Transit

Sorry. I've not been posting as much as I've been writing. Here's one from my trip to the US, almost two months ago:

The 6 am weather is biting, as I find myself temporarily away from my parents. European punctuality is a refreshing, if not unforgiving, when it comes to their public transport service.

As I disembarked into the mildly uncomfortable spring breeze, I noticed a Dutch couple standing across the bus stop. They're both arched towards one another. The lady has a foot planted onto the platform, the only thing posing as an obstacle between them. It seemed that nothing else mattered to them. Certainly not the cold.

You could see the glimmer in their eyes. Their gazes locked, unmoved. I noticed the wrinkle on their eyes and cheeks. They must be in their 50s, at a minimum. The grey roots on their dirty blonde hair vindicates that guess.

They've now pulled closer, and spoke further. As curiosity and fascination took over, I was drawn to their conversation. Of course, I'm a terrible lip-reader, especially since it's most definitely in spoken Dutch. Stubbornly, I pressed on.

Once the last words were muttered, the man places his hands on her face, cupping her cheeks. She quickly lays her hands onto his.

They slowly closed the gap separating their love, and exchanged an intimate kiss.

It was only then that I felt like I needed to move on. They were so open and expressive of their love for one another, that I felt somewhat moved by this observation.

It didn't feel like I was overstepping in their relationship, which is oddly intrusive of me.

And in an odd roundabout way, I was invited in. It was merely a glimpse, and that's all I could have asked for.

That casual observation had inspired me to love things more. This elderly couple, in a distant foreign land, had taught me how to be a better person. All this, without the use of a single word.

All this, so that I can love you better.

posted from Bloggeroid

Go/no go

"No seat belts?'

I shuffle in my seat, in what I used to call a van. Now it's a deathtrap for six. Five of which I care more (sorry, driver Chong).

I take a sniff of my clothes. A faint scent of vanilla on cotton. Good, I thought. Certainly doesn't reflect the past half hour of me running around the house, packing up for this trip.

Yeah. I'm going back to Iowa, for my Liang's graduation. And like I was three years ago, I've no plans nor ideas of what I'll do there.

My connection with the United States is odd, really. I love the people I've met there, and yet I loathe the nation it has become since my absence (no correlation there).

But yet again, here I am, about to meet lady liberty again. This time, for real. Yep. We're stopping by NYC.

I'm glad I got to take a nice break from life. I'm even more excited to see the people who are still around the area. And I'm anxious to unpack the last three years of my life to them.

I just hope they feel the same way.

posted from Bloggeroid

Print

It's near. I'm finally about to print the first copies of my book to be secretly sent to some awesome people stateside. Why them?

Because I'll be there in a few day's time. Liang's graduating so we're going to Des Moines before heading to Boston and New York City.

So I'll be rushing to get all my errands sorted out on Wednesday, before heading to the airport post-dinner. I'll need to print my book, head to Sentul to get US SIM cards from Yu Liang (who's on his way back from the US), and collect the printed and binded books, all while having packed already.

I have only packed two shirts for our two-week trip.

Not gonna lie, it's exciting to be able to go back. But I've been engrossed in everyday life in a drone-esque job so much that it had only hit me last Saturday that I'm flying off.

Besides that, it was a huge moment last week, to have been able to cast my vote for the first time in General Election 14. And also, ultimately being part of history. 60 years under the governance of a single party has come to an end.

The Opposition party had won. It's a bittersweet moment, because the candidates are basically the 2017 US Presidential Elections all over again. My voting practice was extremely (and woefully) straightforward: just not them.

Who did I want to vote for? Not the same people as before. What policies should we adopt? Not the ones implemented previously.

I hope to be a better voter and a more informed citizen the next time I get to exercise my right to vote.

posted from Bloggeroid

Bisection

*Last message sent: one year ago*

That struck a nerve with me.

Has it really been that long? Time has been cruel, but so have I.

I've forgotten about you. I've moved on, whether onto better things, is ultimately up for debate.

But when did I actually start giving up? More importantly, _how_ could I have given up?

You were my best friend. Frankly, you still are.

But it's been one year since you read my messages. And it's been two years since we last spoke to each other.

I don't know what to feel about that. Can you tell me how?

posted from Bloggeroid

Demand

Somehow this was in my digital notepad scribbles and didn't make it to the blog.



My sister demands a lot of attention.

My brother demands a lot of maturity.

I demand a lot of patience.

My father demands a lot of foresight.

My mom demands a lot of tolerance.

posted from Bloggeroid

Invincible

Life's weird.

On one hand, you can find yourself realising that for once, you're not alone in the love department. Dating a complete stranger met online can actually be fun, and before you know it, you've unpacked the past five years of your life to a complete stranger.

You feel invincible, because you know that she'll be there for you, because in some magical way, she low-key wants to see you, too.

On flip side, you can find yourself trodding back home in the pouring rain. Somehow, your drenched clothes don't faze you. Lightning arcs threaten nearby as the raindrops hit you harder.

You don't give a shit, because you know you're invincible. Even after another fucking shitty day at work, you know that your boss won't get the better of you. Hell, you're even bullish enough to assume you aren't easily replaced.

But life goes on. You can only hope that you find your egress from this miserable job, so that you can enjoy every other good thing in your life.

P.S. She's not my girlfriend... Yet (but don't tell my parents a word).

posted from Bloggeroid

Book

Congrats, you let the villain in the book actually read a story about them in real life.

You dug up that old, traumatic event.

You didn't think to countercheck on who you're divulging info to.

You preyed on someone's curiosity and well intentions and sold them down the river.

Fang, you're a fucking idiot at times.

I Dare You - The XX