Friday, December 04, 2015

So, I was Wondering


I re-embrace my commuter life in July. I used to take the bus but I can't seem to tolerate the traffic any more, so, this time, I take the train.

Not too long ago, I've been "recruited" by a couple of friends from the office to their commuter clique as we happen to take the same line. They took the train as their everyday transport long before me.

People who take the train are varied. You might find your neighbor who happen to be a member of the House of Reps., managers in a multinational company, merchants who have to take their kid(s)/grand kid(s) to their kiosk because nobody can watch them back home, beggars, students, or street performers. You can easily tell by their appearance OR by peeking to their screen phone OR by overheard their conversations. While the only way to recognize the member of the House of Reps.' in a car packed of people remains to be their neighbor.

Speaking of recognizing people by their appearance or by peeking to their stuff or by overheard their conversation, my commuter clique like to casually labelled whether a couple is made up or not. A made up couple is usually a(n allegedly) married man/woman who get too physical with someone other than their S. O. (significant other). It's kind of having an affair on the way to the office/home. My friends told me to check into the couple's finger to spot a wedding ring -- sometimes it's there but come in different color.

I had enough with married man/woman having an affair; friends who are married with kids still hanging out with their exes regularly -- just the two of them without their S.O. (significant other) knowing; friends who just got hitched for less than a year getting way too physical in public with some one other than his/her legal S.O. Having an affair is, indeed, an incurable disease. So I'm not going to talk about it.

A made up couple. Have you ever go out with your male friend who is really cute so you pretend like you are couple just to get a jealous look from the waitress or random people you meet? If so, this is what I called "channelling your inner S.O.". Hahahaha. Why on earth I'm writing about this anyway. I can't help but laughing and I have to take a break before I write the next paragraph.

It's not your fault if you can't help but acting as your friend's S.O. because of their cuteness (or maybe you have crush on him but you are in their friend-zone list or you just want to have that jealous look from random people at the mall or you have this fantasy of him/her and you doing the thing). It might be weird but I like to observe (random) girl and boy who hang out together.

First thing first, I'll find out whether or not they have that shiny circular gold (or white gold) on their finger. Once I find out, I'll observe their gesture, their body language, the smile they throw at each other. Are they a real couple? Or a made up one? If they are a real one, good for them. But I always go with the second assumption.

I wonder what's the story behind them. Was the girl secretly in love with the boy? Or it was the boy who secretly in love with the girl. Was the girl knew he's gay? Was he knew she's lesbian? Were they knew if one of them grab their phone, write a message, just to delete it the next minute in the middle of their hectic day? Were they met on a dating app and run an errand? Were they once a lover and try to rekindle their romance? Were they almost a couple before one of them got hitched? Were they whisper each other names in their prayer? Who am I, a hopeless romantic?

The train is coming. I should be queuing behind the yellow line just like everybody else. Trying to keep my mind from wandering further, inventing a bitter story for every girl and boy I met at the station. All of a sudden, I found his face in the crowd on the opposite platform. He's looking down checking his phone -- any chance he text me? Oh, he's probably just delete it. Or the text wasn't for me. Our eyes met. He smiles -- an action he rarely does. I smiled back. The train interrupted us.

-S ��

Friday, October 30, 2015

Intermezzo (I)

N: Have you had your breakfast?
S: No. 
N: Did you take any medicine in the last three days?
S: No. 
N: Do you get enough sleep?
S: No, really. Sleep is like money, one can never have enough of it. 

Sort some shit out at the very end point of business hour. Send it to my Sydney based colleague and we talk on Lync:

S: Can't it wait 'til tomorrow? You can ask somebody's help to review. 

L: Nooo. They (our client) are one hour ahead of us, so there is no way we can send this out before they're open. Why? Are you not confident?

S: Now that's a tricky question. Not much. But I believe if human being are doomed to never be 100% sure on anything, so~

-S ��

Monday, October 26, 2015

The Art of Getting By

"Since the dawn of recorded history, something like 110 billion human beings have been born into this world. And not a single one of the made it. There are 6.8 billion people on the planet. Roughly 60 million of them die every year. 60 million people. That comes out of 160,000 per day. I read this quote once when I was a kid, "We live alone, we die alone. Everything else is an illusion." It used to keep me up at night. We all die alone. So, why am I supposed to spend my life working, sweating, struggling? For an illusion? Because no amount of friends, no girl, no assignments about conjugating the pluperfect or determining the square root of the hypotenuse is gonna help me avoid my fate. I have better things to do with my time."
It was an article from 10 days ago from Elite Daily that I bumped into before I write this post. According to the article we are allowed to miss something or someone that is no longer with us.
"We need to understand that through life, we will loose people we never thought we would, and it will hurt like hell. However, we need to accept that in order to live again without them, we need to grieve. The only way we can do this is by missing them until it hurts. If we don't, we won't go through the essential part of grieving, the part that allows us to move on." 
We lose people we care. We lose things we value the most; tokens, relationships, jobs you love, opportunities, etc. Losing things drive us crazy. It drags us into a black hole. We're trapped in a state of solitude, not a good way of solitude but a depressed way of solitude. Somehow, we tend to pull our self out of our circle. We drunk in sadness, sunk in despair. Make a perfect soil for jealousy to grow.

Suddenly you can see how life works, "life is unfair. But it's unfair to everyone, so that makes it fair". Say, you see your healthy relative pass away while your neighbour who's been sick for so long can finally get up from bed and do a morning jog. Or your ex who decided to rekindle his childhood romance and marry the (you think that she is a lucky) girl. Or your average friend who get your dream scholarship or job or life, whatsoever.

I agree with the article that "grieving was normal" because it was "essential to process" the loss. Besides, "in order to truly move on, we need to (grieve)".

In order to free our self from grieve we need to let go. And that is the most challenging part since, according to another article"people crave comfort". It's either we miss the presence, the feeling, or the person who used to be with us.

I believe we undertake some kind of a test whenever life put us up in our least favourite situation. I'm not a gamer but I assume it's like in video games, you have to face your greatest enemy to level up. So I made up a test to measure my willingness and determination to letting go: I grabbed my phone the other night and called the person who spent his short period of time with me (and he really nailed it) and left.

I need to re-experience my emotional reaction. I need to know if my heart still skips a beat when his name appear on my cell phone screen. I need to know if I still look for topics to discuss. I need to know if I still feel the urge to call him again the next day. I need to examine the overall progress of an idea of his presence-diet.

The result wasn't that bad. I am proud to say that I can control the euphoria when his name popped up on my cell phone screen. I no longer look for a topic or two to discuss. And I reduce the urge to call him on the next day. It pleases me because I can see a progress in the process - a one year or more process, just to be precise. 

It doesn't mean I throw away all the memories, the expectations, and the happy ending scenarios of him and I. I sort them, store, and put them somewhere reachable - just so my mind is neat again. I some times open the storage and lit a candle to see if it's all still there. It is still there. He is still there. I take an extra breathe and slip his name in my prayers. It's a beautiful masochist emotions I can't resist. It's a kind of masochism I try to manage.

"You know we're going to be together one day, we just have to sort through all of our messed up issues first, and you have a lot of girls to sleep with to get out of your system."

-S ��