I feel most Singaporean when...

We waited. And waited. And waited.
In the midst of an empty stomach and a full bladder, the worst thing to have to do is to wait for the train that refused to arrive in a timely manner.
It was more than a tad late, thanks to an ongoing strike in Paris.
The wait, while agonising in our lousy physiological state, was nothing compared to the anxiety it was causing us: we had another train to catch to get out of Paris. But first, we needed to catch this train to get back to our hostel to get our stuff. Sure, we could forgo the tickets and catch the next one out the following day. No big deal, really.
But being poor students on their month-long graduation trip, the idea of staying another day in a city with super expensive accommodation simply wasn't appetising. And forking out extra money to buy train tickets? Nah.
And no way was I going to sleep on that bed in that cheap hostel again. No, I'm not being the spoilt, pampered Singaporean. It's just not too easy to forget how the bug-infested bed left me with a puffy ear double the original size and how I gave myself a scare when my new look greeted me in the mirror.
Great! The train's finally here! But guess what? There were faces plastered to the doors of the tube. The faces looked familiar. Yes! They bore an uncanny resemblance to the face in "The Scream". Haha. The irony of things was we would have to join in, contorted faces and all. And not to mention that I needed to bear with the odious odour emanating from the arm-pit of someone. The only saving grace was that I was 2 cm short of heading for a full-blown disaster, right to the pit.
And no, I didn't have to sleep on that bug-infested bed. We managed to catch our train, albeit with much running with our ton-heavy backpack.
Throughout our month-long trip, somehow, we always ended up having to dash from one place to another, catching trains just when they were about to leave. Blame it on the efficiency of Singapore. We were just so used to things running on time that we somehow lost the ability to anticipate how little things could go wrong here and there. Or rather, it was not within our imagination that things could go wrong.
So on the last day of our adventure-ridden trip , we decided to play it safe and went to the airport way in advance. Checked in our luggage and waited for time to while away. At the stipulated boarding time, we headed to the departure gate. And horror of horrors, there stood two snaking queues, so long that would put our local Hello Kitty maniacs to shame (okay, i exaggerated. Who could beat the Hello Kitty maniacs right? But you get the drift -- two really long queues, i.e. there's no way to board the plane on time if we were to wait in the queue for our turns to get our passports stamped.)
Two choices stood before us: Be shameless, go right to the front of the queue and ask to be given priority. Or stay on in Rome until the next available plane came along. The choice was clear. Flash the megawatt smile. Be shameless.
Hours later. Home. Back in familiar territory, the pristine condition of the airport brought a smile to my face. No hour-long queues to clear. No strikes to disrupt my day. Just the usual orderly and efficient manner in which the passport was duly stamped.
Glad to be home.
That's when I feel most Singaporean.

Back, But Not With a Vengeance...

Have I stopped writing? The answer is no, but yes, it definitely felt like so for the past half a year. My inspiration for writing simply seemed to have gone south. Kaput.

Miss A encouraged me to start writing again, saying that writing is like muscles. You lose it if you don't use it. But it IS there. So here I am, trying to pick up the pieces where I left them after finally leaving behind a half-wrecked life that almost stole my soul.

So how has life been for the past year?

First month. Euphoriameter -- perfect 10. Characterised by a constant lightness in stride, maybe similar to being on drugs, but of course I wouldn't know.

Second month. Euphoria still kicking and alive. Dwindled a little but certainly still on a high that made me want to scream on top of a mountain. Or maybe Bukit Timah Hill. Or maybe just at the pinnacle of a miniscule slope at the park near my house.

Third month. Raring to go. All ready to head to the battlefield to claim my land of glory in photography. Or so I thought.

Fourth month onwards. Euphoriameter jammed due to excessive pessimism after realising how swarmed the market is. Thought I might just drown there. But I didn't.

So my moods have been wildly bullish and bearish, depending on how the shares of my photography stock perform.

But one thing I know for sure, regardless of how well or how badly my freelance job pan out to be, is that I do treasure my family a lot more.

It's hard to imagine how I've changed from being someone who's out with friends practically every other day to being someone who enjoys the company of her parents.

It's even harder to imagine how close my dad and I have become when I used to keep my distance because he was such a stern disciplinarian. We're not best buds but we do talk a lot because of our common outlook of life.

My nephew has been my bundle of joy too. So cute and animated, I just have to kiss him every other minute (or maybe two).

To clutter all of six months into a few minutes is rather impossible.

This is cliched but...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Yin and Yang...

Joy. Misery. Diametric opposites that are ever so intertwined.
I felt really sad upon realising it.
We may be a lot less than being the best buds, but I really do wish the best for you, knowing you've been through a lot in life and have a lot to look forward to.

With the night comes the day.
That dawn, beckoning, promises to break that shade of black -- in surety, in confidence.

Status: Not Dead....

I haven't blogged for 3 mths already?!?! Gasp!!!
Unbelievable. Times flies.
I guess now that i've managed to type 2 lines, you probably guessed it: I'm not dead yet...keke..
Too many thoughts going through my mind and i don't know what to pen down i guess.
All i know is, i'm getting happier by the day!!
I'm counting down my days to liberation: 1 mth 5 days i think.
My brain isn't quite made for even simple addition and subtraction.
What tragedy. Anything more than 10 is a chore since it is relatively known that i'm only born with two hands and 10 fingers.
Oh well, thank god for calculator and friends :P