7/06/2013

Nuits Calme de Paris, Part II

Maybe it'll get better once I've moved outta this hotel room.

Just maybe.

6/30/2013

Nuits Calme de Paris, Part I

Well.

So the big move happened, and here I am now. Alone in a Parisian hotel room with the window slightly ajar and the cold night air wafting in, half-tucked in sheets and feeling terribly, terribly alone.

It's been a week since I bade my loved ones farewell and boarded a flight to Paris. I've been busy ever since - opened a French bank account, landed a nifty apartment in the 6th arrondissement, and made some new  friends who double as Singaporean colleagues from other government agencies. Day one of my new job commences on Monday, and professional first impressions suggest that the two years ahead oughta be interesting ones.

But it's nights like these - nights alone and far away from home - where I question if the decision to come here was the right one.

Months ago, I convinced myself that the exposure was reason enough to take the leap. Being well aware of my inherent predisposition towards living in comfort zones, I chose to believe that generating a paradigm shift would be a necessary step for my self-development.

I didn't just pluck the logic from the sky, mind you. There were genuine considerations which factored into why I felt this way. Feeling that I'd stagnated in terms of character development was a big one. Professional boredom with my portfolio was another. My life was a haze of jetwash, evaporating into nothingness. Like flotsam, I drifted.

No more good years spent hazing around in stasis, I declared!. A good, strong life needs be grounded in one's continued drive for self-improvement. And so it was that I committed to spending two years of solitary existence in a place far away from home, forced to part with the conveniences and creature comforts that supported my life in Singapore. I stepped into a new life rife with new experiences and a wealth of uncertainties, cut with promises of increased responsibility and self-accountability.

But on nights like these, alone and so far away from all that I love - I ask myself if this, all this, was really necessary.

I wonder if the ends will be worth the means I've chosen.

Have I risked my happiness to chase visions of a better self?

What if there is no better self?

11/27/2012

Morpheus' Touch...

... Sends ripples through the fabric of the dreaming, and with each ripple a new image begins to coalesce.

I see her, and she sees me. We know not how we are in proximity - only that we are here, and that we are here now.

We talk. We eat, and we talk some more. Familiarity burns like an incandescent grapevine that writhes and envelops the spine, conveying the warmth of memories long-thought forgotten, and the hot pulses of passion and affection that accompany it.

Her hair. Her face. A halo glows around her silhouette. It's as though she hasn't aged a day since we last met. My dream-eyes sunder the image and burn it indelibly into memory.

You ask me whether I've been seeing anyone these past years. "No," I reply, and think to myself - "because I never forgot you". But the beauty and delicacy of the moment still my tongue.

It's cold suddenly. The warm, quilted sheets of my apartment (what apartment?) beckon. Clothed, we climb in like old lovers.

"C'mere," I murmur. She responds.

We embrace like old lovers. We do not lust, but revel in the honesty of true-born emotion. The aroma of spring flowers fills me as she presses close. I wish I never had to leave.

I wake, bittersweet, but caressed also by a sprinkling of wonder... and somehow, of faith.


11/07/2011

Post-Wallaby Blues

Goddammit nobody understands the meaning of a light night of drinks these days. How the hell is 1 flaming, 2 jugs of pineapple rum, 3 rounds of jagerbombs, plus beer - equivalent to a "light night"?

Bloody hell. Nursing hangovers for 3 days running and didn't run all weekend, dammit!

7/04/2011

Weekenders

Am learning how to shuffle (LMFAO, not hardstyle... yet) by watching youtube. The inane things I find myself doing these days. Upside is, there's now a skip in my step when I head out to club on Fridays and Saturdays. I guess its better than leaning against some random bar height table and watching everyone else dance around and make fools of themselves. I'm now making a fool of myself too. Which is, admittedly, not quite an improvement. Then again, fun and self-improvement always were odd bedfellows.

I find myself rediscovering how to life live (again). Sure, I dread the Mondays along with everybody else, but I know I'm competent enough to make it through without too many scratches. Through the week I look forward to busy weekends with good company and plenty to drink. And I spend my Sundays nursing hangovers with the family.

Formulaic, but I am content. The only random variable in this equation is fitting any female specimen into the schedule. Haven't figured it out, but I'm working on it. I just need a few test subjects.