Becoming me

sunny skies, packed beaches and lovely summer in Punta del Este!

Hola a todos desde Uruguay! I’m in Punta del Este now, a beautiful (but expensive, urghs) coastal beach resort with the most azure skies ever. I love beaches!! I’m a certified sunshine girl 😀

It has been a while since I wrote. With the festive spirit in the December air and the joys of summer infecting Buenos Aires, I have been out more than ever – cafe hopping, restaurant searching, milonga raiding, bar exploring. Also, my laptop has recently started making this weird, annoying whizzing sound (IT experts, it is going to explode soon?) and it makes contemplative writing really unconducive. Hopefully, blasting some upbeat Hot Chip/Gorgon City/Calvin Harris over my speakers now can assist me in crafting out possibly the last entry of this eventful year.

the famous La Mano by Chilean artist Mario Irarrázabal

I’m actually at a loss to how I should start this entry. Words are currently in a tangled mess, all jumbled up in my brain. My thoughts are aplenty but they are dashing through my mind faster than I can crystalise them.

I don’t even know where and how I should begin sharing the experiences I had rode through this year.

It has been a series of conundrums, all back-to-back, side-by-side. And I can’t believe it all happened in just a year – I was just telling my friends yesterday that I felt like I’ve lived 3 years, minimum. I have had such a compact accumulation of experiences.

I had been happy, really happy. I had been sad too, really sad. I had experienced pure excitement, with fireworks exploding in my eyes. I also had my fire extinguished, was shrouded in temporal darkness while I desperately sought my way. I had found love, I had experienced bliss. I had lost love, and had experienced grief. I had found new beginnings. I had experienced heart-wrenching endings. I had gained freedom. I had lost certainty.

Time and again, I am reminded how almost all things in life are impermanent. Experiences come and go, emotions form and disperse. Nothing really stays, and letting go is almost an absolute necessity.

There’s something really simple in the theme for this entry – becoming ourselves, becoming me. It’s about going back to basics, going back to the beginning of things. The funny irony is, we all know that the simplest of concepts are often the toughest to grasp and the hardest to understand 🙂

gorgeous sunset with the most brilliant of colours

Life in Buenos Aires has gone back to the comfortable drone that I love. Calm, quiet, sometimes contemplative, but often exciting. There’s something new to discover and learn every day. I’ve made a concerted effort to get involved in activities other than those Tango-related. Feeling determined to learn my Spanish well, going for other artsy events, visiting cafes and bars which I absolutely dig, meeting interesting people (some of whom have become great friends), conversing feebly in my broken Spanish (which often end up in a terrible mess after a couple of drinks since my brain can’t function while I’m slightly tipsy). Going with the flow of things, listening to my instincts, without any expectations of what’s right or wrong, logical or otherwise.

It’s fascinating how far I’ve come, considering the fact that I took the plane to Buenos Aires two months back with a really heavy heart. A mish-mash of guilt, uncertainty, melancholia, sadness – it was largely a bag of negative emotions. I left Singapore not because I didn’t love her or enjoy my life there, but I knew I wasn’t ready to be home. Maybe it was the hope of going back to the life I loved in Buenos Aires, one that was easily the best I had experienced in a while before I left unexpectedly. Maybe it was the hope of having the same magic recreated again. But as life turns out to be time and again, nothing ever goes as predicted. I came back here realising how everything is still the same but totally different. I came back learning that I am truly on my own, starting from stretch all over again.

I couldn’t help but feel overwhelming sadness, guilt, even stupidity. I went through this whole phase of seriously doubting my decision of quitting my job and coming back here to “just live for a while doing alternative activities”. I mean, often, that equates to being an idealistic bum with no concrete goals in life. Or rather, from the part of the world that I am from, this is the associated connotation.

what I am doing everyday for this week…I can totally get used to this 😉

I had beaten myself up, asking myself why I gave up my life of comfort back home when there was, in reality, nothing waiting for me at this side of the world. It was part of my illusion, a big one on hand.

And all the things I had to handle back home.

Disappointed parents. Concerned sibling, relatives and friends. A series of expectations, perhaps some of them self-imposed. I was trying to find the balance between being responsible and being selfish.

I had been stressed. Really stressed. Because for most meetups I had with various people back home, I armed myself with a series of intelligently planned answers to justify why I was coming back here. To justify that I knew what I was doing.

To justify my life.

But I hated it. I hate trying to find a purpose when I can’t see it. In fact, I hate the need to be answerable to anyone else for my life. I know I sound like an ungrateful daughter, I know everyone back home loves me and is concerned for me, but it was just too tiring.

I didn’t feel good about myself. I felt silly and stupid. At some point, I lost trust in myself.

But knowing how stubborn and thoroughly unreasonable I am, I went with my gut. I packed my bags and left. And no, I still have no concrete plans. I know I said I had, I know I had started a training consultancy company. But you know what? I did all that to placate the alter ego in me that was freaking out. I had to pacify my logical mind telling her that I have great things coming.

Punta del Este mildly reminds me of Honolulu, Hawaii

In reality, I want to do none of those. At least not now.

I’m so over trying to over-analyse everything.

One day while sitting at the balcony of my friend’s apartment here in Buenos Aires, I got really tired. I felt battered. I felt exhausted.

And at the same time, I got really pissed with myself for putting myself through all these silly examinations. If I had passed or failed. If I had been too selfish. If I had hurt the feelings of the ones I loved by doing what I wanted.

It was absolutely crazy. And I got so angry with myself. I really did.

We are all our own biggest critics. We ought to be kinder to ourselves.

For one, I’m so over trying to be the lacklustre domesticated doormat that I was not made to be, thinking that was what the world desired of me instead of my radical feisty, passionate self. Thinking that it was the way that I could finally find worth and love, and be accepted for who I was.

What was I thinking and why was I rejecting me?

I’m not perfect. And I don’t intend to be anymore.

I’ll rather be real and authentic. I’ll rather be human.

And the interesting thing is, I’m certain I’m not the only one in this journey of “becoming” a better person. To be kinder. To be more understanding. To be more philanthropic. Yader yader. We all go through that at some points in our lives – it’s universal.

I’m not saying those things are bad; they are in fact, great. Just that, when did we stop trusting ourselves that we have been that all along?

When did we stop trusting the person we have been all this while?

the mandatory tourist shot 😉

We, human beings, are a funny bunch. We often see our negative traits, and we always forget to acknowledge ourselves for our unique, special and irreplaceable sides.

We are so much more beautiful than we think ourselves to be.

Recently, I’ve also been reminded of the wise words my grandmamma used to tell me all the time – be content and be happy. And no one can make us upset if we choose to be happy.

I think I am finally beginning to understand what she means.

How I feel day after day, is all a matter of choice and perspective. I can wake up and thank the fact that I’m breathing and alive. I am grateful for the sun. I am grateful for being here, doing what I truly want. I am grateful for my freedom. I don’t have to focus on what I lack but be grateful for what I have.

And it is absolutely true that no one can make us happy but ourselves. Happiness doesn’t lie in what others do to us – happiness is found within. It is only when we are truly happy and comfortable with ourselves, can we find the courage, kindness, compassion and empathy to fully connect vulnerably with another.

It is about embracing ALL of ourselves – the good, the bad, the ugly and the kind. Even the parts where we are embarrassed about – perhaps it’s time we learn how to laugh at ourselves 😉

For example, I pretended that I didn’t need to look fancy at some point in time. I pretended that I was happy living off 2 dresses. Truth be told, I DREADED IT. But why did I do that? Perhaps, I thought that was what was expected of me, this other image that I had created and felt the need to conform to. Yes, the simplicity of the idea was nice and all, but I am honestly too vain to not miss my fabulous hair, occasional beauty treats and my variety of pretty clothes. I miss my wide array of killer heels and fancy bags. Guilty as charged. But that is me, I love it and so it shall be 🙂

I finally feel confident and vulnerable enough to embrace the unreasonable, uncompromising and unrelenting side of me. And trust the woman I am.

Life is really simple and uncomplicated if we keep trusting our hearts and going for what we want. And geez, I am excited about what new experiences that will come knocking along my way.

For now, I’m (still) the city girl roaming off the beaten paths of the world, because the world is my oyster. And I’m gonna do it simply because I can.

And that’s what I wish for all of you too. For nothing but gorgeous days, and hearts full of love and courage to live the lives we have been blessed with. To keep loving, giving, being kind, compassionate and vulnerable. To keep being strong and brave. And most importantly, to keep embracing ourselves in all of its entirety.

Here’s sending you all my love, hugs and kisses, along with some sunny rays and fine white sand from the lovely Punta del Este.

Happy 2016 my dearies!

 

Welcome to my unreasonably real life

A photo of my current unreasonably real life… it’s Spring in the city! ❤

Saludos de Argentina! Time flies and it has been a week back in Buenos Aires. I love Spring! Hello sunny days and the cool, gentle breeze 🙂

It has been a whirlwind since my return. Travelling for 2 days across 3 planes from Singapore to Argentina (I know, ouch), scouting for apartments that I like (I’ve found a lovely apartment in the bohemian/Tango barrio of Almagro, yay!) , throwing myself back into the Tango scene, researching (feebly) on Spanish classes I can take again, thinking about my pitch for my new training consultancy company (yes, I’ve started my own thing!!), a few to mention.

My wonderful new neighbourhood of Almagro, home to many tango maestros and bohemian bars

Unknown to many, I left Singapore this time round with a lot more trepidation and uncertainty. And an even larger, bottomless pit of FEAR. Simply because things are different this time round; I am no longer going on a long, adventurous and spontaneous South American holiday where I had a time frame of a year to spare. I am no longer leaving home with the cushion of having a job to fall back on in a year’s time when I am done with my wilful, free-spirited travelling. In layman’s terms, I have more stakes on hand by making the choice to return to the city I am in today. And because these seemingly “life-changing” decisions can only be made by myself, they become a lot more real, stark and heavy.

In addition to that, I have left home again despite disapproval from my conservative but well-meaning Chinese parents. Good job Jane.

I have left my familiar and comfortable life back in Singapore to come start anew, where people don’t speak my language and in some sense, I have become a minority. Good job Jane.

I have conveniently pressed the perilous red “restart” button when my peers are progressing steadily and have conventionally achieved way beyond me. Good job Jane.

To summarise, I have succumbed to my massive mid-life crisis. Great, fantastic job done Jane. *un fuerte aplauso*

I have left home failing to justify to my family and friends what exactly I am going to be doing here – I have an idea, just not a clear, concrete master plan yet. Not that I believe in hardcore planning anymore – I know, a massive WOW for this checklist girl and hardcore planner that I used to be. But I’ve learnt that over-planning doesn’t actually give us the security we desire. Honestly, how many times have life really panned out in the exact way we plotted for it to? Case in point, it’s not worth losing sleep over.

I have packed my bags to return here despite all pragmatic odds against me. Logically, it doesn’t make sense and I acknowledge that.

However, the heart (once again) was in a crazy diva mood. She was kicking up such a big fuss of not wanting to be caged in a life driven by the expectations of others anymore. And I knew that if I were to ignore her, she would throw a mighty fit that I may not live to survive (LOL).

Heaven sometimes comes in the form of a bookstore 🙂 The famous El Ateneo Grand Splendid

I know it doesn’t sound logical, and it’s hard to explain.

I can’t think of a better analogy than falling in love.

When is falling in love ever logical? But when has the occasional results, more often than not, proven to us that logic does not always transcend in this unexplainable world? I have yet met a couple still happily united in love who hasn’t gone through a rough patch in their journey (for that, you have to read this lovely entry by my beautifully talented and inspiring friend, Felicia, who moved halfway across the world for love).

I believe in the deepest of my heart that a worthy relationship isn’t supposed to be always all rosy and nice – we aspire for and work towards that, but to think that all great relationships have zero roadblocks is the biggest of delusions. When shit hits the fan, we persevere, steadfastly honour the faith and ride through the storm together. That’s a love worth keeping, and look at the many wondrous results it has created. And even if it doesn’t pan out in the way we desire, no one lives with regrets. We can still hold our heads up in a dignified high and know that we had loved well with all our hearts.

Similarly, that’s how I see living life as. While the things we desire to pursue may not always seem logical, deep down in us, we sense, or intuit, that they might be well worth it. I know I’ve said it one too many times, but that little voice in us always has the answers (even if it doesn’t, this classic by Mark Manson might get us started on something fun).

I still remembered scrutinising the world atlas when I was still in university, and my curious-Bambi-eyes landed on South America. Nope, not just South America, but particularly Buenos Aires, Argentina. I’d heard wondrous stories about the city, culture, vibe, music, arts, romance, people – and all of that resonated with the then juvenile, naïve and impressionistic me. A friend of mine had also just returned from a visit to Buenos Aires and said that she could see me fitting snugly into the city. And that was kind of it for me. I remembered guilelessly telling myself then, “wow, I want to live there one day.”

Colourful walls of houses in La Boca

Time passed and we forgot our dreams. We went on to live the so-called real life that everyone else told us to – get a great university degree or two, study even more to be more qualified on paper, get a job with a big conglomerate so that we can have a borrowed sense of worth from these big names, keep acquiring things so that we can prove to societies that we have reached their approved levels of affluence.

I went with that for the longest time. True that I had done some alternative stuff like trotting the globe on a backpack right after graduation and extending my wanderlust fantasy by joining the aviation industry, but I also very quickly allowed myself to get suckered into the automated thread-mill of life and work. I too, carelessly forgot about the rapid passing of time. Jumping on the bandwagon makes all things easy, but it also blinds us to the things we desired to do when we were much younger, with bigger and clearer dreams in us.

When I was back in Singapore, almost everyone I had spoken to kind of insinuated me to get real with life. Of course they didn’t mention it literally that way, because it would have been rude and hostile. However, the idea had always been there.

“You left your job? Why? Didn’t you have a year’s break? So what are you going to do now? What’s your plan? What are you going to do in Buenos Aires? What, dancing everyday? What about your career? How are you going to survive? You’re young but not that young, so how are you planning for your future? Your retirement? How long do you want to do this? Do you want a family? How can you have one when you are moving around? Are you sure about this? I think it’s time to stop being so idealistic and moderate a little? Maybe it’s time to start getting real?”

And so on and so forth.

Before I go on, I understand everyone’s good intentions. I’m grateful that they care, and I always will be. I know that being real, being ruled by money, is how our modern day society requires us to be. I’ve never fought against the importance of money – it’s honestly silly to do that. I’ll rather work with money in tandem; I just don’t want my life to be bought over by it anymore. After all, I’ve lived at least the last 8 years of my life being a full-fledged corporate slave after clipping my wings with the airlines, and I’ve seen the beautifully savvy life money can buy us. So yes, I see how vital money is for survival in today’s world.

Beautiful artefacts on graves at the famous Cementerio de la Recoleta, where the iconic Eva Perón was set to rest

Looking back on retrospect, did I like my corporate days? I did to some extent. I loved the sense of achievement. I loved it when I got tons of recognition. And of course, the ability to purchase and splurge made me feel semi-invincible.

Did I hate it? Oh, hell yeah too. I’d become another woman altogether. I was direct, often blunt and painfully quick to judge. I could make decisions in a second by switching off my emotions so that I didn’t have to look back on them and feel bad about it.

Did I like the person I have become? Hell no. I’d become so guarded and suspicious of everyone. I’d almost become cold and uncaring. Unfortunately, the corporate world often requires professionals to be street-savvy and put tangible gains and power as the top prizes for the game. So watching our backs, being judgmental and shrewd became vital skills for every corporate junkie to master.

Unfortunately, that’s a far cry from how I want to live my life. I value compassion, empathy, kindness, love and authenticity way more. I want to surround myself with nurturing people who love with big, generous hearts.

My deep desires just don’t happen to fall into the paths of what everyone else is doing.

Taking the chance has allowed me to be where I am today, living in the city where I had naively chosen when I was still a wide-eyed innocent girl brimming with dreams. Honestly, who could have imagined that one day, I would land myself here despite it being unthinkable and seemingly improbable? But that’s the amazing part and it’s amazing only because of one reason – I chose this despite all odds.

I chose this despite it being really unreasonable and nonsensical.

And here I am, holding my own life by its horns, honouring my own words and promises. And it feels really, really sweet 🙂

My real life could have been very different. It could have been defined by what the society and others expected of me. But I now wake up every morning knowing that this is my chosen life, and the sense of empowerment and ownership makes me grateful to be alive every single day.

When people tell me to get real, I’ve stopped being defensive. I’ve realised there is nothing to defend for, or fight against. By the end of the day, the only thing that is important is that I am living the life I want. And as long as I don’t have to beg, borrow or steal, and can still live and support the life I have as part of my bigger vision, nothing else matters.

However when the next person tells me that this is not a real life and is merely an illusion, I might possibly (and politely, if I can help it) reply, “what are the reasons that made you conclude that this is a dream, and isn’t real life? What was it defined by, and by who? So how did you decide to choose your path?”

What exactly is real to you?

By the end of the day, there’s honestly no one we are accountable to for our lives, but ourselves. I’ll rather make a grand stand for mine, make it really real and live a damn good one.

This is my real life now. My unreasonable, unthinkable, real life. And I can’t get enough of Malbec wines. I really can’t.

Sending all my love, hugs and kisses from Buenos Aires xoxoooo

Living more with less

The past 5 weeks back home in Singapore has been a roller-coaster ride of sorts. Figuring out my next courses of action for my life (I know it sounds serious, but it’s really not as serious as it sounds :)), trying to re-understand love and lost love, re-adjusting to the ways of life in this tiny, power-packed country state, a few to name. Analysing what are the right things to do.

Perhaps, I am a chronic over-thinker. Perhaps, I have too much time on my hands. Whatever the case is, I believe it’s a blessing, a huge blessing. To be able to have this privilege to sit back, undistracted by novelties of life (à la South America) or energies expelled doing work that I know do not make me happier or more fulfilled (à la Singapore). To be able to have the space to gain clarities of sights.

I’ve come home the same yet different. Same in terms of my character, my temperaments, same in terms of who I am deep in me. I am the same granddaughter to my grandmamma, the same daughter to my parents, the same sister to my brother. The same friend I have always been to my closest of friends.

Yet I’m different. Different in terms of desires, different in terms of reactions to things around me. In my course of work inculcating Emotional Intelligence to my ex-colleagues, I’ve always advocated that behaviours change with beliefs. But nothing truly prepares us for the moment we see these intellectual theories live in action, right down our own alleys. And wow, it is honestly, pretty magical 🙂

For one, I’ve learnt to live with a lot less. Maybe a part of it is by circumstances, since I am not having a regular income anymore, but a big part of it is definitely by choice. I realised I really do not need that many material possessions to make me happier.

10 months ago, I took a leap of faith by leaving my job (and ended up with a counter-offer of a year-long sabbatical from work) and choosing a path of so-called instability by not having a regular income. At that point of time, my life was really cushy. I’d always had good paying jobs because money gave me incredible comfort and security. You see, I grew up in a very humble home, living in a tiny governmental apartment where my parents worked really, really hard to provide for my brother and me to the best of their abilities. Because my Dad is Malaysian and owned businesses in Malaysia, things got really challenging when the Singapore dollar rose quickly and steadily against the Malaysian riggit. Regardless, they kept going. My parents never once fought over money even though I knew we did face challenging times for extended periods of time. Though largely unexpressed verbally, their love for my brother and I is bottomless. I am a very lucky girl.

However, I also went to schools where many of my peers were staying in luxurious condominiums and big landed properties. They had the niftiest toys and gadgets. They had the most beautiful bedrooms and houses. They had the coolest birthday parties ever. And that greedy little girl I was then, also wanted all of that.

As such, money had always been a theme of my life since I was young. And the fears were real. I still remembered my Mom telling me, probably out of genuine desperation to get my grades better, “this is all that we have. If you can’t graduate from school, you will have to work.” And I remembered being scared shitless at the prospect.

And that sealed the decisions I took in my life thereafter – going to business school even though my heart had always been in social sciences and the arts, studying enough so that I know I will do well enough for bursaries and grants, working while I was studying so that I can have more pocket money, taking well-paying jobs after that because it really didn’t make sense to make any less.

Subconsciously, I gravitated towards jobs that could fuel that glamorous lifestyle I wanted. I excelled in jobs that paid commissions, I went on to the jet-setting life of a flight attendant with our national carrier, taking the role of the enigmatic Singapore Girl by donning the gorgeous sarong kebaya and leading a truly materialism driven life. I travelled in style. I stayed in luxurious hotels around the world. I partied hard. I dined and drank well. I had surreal, some dreamy encounters. I started my collection of excessive designer bags, leather goods and watches. I became a trainer with the airline and business travels were luxurious in First or Business Classes. I eventually wormed myself into the banking industry, because I knew that the banks will be great paymasters given the skills that I excel in.

The strategist in me had it all planned out.

However, the strategist in me failed to recognise that life works in strange ways. She failed to realise that as much as she has everything planned, there will come a day where the true desires of the heart will always win.

So much for being a hardcore planner.

The then-me would be horrified to know that I have chosen to be income-less for the last year, because that was an unthinkable thought and definitely unacceptable.  I would have thought that I was crazy and I needed to get real. Love does not pay bills.

But guess what? I did it anyway. I was so sick of leading a compromised life. I don’t want to sell my soul to anything that doesn’t matter anymore.

After taking the stash of money I had initially saved for a condominium to take off to Argentina last January, my life has not stopped blossoming.

In the past 8 months, I lived on nothing but 2 dresses, 3 skirts, 3 pairs of shoes, a handful of pants and some tops. Totally unthinkable, for someone as vain as me.

But I’ve never been happier.

I’ve immersed myself in my love for cooking, for dancing, for reading, for music, for being out on a clear Autumn day enjoying the beauties Mother Nature bestowed on me.

More importantly, I’ve gained incredible insights to what truly makes me happy. Not a swanky new car, not the trendiest restaurant, not that expensive apartment in the middle of the coolest street. The trees swaying their leaves in the wind, the clear blue skies, the gorgeous sunset over the horizon, the seaside, the beautiful mountains, the laughter of children, home-made food, beautiful conversations and moments, and the precious relationships with people – those matter so much more.

When I first came home 5 weeks back and looked at my bedroom stashed with my material possessions, the first thought that came to my mind was, “wow, imagine the amount of experiences I could have gained if I had used the money different instead”.

Am I ready to be a tree hugging hippie? Hell, NO. Hahahaa.  Like I’ve said, I’m too vain. I still love my dresses and I still love looking pretty 🙂

But I’ve learnt that it doesn’t have to be that extreme. We can still be who we want to be by owning less and living more. Expensive clothes or accessories don’t make me prettier. A nice design, a free spirit and a big heart do.

Last Monday, I’ve taken another plunge – I had informed my boss that I will not return to my job in November and had officially tendered my resignation. Yes my friends, I am officially jobless 😛

I have decided to return to the city that I am not done with yet, the lovely Buenos Aires. I’m going to learn my Spanish properly (I will get there!!), dance Tango like there’s no tomorrow and keep plotting to make my dream of being a global employee work.

Money is still important, because it fuels dreams. But the distinction is this – it shouldn’t run our lives. It is just another tool, and we should technically be using it to fuel whatever that is in our heart’s desire.

Is it a big leap of faith? HELL YEAH. Because I’ve decided to use whatever that’s left in my kitty fund to go make this happen. That is crazy scary.

I was out for dinner with two ex-colleagues of mine last night, and we were fussing over my friend’s new purchase of a gorgeous green Bottega Veneta bag. And at some point, my other friend said, “wow, look at what you’ve gotten there” and I replied, “thank gawd for my material past” before we all broke out in peels of laughter.

Whatever choices that we had made in the past, will never be wrong choices. I’ve come to see that there is no right or wrong choice. There is only the choice that resonates with us now, and it is never too late to start on a clean slate. Life is always in transition and is a journey of creation anyway.

For me, simplicity and simplification matter the most now. My desire to work with people with the vision to make lives better, my desire to engulf in my passions of dance and the arts, my desire to form the strongest, most solid relationships ever. My desires to live simply with a family I’ve created and my desire to be with a man who fully embraces me for who I am. Life doesn’t have to be so hard. We just have to keep the focus, drop the things that aren’t value-adding, and keep going for what matters.

Because we all deserve a life well lived. Not just me, but you and I.

I’ve stumbled upon this brilliant article written 2 years back in The New York Times. It is an oldie but still a goldie. It validates my belief that I’m not the only one seeking liberation, and most of us are perhaps (as unbelievable as it sounds) going through the same journey. Maybe, this article will provide some good insights for all of us 🙂

http://mobile.nytimes.com/2013/03/10/opinion/sunday/living-with-less-a-lot-less.html?mwrsm=Facebook&referer=&_r=0

Love is all we need

Unexpectedly, my stay back home in the last month has been nothing but trying. Yes I’ve had wonderful, magical times, I’ve had the most beautiful conversations with those near and dear.

At the same time, it has been incredibly difficult.

Perhaps, it is because I have come to the point where I have to make concrete choices in my life, the pressures of surviving in the uber materialistic Singapore setting in from the very moment I stepped foot into my homeland. I still love Singapore like crazy, she is after all, my mother land. I am still incredibly proud of her success and achievements, and I love how incredibly diverse our cultures are. I totally LOVE Singaporean food. My family whom I adore so much is here. My friends from childhood are here. In my truest of heart, I will always be a true-blue Singaporean.

Just that this re-visit back home reminded me why I wanted to explore out of my comfort zone at this same time last year.

Singapore is beautiful, but I miss clear sunny skies. It doesn’t help that I haven’t seen the sun for a single day here because of the haze from Indonesia. Singapore is beautiful, but the hordes of skyscrapers and increasing massive crowds make me lost in the sea of people. I miss wide spaces, I miss being in nature and staring up at the blue, fluffy skies. Singapore is beautiful, but the socio-political situation here dulls my heart at times (granted, it is the idealist in me talking. Singapore is doing fantastic in comparison to many nations, just that my dream is for her to move towards a more feminine, forgiving and all-embracing society). Singapore is beautiful, because everything works to a perfect T, but we can get so incredibly demanding and impatient sometimes.

Singapore is beautiful because she never stops trying. At the same time, it makes me incredibly tired, because everyone is on a roll sometimes. Everything is about efficiency and speed. I feel that as much as many of us deny, we are a judgemental society, and we can get incredibly defensive too. Maybe it is our survival instinct, maybe it is the way we are hard-wired to be. We have a long way to go before becoming more accepting and gracious of what others think us to be.

As a result, I think I became another person here altogether. This may sound silly, but I have my grouch mood on more often than ever these days, haha.

First up, an update on my super grandmamma. She is like I’ve mentioned, super. She is recovering the best that she could, and I cannot be more proud of her. Her strength and determination inspire me. She is my number one love and will always be. At the same time, I’ve witnessed from this seemingly unfortunate episode that I have an incredibly supportive, loving and strong family. I’m incredibly blessed, I really am. And I can’t be more grateful.

As most of you have already known, I was very generously given a year off from work by my compassionate boss when I decided to tender my resignation last year, worn out by the drudgery of corporate life. And because I am due to return to work in November, the thing hanging above my head all September, is if I should go back to my well-paying banking job, the same one that gave me my material freedom and sassy life I had.

I’ve been very blessed to have opinions from many concerned family and friends, sharing their opinions with me. I know they shared because they love me.

Maybe it seemed simple. I’ve taken the first step to venture out. Why come back? Or maybe I’ve taken a year off. Why don’t I go back to reality and start balancing life out a little? Or maybe I’m not in a good frame of mind to make choices because I am clouded by emotions. I should just stay home, chill out a little more, before making my next big move.

The pressures are real. Especially when I am back here, all the material stresses come back revisiting, and I often ask myself if I had made a really silly choice by embracing my inner child, the same playful, dreamy girl who wants to make her life an incredible one. In this journey, there are still days when I question myself about the choices I have taken in this unconventional journey. Self-doubts still do set in.

What’s my dream, you may ask? Some people ask me if I am trying to change the world, and I can’t control my tickled laughter. Of course not my dears, I wish I was bigger than that. To me, the world will always be the world. It’s not about changing the world, but loving the world as it is.

My dream is perhaps as simple as yours, as pure and true as it is. My biggest dream, is to have my own family, the most beautiful one that I can ever imagine. My soulmate, my children, my dogs and cats. But what I want different is the kind of home I can create, the kind of wife and mother I can be for them, and the kind of environment for them to nurture and grow in. I want to be there with my kids when they grow up, I don’t want the Singaporean way where I only see them at night when they are off to bed just because I am slogging my day away at work. I want them to grow up free and happy, not burdened by extra curriculums and tuitions because everyone else is doing them. I want them to play outdoors in the gardens, by the beach, be laughing and playful every day. I want to be a supportive wife to my man of the house. Some feminists may think this is incredibly unambitious, but this is what makes me truly happy.

I want to dance Tango, because it gives me the simplest of joys. The connection, the comfort, the playfulness, the romance.

And I still want to do my training and coaching consultancy work, because I know I am good at it and it has given me incredible joy working with people and seeing their lives move to the positive spectrum.

To top it all up, I will love to be a global employee having the liberty to work remotely from anywhere in the world. I don’t like the idea of being tied to a spot. I want to be free.

That’s about as simple as it is.

I’ve also learnt that love is all we need. Because love drives us to our goals, to our dreams, to our actions. And loving without expecting returns, is truly the most beautiful thing on earth.

At the same time, I know I have gained my strength (and stubbornness) in this journey because of the love I have received from my nearest and dearest. My parents, whom I know still think I am crazy doing what I am doing, my incredibly loving and supportive big brother whom has always been that pillar of strength and knight in shining armour all through my life (I love you, kor kor, thank you for unconditionally loving this bratty sister you have :)), my innermost circle of friends whom I have loved and pissed off more times than ever, you did what you did for me because you love me and you have no idea how much it has given me courage and strength while I wild through this journey. Thank you for accepting me even though you may not understand, thank you for standing by me through rain or shine, thick and thin. And I know because of you, nothing, absolutely nothing, can ever get me down.

So for every chance I take and decision I make, I thank you.

And most importantly, the biggest love I have learnt to accept, is to embrace, love and trust myself.

If I don’t believe in myself, who will? If I am not convinced by my dreams, who can?

I don’t have to try so hard to be different. I don’t have to try so hard to fit in. Social expectations, whatever expectations, they are all the same.

I am who I am now, and whatever I do now, is the best that I can do. And my dreams, are my reality. The only way for me, is to love even harder, to be even vulnerable and to keep trusting myself.

The journey continues, and I will embrace it with my fullest heart.

To my number one love, my super grandmama

Hola chicos! I’m sure this is no longer a secret but I’m back in Singapore since last week. Apologies to all who have contacted me but I’ve yet responded whole-heartedly – a lot has been happening since I arrived, severe jetlag, re-adaptation to the crazy humidity and being comfortable with hordes of crowds and high-rise buildings being a few to name. I’ll get to each and every one of you slowly but surely; just a little more time and love work magic 🙂

I had stopped writing while in Buenos Aires for the last few months because I had momentarily lost the inspiration to do so – apologies to the few who ardently follow my blog. A lot of other activities crept into my life – I’d been dancing harder than ever, met wonderful people who have become friends close to my heart, started dating. I even found my little enclave of Singaporean community who gave me incredible support on days I really miss home. Social activities took precedence. Yes, I had lots and lots of fun. In fact, I was so happy there that I wasn’t ready to come home anytime soon.

But of course, life has its unexpected ways to inculcate its lessons. 2.5 weeks back, I received a WhatsApp message from my mom informing me that the love of my life – my granny, had fallen down and fractured her hip. She is 92 years old. The family had to make the gruelling choice of sending her for surgery with a risk of her never waking up due to the effects of anesthesia, or her being bed-ridden for the final part of her life.

When I first saw the message, my heart fell and I couldn’t stop tearing.

It was tough, really tough, to be faced with the prospect of losing the one important person I love the most while being zillions of miles away from home. Even if I were to fly home immediately, the 2-day long trip would mean that I was still faced with the prospect of never seeing her again.

My grandma has ALWAYS been the inspiration to my life. An impossible optimist, she is the epitome of strength, fire, gratitude, compassion and love. She had a crazily infectious laughter, a smile that could light up the whole world and always had that beautiful sparkles in her eyes. I’ve been told many times that granny had hordes of suitors after her when she was a beautiful, young and elegant lady who stood tall at 1.7 metres, and it is not hard to see why.

She was also the one who brought me up since I was a teeny weeny girl and was honestly, the only one in the family who could tame the wildly rebellious, strong-headed and bratty kid I was. She had the wonderful balance of always accepting and loving me for who I was, but being REALLY FIERCE and putting me in my place whenever I tried to pull tricks beyond acceptable.

When I was 5 years old, I remembered an incident where I insisted that she slept over with me at our house that night, but grandma had to return to my aunt’s. In order to placate me, she told me she would buy me a toy but I had to be obedient and sleep on my own. I agreed to her terms. So she, together with my mom, brought me to the toy store to pick up whatever I wanted. However, I was a hopeless brat, decided to change tunes and started insisting she stayed over again after getting the toy. I will never forget the burning glare she gave me (gosh, I remembered being scared), her stoic silence, before delivering her firm, booming and resounding “NO”. Then without another word, she turned her back and walked off with steady strides, despite hearing my uncontrollable wails and screams in the middle of the street. She just kept walking forward and never looked back.

On that very day, she taught me about agreements, integrity and respect. She is one tough woman not to be messed around. She has never once hit me, yet instilled remarkable values in me.

That being said, she is also incredibly loving and affectionate. I know she never had expectations of what kind of a woman I should become and wholehearted accepted me for who I am.

When I was young, she started teaching me what loving and giving generously mean. She had always told me to be grateful of what we have been blessed in life, because no matter how unpleasant life seemed to be at any point, there is always someone who is doing worse and we should always give them love. That being said, she is also impossibly generous; she always gave away what she had gotten and never kept beyond what she needed. When she had food, she shared it with the neighbours. When she had extra cash, she would distribute it to all her children and grandchildren. She even asked me to address the Malay neighbour she was friends with as “Nenek”, which means grandmother in Malay. That’s how generous she was – never possessive of us, her things and her life.

Ironically, grandmama was also sometimes my partner-in-crime. When I was in my teens, I desired to be out every night clubbing and socialising, a true-blue extension of my rebellious, independent (and childlike) nature. My parents, particularly my Dad, flipped of course, since I would always come home in the wee hours of the morning reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. House arrest made me revolt even more so I started sneaking out of the house when they were asleep.  I remembered once creeping out of my room past midnight in skanky clubbing clothes but very unfortunately ran into my grandmama, who had just come out from the bathroom. She saw me all dressed up, with bad makeup and I froze. She looked puzzled and asked me where I was going. I must have been crazy but I asked her, probably out of desperation, “Ah ma, can you please don’t tell papa and mummy? I want to go out.” I could see her stunned for a moment, as if trying to make a good judgement call. I thought I was going to be dead that night since my parents would go ballistic knowing that I tried sneaking out, but she intervened my sense of doom with a firm yet sneaky look before saying, “Ok, but you must be careful.” That night, she opened the door and I sneaked out. I had a great time. She popped her head into my room early next morning to check if I was still alive.  My parents never knew about this incident up to today.

She took multiple risks with and for me, because she loved me unconditionally and understood how I function very well. She knew my hard-headed character and how I can never be caged against my will. Most importantly, she trusted me, as much as I trusted her. And in the course of it, I learnt about keeping promises, responsibility and what unconditional love meant.

Grandmama was my one confidante in life. Whenever I had fall-outs with my parents, I would run to her crying and complaining, and she would always listen intently without judging. Even when I was all grown-up and had challenges in life, a visit to her always puts things into perspectives. My grandmama has amazing empathy. She could always feel my mood even when I was not talking. I remembered once being heartbroken having broken up with an ex-boyfriend so when I saw her I was all quiet and non-communicative. But nothing, absolutely nothing, escaped her laser eyes. At some point in time that day, she gently told me, “My child, a lot of things in life are part of our destiny. We must learn to accept what we cannot change.” Her words of wisdom drip like gold.

Before I left for Argentina, I hung out a lot with her. She was then 91, was partially blind, but still beautiful, strong, cheery and compassionate. Whenever I experimented a new dish or dessert, I always brought it to her to see if I had “passed” her stringent “taste-bud test” – grandmama was an absolute foodie and had discerning standards when it came to food. If she didn’t like it, she would keep a straight face and told me matter-of-factly what went wrong. If she did, she would go for a second round and say “buay pai” or “hoh jiak”. That’s my grandmama for you too – always sensitive to others’ feelings, yet never compromising on what she wanted to communicate.

I told her I had left my job, would be going to South America for a year and apologised for being away for Chinese New Year. She paused for a while after hearing the news, as if internalising everything, and probably also wondering which crazy bug in me had made me come to the decision. But her response was simply, “Ok, so do you need to sell your car?” before eventually asking, “Where is South America?” (LOL) Her final advice to me before I embarked on my trip was “Be careful”. And she never sweated over my decision again.

I am truly grateful to my grandmama for always supporting me in every decision I make, regardless good or bad, right or wrong. She had always given me the space to grow into the woman I am today, and I couldn’t have done it without her love and support. She never once questioned or focused on my mistakes. She always let bad energies go and focused on the positive instead. She always stood by my side and encouraged me. She is larger than life and is the rock of my life.

A week and a half back, my family decided to let her go through the operation. A slim chance was better than none. And we are really, really blessed that she pulled through the operation despite the high risks associated with her old age. However, she is in constant pain now and is less than lucid because of the morphine she is consuming.

Before grandmama went for her operation, she kept asking about me. On that day, I bought the next affordable flight out of Buenos Aires, regardless of what the outcome of the operation would be. I just wanted to be by her side.

When I flew into Singapore last Wednesday morning after close to a 40-hour long travel, I headed to St. Luke’s Hospital to visit her in my semi-dazed state. And when I saw my love, all skinny, fragile, frail and semi-conscious, my tears couldn’t stop flowing. When I whispered into her ear that I have come home, I don’t think she comprehended. Doctors told us that dementia has set in for her so she probably isn’t very aware of who’s around her at any given moment anymore. But that no longer mattered; it’s not about how I feel, but how she feels. And I’m grateful that I can still stroke her hair, caress her face, hold her hand, feel her warmth and spirit, and plant kisses on her face in the moments we spend together.

Grandmama, you are such an amazing woman. Even in these moments of yours when you are fighting to maintain a normal life, you are still teaching me so much about life.

You have maintained your candour, strong-headedness and cheeky self so comically well.

As I’ve mentioned earlier, my grandma is an absolute foodie. So whenever the nurses brought her the bland, unappetising hospital food during meal times, she would always declare that she wasn’t hungry. We fed her despite that because she needed nutrients, but she always ate like a bird. However, when we broke hospital rules and brought her favourite snacks of char siew pao or kong bak pao, her appetite and enthusiasm for food would return at lightning speed and she could easily chow down 3 buns in a sitting, sans coaxing or assistance. She always made us laugh with her antics – so cheeky, so funny.

And losing track of time resulted in her occasional cute, comedic displays. She had the longest afternoon nap that day and when it was time for dinner, I whispered into her ear that it was time to eat. Her eyes flew open in an instant and she enthusiastically asked, “Is it time for breakfast??” I replied her, between my giggles, that it was actually time for dinner. For a while, she looked massively confused and it was really quite funny. When I left for my dinner appointment that evening in the midst of her meal and told her I had to go, she spiritedly said, “Bye bye!” and continued devouring her char siew paos and kong bak paos like a happy child, as if nothing else mattered in the world.

Day after day, grandmama is still teaching me to live life positively and with zest.

She NEVER once whined about her plight, although I am certain she is suffering from the constant pain and immobility. She had to poop into her diapers and had to be nursed at every moment. It must be hard, given how fiercely independent and active she once was.

She would go for therapy although I know she hates it. She always looks dampened, or sian, when it’s time for the sessions. But when we told her that it would make her well sooner, she would muster her strength and say “Orh”, which essentially meant “Ok”.

When doctors sometimes checked her lucidity by asking her for name, she would reply them “Tan Soh Hong lah!” in the most matter-of-fact manner. She has such a knack for making others feel embarrassed with their seemingly silly questions, and I can’t help but love her attitude.

My grandma and I used to have long conversations where she would always encourage me to do what I need to be happy. She had always supported my choices even though she might not always agree with them. When I was upset with people, she would always remind me to forgive them and continue living my life. She was also fiercely protective, because she would sometimes end up bitching about them with me 🙂

She is still reminding me, day after day, to be fierce in our pursues of life and to keep living despite the odds. Life may not always deliver what we desire at this moment, but we have to trust the process and trust our hearts. And keep being funny, positive and happy.

Grandmama, you are such an incredible woman, an absolute darling, and I love you so much. My mind has been on over-drive mode since I came back home, figuring out my plans and desires. But you have reminded me that there is no need to try so hard if we just keep believing in ourselves and keep going for what we want. You reminded me so much about being brave and strong, while being loving and passionate, life mottos I have always lived by.

So thank you, once again, for your invaluable life lessons. I know you’ll want me to continue being brave in order to achieve the dreams I have, and I’m hell gonna do that because we only have one life to live. I’m sorry I didn’t manage to see you today because I just woke up from an unusually long afternoon nap thanks to the very screwed-up body clock, but you bet I will be out and about before you know it. I’ll see you tomorrow, my love. Yes, with more char siew paos and kong bak paos on hand. When you’re feeling better, I promise to make you your favourite curry chicken dish 🙂

And to all my curious friends, yes sweeties, I am back because of my grandmother. And to answer all your questions, no, I have no idea for how long yet. I am in the midst of building my dream, and despite not knowing how, I am doing my best to make it a reality.

Meanwhile, let’s meet up! I want to hear all about you.

All my hugs, love and kisses xoxo

 

my grandmama LOVES selfies. some things run in the family 😉

Spreading the love

A friend of mine posted this article by Mark Manson on Facebook and I thought it was too brilliantly written not to share. Although I don’t always agree with his hypotheses, his candid, humour and straight-talking make his writings fun to read. And this one article, hits gold with me.

I’m not a fan of sitting my friends across a table and asking the nerve-wrecking question of “what do you think your life purpose is?” Because it more often than not freaks others out, it is obviously an over-loaded question, and making subconscious judgments of their visions not being “worthy” enough is hypocritical to me.

However, I do stand for a life well-lived, and a life made worthy in my opinion, is living the dreams that our hearts sing. 

So here we go. Presenting to you, the 7 strange questions that help you find your life purpose. Don’t forget your bag of popcorn while you’re at it 😉

Play the game

Recently, I have been stressing out over Tango. I know, so silly right? To feel pressured by the thing I plunged head-first into because of love, the art I told myself I want to master because of its fluidity, philosophy and beauty. I reckon it is the perfectionist in me talking but the desire to do it well created expectations to learn faster than I could.

That being said, I know I am improving day after day. I have learnt to feel the flow of energy, have mustered enough courage to close my eyes while dancing, and trusting both my partner and my instinct to lead me to my next step. I have learnt about transference of weight, the technicalities of the moves, the various terms and names. I have a lot more to master but I know I have gained an incredible amount of knowledge.

I have been faithfully going for tango classes almost every night. A minimum 2 hours of dancing per night, checked. There’s a mental checklist in my mind, that attending classes, regardless good or bad, is a duty I have to fulfill as a form of validation for my commitment.

Perhaps, my conscientiousness has paid off to some extent. Instead of being labelled as “just another tourist here to learn tango”, I think some teachers have begun recognising this Chinita bouncing in and out of classes at different venues on different days.  They started talking to me and paying a little more attention to my moves, giving me the corrections that I crave. I am grateful, really grateful. I just need to be more proficient in my Spanish so that I can finally start asking the questions darting in my mind.

Part of the process in learning Tango is also going for milongas – an open space where everyone goes to dance Tango. It’s a free-for-all social event of sorts, true to the Argentine spirit. Milongas usually take place after the classes. However, I often boot myself out before the really good dancers come. Even if I do stay, I intentionally avoid eye contact with anyone so that I don’t get invited for a dance; the self-doubt and insecurity of not being a good enough dancer are the balls and chains to my feet.

A few nights back, one of my favourite teachers, Marite Lujan, asked if I was staying for the milonga that night. To begin with, I really like Marite. She is authentic, strong, candid and to me, is in a league of her own. She is a feminist at heart, but delivers this traditional, chauvinistic dance with style, affirmation and grace. She has the beautiful balance between holding her space and allowing herself to be lead. To me, that is how a woman truly should be – be her own self, be sure of her own space, yet allow herself to be brought to places by her man. She inspires me and I respect a lot of what she tells me.

I replied her sheepishly, “ahora no tengo confianza, estoy miedo”. Instead of rolling her eyes and blasting the coward out of me (which is usually her default style in class), she gave me a gentle, empathetic and encouraging look, and told me it is okay to feel scared. However, she said, “Everyone has to start somewhere. It is not enough to come for classes. You have to practise.” In short, I have to put myself out there and dance.

I remembered walking home that night, my heart palpitating so loudly I could hear it pounding in my eardrums. They were the same fears I was facing all over again – the fear of being vulnerable, of letting the safety rope go, of looking stupid, of being judged.

It was a monumental moment for me, because it got me thinking how many times these considerations, or obstacles, have been sabotaging me in what I truly want in life.

Many times, we always pretend that we are in the game. That we are devoted to the journey. I, for one, seemed to be a tanguera in the making. I’ve declared to everyone how much I love this dance, I go for classes, I have acquired 2 pairs of tango heels within 4 months of dancing, I go for milongas to observe and learn.

Truth be told, I feel that I am just sitting on the bleachers, watching the game. Maybe I am the occasional reserve player, but I am not playing the game.

I am just pretending to be playing the game, because I don’t allow myself to be wholeheartedly in it.

My body is present at every milonga, but my intention is never to open up and dance with random strangers, especially with dancers that I know are better than I am. I am hampered by my belief that I am not good enough. I am petrified by the idea of being vulnerable on the dancefloor. And of course, the universe will always give us what we wish for. I would leave the milongas night after night, satisfied that I had done my part to be there, but unfortunate that no one had asked me to dance. I was secretly relieved.

I am such a cowardly cat. I am just a flippant fish, drifting along with the currents.

I wonder how many other instances I have been pretending to play.

Have I been playing the game of attaining my dreams? Have I given myself wholeheartedly, without fear of what’s next, to attaining the life that I have been envisioning all the time? I have given up work, come all the way halfway across the world, and the last thing I need is to wuss out. Or am I just giving lip-service to the masses, to make myself feel good by fishing a few more compliments from others?

Have I been playing the game of love? Time and again, I tell myself that I am what I am, and I will be loved for who I am. But am I truly open to connections, or am I selective of what I am comfortable with? Have I allowed myself to be truly vulnerable, to risk getting hurt or seemingly lose the “upper hand”? Have I allowed myself to fall in love again or am I just guarding my heart all the time? Do I truly believe that I am deserving of the love I desire? Have I been practising letting my guard down and letting my true self show?

I wonder how often we do that, pretend to play the game. It’s amazing how masterful we have gotten at doing this, pretending to be devoted to a cause.

We are all such great actors in life, but our wisdoms within us always know better.

Will I regret years down the road and realise that I haven’t been authentic to myself in this journey of life that I have been gifted with, because I was too busy keeping up with appearances and as a result, missed the point altogether?

Being authentic is one thing. Being brave is another. And gawd, I need so much more courage than this. The pride is stubbornly in the way all the time and I wonder how it is serving me here. It is really silly to use my own alter ego to fight against my own desires. But as silly as we know it is, we do it all the time. They often say we are our own biggest enemy, and I can’t agree more.

I want to play, truly play. I remember I mentioned in “The Painted Ladies” documentary that “forgiveness is an everyday choice”. I’ve realised that it’s not just forgiveness that is an everyday choice. Living life to our heart’s desire is an everyday choice.

It doesn’t stay just because we have decided on it today. It is a continuous, conscious effort.

So crazy scary, but I remind myself, my desires are greater than my fears. And I know that’s all the motivation I need.

I don’t want to settle

The topic about choices and consequences has been revisiting my world in recent weeks. People I’ve met talk about the (complicated) choice-making process, primarily wanting certain things but not the consequences that come along with them.

It’s really interesting seeing and discovering how we, this silly bunch of species called human-beings, are often so the same. Despite believing we are divided by geography, cultures and made distinct by our outlooks and physical casings, the way we function are uncannily similar. More often than not, we have common fears and insecurities, yet our dreams and desires scream equally loudly.

It’s no secret that I have fallen in love with the dance, Tango. It is an unexplainable and irrational love, pure in its passion and true to its core. It is the one thing in recent times that I will go to with a spring in my step, regardless of where the class/practica/milonga is located – if it is good, I will go. And I’ve found so much joy in living a linear and uncomplicated life. The other considerations and factors simply melt away, because they are just not important enough.

Many people think we have to give up something for another. True, that many choices lead to different consequences, but what I don’t get is why these choices have a direct correlation to the idea of giving up things.

I feel that the idea of losing is so intense, it often scares us into inaction.

Why are the new outcomes a result of having given up something? Why can’t they just be new outcomes? Are the things we hold unto so dearly now really what we want by the end of the day anyway?

I was out with a new friend some time back. We were on similar quests in life, having both taken sabbaticals from work and seeking answers to what’s next. We were out at a milonga and it was surreal seeing tons of middle-aged and older ladies and gentlemen dressed to their best on a late Wednesday night, sipping wines and having a ball of a time dancing the night away.  They were having entirely different lives, something I probably didn’t think was an option back in Singapore. While the tangueros twirled and whirled on the dancefloor, I asked my friend if he wanted to go back to his job back home.

“No.”

“Ok, that’s nice.”

“But the job pays a lot of money.”

“What do you want to do with all the money?”

“I don’t know.”

*pause*

After a while, we embarked on another conversation. He asked me this.

“Will you rather be in a raw and passionate relationship that is all about spontaneity and experiencing the moments, where every day brings your heart on roller-coaster rides and you’ve never felt more alive, but it is also laden with reckless dramatic fights and the impossibility of things, or will you rather be with someone whom you are comfortable with, feels like friends, can talk for hours, and lead a simple, contented life?”

“Wow, that’s a tough one. Having a lover and a relationship are two separate things.”

I had no answer then. My mind was too tired and I was too engrossed watching others dance.

But the question intrigued me. I thought long and hard, I really did. Honestly, I think I have had both – was in “destructive” relationships (how silly, looking back on hindsight, but I would never want to trade those moments away) and also comforting, unexciting ones. Needless to say, none of them worked out.

I was beginning to do a cross-sectional analysis of the question, to weigh its pros and cons.  And then I stopped myself dead in my tracks.

Because, why do I need to choose between the two? Who says that having A will automatically eliminate the possibility of having B?

Why can’t I choose to have both?

The idea of settling comes to me. So many times, concerned family and friends tell me that finding a lover and a husband are two separate things.  I have fun with my lover. But I settle down with a man who can provide the security as my husband. Some cynics even go to the extreme of saying that I don’t have to love my husband in the romantic way, because it is a different care and concern.

I respect all their opinions.

Just that for me, I don’t want to lie to myself. I don’t want to live a compromised life.

I don’t want to settle for just anyone. Because if the man I am going to spend the rest of my life with knows that he is merely the man I “settled for”, I think I will feel really sad if I were him.

If there is no passion, there is no attraction. There is no fire.

If we are just comfortable and are like friends without the romantic attraction, then we can just remain as friends.

I want to be in the most passionate, inspiring, comforting relationship ever. Where the attraction sizzles. Where the conversations feel like coming home. Where we exchange ideas and dreams. Where we support and love. Where we live and run in the wind and through the fields together. Where we are two separate strong individuals, bounded by our common dreams and visions of what we want our lives to be.

Another friend asked me that day, “so have you met any hunks yet?” and I candidly replied, “plenty, but none I am going head-over-heels for yet.”

Yet.

Because that’s the thing. I don’t want just a hot body. I don’t want just a gorgeous face. I want a fiery passionate brave spirit, and a loving warm generous heart. I want a man whom I can build my dreams with, the man whom we can scale to greater heights together.

Yes, I want all of that. I know this sounds crazy demanding and intense, but I don’t want to settle. I have a big passionate dream and I want a beautifully spirited life.

Does having this dream create certain consequences? Sure it has. It has brought me on this journey, unsure of why I am here at times, sad and homesick at others. It has sometimes made me feel inadequate as a woman when I see my dear friends starting families and having cute lil’ bubs, and has more often than once, raised doubts of my worth as an overly independent, strong woman.

But my desires are greater than my fear. I don’t want to settle.

My best friend, Jason, has always reminded me that I can, and have the ability, to walk into the fire and be the phoenix rising through the ashes. For years I struggled to understand what he meant, or what this dramatic imagery signifies. And I think, perhaps, I have finally understood what he meant (and yes, the imagery is still too dramatic for me Jason, haha).

If we are free from our fears and we head straight to our biggest enemy, we will rise to the occasion.

Another new day of breathing, living and experimenting. I am so grateful to be alive.

Sensation overload

I have been experiencing a massive overload of sensation in Buenos Aires, and it has been nothing less than perfect.

Life for me now is all about Tango, Tango and Tango. And Spanish, which is a by-product from my desire to learn this beautiful dance that I have fallen in love with since my days in Rosario. My nights are packed with classes, milongas, learning the moves and the philosophy of the dance from incredible teachers, and getting awed and star-stuck night after night watching the best dancers own the dancefloor.

The dance is fluid, just like water.

It reminds me how life is – always changing, always unexpected. Yet there is comfort in a secured and definite embrace, allowing magic to happen at every moment. And how we should learn to adapt, flow, trust, let go of resistance, be open to possibilities, be gentle in every execution and enjoy every precious movement on the dance floor.

I am learning at every moment, to be present in the moment. To give undivided attention, to be fully committed in the present. 

I’ve been blessed to meet world-renowned maestros, teachers and dancers from all over the globe. And I have been absorbing all their stories and advice. I am now an over-saturated sponge, dripping with inspiration and my sensations are all tickled. It is both a scary and exciting journey to venture into this new world of the unknown – of letting go, and trusting the process.

And so I desire time for more introspection and understanding – but with a zillion and one thoughts zooming in my mind, a zillion and one entries await.

Hope everything has been nothing less than wonderful for you, my dear family and friends 🙂

To the boy who stole my heart in Rosario

Dear Juani,

Hello from rainy Buenos Aires! It’s pouring cats and dogs here, an unconventional welcome to start my stay in this new city. As I nestle myself on the kitchen counter table typing this letter, I wonder how the weather is like in Rosario today. And whether you are in the pasadizo playing futbol like a prodigy, if you are cajoling everybody to watch your nifty moves, something you should be really proud of.

3.5 months ago, I first met you in the wee hours of the night when I arrived zombie-fied after 36 hours of travel. You were soundly snoozing in bed, literally sleeping like a baby. We officially met the next day and you flashed me your biggest, brightest smile. The first word you said was a shy “hi”, before launching forward to give me a big, warm hug. You probably didn’t know this but that big-hearted gesture of yours melted my displaced, confused heart, one that arose from being in a novel and foreign place with no knowledge of what to expect. Your little gesture made me feel instantly at home.

Part of my stay with your mummy and daddy was to spend time with you when they were away at work, busy ensuring everything went well in the language school so that you will have a comfortable and happy childhood. To be honest, it was my first time babysitting a then 4-year-old boy (you’re now 5!), and I had serious doubts about my abilities to do a good job. I never had the opportunity to hang out with young kids for extended periods of time (after all, my own god daughters are just getting past their toddler phases). Will I be patient and nurturing enough? Will I be able to understand what children want? Will I be a good enough mentor and instill good values? Will I say the wrong things? A zillion and one questions buzzed in my head.

But hanging out with you had always been such a breeze. You were easily the sweetest and most endearing boy I have met. In fact, you made all those silly doubts I previously had vanished in a flash. In the process of it, I learnt to be comfortable with who I am, and to trust that whatever I am doing when I am with you is as good as it is.

And boy, we sure did have fun together. I can’t even begin recalling all the things we did – drawing, colouring, revising how to write your name and 1 to 10 (and practising how to write them in a non-inverted way), watching cartoons, playing counting games, lego, jenga, memory (which I suck so bad), cars (repeat the same action of the pushing the car towards each other x100 times), dancing, singing, puppets, make-belief, etc. The list goes on.

Oh and you taught me how to play your favourite game of football. ME, PLAYING FOOTBALL. You probably didn’t know this but I never ever played that game (ok, maybe once in high school), because I am easily the clumsiest person around a ball. But of course I gave in to your incessant requests (“let’s play football! Again!”), and found myself really enjoying it one too many times. Now, I can actually kick a ball, long and far, thanks to your weekly training sessions! And I also found out that despite being left-handed, I am right-footed! Above all, you allowed me to embrace the kid in me again, to undo previous beliefs about myself and to venture into new territories with loads of gusto. You are such a rock star.

The thing is, you did nothing extraordinary. You were always just being you. You were open and candid in your requests, and were at times demanding of everything. You cried when you were upset, explored means to always get your way (sometimes to get out of trouble) and expressed your anger fervently when you were simply, pissed off. At the same time, you were also the kindest, most generous boy, with the warmest, biggest heart. You are brilliantly intelligent for your age, have an uncanny ability to look past the many layers people sometimes create and understood many things happening around you.

You are never apologetic for who you are, and that is what makes you so special.

I remember I was feeling less than complete and was morose sometime back. I was upset with myself for being far away from home when Singapore lost her founding father and my heart was in a mangle. I hung out with you one afternoon and when you asked me why I wasn’t in the mood to play, I told you, “I’m sorry, but I am just feeling sad today.” You asked me why. I couldn’t articulate it in a way that I thought could make you understand, so I replied, “I just feel sad.” You were silent for a second, as if internalising the information, but you didn’t ask more.

I was wrong, because you understood. You said nothing and suddenly extended your arms to give me a big, warm hug.

My heart melted, once again because of you. You have such a special ability to understand and embrace emotions. You are such a loving and compassionate boy.

So when you started wailing like a big baby when your mummy, sister and you were at the train station to send me off yesterday, I could not hold back my tears. Your tears were so genuine, your emotions were raw. I cried with you, because you reminded me to always embrace my emotions. We held that moment for as long as we could, before getting shoo-ed away for parking the car at a prohibited spot. We waved goodbye to each other amidst our tears through the car window. The image of your tiny hand swishing left and right as the car rolled away will always be etched in my memory.

Just so you know, the attendants who chased us away understood what we went through too. When I gained my composure and eventually made my way into the station thereafter, I passed the same group of men and muttered an apologetic “perdon”. They nodded, gave me empathetic smiles and replied something in Spanish which I was not in the frame of mind to process then. But I knew they understood, and that was all that mattered.

So thank you Juani, for being the special boy you are. For the beautiful sparkles in your eyes, your infectious chuckles and your darndest jokes. For teaching me to love generously, to openly express my emotions, and to always embrace the kid in me. You have given me so much that I can’t even quantify. I love you, very very much!

All my hugs, love and kisses,  Jane

the family ❤