Category Archives: Musings

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Welcoming 2020 at Scoot Cafe

When I decided to take a hiatus from blogging at the beginning of this year, it was with the intention of making it indefinite. I was no longer feeling any kind of pressure to write or update this blog regularly, primarily because I had come to the realization that my excessive blogging over the years had been driven by my own need for an outlet, a vent my feelings in what I once considered a safe space. And, if truth be told, I wrote only when I was unhappy; my inability to confide openly and honestly in people made writing a crutch for my refusal to deal with my emotions.

But then, earlier today, I decided to reread the last post I wrote, exactly one year ago today, and it struck me just how little — and also how much — had changed in the last year. My sentiments towards the changes that needed to be made in my life, as well as the ideals that I held for it, have remained the same. In that, I was essentially the same person this entire year that I had become last year, and whether or not that is a good thing, it has brought me some sense of contentment and peace. My relationship is in the best place it has ever been, not only because we are finally together in the same place, but also because we are doing what we have always sought to do: living the life we want, on our own terms, without doubts, and without the fear of judgment. It is still not the perfect relationship, and there are still hurdles to overcome, but we have learned now that as long as we remain committed to our goals and to each other, we will get to where we want to be one day.

I started off 2019 navigating a swirling mass of emotions. Excitement for next big adventure I was about to embark on, trepidation over what I knew was going to be my toughest challenge yet, and terror of the great wide unknown. And as I packed my belongings and shipped them halfway across the world to the new life that I was about to lead, I realized that, perhaps for the second time in my life (the first being 15 years ago, when I moved to the U.S. for school), I was fully in control of where I was headed. Living in Cyprus these last 10-odd months has driven home the point I made as I closed the last year: that nothing, absolutely nothing, mattered more than the things and the people that brought value to my life, no matter how few they may be.

So while everyone around me has been comparing where they were at the start of this decade to where they are now, I am only going to give thanks for the lessons I’ve learned — while being aware of the few that I still have trouble navigating — in the form of all the people who have passed through my life, all the jobs that I’ve held and hated, yet come out from so much stronger, and all the moments, both good and bad, that have shaped my decisions and led me to exactly where I am today.

Adieu, 2019. We didn’t get lost as much as we used to.

Lifting the (dis)enchantment

Well.

It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it?

Alhambra, Granada, Spain: The symbol of everything that was made clear to me in 2018

Without meaning to overstate the obvious, I have been unusually absent from this site for much of the year, and what little writing I did has been kept private for the time being, until I am comfortable releasing it for public consumption. However, after being thoroughly surprised by the volume of traffic this site still attracts, I decided there was no time like the present to try and get back into the swing of things by rekindling my own presence here with my annual end-of-year stock take.

The fact of the matter is that I have not only been absent from the blogosphere, but from life itself as well. With this year being one great big tangle of tribulation and upheaval, I saw it as an opportunity to take a good, hard look at my surroundings and do a spot of much-needed and long-overdue housekeeping.

First, and perhaps most painfully obvious, of all, my social life had ground to a deafening halt. While this was something that had been set in motion almost two years ago, then gaining momentum last year, it really went full tilt this year — the result of a combination of events that sent me down a very long and pitch-black rabbit hole that ended in a blinding flash of drastic, yet liberating, decisions.

I was, essentially, back to being the social outcast that I had started off as when I first moved back to Malaysia in 2008. The social circles and ensuing lifestyle afforded to me were the byproduct of a career that was built on fostering relationships with such circles, and even after I left that career to dabble in business, I was able to retain many of these relationships, especially the ones who genuinely left an impression on me and inspired me in some way.

And then the social media bubble formed, and it literally drove everyone insane.

Fast-forward to 2018, and I realized that I had allowed my own consumption of social media to dictate my life in certain ways that left me with feelings of deep disenchantment and self-loathing. It also didn’t help that April had come and gone, and I was further away than ever from my dream of finally leaving this country and settling down in relative anonymity. All this brought on a sense of failure that led me to decide that if I wanted that anonymity again, I would have to create it for myself. And so I isolated myself from society, cleaned up and locked my social media accounts, and became a virtual hermit, emerging only for a very select few friends, and speaking to almost no one except Dani.

While this may seem, in the grand scheme of things, like an insignificant, if melodramatic, approach to my existential crisis, I found it to be completely necessary. It allowed me to take a giant step back and evaluate what I wanted and didn’t want in my life, and it gave me the kind of introspection that made me realize I had come to hate what I saw, both in the mirror and around me, and I needed to remove myself from the equation. Lending further proof that I had made the right choice is the knowledge that, despite my very pointed self-imposed exile from society, the rumors and speculations continue to make their rounds, which in turn has retaught me two very important lessons.

Selective support. People will support what you do as long as what you do falls in line with what they think to be conventionally right and socially acceptable. To this day, people question — both to my face and behind my back — my decision to pack up my life and start afresh in a new country with the only man that I can ever see myself doing it with. And because they will refuse to see any reason I give as anything other than a silly excuse, I have ceased to explain myself, and chosen to let sleeping dogs lie. I am fully aware that my relationship will never fall within the dictates of polite society, and my only consolation is that I never told anyone the real, unabridged version of how my relationship has turned out, so nobody truly understands enough to deem it fit for polite society. This leads me to the second lesson:

Silence = GOLDEN. Nothing brings peace of mind more effectively than keeping everything you do as close to the vest as possible. The two most frequently-asked questions I’ve heard this year are “Where have you been?” and “What have you been up to?”, occasionally prefixed with “So-and-so was asking”. And while my first instinct was to blurt out everything that had happened to me this year — I could shock you with the details of the things I have done and been through — the little part of me that savored the enigma of self-preservation and feared the vindictiveness of gossip gave the answer “I’ve been away”. Not only does it rankle, but it also helps to stave off responses along the lines of “Oh, but why?”

And this leads us to today, the last day of what has been an extremely difficult year, which is not to say that it did not yield any positive outcomes. My relationship reached a significant milestone this year: we hit the fifth-year mark, and even though we are currently in different countries, we are more committed to each other than ever, and in more ways than one. I also know now, with absolute certainty, the kind of life I want to live, and what I want to do with the remainder of my days, and even though I don’t see it getting any easier from here, I do believe that it will get better.

So farewell, 2018. You were one hell of a cunt.

Chin up

Scarlett O’Hara: The inspiration for my resting bitch face

Probably from the time I was old enough to talk, I was taught that to be considered a lady, I had to learn to walk and run in heels, keep my chin up, never show any emotion or expression in public, and never let people know what I was thinking or feeling, because it was a sign of weakness. The only problem was, it’s hard to not show emotion when the emotion you feel more than anything else is hatred.

We all try to put up the bravest front we can at every opportunity, as part of the defense mechanism that develops along with puberty. And yet that only makes us think more about our problems and try to deal with them ourselves, and in the process drag ourselves even further down, until we’re in an emotional hole so deep it would take six firemen to get us out. When will we learn that sometimes it’s OK to face uncertainty over certain things? That it’s OK to be afraid of being alone? That it’s OK to sometimes give in to the desperation that sweeps over us? That it’s OK to take as much time as we need to mend a broken heart?

Sometimes when I’m at home and allow the ringing silence to take over, I feel like just packing up and going to Colombia, because I might never make it to Cyprus. When I think of everything I’ve had to give up, in order to even dream about Cyprus, I feel like just giving up and going home to my mother so that I can bawl my eyes out in her lap. When I think of my mother, I feel like going home just so I know that at least she won’t break my heart and leave me alone for at least another few years. When I think of the heart that’s been broken so many times that it will never fully heal, I feel like putting all the ex-boyfriends, and some wives, on a hitlist and slowly and methodically killing them off one by one. When I think of that hitlist, I know that even mass murder will never mend my broken heart and take away the humiliation. And when I think of the humiliation I’ve had to face over and over again for the last 18 years, my bitter and cynical side takes over and I wonder how I can ever afford to show any emotion in public, at the risk of betraying the pain that I bear day in and day out.