YAY! My heart was so light In a blink of an eye, I’ve patched up with Z way back in late April and we’ve been in a long distance relationship (minus that one month of ‘are we just friends or more than friends’ period) for 9 months now. Why do I always get that 9 month itch? This time it’s coincidence.

By a stroke of fate , I met up with a senior whom I had a serious crush on a couple of years ago. To my horror, I still have a tiny crush on him, except this time I’m not struck mute by my debilitating adoration for him. In fact, I’m able to strike up a lively conversation due to my increased number of guy friends of all ages and sexual orientation. He’s tall, handsome (debatable among my friends), sporty, brainy, goofy, artsy, fartsy, friendly, adventurous and has a good heart. He’s everything I wished for in a boyfriend — dominant, inspiring and stronger than me in all areas. I bet he never noticed the girl in geeky specs gawking at him from the doorway. But now…do I feel a frisson of excitement whenever he sits beside me? When he rubs his tanned muscly forearm against my goose-bumpy one to check how cold I am (My goosebumps are not just from the cold…)? When he asks me to sit tight and enjoy the ride?

Yes yes yes… ARGH! No no no I’m attached. And I’ll never act on this (mutual?) attraction. I’m so occupied by this that things around me seem to be pointing in one direction. In 爸妈囧很大, a Taiwanese talk show where parents and children enjoy a no holds barred discussion on sensitive topics, the subject of 劈腿 or having a steady or sexual relationships with more than one person was broached. In Taiwan, the trend of having 2-4 boyfriends or girlfriends at the same time is on the rise. Most people rationalise it by saying they’ve been cheated on before and therefore justify their own cheating. Some do it because they gain an ego boost and benefits from multiple parties. A few treat the first boyfriend or girlfriend as a back-up while pursuing promising relationships, coined 骑驴找马. The mums and dads on the other side were horrified. So was I.

Still. I can’t help feeling a little twinge of regret. Did I jump into the relationship too quickly before considering the commitment and the possibility of holding out for another 2-3 years before we can be in the same place permanently? So far, I’ve been able to brush off the attraction and attention from other guys and stay true to Z. But this one is a different animal. I’m hoping that this is just another passing crush, and we will settle into something more platonic. It’s possible that I’m projecting my ideal boyfriend mould onto him. But relationships is not just about ideals and practical concerns, it boils down to making a commitment and keeping that commitment.

I will go down the long windy road with Z, whatever that brings.

Long rebonded hair, everyone has it, from giggly schoolgirls and busty bimbos to aunties who give stalkers a shock when they swish their silky tresses away to reveal their real age. I rebonded my thick hair to make it more manageable but recently it’s been weighing me down. Creature of habit, if I didn’t splash 200 bucks on my damn hair I would have chopped it off for an edgy short crop.

Too keep it short, I shouldn’t imprison myself with mirrors and beat myself up with a measuring stick. Keep at my own pace, do what I want, and remember that as long as I persist I will reach my goal. Be more forgiving and patient with myself. If I press on too hard, I might just give up and isolate myself because I deem myself a failure and am too ashamed to face my friends. What I need to learn now is to learn how to handle these problems and live life happily in the present moment. Finish everyday properly and be grateful that I am who I am.

The best way to be ok is to admit that you’re not ok. The two Malaysian hairstylists were too good to me. I’m thankful that I meet such nice people.

He’s not what I need, but he’s what I want.

Wouldn’t it be perfect if we knew each other better and deepen our friendship, which then slowly grew into love? And then bump into each other and decide to have adventures and eventually settle somewhere?

Alas, life is never perfect. And I’m an imperfect bundle of insecurities, albeit a lovely one.

Why oh why……?

Yeah do what I need to do, start loving myself properly and everything and everyone around me better. and be happy.

*Update: At least I had the good parts. At least it didn’t sour and wither off. At least it was a clean cut. I have yet to experience a relationship that ripens slowly and allows me to grow equally in other aspects of my life. Sometimes, being in a relationship almost feels like a legitimate escape from all the problems lurking elsewhere. I want to be both strong and weak with my other half. A relationship where someone is firm with me and puts me where I need to be, rather than want to be. A relationship where I can be both feminine and masculine, child-like and wise. A relationship of equal parts heated passion, cool quenching companionship and trusting equanimity. That ain’t easy, and, I want a man who has a right head on his shoulders and would make things happen. Even if he isn’t like that to begin with, he should at least want to be better as I would too.*

*I can never bear halfways*

The joys of reading on a lazy afternoon; a crisply made bed and a plump pillow hugging the small of my back, sheets of golden sunlight enveloping me in perfect stillness. I feel like a prehistoric insect trapped in amber, frozen in time and totally transfixed by the pages of Haruki Murakami. Indeed, the more the memories of him inside me fade, the more deeply I am able to understand him. Take away the messy hormones that churn up emotion whenever I see his picture, and I begin to feel more acutely that this decision to separate is the right one.

Naoko: Don’t you see? It’s just not possible for one person to watch over another person forever and ever … Can I be glued to you every minute of our lives? What kind of equality would there be in that? What kind of relationship would that be? Sooner or later you’d get sick of me. You’d wonder what you were doing with your life, why you were spending all your life babysitting this woman. I couldn’t stand that. It wouldn’t solve any of my problems.

The above presents my perennial problem of giving too much it’s draining. No wonder I was depressed; depression saves energy. Save your energy girl, and fight your OWN battles, first.

Toru: But your problems are not going to continue for the rest of your life. They’ll end eventually. And when they do, we’ll stop and think about how to go on from there. Maybe you will have to help me. We’re not running our lives according to some account book.

Well, that really depends, doesn’t it? Takes two hands to clap. It’s time to get on with my life. Life goes on as usual for him. If it hurts too much, then care a little less (insight courtesy of Jess). But always, 三思而行, the impulse to sever ties is just as bad as the impulse to jump into the thick of things.

I’ll end with the closing sentences of the first chapter.

I know, too, why she asked me not to forget her, to remember that she had existed.

The thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow. Because Naoko never loved me.

Where is my Midori?!

Haruki Murakami is genius, he’s able to capture the human condition – love, loneliness, transitions, limbo, etc – at its most vulnerable and revealing and leave an indelible mark in my mind. It’s like being startled by a camera flash and waiting for the visual burn-in to fade.

Except that I don’t want it to. I want to ruminate on that, on how it reflects my situation. Is it my style to jump heartfirst into something and not think of the enduring consequences or is it another start of an ending? If i’m already in it, should I stay to make it different this time? I want it, I want to embrace everything and deal with whatever comes along.

“…I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.”

I wonder if I had that sort of effect on him… Was it a good idea to do that? Why do I feel a heavy sense of responsibility somehow? And not the lightness of heart that comes with being in love. Lighten up, lighten up. It takes two to share the load and it’s the journey that matters, though I often wish the destination was in sight.

The slush irritates me though, it’s soaking up my furry boots. Maybe I should get galoshes (they will come in handy during the monsoon season in SG)! I like snow when it’s frozen; it’s like a beautiful memory left intact. Preserved in its pristine first state. But then, as you continue trekking to new places and new people, it slowly turns to slush and you see the grime laying right under it. That dirty polluted path that you almost forgot about.

I’m glad I moved on. If I didn’t I would have been rooted to the spot, pining for a lost innocence, until snow engulfs me and freezes away all feeling. Worse still, if you just stand there stupidly, the world would just zoom past without a second glance and splash shit all over you. Right now I’m treading really carefully, in order not to slip and hurt myself.

Will. Get. There. Soon. That warm cozy place to share a cuppa. In the meantime trudging through knee deep snow can get kind of exhilarating!

In case you were wondering about the title, school was closed for three days because the gods took pity on us students and decided to smother the whole city with waist deep snow. I hibernated/went crazy/went to Starbucks/wrote a 2502 word essay/got high/watched two movies and was more productive than ever. Lol. Whaaat a fabulous 3 daaaays ^^

This lady projects the full sexual allure of Kashmir like no man can (sorry Robert Plant). The start and stop of her skilful fingers, while drawing out those torturous sweet notes with her smooth masterful strokes. I am referring to her fingering and bowing of course.

Perhaps it’s her French and Argentine roots, resulting in both subtle seduction and full-blown passion. Perhaps it’s the heady mix of virtuosity and the almost tender interpretation of eclectic songs, which led The New Yorker to call her the “cello goddess”. Or the fact that she’s just so beautiful and focused in her music. Besides, who can resist the appeal of a cold bitch in utter control of her…instrument.

Thank you Maya Beiser. Yes, Led Zeppelin was good in that loose charm of a gangly boy toy, but you just made me want to turn lesbian.

She sank blissfully into the seat, wisps of conspicuous black hair falling across her face. The sun slanted in, and she narrowed her almond shaped eyes. A guy in jeans and a baggy jacket whooshed in. A second’s pause later he plonked into the seat beside her, ignoring the empty rows behind. That’s surprising. A sidelong glance revealed a Blackberry in hand, fingers that looked too large for the itty bitty keypad and a bag with a tennis racquet between his widespread legs.

The bus revved up suddenly and she swayed to the right. Her thigh pressed into his. Funny how heat transfers so quickly through tight denim. He didn’t move, neither did she. She revelled in that cosy little space for many stops, and smiled at people filing through the bus aisle.

A sharp movement caught her eye. Did he just turn to look at me? And disguise that by running his hand through his sandy cropped hair? That’s some seriously soft hair, and it looks so good to touch, like a carpet of fuzz. At the next stop it happened again. And again. Alright, he’s definitely checking her out. If only she could muster the courage to do the same. She turned her head ever so slightly and caught a glimpse of his profile. And liked what she saw: nice angular jawline, prominent nose and brows and fantastic lashes. Cute, in a nondescript way.

She felt herself growing sleepy and slack-jawed, her lips parting slightly and her eyes struggling to stay open. And all this time the pleasant pressure warmed her in a queer manner. Maybe her jeans cut off the blood flow, leading to another kind of pleasure, no… pressure. Every imperceptible shift was magnified against the taut material. She was dimly aware of the gradual and purposeful alignment of his feet with hers; now their calves were touching.

Cheeky monkey. She shook off her stupor and sat a little straighter, hugging her tiny backpack. He drew his legs in, but leaned forward on his knees to turn back and shoot her an intense stare. She let a slow grin grow and blinked lazily, before looking away and pretending to stare at something outside the window.

It was a blustery fall afternoon.