me as I listen to them. Mixed feeling of happiness and regret. Memories of things that were sweet and those that were painful, moments that felt like fireworks on a clear summer night - magical, moments that felt like a man running in front of a moving train - utter foolishness.
Looking at the folder again, I remembered something. I had changed the name of the folder to 'Christmas' even though it had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas. At the time, even looking at its original name pained me. I had done stupid things, and I was trying to run away from my own feelings. Silly me huh?
The name of the folder?
Crystal.
Thoughts on a Stranger
I thought we had something special. I thought we understood one another. I thought that it would just go on and on, the way it did in the past.
But it didn't.
It all stopped.
What happened?
Something must have happened for sure. But i don't know what.
Are you not well? Are you busy? Have you lost interest in this heart of mine? Are you deliberately keeping silent? Or are you not around anymore?
I try to imagine just what is it that is transpiring at your side of this life. But it is a blank image. I cannot imagine anything beyond the picture of you, and the streets of the city you live in. You said we were not really strangers anymore. I guess in some sense, that is true. A stranger is a person you know nothing about. And i know many things about you.
But all this silence has reminded me again, that in truth, knowing many things about you isn't the same as knowing YOU.
There is a massive void that stands between us. A void only two strangers would know.
So, what are we anyway, my dear not-so-stranger of a friend? What are we?
But it didn't.
It all stopped.
What happened?
Something must have happened for sure. But i don't know what.
Are you not well? Are you busy? Have you lost interest in this heart of mine? Are you deliberately keeping silent? Or are you not around anymore?
I try to imagine just what is it that is transpiring at your side of this life. But it is a blank image. I cannot imagine anything beyond the picture of you, and the streets of the city you live in. You said we were not really strangers anymore. I guess in some sense, that is true. A stranger is a person you know nothing about. And i know many things about you.
But all this silence has reminded me again, that in truth, knowing many things about you isn't the same as knowing YOU.
There is a massive void that stands between us. A void only two strangers would know.
So, what are we anyway, my dear not-so-stranger of a friend? What are we?
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Atomic Breakups
Breakups are a lot like an atomic bomb in a way.
In an instant, the explosion of atomic bomb creates a massive crater, miles in diameter. In the blink of an eye, your world literally shatters into pieces. If you survive the explosion, you are still left in a state of disbelief because not too long ago, like was still as you knew it - intact. It is a devastating event
Doesn't heart break feel a lot like that?
But even then, the initial explosion isn't the most fearsome part of an atomic bomb. It is the invisible radioactive mess - that slowly and painfully kills off whatever that's left behind - that does the most damage. A blast may kill hundreds of thousands of people in an instant. But millions more die due to radioactive exposure over the next few years.
Breakups don't (usually) kill anyone, but the after effects last long after the incident don't they? After the pain of it tearing apart, your heart is then left with open wounds, taking days,weeks and months to heal. And it is those long, sustained sense of gloom and dread that eats away at your energies.
"Tell me how to move on... Tell me how to get rid of this pain... Why? Why does this have to happen to me? How can he do this to me? Is this my payback for all the past things I've done? "
I couldn't offer any answer. At least, not one she was ready to hear yet.
Most people offered this answer as ab attempt to comfort her - He doesn't deserve you. You are better off without him. But i can see, she doesnt want to hear any of those things. She still loved him. And given even an inch of hope, she would go on with him but i guess she knew it was game over. As much as she loved him, she couldn't be with a man that loved his pride more than his woman.
And i guess THAT was the big A Bomb she was trying to deal with.
In an instant, the explosion of atomic bomb creates a massive crater, miles in diameter. In the blink of an eye, your world literally shatters into pieces. If you survive the explosion, you are still left in a state of disbelief because not too long ago, like was still as you knew it - intact. It is a devastating event
Doesn't heart break feel a lot like that?
But even then, the initial explosion isn't the most fearsome part of an atomic bomb. It is the invisible radioactive mess - that slowly and painfully kills off whatever that's left behind - that does the most damage. A blast may kill hundreds of thousands of people in an instant. But millions more die due to radioactive exposure over the next few years.
Breakups don't (usually) kill anyone, but the after effects last long after the incident don't they? After the pain of it tearing apart, your heart is then left with open wounds, taking days,weeks and months to heal. And it is those long, sustained sense of gloom and dread that eats away at your energies.
"Tell me how to move on... Tell me how to get rid of this pain... Why? Why does this have to happen to me? How can he do this to me? Is this my payback for all the past things I've done? "
I couldn't offer any answer. At least, not one she was ready to hear yet.
Most people offered this answer as ab attempt to comfort her - He doesn't deserve you. You are better off without him. But i can see, she doesnt want to hear any of those things. She still loved him. And given even an inch of hope, she would go on with him but i guess she knew it was game over. As much as she loved him, she couldn't be with a man that loved his pride more than his woman.
And i guess THAT was the big A Bomb she was trying to deal with.
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