New year resolutions

I only have one for this year.
To wake early, to work hard. So that finally when the weekend comes, I rest, and see that the world revolves around so much besides work.

Happy new year!

On the road

For the lack of battery in my camera.

Honking non stop during peak hour.
Boy walking calf on leash.
Man riding horse on the road alongside heavy vehicles, Japanese cars, Korean cars, local Tata cars, single-seater electric cars.
Boy holding garden hoe along the roadside.
Clothes left to dry on rusty fence by the main road.
Three-wheeler rickshaws jamming up the traffic in all directions.
Gasoline tank delievery on bicyles.
Lady dressed in bright orange sari, sweeping the road bare-footed.
Advertisment for Chronicles of Narnia, The Dawn Treader.
Advertisement for Pond’s gold radiance.
Houses built of canvas, bricks and wooden planks.
Undressed little boy squatting by the roadside.
Three wheelers plastered with sign that says “Stop TB, do not spit.”
In contradiction, the driver of the three-wheeler spits nonchalantly on the road.
Kingfisher academy.
Vroom vroom of the three wheelers.
Roads with undefined lanes. No, not undefined. Just faded, forgotten and disregarded with time.
Honking war ensues.
Sparse traffic lights.
Hawkers peddling good, and whole bunches of cauliflowers by the road.
Man walking with a basket of bananas comfortably balanced on his head.
Red buses plastered with adverts and crammed full of people.
Sign that says, “Every vice has its excuse ready.”
Sign that says, “Married by day, single by night. Whatever it is, be pure.”
Bulky luggage bags balanced atop the small moving car.
KFC.
MacDonalds.
May big fat crows and eagles.
The Holy Family Church, with aged walls and a statue of Jesus on the cross.
INRI was written on the cross.
More posters of glamourous woman and spa advertisements.
Vodaphone.
Limping dog crossing the road.
Kids peeping out of narrow lanes.
Adverts for the Gold flake snack.
Poster saying, "Son of shiva. God is great."

An incomprehensible homogenous co-existenence of the ostenstatious elite and the unhidden marginalized.

The Traveller pens.

So, I’ve been warned that I should brush my teeth with mineral water and stay away from anything that’s not steaming hot enough to disintegrate micro-organisms. Nevertheless, convenience got the better of me. The people here use this tap water every single day right? And that yoghurt looks too good to be left out of the chicken biryani set. Therefore, I ate.

I’m still alive. Alive enough to be sitting in the club lounge, typing this while looking out at the lounge balcony filled with pigeons twice the size of those I see at home. I thought they’d be scrawny, but no, they are absolutely not.

I caught the sunrise too, much to my pleasant surprise. An orange-red disc that rose slowly from the old building across, and slipped behind clouds dyed a sea of orange and vermillion.

I like the sun. But sunrise and sunsets always evade me. I had to do a 300m-dash to catch the sunrise at Surfer’s Paradise at 4am in the morning. I was rushing on a cab to Dan Shui, Fisherman’s wharf, Taipei, only to catch a glimpse of the orange egg-yoke of a sun disappear behind the shadows of traffic and buildings. The storm at Bondi beach totally rained disappointment on my dreams of having a sunshine beach day. Perhaps, my middle name is Rainie. Make that Rainy.

The sunrise from my room pretty much made up for the plane ride at unearthly hours, and fellow passengers who hog the plane toilet for an average of 20minutes each. Contrary to popular belief, smells seemed only to be a myth. Nevertheless, I think we do have differing concepts of personal space. Too close. Much too close.

I started queuing at the immigration at 5.16am. I collected my luggage at 6.40am. I impatiently placed my hands on my hips three times, and quickly caught myself when I remembered that was supposed to be a rude gesture here. Otherwise, I made it to the hotel pretty smoothly.

All is well. All is well.

And I remember, once upon a time, I wanted to travel, and write. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Suddenly, going on trips alone doesn’t feel so bad. I feel alive, because I'm writing!

Dream again.

My bags are packed, but I'm not so ready to go.

I once wrote that I wanted to travel. Yes, I so do want to travel, but I guess the innocence, and ignorance, of my daydreaming youth failed to include the hard work behind a jet-setting career.

That's why it's a dream. Reality smacks you in the face, and the dead weight pulls at your feet to bring you back to earth.

Once upon a time, when I was fourteen or fifteen, I once idealisitically and unrealistically said, "If my first job doesn't pay me at least 2.5 to 3K, I will never take that job." Ya right. The number that glared off my very first payslip was less than 2K.

I started that job without intending to stay, but I did. Why?

Three reasons:
1) I wanted to work with people.
2) I wanted to keep learning.
3) I wanted to do something still related to what I studied. (And once upon a time, when I was fifteen, I had wanted to do medicine.)

There's a 4th reason perhaps. I'm not ambitious, and just happy to do what I do.

Hang on, let me rephrase that. I'm not ambitious with titles and job progression, but I have to keep learning.

Maybe that is why I unintentionally repeated my quotable quote in mandarin, "这份工作不适合我." (This job is not suitable for me). And on some days when I'm down, I'd think, "I'm not suitable for this job."

(Side-note: I wanted very much to teach, but apparently that was not my calling. haha! If that was not the intended plan for you, you get a very firm NO.)

And so, I stuck to the same job for years. And my dear colleagues all thought that I would root there and become part of the furniture.

Don't get me wrong. I love my colleagues, and I like my job.

Then one day, a miracle happened. I was offered something else. I still get to work with people. I will definitely learn much more, and re-learn what I've lost. It's true that we lose what we don't use. I had missed being creative. I had missed writing. And I had dreamt about travelling.

Here I am. My bags are packed. Am I ready to go?

I miss my ex-colleagues, the teamwork, the camaraderie. Perhaps this is part of "the-grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side" syndrome. I'm sometimes bogged down by the harsh reality of work. No one would disagree that work can be a chore, and that's the nature of work ever since it has been cursed in the time of Adam and Eve.

But we were meant to work, and enjoy working! So, let me work, and dream again!

Wishlist

Wishlist
1) Shoes. Seriously comfy and lasting flats.
2) Bags. Waterproof, rugged and classy bag that I can fling around and still have it in one perfect
piece.
3) Clothes. Shirts that are either so long that they can be easily tucked in, or classic enough to be
tucked out and still go with a blazer.
3) I want to watch Rapunzel!
4) Go on leave after Christmas!
5) A new phone. A smart one. I need to FB and google map around. Okie, maybe blog and tweet.
6) Ipod nano. I need to expand the KTV song list. haha.

(Apparently, wishlist items become more ostentatious with age.)

Imagined Expectations

5 months.

I can't believe I'm doing what I'm doing. Is this me? I thought I knew me? And I never imagined that Me can do this at all. So, if Me is not up to me expectations, it's exactly as I imagined.

Maybe I expect too much, and imagine too little.

Resilience

I need a good dose of resilience. The worst battles are never really physical.

Age is catching up with me. I never thought I would be worried about blood pressure and hot flashes.

In moments like this, the little crack in whatever resilience I have will let happy memories of simple days past slip in. The fading echoes of good old days with kakis, silly jokes and common battles that were won hand-in-hand and side-by-side, sound far, yet not too far. The choice of going back there beckons.

I play with the idea.

But that, is probably just the escapist in me trying to back away from the here and now.

Like I said, I need some resilience.

Starting again.

2 years, 1 month and 2 weeks.

That's how long I've stopped writing. I've stopped snapping pictures, stopped reflecting and stopped appreciating.

I've let the world swish me around and flush my creativity down the toilet bowl.

Then again, whatever goes down the toilet bowl will ultimately make its way through the sewage, back into the all-welcoming open sea. And there, once again, the world is before your eyes, and you feel alive again.

I'm back!