Rain Rain, Go Away

The fuckin rain has to go away. Cos I want to come out and play.

NOT THE FUCKING COCKROACHES.

Love, St Maarten

"U can drive thru whole island in hour... w no traffic"

"Hmm that's kinda like my hometown"

Bye Bye, Love

Another baby gone.

One more load off, another attachment less.

We've All Been Swoosh'd

My old friends from my old playground are probably not a very happy bunch at the playground this week.

Table tennis partners separated. Swimmers and runners diverted. Hoops teammates ejected. Travel buddies gone. Lunch companions no more. Compatriots torn apart.

Folks rudely snatched from their dreams. People cruelly thrown into unbeknownst realities. Captains forced to change their course. Sailors forced to jump off the boats. Moms and Dads left with unthinkable worries. The faithful bereft of faith.

Those who are left behind probably feel lost with the emptiness that surrounds them, literally. How am I going to fight on my own?

Those left behind probably feel anger at the brutality and coldness of the axe that was raised and dropped, just like that. Why? Does any of this make sense? Why them? Why?!

Those left behind might feel ashamed. What have I done, that they have not, to deserve this?

Those left behind must feel disappointment. Why good people who have done nothing but good stuff, who have been nothing but goodness?

They must feel sadness. For sure.


Those who leave are probably just too numb right now to decide how they really feel.

Anger may mask relief. Fear may cover courage. Sadness may hide excitement. Uncertainty will overshadow hope.

We don’t know. They don’t know. Heck, we don’t have to know. Not for now.


I no longer belong to that playground. But I have never forgotten that playground, because that’s where I grew up, and where I made friends I hope remain so for the rest of my life. Even if we no longer balance our sheets on the see-saw or get drunk on the swings together or thrash-talk in front of the hoop anymore.

I am not part of that playground this week. But once upon a time, I left that playground too.

Not to my keenest wish. Not to my greatest desire. Not in my wildest dream. But I did make that choice even then.

It was a you-go-or-I-go kinda choice. And who the hell was I to get rid of a multi-billion global giant who pays me less than the cheapest of peanuts to make money to pay for their landscaping expense every year?

In that playground, choosing to leave is probably one of the toughest things to do (not the forecasting at adoption meetings, countrary to popular belief). Being asked to do so, takes it to another level altogether.

I couldn’t figure out then how I felt. That day when I left. The whole week. The following week. The weeks after. The many months, many years later.

When all feelings from all different polar ends conjoin within you, you get confused, no? Angry to tears one day, sad to more the next. Crushed one day, all-exciteable the next.

It will be tiring. And when you’re tired, you don’t want to figure things out.

But no, I will never regret ever being part of that playground, for all of six years of my youth. And even more so, I will never regret having ever left. Because I am so proud and happy with who I am today.

Let’s just put it this way. If I hadn’t been part of that playground, I wouldn’t have been the “me” I am today. If I hadn’t left too, I wouldn’t also have been the “me” I am today.

One thing has to lead to another, then another… and then to others.

In leaving, I thought I lost something, many things, things that mattered to me.

Truth is, I found myself. Which is the only thing that should ever matter to me.


I digress. This isn’t about me.

To my friends who are feeling sad for those who leave, don’t be. Be happy for them. Because they are your friends. And people can’t be happy nor strong if their friends aren’t. Something’s just lying in wait for them out there, somewhere – as it is for you. Be patient.

Don’t be angry. Because anger begets more anger, and makes you an unhappy person. And refer to the above, if you are unhappy, your friends will not be.

One day, maybe years later, or heck, maybe even next week… trust me, you’re all gonna be bitching about “you-know-who” over Tigers and Heines, and rojaks and chicken wings (mmmmmmmmm…).


To those who have to graduate from the playground this week, I’m happy for you. It’s another wonderful episode in our stories we can close, just so we can start on the next.

The opportunity to have new opportunities in one’s life is often an underrated gift.


I am, in all honesty, still quite nowhere in my journey of life.

I still have a long way to go (I sure hope), and I don't know where I'll go, what I'll do, who I'll meet, how I will be.

I don't know how many more sad episodes and heartaches I will have to experience. I don't know how many more happy days I will live.

All I hope is, when I am crushed, I am going to remember the times when I was happy. Wonder how I got there, and try to get there again.

And when I am happy, I am going to try to be happier.

All I have, is really just me.

I Love You, Mom

So lazy.

Such a lazy Mom's Day Sunday.

I'm so, so faraway from Mom, I can't have any Mom's Day plan - today nor any other day. There's no sun on Sundays, I can't go lie on the beach. I am resisting the unnecessary foot massage.

I really ought to sort through my pictures, and my thoughts, and write today.

Sigh.


LT: Did u call your mom yet?
ME: Nope its still Saturday night yah?
ME: I'll call when it's sunday morning for her
LT: I have sat, but u sun no?
ME: Yup yup
LT: Ah so
ME: She's still in Smutland
LT: Hahahaahaa

Yeah. Smutland. : )