Tong and I went to Go India for dinner and for some weird reason I'm so full now I'm actually having difficulties breathing. There's a plate of watermelons on my table and one look at it is enough to make me want to throw up.
To think I was still thinking of eating Ben and Jerry's.
My tummy was so bloated, I was utterly horrified when Tong started patting and scrutinising it. He's sweet for saying it's cute, but the truth is, it's horrifically disgusting, and if I had to pinpoint two sources of insecurity with regard to my physical self, the tummy tops the list (followed by my glasses. Which I never wear outside of the comforts of my house, precisely because I'm insecure about). It's just too bad for me that the first thing to grow in size when I put on weight is not the chest, but the tummy. Really, fantastic. I don't even have words to describe how fantastic that is.
I was going to drive tonight as I am of the humble opinion that we're taking too many taxis (and of course, I always feel damn bad when he pays for it, which is um, most of the time. SHIT), but two seconds before I left the house, when I told my mom I wanted to take the car, she said that she needed it to send my sick brother to the doctor's. That was obviously a problem. My brother slept the whole day away; so poor thing.
I can't remember the last time I dated a guy whose primary mode of transportation is the taxi. That's because it's never happened. I cannot deny that it suits my spoiled princess nonsense very well; at the same time, I also cannot deny that my spoiled princess nonsense hardly ever extended to cabbing everywhere (the most was cabbing to school, i.e. BTC, and cabbing back. But hardly ever in the same day. But then, my mom sent me to school all the time. I only took bus to BTC once. I'm brilliant). I don't really know why I'm talking about this, much less what my point is.
I think this is true: Even though I saw him two hours ago, I have come to realise that I currently miss him enough to sit in front of my laptop to type random things about him, without a point, aimlessly. Good stuff, right? I know. Not really. But nevermind.
The thing is, we were walking around Vivo aimlessly after dinner, and he had his arms around me, and he said, Other people will be wondering what the hell is going on here when they see us.
I said, Other people? I don't see anyone else around.
He said, as we walked in the general direction of a random old man, There's no one around? Let's walk into that man and see what happens.
I said, I don't see a man around. Do you?
The thing is, it's a private world for two when I'm with him. No matter where we are, no matter who's watching, the rest of the world falls away when I'm with him. I used to think I was self-conscious, inhibited, worried about what others thought. Apparently, I was wrong. Or maybe it's not so much a matter of what I'm really like; maybe, quite simply, it's just him, the way I feel around him, and so our moments are always private, no matter where we are.
On another note, I miss the living shit out of Taipei. Talking to different about Taipei and hearing about others going to Taipei and reading about people going to Taipei makes me want to go back there RIGHT NOW so damn badly, you cannot imagine how damn badly.
Of course, there is no rational basis for my love for Taipei. Most of it is romanticised nonsense, some retarded futile attempt on my part to hold on to those few fleeting years from my early childhood that I spent there, all in the name of good old sentimentality. Seriously, I should be better than this; I should know better; I should be immune to such nonsense.
But I miss Taipei because I love Taipei. I miss Yonghe, Danshui, the night markets, Xinyi district, even Ximending evne though I've totally outgrown that high school hang-out place over the years, I miss hearing the gorgeous lilt of the mainstream, non-native Taiwanese Mandarin accent, I miss attempting to order food in Chinese and having to explain myself when the service staff looks back at me blankly, I miss the chaotic order of the city, how dirty everything is and yet the dirt and the grit only endear me to the city even more, especially the way all the lanes smell like dog shit in winter when in fact it's the stench from the poor sewage system, I miss the peace and quiet on the Taipei Metro, I miss the convenience of walking three minutes from my grandparents' apartment, which is one lane away from where we lived back then, to cut my hair in a decently up-market salon, I miss the innovative F&B scene over there, I miss being able to buy authentic and good bubble tea from quite literally any random kiosk, and above all else, I miss everything about Taipei that Singapore is not, does not have, and will probably never be, and never will have. The creative freedom, the vitality, the innovation, the spunk, the civic mindedness, the chaotic order.
I want to buy a new laptop and I have decreed that it must be Taiwanese. That means I'm either getting an Asus or another Acer. I am only brand-loyal, and irrationally brand-loyal, when it comes to Taiwanese brands. To be honest I have no fucking idea why I'm actually significantly nationalistc towards Taiwan, sometimes even more so than Singapore; but that's the way it is. My citizenship is a legal fact, nothing more, and just because my passport is red, doesn't mean I really identify myself as Singaporean.
Of course, I'm not saying I don't. I do, to a certain extent. The rest of it...well, I've yet to figure it out. Is it really important though? I've never had huge respect for the principle of sovereignty anyway (at least, not the version that countries in this region have apparently chosen to adopt).
The damn watermelons are calling out to me. When I'm done with them, my tummy will look like a damn watermelon.
I'm too lazy to spit out the seeds. Is that gross? Oh well.
On another note, because Mag wrote about Dunkin' Donuts on her blog, I'd like to announce that, after having eaten Dunkin' Donuts in four different Asian countries (I don't think I ate it in Europe), Dunkin' Donuts Taiwan - at least, Taipei - is still the best. Bar none. Bar fucking none.
There's a huge store in Danshui, but there's also a two-storey one in Yonghe (where my grandparents' apartment is, where I used to live). I can't even remember what bloody donut I ate there last year; all I know is that it was bloody good. My mom bought back a dozen on Saturday, and the weird mocha thing was so sweet, I almost died.
Definitely incomparable to the Taipei outlets. The only thing I like from Dunkin' is the donut with icing sugar all over it and chocolate filling - that's all. But I definitely ate something else in Taipei which I don't remember; in any case, it was just damn good. I remember I was very happy in the near-empty store, on the second storey (a lot of such chains are two-storey. The Mos Burger is two-storey. Many Starbucks outlets are multi-storey), eating my donuts and sipping my coffee.
Fuck, I miss Taipei. Sometimes I wonder if I'd ever move back there. I'm not sure if it's relevant to the person I've become as a long-term prospect, if I'm being honest; all the same, no matter what, Taipei will always have a special spot in my heart.
Reading my old entries from Year 1 and recalling all the angst and self-confidence issues and how I was struggling to understand what was going on in the classes is making me rather proud of my accomplishments. The most recent one in particular - my mom was all, "I'm very proud of you", and yeah I did say, "Actually I saw this coming. If my grades don't make the list, I don't know what kind of grades will" and of course I was happy about it, but like most good things that have happened in law school, I was generally "yeah okay whatever". I don't know why. Maybe it goes back to something I said months ago about how I cannot feel real pride for whatever good things come my way if I don't feel like I put in genuine, honest effort into it. And predictably, I still haven't felt the same high that I felt when I got my A Level results.
Having said all that, it's quite chilling to think of how I soldiered on through the four years in law school and what I ended up getting. It's, quite honestly, beyond my wildest imagination. I remember thinking it was so cool I dated a Dean's lister back in whenever it was, thinking I'd never be one of them, thinking, as a result, that I wasn't good enough for him. Even as early as this April or May, when someone I went out with told me I'd make it, I was all, "Hahahahahaha yeah right don't joke."
Is it a big deal? I suppose it is. Objectively, it is. And subjectively, I'd be lying if I said I was complaining about it. This is very Singaporean of me but I do care about grades, and I'd still care about grades if I didn't intend to further my education. I cared about my class of honours, though apparently not enough to actively do something about it. To say that I pretty much lucked out in the end is probably the truest thing I can say about how it all turned out.
And how it all turned out has seriously defied and exceeded all prior expectations. The Year 1 law student I was would not have believed in this outcome. The Year 1 law student I was only wanted to drop out of law school. Thank Cambridge, I guess, for rejecting me and giving me no real reason to drop out for something less.
At one point, way back when, I genuinely believed I wasn't as smart as my classmates. What utter rubbish, right? I'm so glad I'm not that person anymore. In fact, I can't even fathom of how that belief could humanly, actually, and possibly be valid. And if I were to attempt to analyse what happened between then and now...I don't know, really. That's a very good question.
Nonetheless, things have all worked out well. I'm happy, and for once, in a rare moment that probably won't last long or come back again*, I feel quite proud of myself.
(*This is because I have high expectations of myself, and as a result, I'd only feel real pride for something I put in blood, sweat and tears for. Like, you know, the A Levels. I'm still very proud of that, despite having a law degree.)
Random snippet from a 2005 entry about this guy I saw for a while which ended um, not in my favour:
What really kills me is that I really don't fucking want to do this, that I really wish I could go on like old times, that I really wish I could erase all hopes on my part and adjust my expectations, because just thinking about this is wholly capable of making me cry. A catch in the throat, an ache in a throat, an ache in this curious organ that is enclosed within one's ribcage (supposedly protective but I think that's largely a lie purported by Science), this ache will stay with me for a while. (emphasis added)
All I can say is, that's never going to happen again. Meaning - I'd never write something so preposterous ever again. Adjusting my expectations so that a guy I want would want me back? Fuck you. That is so pathetic.
Having said that, I still have the same problem - the inability to let go. And I'm not talking about letting go of resentment or whatever in order to be friends with guys who are ex-somethings; I genuinely, honestly do not give the slightest fuck about that. I mean letting go of my feelings, taking the necessary step back to look at the big picture, and doing what should be done, sometimes the only thing to be done.
As to the question of why I don't give a fuck about ex-something guys, it's because I'm single-minded and one-tracked. If I saw you as A before, I cannot subsequently see you as B. Similarly, if you cease to be A, then you pretty much have no use to me anymore. I can't fathom what there is to talk about, how we'd go out, why the hell I'd even continue to go out with you. It's a waste of my time, and I'm not sentimental enough to hold on to the "connection" that we had. In my mind, whatever existed is in the past where it should stay, and so it genuinely makes no logical sense to me to continue talking to these ex-something guys. Most of the time it's not even because I'm still resentful; most of the time it's simply because I don't care. And it's a pure kind of not caring, for its own sake, untainted by any leftover negative emotions. I don't know if someone else would feel sad about the fact that the last time I saw my first boyfriend was the day I broke up with him. He was the first guy I ever kissed, first guy whose hand I ever held, etc, and yet I really don't give the slightest shit about the fact that, yeah, I'm never going to see him again. It's just what it is. It's just what I am. And I genuinely don't think it reflects normatively on me as a person.
I'm feeling charitable. I think I will go do something nice now.
To conclude, I'd like to announce to the world that I adore, and miss, my boyfriend. Yay.