June 18th, 2011


Finite hearts that yearn.

It's been so long since I last wrote - not just here, but in general - that starting this process, almost from scratch, fills me with some dread and a little bit of fear. I've drifted so far from writing - and by extension, the person that I thought I was, thought I would be - that I'm afraid to start trying again and risking certain failure, and perhaps confirmation that I will never be the writer that I've always hoped to be.

But what is there to say about life? I am just a banal 24-year-old, living a banal life, hating her job like everyone else, virtually melting onto the sidewalks in an insignificant country. I love books and poetry; I love tennis; and I forget that I love writing.

I'm happy that I'm leaving my current job. The next year - the future, really - is uncertain, but I'd long surpassed my threshold for pain. Even now, serving the notice period: every day is a waste of a perfectly good day, a day that I could spend on doing something else, something that I actually want to do.

And it does not help that the past two weeks have been awful, awful awful. They serve as a reminder - as if I need one, really - of why I was never happy in this profession and why I finally decided to stop waffling about and just fucking quit. To sum it up, two Fridays ago I had to go to Changi at 5 p.m. to get a guy to sign an affidavit. I called for a cab at 4.30 p.m., obviously under the mistaken impression that I would have little difficulty getting one; but eventually, I spent half an hour trying to get a cab. By the time my secretary got one for me, it was already 5 p.m.

In the end, said guy did not sign. When I was back at the office it was 6.30 p.m. I had plans with Wei Chuen. I was damn annoyed that my plans were being disrupted. When I left the office it was afer 7 p.m. When I finally met him it was 9.30 p.m.

Work ruins lives. This Wednesday I suddenly found out that I had to finish some work by the next day. Thankfully my senior associate took half of it off me, so I could actually still meet Wei Chuen (I think he helped me with the workload because he knew that I was meeting boyfriend). But this Friday, oh this Friday. It's not anyone's fault, really; but I hate last minute work. I hate scrambling around trying to get things done in time for the client meeting, so that he can sign some affidavit so that we can file some application. I woke up on Friday feeling like it was going to be a good day. Two hours into work and I was ready to jump off the building.

And of course, the piece of work that I honestly thought was okay turned out to be utter shit. But then again, isn't this exactly why I'm leaving? I'm just not cut out for this. And it did not help that I was preoccupied with filing other applications on the days when I planned on spending time on that shit piece of work.

Have I mentioned that work ruins lives? At least, to me, this profession does.

Three months. I'm halfway through. It can only get easier from here.


I also love my boyfriend. This is not an afterthought; or a secondary thought. It's a standalone. I don't know how to rank these things: writing/literature/books, tennis. And then there's boyfriend.

I don't know if this makes sense. I do know that I fell in love with him once, and I'm doing it all over again. It's been bumpy so far, the road to getting the relationship back proper; last night was wholly unpleasant and sometimes I feel like we're both fumbling about in the dark.

But fumble on, I will. I love this boy. I want to settle down with him. My love for him is unquantifiable. It's unexplainable why I feel better when I'm with him, and how happy I am when we're hand in hand, laughing, appreciating each other's presence, being in the moment, living in it.


Last week we watched the new X-Men movie at Golden Village's Gold Class theatre. We both concluded that Cathay's Platinum Suites are much better.

I fear that I'm getting way too used to this luxury movie experience. And I can't, if only because it's $78 each time we indulge.

That said, I'm definitely watching the last Harry Potter movie Platinum. My card gives me a discount off the food bill anyway, so why not?


We were at Mezza9 Monday night after his squash match - his last squash match of the year, and I arrived just in time to watch him shake his opponent's hand (i.e. after the match was over). Have I mentioned that work ruins lives?

Anyway, I left earlier to buy some Shiseido thing from Isetan (the match was at American Club). He came to meet me about 45 minutes later, and he told me to meet at MacDonalds'.

Thinking that he was going to have his dinner there, I wasted $3 on a lousy iced latte, just to find out, when he arrived, that he had no intention of eating there.


Anyway, we adjourned to Mezza9, of all places; though to be fair, it was about 10 p.m. and there weren't many places still open that were nearby. Who's surprised? This is Singapore after all.

He ate half a lobster and a mashed potato. I didn't eat anything; it was too late and I definitely did not want any dessert because I had way too much of that the week before. I ordered a raspberry milkshake kind of thing, which was surprisingly good.

It was a nice date. It was comfortable, and he looked good in his Fred Perry sort of checkered shirt. He usually wears plain colours, so when he showed up in the sort of checkered shirt, I had a moment of disorientation, wondering what was different about him. I liked the new look.

He's also in love with Uniqol's (?) three-quarter sleeve summer shirts. He has a couple of those in different colours. Who does that? Okay, I buy the same tennis tank tops in different colours, but that was a while ago. I haven't done that in a really long time. Okay, Adidas' stuff absolutely sucks this year and Nike's stuff is too expensive to buy in different colours (though I nearly bought Maria's summer skirt in two colours; I cancelled one of them in the end), but still. BUT STILL.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that my boyfriend's adorable and I love him. Very much.


One last thing: at tennis lesson on Thursday, my coach informed me that my racquet's grip was too big for me, and that my overgrip made it even bigger. He was about to pull it off when I exclaimed in alarm, "I just gripped that two hours ago!"

I need a new racuqet. I'm thinking of getting the BLX pink. It's pretty. And it's heavier than my current one, which would be good. And the frame's slightly smaller too, which is also good.

It's also 300 bucks. That's not good. I need to go to Queensway. I'm out of a job soon; I can't keep spending money that I don't have.

My hair also got caught in my racquet during the forehand follow-through. What the fuck. It happened a few times this morning too.