Sup homies it's been a while. 

While the sadness attacks don't really hit so frequently nowadays, as in less things trigger the sadness, I've been watching this series called See You Again (Season 4) about 3 couples deciding whether or not to get divorced, and can I just say that it's been a whole exercise in mental/emotional resilience?

There's the husband of this couple on the show who totally reminds me of my ex-husband. How, you may ask, and these are the ways:

1. He says things like "if I don't love you, I would not have married you. Because I married you, it means that I love you." as a way of justifying that he loves the wife. 

2. He lives in his own space in the house and they sleep in separate rooms.

3. The wife says that she does not feel loved by him at all i.e. he does not express love or affection to her. They also don't do things together. 

4. He doesn't do chores. 

But the kicker is, it wasn't this guy who got me feeling regretful today, it was another couple's reflections that reminded me of something my ex-husband told me. I had asked him who loves the other more, and he had very certainly told me that I loved him more. On hindsight, maybe that was when I should have bailed. 

No doubt there could be one party who loves the other more, or rather does more for the other, and by no means do I expect everything to be 50-50 all the time. But it also cannot be 90-10 all the damned time, amirite?

Peace y'all. 

For the First Time in a Very Long Time

 So I guess tonight is one of those nights where I torture myself by listening to mandopop from a very distant time where things were much simpler and cry my heart out and turn up at work looking like I got punched in both eyes. The current choice of soundtracks is Jay Chou's Fantasy album of course. The quintessential emo teen of the 2000s' playlist. Also about the time that I met my ex-husband. 

What am I crying about though? I mourn many things. I mourn my self abandonment. I mourn how I mistook minimal effort for love. I mourn not knowing myself well enough to see what I needed in a relationship. I mourn that I failed to see my ex husband's lack of effort and the many excuses I made for him. 

Who would have thought that at least 10 years after the last post that a 37 year old V would pick this up again. I think writing, as I have come to recognise over the years only extends to blogging, used to bring me a lot of joy when I was in secondary school through university. And personal shortcomings of not seeing things through has prevented me from monetising my writing otherwise I think I would be earning good money. Nowadays they say it's good practice to journal as a form of therapy and emptying thoughts from one's head.

Admittedly I've been stuck in a rut for a long time, mentally since 2017 I would say. I can't focus on a task for more than an hour at a stretch, and I often lose my train of thought. With the exception of diarrhoea-typing my thoughts on a page like this. Energy has been all time low when I thought it couldn't get any lower. 

The state of my room is horrible. It's pretty much a dumpster fire and I have a problem I keep spending money on unimportant things that I want. This overindulgence does not help the room situation at all. 

Health wise I am highly sedentary and I can't seem to find any motivation to get my arse moving.  Weight is also increasing and while I am trying to control my food intake I think mobility could be a lot better to help with the pains. 

Emotions wise I would say I'm on the mend although there are days I lament how I spent more than half of my life being with someone I thought I would grow old with only to realise that he can't and won't love me the way I need to be loved only at a very late stage. 

Childhood wounds wise I have also learned that the model of love I know was learned from my parents and I objectively have a pretty fucked up childhood. I thought it was independence but chatgpt and instagram has told me that this is over-independence and the kind of childhood I had is not normal at all and far from loving. You know how in secondary school when your teacher shares that research shows that delinquents are produced by neglect and not abuse and your inner monologue goes "thank god I'm not neglected" only to find out 20 years later that hey actually you were very neglected as a kid? Yes that's me. 

It was also startling to learn that there is no such thing as unconditional love and giving your all to a partner who doesn't reciprocate. In no world does that model work. V in her 20s had a very warped perception of love. It was also quite a sad moment to learn that people deserve to be loved because V in her 30s thought that nobody deserved anything and that was entitlement. But chatgpt told me that people deserve to be loved simply for who they are and not what they do for people and that was sad and eye opening at the same time. 

Also this is why I don't have a relationship with my parents because they have never put in the effort to cultivate love or a relationship with their children. A large part of me doesn't feel bad about it at all unfortunately.

Joke's on me though in my 20s I thought I had it all only to have that perception 100% torn down in my 30s. But hey at least I had this awakening now and not only when I'm in my 40s or 50s right?

My Learning Journey

Today I realised that putting something down doesn't necessarily mean that you’re letting it go. When you let something go, you possibly don’t care where it’s headed, (probably to Idea Purgatory or some sort) and there is a definite note of finality. But when you put something down, there’s always the probability of picking it back up because you know exactly where you left it. Today I confidently say that I have regained a balance in life, and that I have emerged a little wiser. Today I also confidently say that I've been having the urge to swim so if you do too please ask me along.

 

Maybe it seems a little all too easy, but I suppose that's the way the universe works, that all the time you've been twiddling about in your mopey existence until enough is enough and the next thing you know the birds are singing and the sun is shining and the rainbow is hanging up in the sky again and the world as you know it is beautiful once more. 

Okay maybe it's still not as beautiful as it used to be, but I'm sure it's becoming a little more beautifuller by the day. So chin up and soak in the sights.

A Baby Again

Waking up at 6.15 in the morning is suddenly new again. It's somewhat like going back to a life I've left behind, but only somewhat. This morning while I was walking to the workplace I was thinking about everything that afflicted me these days, not great thoughts. But then I saw the man in front of me tossing bits of bread to the many pigeons that hang around in the field everyday. Sun rays were trying their best to pierce through the dusty air, and they kind of succeeded. Truckloads of foreign workers were sitting around in their trucks. Everything went on like nothing had happened.

 Morning air must be good for the soul.

Am feeling exceptionally lonely tonight after all the hustle and bustle from CNY over the weekend. And as if my parents knew, they have left the tablet for me to twiddle with in their absence. My surrogate mother and father for the week.

Run, Baby, Run

You know you've been watching too much Running Man when you spot a Pororo plush in the departmental store and a voice in your head exclaims ''look it's Haroro!''

Also when you subconsciously type Haroro when you meant Pororo in a previous paragraph and only realise it when you reach the end of said paragraph.

Also when you know what i'm talking about.

Look Ma, I'm Invisible!

The upcoming F1 event has brought about a surge in the number of Japanese visiting the comic store. Japanese can be a little strange, they walk into the shop with nary a glance in your direction, and for the entire duration they look everywhere except at you. Then they always walk out looking straight ahead. It's as if you had a glance avoidance shield in place.

If you want to find out what it's like to have powers of invisibility, Absolute Comics is the place to be.

The Tide that Comes and Goes

Dreams of everlasting images are precisely these: extrapolations of longing and ultimately empty visions.

Time Lapse

I've been away from this space for so long that it feels like unfamiliar territory. I'm typing gingerly; it's a strange feeling. I fumble with words. What goes here? What goes in the next sentence? Should I do a verbal diarrhea post? Was blogging always this difficult?

There are many things that I want put down in this space, pockets of joy, faucets of life that aren't adding up, issues to set right. Nowadays time seems plentiful but often not enough, I wonder where it all goes to.

Technology bugs me, it always has and I fear it always will. I can't deny that it's a powerful tool, but at the same time it annoys the fuck out of me. Or rather, people who get consumed by technology annoy the fucking daylights out of me. It's a strange thing to have a vault of information at a swish or tap of your fingers, and some people can't seem to get over that wonder. How many people have you counted today walking on the streets captivated by their phones or tablets? Also strange that it's one thing to be up to date on the latest trends, but yet be ill versed in everyday etiquette. Perhaps etiquette hasn't caught up with technology. Or better still, perhaps they haven't invented an app that teaches people to watch where they're going, or an app that reminds people to use earphones while watching their latest shows on their gadgets in public, or an app that flashes alerts when an old person comes on board the train and prompts people to give up their seat. How strange that advancements in technology seem to bring about the dearth of common sense. Why does it tear away at our humanity?

What happened to the times where your friend would call you on your house phone an hour before meeting time and inform you that "hey i'm gonna be late, so don't leave your house so early" and still be late anyway and you'd wait undyingly for said friend to arrive at designated meeting point, or where the definition of a picture didn't mean pixels on a screen, but physical sheets of photographs that people printed out for the sake of memory. I mean, what happened to the times where I had to personally ask you what interesting place you visited, or what interesting thing happened to you during the week instead of getting updated by some electronic alert, or to the times where I could enjoy your wholehearted company on a night out, or at a meal without us glancing at our phones every 5 minutes? Call me old fashioned, but isn't old fashioned socialising the best there is? Facebook isn't my friend; Check In isn't my friend; Whatsapp isn't my friend; the handphone isn't my friend; you are. But yet I have to turn to these to reach you?

Don't get me wrong, I love how technology make our lives so much easier, and i'm not saying that i'm impervious to its influence. All I'm saying is that there's always a proper time and place. The world can be better, and so far technology doesn't seem to be helping.

On My Way Home

I know, the title sounds like a potential national day song right. But don't worry i'm not trying to compose any cheesy song -- I am in fact on my way home right now, on bus number 14. I boarded at 11:47pm at bedok interchange. Half an hour later the time is 12:20am and I am at east coast road. Is Singapore strangely huge or what? Anyhow i'm the only person sitting on the upper deck of this lovely double-decker bus, and it's a little creepy I must admit. I'm nervously picking at the skin on my lip and I think the bus driver must be creeped out by me too.

It's just gotten me thinking, there are tons of places in my own country that I haven't seen. Somehow I just feel like we always say that Singapore is a small country, and that there's nothing to do here. No doubt it is tiny on a global scale, but honestly, how many of us can say that we know this small country inside out? I think many of us dream of seeing the world, but what's the point of being able to say that you've been around the world when you haven't been around katong/geylang/pasir panjang/bukit merah/seletar/bukit timah/kranji/jurong west all that much?

17 minutes later at 12.37am the bus is passing dhoby ghaut (is Singapore strangely small or what?), and I feel a wave of relief; I'm back in familiar territory. Suddenly being alone on the top deck of the bus doesn't creep me out that much after all.

Today was my first time trying Katong laksa and it took me all of 22 years.
Just saying.

Dear Slumberous Kingdom,

What wrong have I done to incur your wrath and bring such pained exile upon this self?

Hello Slumberous World (that has left me behind)

So, at 3.26am on a tuesday morning I lie in bed testing my new blogging app because I was goondu enough to take a 3 hour nap on a monday evening. Typing a blog entry on a mobile phone feels strangely personal, as if I were typing a super long sms to a friend. Pardon me if I get too long-winded, or if the layout is wonky.

In happier news, this is The Bean in my sister's womb. This was taken last week, I think The Bean has grown to the size of a pea as I am typing this.

Although you can't see it, the Bean says hi and gives a smile. (:

Anyhow, in a past life, Van the Student has graduated. "Good riddance to school," she says. In her current life, Van the Bum has once more resurfaced. "Should I take a longer break, or should I start looking," she asks. In a future
life, Van the Workforce Member complains about her job. "Man, how I miss my school days," she laments. C'est la vie indeed.

Right, I am finally yawning. I think this entry is longer than what Van the Bum can take. The Bum is going to the Birdpark with Ahmoon in about 5 hours' time, so, wish us luck that the penguins are better rested than I am so that Ahmoon has something cute to look at when the time comes. :D

posted from Bloggeroid

Roald Dahl

Roald Dahl is pure magic. Reading a few pages of Matilda makes me tear like a big softie. No, it's definitely not because my 9000 word paper is due soon.

I think when you keep making excuses for other people it'll get to the point where you run out of excuses and the truth will hit you worse, much worse than if you had seen them for what they were in the first place.

I hope this isn't too late

Reflections of the past year: there's not much to say except that it had its highs and its lows, like all the other years before it.

What I liked about 2010 was the support that 9p gave me during my exam period. They were such sweethearts. All their texts made me smile and made my heart go fuzzy. Although I did really lousy this sem, I think I would have done worse without their encouragement. Which, if you think about it, isn't actually possible because when you're at the bottom you can't sink any further. BUT that also means that next sem will be better! Much better i hope! (: BUT anyhow, I LOVE YOU 9P!!!

What I hated about 2010 was that I missed wonderbuddy's flight. Everytime someone talks about it I still feel a cringe of guilt inside. =/

I think having neglected this blog for prolonged periods has largely stripped me of my ability to write. This feels a little unfamiliar. It's scary to realise that most of the writing I've done in the past 3.5 years have largely been academic in nature.

Tomorrow I start my last semester in school, and what can I say? I'm not feeling particularly excited, nor am I particularly dreading it. It just feels like another day is approaching, you know? Maybe it's because my timetable isn't settled yet, so it doesn't really feel like school is starting yet? GEE I DUNNO. ALL I KNOW IS I can't wait for wonderbuddy to be home, and it's killing me to find out what modules she'll be taking!! :D I hope it's something I'm taking, and I'm crossing my fingers hoho!

A part apart.

Ray has been working very hard these days. Work at the comic shop takes up about 4.5 days of his week. Shipment day falls on every thursday, which is also his busiest and most exhausting day at work. Ray never fails to call me at night, even though he may be tired out from a busy day at work, and it surprises me how much we have to talk about. (I am most talkative when I am with him, but mostly I just talk a lot of rubbish. Ray is most annoying when he is with me. I dunno why. ): ) Ray spends his days off with me most of the time. Sometimes he spends them with his mom and brings her out for meals like the good boy he is. I appreciate that ray is working hard for us, and I love him for who he is.

At 5 am in the morning I declare my love for you through the interweb: I love you raymond tay! xoxo

If I had one million dollars, and if I spend 50 dollars a day for the rest of my life, that one million dollars could last me 54 years, 9 months and 18 days. School is awesome.

1. I don't spend that much a day. That sum will last me much longer.
2. I don't know if I'll live to 76 years old. I could probably spend much more than $50 a day.
3. It would be awesome if I had a million dollars.
4. School is not awesome.

right...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa......

Don't call me a Stalker

So I found my cousin's blog after much snooping on google, and I realised she's a much more down to earth person than she lets on during the occasional conversations we have.

The oldies have been comparing us to each other ever since we were toddlers, making us stand back to back to see who's taller, side by side to see who's "healthier" (amazing euphemism for "fatter"), until it got to a point where Chinese New Year was (and still is) closely associated with being judged by the relatives. Even though they don't do it as much now, I bet you in their hearts they're all thinking that my cousin's the smarter and awesomer one who's going to bring honour and glory to the family while I'm the stupider and fatter one who's gonna waste her life away as a bum, or something. ):

Anyway, all that comparing didn't stop me from running off downstairs to the playground with her each year to talk about our lives, and to gossip about the aunts and uncles, or to buy sparklers with our ang bao money from the mamak store. The most vivid memory of us sitting at the playground involved her telling me about her guitar club, her good friends in school which included guys and guys didn't happen in ther school until she went to JC, me in my sec 4 short-hair-large-tee-shirts-and-berms phase, stepping on some smelly cat poo, and above all, the longing to do this every single time we meet during the subsequent CNYs.

But it didn't happen again. I think somehow we just outgrew such feelings of spontaneous chummy behaviour. Somehow reading her blog brings back a little of those days, where she was open around me and we could talk about anything. The past few years she pretty much keeps mum.

I think I like reading blogs for that reason. You get to see another side of people that isn't always apparent when you interact with them in real life. You get to see how another person's life is lived, and knowing that you can't get to experience every single thing that this world can offer in your short lifetime, you can always rely on other people's experiences to get a sense of the possibilities you're missing out. You see the vast strata of lifestyles and experiences and it just makes you wonder. But more than anything, I like how blogs give different perspectives about people.

I never thought that I would feel this way, but somehow looking at all those facebook posts makes me feel more distant than it makes me feel connected.