Just one of those days…

This side of me is hard to explain in my usual demeanor. Perhaps Poh can understand; compared to her, I’m such a simpleton. And stuff like this goes on in my head on days like this..

Diana Krall’s music fits today’s atmosphere like a tailored suit. Was listening to Abandoned Masquerade on my ipod on the train home. Was supposed to study criminology at the library but a phone call with Hunn turned my mood around. Nothing ominous or heartbreaking, just the realisation that mudanity has set in after all the wit & novelty.. I can’t blame him for feeling alienated from me due to the physical distance: he is, afterall, halfway round the world. I’m trying to be as honest as I can, since I claim to be speaking frankly, you understand. And knowing that I’m potentially boring puts me in this straight-jacket of mellow mood. Nothing I genuinely want to talk about interests him (except things pertaining to the unspeakables), and it saddens me to patronise him while he raves about the newest automobile he’s aiming to drive. Yet I still remember feeling spiritually connected to him whenever we spend time together (before we got separated by the pacific ocean), agree on a certain demeanor to take when dealing with certain situations, or on Pinky & the Brain being one of the cool things to like (strictly no McBeal types of shows interest him and I don’t appreciate wrestling) etc. Right now, I just miss the nearness of him.

It’s days like this, when I’m spending time alone (the line dividing loneliness & solitude can be so fuzzy sometimes, it’s infuriatingly confusing), things that I disapprove spring up before me and they irritated me ten times more… I don’t wanta sound discriminating but China men in their mid-forties should be abolished from restaurants, especially those who sit one table from me & can’t decide if they want black coffee or tea & hafta blabber like an air horn for a good ten minutes while I was trying to soak myself in the novel I was reading. And then his Gucci-clutching wife trots over and they move on to a bigger table behind the pillar where I can’t hear their blabber. Amen for wives with many shopping bags.

I forgot to mention yesterday that S’s hubby gave me a brief palm-reading and said I’ll die in a different place from where I was born, that I’ll probably spend my last days in Canada (better still, London) after travelling quite a bit. This reading suits me fine, really. Every additional day in this part of the world fortifies me against working here. Today’s weather was pretty good, if you disregard the humidity which never goes away. PSI reads 28 and because of the rain there came a stillness in the air which makes the atmosphere a tad sublime, calming & gloomy..

Perfect for contemplating the little things that get overlooked by busy people, like how perfect vision takes taken for granted, how immersed we are in justifying our own egos, how fleeting disposable cash is these days, how narrow-minded & biased we really are, how perverse & disgusting stuff grabs our attention, how controlled we are when all we want is to lash out at every person who stand in our way, how contented we are with the way things are we don’t even try to better ourselves even if we know we’re a good many bouts of effort away from our full potential. Mediocracy. It destroys people. Discontentment is the driving force behind ambitious people. I don’t understand how Singaporeans convince themselves living here for the rest of their lives is their destiny and they like it, when all I want is to get away from here as soon as I finish what I have to do here.

But then, I’m just another face in the crowd.

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