Letter one hundred and twenty-three - The days go on

Dearest J,

I don't feel very strong lately.  Maybe to some, it seems that I have just been putting on a front of a lady who struts and lives, all pains under the carpet.  It wasn't my intention of hiding the pain, just that, I feel there is a time and place for everything, and I have not learned how to share my pain with others.  Remember you were like that too..?  That special moment when we watched La Vita e Bella together at your house...we shared many pains and joy together.

Am walking on the line of between feeling driven to feeling confused.  Am drifting from week to week with a mixed bag of emotions.

I guess the moment I have decided to pick up the pieces of my life together since you left, I have entered the church of work.  Work has become the sole religion I hang on for dear life.  Music work is most trusting and always objective, I find that I seek helplessly from it, I seek approval, solace, refuge,  joy...

When I was wondering and feeling confused, I didn't feel like seeing Mama at all.  I delayed many visits to be with myself, hoping to come to some better conclusion of emotions.  So to still make my presence in your house, I would ring her some time to talk to her, and to let her talk to me for a few moments.

We have learned that by focusing on others, other than ourselves, we could feel better.  Diving head in into work has been a healthy distraction for me...it fills the void.

Time has not brought any cures for the lonely heart missing you, time only make new routines set in, and make things different, the heart does not get less lonely.  As the calendar brings me further and further into the future, I find myself more and more set in my convenient ways of living alone.

I find myself looking for things to do that have less to do with personal emotions.  I work with musicians a lot and we get projects going but we are mostly focused on feelings and things are not so private.  I signed up for new classes and courses to attend, alone.  I learn new things by myself, it's all within my control, it's easy.  I volunteer for community work, it's hardly personal, it's easy.

Bumped into lovely Angela Hijas on Saturday in the mall, spent a few minutes talking to her.  She said single-hood could be a trap, I agree...things are less complicated and convenient, I decide all the time, only one person's demand and request to meet.  Dating is noisy, and messy.  I left the heaven when you went away and am starting to feel that it's easier to just remain here alone, just making a new heaven for work, smaller one without the messiness of a new human.

But the void stays, so the music stays, the work must stay.


Steadfastly yours,

B

back to school, or never left school?

...or shall I say, the school has just started for me, just as am about to turn beautiful 36.

Finding balance in life is great art, takes a life time to master...for some.

Finding the best policy to handle people, relationships, groups, a life long occupation for me.

Anyway, I have these syllabus that I would like to proceed with this coming `semester' of life, April onwards...I wonder if I could manage a household of such heavy workload, this schedule does not yet include gigs that pay the bills, house chores that keep my cat and I sane, social calendar that could get crazy if not managed well, etc...

Monday - 9am - 10am - Sizzle and Burn class @ Caterpillar or jazz class?

Tuesday - 930am - 1pm - French language @ Alliance Francaise
(Tuesday jazz class gotta get bumped to another day...)

Wednesday - 7pm - 8pm - Ballet class, 830pm - 1045pm - Contemporary class  @ Enfiniti

Thursday -  930am - 1pm - French language @ Alliance Francaise
 (singing class with Cecilia gotta get adjusted to another day....)

Friday - singing class with Cecilia?

Saturday - 930am - 11am - Yoga @ Aravind Centre

All shall be adjusted and fit nicely :)

Solidarity-Compatible

I have a syndrome, I call it over-compatibility of solidarity.  I don't know if it's a healthy condition to be in or it is a sign of a bigger problem.

But so far I have yet to suffer from this condition, it has not done any harm to me physically or mentally.  At times I wonder if I could be suffering from a possible attack of self-denial.  This wondering comes when am I am consciously celebrating my love for solidarity; for example when I am walking alone somewhere, anywhere, and smile in an almost maniac delirium of feeling free, and alone.

That's it.  I think the rationale behind my fondness for solidarity lies in my love for freedom.  Everybody loves freedom no doubt, but I guess freedom is interpreted differently by individuals.

To some, freedom means being able to pursue one's interests without restriction from family or friends or society.

To some, freedom means being able to travel to anywhere.

To some, freedom means being out of jail.

To some, freedom means sleeping with different lovers and not be punished for it.

To some, freedom means being able to speak freely without having to pay for it in a lawsuit.

For me, being alone is freedom.  Roam as slowly or as quickly through a strip of shops.  Being alone I can sing as loudly as I wish at home in the wee hours.  I can skip meals or cook at 2am.  I can read in bed till 12noon and not get up till I finished.  Being alone I don't need to sound clever, be polite to someone boring, or impress someone I like.

I try to be less of trouble to others. I try my best to be a careful driver.  I try to be kind and listen to my compassion department.  I try to be my best at work and with friends.  I try to be less abrasive.  Basically I strife to be mindful and live with awareness.

And on top of all that I love being alone.  Sure, it feels like I do spend endless hours missing my days with him around, missing having his intellect, his loving and caring ways.  I miss his smell, his touch, his voice, his sloppiness, his silliness, his science, his ideas, him.

We built a life together based on our ideals of a fulfilling relationship - where the value of our romance was not based on the number of hours we spent together, but rather it's about what we bring to share in the hours we spend together.  We treasured what we did apart as individuals.  The sum of our romance was who we are when we do things NOT being together, so when we get together we combine our passions as a unit.

That could be the reason why I have become so compatible to solidarity.

So much so that I find myself wondering much, "Is there anything wrong with me, like this?"

In a society where piety, and company of family and friends are highly prized - I feel like a delinquent..preferring my own company to another human being.

But hey, I am fantastic with people.  When am with people, I am good fun and a functional company.

I just don't need too much of it.

But yet, I have a keen interest in people.  People amuse and fascinate me.  I can spend whole day (away from pages in a book) watching and study people.

According to David Foster Wallace, fiction writers have this syndrome too - the passion of standing at the side to look and stare, ogle at others.  Well, I am not a fiction writer, I just enjoy looking on.

So yea, I wonder if this over-compatibility to solidarity is a sign of selfishness?  A syndrome to an illness?

Am hungry now and I have a manicure and pedicure appointment in an hour's time.  Best I get some urgent done before I get out to beautify myself.  How lovely that I can order in a wonderful sandwich at the salon while Joanne works on my nails.

Letter one hundred twenty-two - The days go on

Dearest J,

Happy Valentine's Day, love forever :)

Am good, and well.  Making lots of music and having a blast doing it.  Saw many bikers on the highway this CNY.

I want to give you a song that I wrote with Cher Siang last year.  We have not performed it yet but soon we will.  I know you have always wanted more private performance from me, now every time I sing a song with lyrics and a tune that connect with me, I always imagine am singing it for only you, in the privacy of our home.

For you, this song...doesn't have a title yet..like all of my other original songs, all no titles yet.  All of them are somehow about you.

sending you also a photo of our home with Thursday, in front of the Audrey poster you bought me.


lyrics: Janet (October 2012)

This very world is very very crowded and noisy

But it can get very very cold at times

I’m looking for a place where I can put my heart to it

But it can get very very hard at times

With all the noise and clouds all messing up

So am glad it all brings me back to you

I’ve got stars in my eyes

Whenever you are near

And I want to dive right into your arms

Then build a home with your love and then

Stay there till I die

Come what may, rain or shine

Day or night, only you

You can stop the coldest winter in the world

And keep me safe in your embrace

There’ll come a time when the world may turn against me

But here I am safe because I have you with me

Your fire is burning bright and

I’ll never wander far from you

A piece of heaven on earth right here

We’ve got stars, and the moon, and this song, so let’s dance

Till all of my hair has turned to white and frail

There’s when I know you’re mine 

Love you much,

B

Being Naked, Art and Music

Thank you Win-Ni for putting the words in my head and calling a spade, a spade.

"Naked music and art is always good, do more!" 

We all know that being naked is not the most comfortable thing to do...especially when you're out in the public (yes, being naked indoor and sleeping naked are wonderful things).  But have you ever considered going `naked' in other meaning?

I mean being `naked' and honest about what you really want to do, what your heart desires, what you love doing...putting your most real, authentic self/sound on stage.  In the case of our concert, we put all of that on our make-shift stage, made of six pieces of wooden platforms that came as part of the package of hall rental at Annexe Gallery.

The feeling of `going naked' is...if I were to say that it was liberating, then I would be lying and telling the truth at the same time.  Going naked is in fact, scary at first, then it liberates you, it is an exhilarating experience.

Long before I've done anything with my own instrument, I discovered the beauty of classical music through my sister's incessant piano playing at home.  I bought cassette after cassettes of classical recordings, Chopin, Liszt, Tchaikovsky...etc during the schooling days.

The concert we put up had no sound system, no live bands, we had the most basic lighting, no amplifiers, just bare nakedness...and honesty, as Win-Ni said.  In fact, I would like to elaborate on the venue we hired for this concert.  The charm of this slightly shabby venue adds to the elements of the performance.  Our audience sat on brown plastic chairs, we had ugly wooden platforms as stage, six pieces of these platforms joined together as our stage, where sides don't close together nicely and we had to look where we step on stage so our heels wouldn't get caught in the gaps.  The dramatically old and black curtains behind us couldn't hang properly against the big windows (which I adore whole-heartedly).  Stripped white panels as our backdrop...we used the little hanging balcony in that hall as our dressing area and green room.  

I thought of all these with fondness a smile so I guess some of the small magic of the performance came from this humble and frill-free-ness of our set-up at Annexe Gallery.  We first walked into space less than impressed but we walked out of the space on Friday night feeling we were charmed and inspired.

So, there were only, Joseph and his digital grand piano (we couldn't haul a real grand unit up there without causing major damage in our budget), and his snug accompaniment with our voices...all that we managed to work on since three months ago till that Friday night.  We got dolled up in our pretty gowns and we stood there - we faced you.

The audience - you, who have paid for your ticket.  Many of you took the trains to brave the heavy rain and traffic to get there on time, most of you got there on time.  All of you sat on your plastic chair and listened to us throughout, some of you stood to watch for better view at the back.  All of you believed in us, you wanted us to sing like goddesses and angels.

So we did, in our own right, we put on the best performance we could that evening - under those both wonderful and horrendous circumstances (rain, traffic, nerves, lyrics, nerves!!).  We sang our hearts out for you, for ourselves, for the music.

In my case, I sang for myself.  I waned to expand on my `music character', to extend my limited definition of my little shallow life.  I was trying to find more meaning in all that I do - not very much so far.  Through those grueling sessions spent with my extremely patient singing teacher, those hours spent  singing in traffic jam behind wheels, and at home - I wanted to reach a different realm of reality with my music, a renewed tone and color with my voice, another facet of my singing - that is bel canto.

The journey to get there is an incredibly colorful, rich and complicated route.  The classical repertoire provides an endless adventure for anyone keen to play with it.  The venture into many foreign languages, the struggle to memorize (a brain that is no longer 18-years old) and digest foreign lyrics, all had me thinking about it while waking, driving, in the showers, at house chores, playing with cat...etc.

And not being able to sight read gave me an additional layer of work.  I'd have my trusted `note-basher' friend Christine to play all my singing parts for me on record so I could go home to digest and memorize.  Later I'd spend my mornings in bed clutching the scores and my iPhone with its mini keyboard - note bash to no end and further digest those French lyrics.  

Having been assigned to be the alto in the company has given me a whole new experience - learning to provided support underneath the ringing line of sopranos.  

Coming back to the nakedness and being honest to ourselves, by committing myself to the concert, I was forced to face my fears and demons.  The fear of singing in bare-nakedness, stripped of any technical and gadgetry assistance.  The fear of having to display a beautiful disciplined singing with absolute control, technique...and top that with expression and dynamics.  I had to fight my lack of discipline.  The concert was meant to be the cure for my laziness.

Sure, the 3-month long work was stressful, producing our own concert was time-consuming, putting together ensemble pieces call for teamwork, patience, and lots of love and respect for the work.  Ah yes, not forgetting the finance, it's also costly..bla bla bla bla.

But, had you been bitten by the same music bug as us, wouldn't you have done the same thing as us?  The wise ones see it right away that I, and my three talented friends are immensely blessed to have the passion for music, the support we get from people around us (husbands, friends, teachers, pianists, pets, kids, parents...), the emotional intelligence to cope with the tight rehearsal time, the will power to suck it up and pull it off on stage, whatever happens.  

So, I urge all of us to come on out and bring on this honest nakedness in us.  Be sincere, be fearless, be real, be naked...what do you really want to do?  The most expensive art is of those that are naked, sincere and honest, because it's priceless.  

Am not denying that money matters a lot.  There are always bills to pay at the end of the month...but what's after that all that?  At the end of the road where money does not matter anymore, what counts?  I want to continue to do all that I can, after I pay off all my bills, to feed my soul.  There will always be music, honest, and naked music.  I hope you too would join me...be naked.

===========

A Date with Four Singin' Skirt was held on December 7th, 2012 at Annexe Gallery, Central Market to a packed room of friends and music lovers.  We sang as soloists, and ensemble.  Various composers' work were featured, such as Haydn, Bellini, Rossini, Lehar, Brahms, Mendelssohn, Satie, Poulenc and more.  There were two Chinese folk songs too.  The singers were Ashley Tan, Huan Huan, Janet & Meng Nee, accompanied by Joseph Leow on piano and Yem Voon on flute.  

Thank you loashi for your love, in our music, tolerating our antics and silliness, laziness...your generosity.  Cecilia Yap...and your brilliant emcee script!

Thank you my new found friends in music, your friendship and your love is well received.  Huan Huan, Ashely & Meng Nee.  I admire your art and beauty.

Thank you, our partner in music - for your musicianship and love.  Joseph Leow.  Your page turner was amazing too :)

Thank you for kick-starting our music session with much patience, your friendship is much appreciated. Seow Rong.  

Thank you emcee for your most adorable and loving performance, you had the whole hall at `hello'.  Samuel.

Thank you front of house crew and `stage managers'.  The best things in life are free, Nuff said.  

Thank you recording crew and team, you made me feel I was on a set in Hollywood.

Thank you team of impressive photographers.  It pays to have great friends and husbands :)

Thank you audience for allowing us to live the music through your presence.  

Thank you angels of music, your magic was felt...all night and day.

Letter one hundred and twenty-one

Dearest J,

Even though Thursday really, really talk much.  She can.  She usually makes noise only when she is in really really bad shape - extremely angry or scared.

But once in a while, at really quiet moments...like just 3 mins ago, she would look at me and meow a little bit, just very very little bit..only loud enough for me to hear for a short split second.  And it's not a conventional meow.  It's more like a slightly throaty, guttural murmur from her.

At times like this I feel really grateful to have her here, just being here.  A very small, quiet presence here, but so full of character.

I never stop wondering about her...all these times, I wonder if she is having a good time living here.  I wonder if she ever gets lonely...all those hours when am out of the flat, or staying in the flat and not paying any attention to her.

I guess I'd never know.

I like watching her.   Sometimes I do that to de-stress, or to take a break from my work.  When I do sit down with her and play with her or stroke her or comb her hair, it's always such a lovely break from whatever am doing here.

She is a mix of gnome-lessness and excitement, and endless curiosity.

Miss you much,

B

walking, talking, thinking, breathing --- singing

The advantage of having friends who are equally passionate about the same craft as you...you get to chat, inspire, encourage each other in going forward.

Scott Woo recently got posted to Adelaide for work, for a year or so.  All his music projects in town had to go on hold.  He dived head into the local music scene literally the second he touched down, his determination and interest are amazing and inspiring.  He has been auditioning non stop for choirs and such, seeking out singing teachers in the neighborhood, etc...scouting non stop basically.

A long email came from him today, `forcefeeding' a few of us here in town with his latest finds in music, his auditions, his new offers and his thoughts on the `local sound'.

I clicked `reply' the minute I finished reading.  I too have been over working in the singing department and want to share with him my latests:


"wow, i like that you just write in and force-feed us!! LOL way to go!!

sounds good, I think the `too much music' in a year thing may keep you
happy in your `off-shore' posting there?  put up clips ok of your
rehearsals and such.

it certainly sounds really exciting there, whatever you have been
putting yourself thro...these scouting and auditions and meetings.

i am struggling with my singing technique here, while i got some new
useful skills from cecilia the last few month - it's proven that am a
bit slow in getting used to using these new skills as my second
nature.  my bad habits are quite severe... good news is that she made
me discover how far i can push my voice and how much richness i am
capable of producing...of course, only when i do it right ;p

so, anyway, hopefully with next year looming and I hope to be more
focused and discipline - a constant struggle, i am able to graduate to
be a slightly more skillful singer and perhaps, a mezzo :) with better
high notes :)

ok, better get back to my work for now.  keep the
updates/force-feeding coming :D "

face the music and dance

You gotta face the music and dance.  I talked to my nerves almost non-stop for days.  It's always been a work-in-progress - figuring out ways to work with nerves and inner demons.  

So I decided to just go right up to my nerves, acknowledge its presence, shake hands and lay down my grounds.  I cannot drive it away so I will learn to live with it and make the relationship work.  

I sang three songs last night with Mei Lin on piano.  The Fazioli has its top opened wide and big.  One of my songs had passages that were hanging a little too high for me.  I didn't get suck up on stage and die, I stood there and delivered the performance...through all my flaws and warts.  Some people thought I was good, I had so much to tell them about what needed major work in my singing but I tried to just say thank you, and that I would work harder.

Chie Haur, flute master

with Mei Lin

This is a transformation year for my portfolio.  So will be next year.  

2011 - the breakthrough of my own gig at No Black Tie, the beginning of a language of a songstress.  Hold your own 2 sets on a stage where people sit down for the happenings on stage, not for an annual dinner, or a wedding, or a fashion show.

2012 - the portrait of a songstress that takes the shape of The Shanghai Jazz singer, with a flavour of Cabaret and show tunes.  Original tunes start brewing.

2013 - juggling song-writing, French song recital, work more in singing class, learning French...and continue getting better at singing Mandarin.

which way?

Is life about finding and getting answers?

Or is the journey to finding the answers more about living...?  And sometimes you find that you never have the answers...?  So am I suppose to just be content with being the eager one who is forever chasing for answers?  So I try everything, sample everything...not really knowing what I want, or what is best so I just taste everything?

And yet, a very good advice, simple advice I got recently is:

"Stay focused, and you'll knock it out of the park!"

Tutu Dream for An Old Girl

It feels right, everything about my first ballet class at age 35 and 1/2.

Am sure everything would be easier if I were 20 years younger, etc.  But never mind that, everything feels right even though everything isn't easier to do now at this age.

It feels right because I had signed up for the class myself, paid for it with my hard earned money and drove myself to the class...

All the things that my dad couldn't have afford it for me when I was little, I could afford it now.  I feel proud for my dad...that he brought up a daughter who could afford this slice of class now.  Of the humble beginning we all grew up together in.  My mom and dad still don't allow themselves what my siblings and I care-freely buy ourselves but they seem happy to watch us grown into this class of folks.

It was beautiful to attempt those many half-cooked plies, and my horrible rounde de jambe, to the ballet piano music.  It was beautiful to watch my still reflection in the mirror in my short-sightedness, so graceful and hopeful in my ballet shoes and tights.

It felt right because of the long journey I had before stepping into this class, now standing next to a foldable chair, ready in my first position...ready for action.  The long journey of self-discovery, soul-searching, the struggle for approval, for money, for meaning, for love, for the right job, the right room, the right name, the right address.

Having gone round the `world' before I finally made it to my first ballet class, feeling like a small little girl, finally, waiting in line in this class: learning her poise, learning how to be beautiful and graceful, learn how to be a lady.

Why do I feel like that tonight?

I have experienced so many other things that could have given me the same feeling?  Being on stage receiving my applause for having done something (else) right, in a beautiful gown with immaculate make-up and beautifully styled hair, being flanked by feathers and sequins, among horns and brass; pouting for a camera and being told that my gaze is sexy and smoldering, my body is gorgeous.

But why did standing in front of that mirror tonight, knowing that I have such a long long way to go before I could point my foot beautifully like my teacher - made me feel so good, compares to those other glamorous experiences where I was appreciated for (apparently) having done something right?

I guess being a ballerina must have meant something really magical for me, without me realising it all this while.

I had signed up for the class because it is the place to continue to learn, dance technique, from the `proper beginning'.  I wasn't expecting to feel what I felt earlier tonight at class...the ethereal, surreal being of a beauty, waiting to be revealed, in this very existence of me.

This is my destiny, I am destined to find beauty in this journey, destined to learn to be beautiful, destined to appreciate beauty.  The meaning of beauty is finding the perfect tendu, in a beautiful line of a raised arm...in port de bras, in that grand jete (one day, one day)...perfect high C, perfect pianissimo, beautiful lyrical line, the list goes on and on.

The time is right.  As I drove home after the class and supper with classmates, I wonder how many years ahead do I have to continue this quest of learning how to be a ballerina, in slightly less than 5 years I would be 40.

Am grateful for having been granted the time and place to find myself the right buttons to push for my doses of satisfaction.  Back when he was around to witness the bliss that music and singing grant me, he reminds me of how much I should push myself for excellence.

Now that it's just me and myself, and some good memories..it seems that I am addicted to pain, stress, and a highly strung lifestyle...all these, my drugs for happiness nowadays.  For, I don't know what else to live for...I just don't know what else, for now.

This is the right thing now.

Letter one hundred and twenty - The days go on

Dearest J,

This is a really interesting time...if you let me indulge a little (you had always indulged me) in recounting the days and the years of this life of mine.

Two years and over since the long goodbye.

I moved into Viva in February 2010, those fabulous nine months of togetherness here in this gorgeous space of friendship, romance, and music.

You loved spending time here, it's so quiet and peaceful, you said.  Though the crazy roads are right under our windows with all the buzz in this city, it was quiet and peaceful for you because there was just me, and you.  Sometimes it was just you and your friends and the single malt in the hall, many nights there were just you and your beer at the pub downstairs.  And so many nights of just you and I and conversations in this space.

When you left I took in Thursday, on Nov 18th, 2010, from Peter & TP.  It was a `try-out' at first, to see if I could live with her and her furry existence.  Very very quickly we made our co-habitation work.  I grew to really really love her.  My mom still think she is you in other form...quiet like you (still no meowing from her unless she is really really upset), her white fur coat like your staple white teeshirts, her favourite spot to sit - on your leather reclining chair.

December 7th, 2010 we added another housemate - Ah Lian senior.  An all-girl troupe down here in the increasingly hip place to live.  The baker downstairs now has a big group of cult following, of very chic, eclectic, cultured, tasteful people.  There are musicians, singers, actors, designers among others in the building...in fact this place is so incredibly inclusive and international we also boast tenancy of a group of very very scantily clad ladies who go out to work in the evening, speak dialects that I don't understand.

I have been making use of this space for various meetings and rehearsals.  Thursday adds to the flat of this air of homeliness and quirkiness.


A busy busy place, for two busy busy ladies, and the feline who doesn't have any playmate.  She spends a lot time looking out from the window to the earthlings below..

I've always wish I could get inside of her head and see what's going in there.  I want to know if she is lonely.


Finally, after more than a year of half being the only cat here..she was faced with Clara, incredibly friendly and younger than her - whom I brought home after much much deliberation.  I want to provide a playmate for Thursday.

I didn't work, Thursday was very very upset.  I was too untrained for the work required to put in to make the meeting work.  I sent Clara back to Peter's the morning after I put Thursday through hell over the Clara episode.

Clara


Back to being alone, Thursday remains the young white queen in this white castle, a tall castle all the way up here...cool and breezy.

October 6th, 2012.  Ah Lian moved to her new studio in the morning.  She said she came to my flat with just 6 big bags of clothing and belongings.  In a year and ten months, her stuff grew to about two car-full.  I drove to her new pad with my car full of her clothes and some bags.  She now has a new queen size bed in the new pad, and her very own Unifi internet.

My parents came to stay for three days, in the now vacant guest room.  My dad mopped the floor to kill time during the stay, as usual.  The floor was incredibly clean, result of having been mopped twice a day by him.

Thursday watching a rehearsal in session

October 9th, my parents went home to Taiping...left me with very very clean floors and kitchen.

Now I am truly, really alone, at last.  In our home.  Without you, without Ah Lian, without parents doing the weekend stay over.  Just Thursday, and me.

Still, there are reminders of you all over, even after two years and beyond.  Your single malt collection looks over the hall from the high book shelves, your spare helmet is right next to the collection...your books.  Your biking boots still sit inside a bag under a chair in my study.  Your torn and very worn black denim jacket hangs inside my wardrobe next to my short dresses...that blue jeans of yours hangs inside our bedroom behind the door since middle of 2010.

Yet they are clean.  Sumathi comes in every week to take care of my need for a clean flat.  She cleans the whole place, yet your stuff stay where they are.

I am very excited about this brand new chapter, this truly, truly alone living space.  I will embrace it and love it and treasure it, care for it and yes, I will miss you a lot still.  I will make new friends, I will travel and read, and cook more (hopefully), I will even try to flirt more.

Just want to tell you about these.

Alone, but very loved, and missing you,

B

How to love

Am going to tell you something very serious - how to love someone.  Am not saying that I know all of all there is about love, or that I have prefected the art of loving, or that I have loved enough in my life to tell you and to lecture you what it's all about - but I can tell you that I have experienced a good kind of love, and from my experience and through my living example so far, I think it is the best kind of love, and the best way to love.  And I mean to say that that was how I was loved, how I was loved, was the best kind of loving.

Thanks to a young friend who asked me yesterday over a chat, "so what is the way to your heart?"  It sounds like a simple question in passing when someone is flirting with you but somehow I paused and thought about it very very seriously and I didn't want to answer it lightly because I knew then, everytime am asked a question about what I want in love - I will be serious about it and for now, that's the way I want it to be.

So I thought about it for a while and I think hours later, many errands later and with the question at the back of my head, it came upon me that I knew the answer all along; just that nobody ever asked me like that that got me thinking about it.

So here it goes, let me tell you what I think is the best way to love someone wholeheartedly and with all your heart.

To love her, you want to make her happy, is to understand why you fall in love with her.  You understand her dreams, her passions, her hopes and her nightmares.  

You want to see her happy, you want to see her living her life in fulfilling her dreams and hopes, you want to share the love she has for her life and doing what she loves.  It's very pure and simple, you love her so that you just want her to be happy, you know what makes her happy, you do all that you can to understand her dreams and you do all that you can in your might and your will to make her dreams come true.

You encourage her to work hard for her dreams, you support her in all the ways you could and you share her happiness when she achieve something, a milestone, etc on her road to success, her path to greater heights in her ambition.  You do all you can to inspire her, and to make her want to be better in her craft, her work, her career, her arts.

You also share her pain, her doubts, her demons, her nightmares.  You hold her in your embrace and your strong belief that if she just work hard at her dreams and plan a working system together, nothing will be left behind.  You reassure her that brighter future is ahead, and that her hard work would be rewarded.

You also bring laughters, silliness in her life.  You share your values and your positive outlook of life with her.   You show her living means making the best of the situation she is in, after working hard and trying her best, what she is to do next is to just enjoy whatever the work brings, and enjoy the moment after the battle.  You show her how you love other people, how you always find the best in others.  How you always choose to see the good in others.  

You may say that that is not a job of a lover, a partner, that sounds like a jobscope of a mentor, a person trainer, a company leader...but why not?  Why not have a love like that?  What do you want from your partner and your lover?

Anyway, that was how I was loved once, it will remain in me for the eternity to come.  The life I live now is an extension of his love, everything...my values, my music and my singing career, my friends, my families, my outlook for things, and things I've learned to care for - are an extension of the love I have experienced from him.

He saw my love for singing.  He saw it the first time he watched me sing on stage and decided that he wanted to help me - to sing, just to sing. Because he saw how singing makes me so happy.  So he just did what he could to help me sing more, he was really just a clueless boy about showbiz who got it all correct, he said, "I just want you to sing, and help you sing more."  For that was the most important essence for our love. He wanted to make me happy, he knew what makes me happy, he wanted to help me do more of what makes me happy.

Everything else came naturally.  He made me take driving lessons so that I could drive myself to all the auditionas there were to come, to all the rehearsals that I would need to attend.  He bought me a keyboard so that I could learn to play and help myself in music.  He bought me the best seat in a theatre show so I could watch the show and learned a thing or two, and to enjoy the show.  But he only bought one for me so he could save some money (because the ticket was so expensive) and he knew that I didn't mind going to the show by myself...the list goes on.

When I failed an audition or did badly at a performance, he would hold me and let the tears flow.  He would then tell me not to worry, "Don't worry, now you just need to do it many many more times.  Yes you may fail again but you will always be better if you work at it ok?  The important thing is that you will never be in the same place tomorrow, you will always improve if you practice, ok?"

He also shared his passions with me, he made me see how much he loved his bikes, his work, his silly friends and his family.  Through all that I learned too.  I was learning how to love, and live, without knowing it.

He also taught me the importance of making the best of the moment we are in.  He taught me how useless it is to stay angry over something petty, and how unhelpful it is for anything.  He taught me how to walk away from a bad situation and focus my energy on something more useful and positive.  He taught me the importance of speaking softly, the wonders of getting something done by just smiling sweetly and request softly.

He taught me how to enjoy a simple life with simple joys of eating simple food, reading quietly, enjoying someone's company without needing a conversation.

He taught me the joy of enjoying one's surrounding, by jogging, cycling all around town and beyond.

The joy of photography, writing, reading, eating, sleeping...

I will end here, I hope I've said simple enough for my thoughts to come through.  Love doesn't need to hurt, love can be simply glorious, bright abd full of joy.  So I urge all of us to love well, love deeply...

Janet

October 7th, 2012

===================

Justin aka Sitting Ducks, was my, I quote W. H. Auden:

He was my North, my South, my East, and West, 

My working week and my Sunday rest, 

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song...

He departed on Oct 3rd, 2010 while doing what he loved.  I hope to continuously commemorate his love through my singing and life.

Days Flying Passed

His anniversary tomorrow.  Two years.  Nell and I are going to volunteer at the soup kitchen with his mommy tomorrow morning, like last year on October 3rd.

We bought secondhand aprons for the occasion.  It's my first apron since my school days.  I remember mom had to make me an apron for the Kamahiran Hidup class in high school.

This song by Pink Martini (Everywhere) sounds like a dedication for he and I:

Everywhere I go I know

Everywhere I go will glow

The sleepy summer sky

The lovers passing by

All the cities too 

Make me think of you

Everywhere I go I see

A world designed for you and me

I always realised with every new sunrise

That you are with me everywhere

I've never ever known a love that lasted

Beyond the thrill of a first kiss

This love of ours has utterly surpassed it

And now my bliss is this

Every time I'm far from home

I am never quite alone

Whenever we're apart

You're always in my heart

For you are with me everywhere

Every time I'm far from home

I am never quite alone

Whenever we're apart

You're always in my heart

For you are with me everywhere

I have moved on in so many ways with my life since two years, I feel.  I have learned so many many new things in the two years, and so many things I still don't do well enough.  I wish I knew more about his family on how they are doing with the two years, though kept in close contact and I see them most every week, I don't get a peep into their inner lives...inside worlds.  Still there is a nice and warm comforting feeling when I spend time in their house. 

Still I wonder the meaning of moving on.  How do you move on after you've had the best one?

The universe has died

Looking for meaning everywhere

Looking for you everywhere

But I know the outcome, you are not to be found, you are nowhere

Yet you are everywhere I turn to

You are everything

I find meaning in my songs

I find meaning in my dresses

I find meaning in conversations

I find meaning in books

I find meaning in shopping

I find meaning in travels

I find meaning in my foods

I find meaning in my friends

I find meaning in stargazing

I find meaning in my cat

Everything leads me back to the meaning of you

The meaning of us.

“There’s got to be more than us, this universe.”

“There’s got to be something deeper than this universe of us.”

But where is it?

Where are you?

The universe has died.

Letter one hundred and nineteen - The days go on

Dearest J,

I think about you often.

A fast bike rode past me earlier on my way home from Cecilia's house.

I remember the hours before you head out to that Ulu Yam bike outing almost two years ago, you held me in your arms on the sofa bed, I came home late after celebrating a big night at the theatre.  You held me and said, "I like this very much.  I like to see you sing so much, clever girl.  You are singing so much more nowadays and so busy.  I like it."

And then we went to the bedroom to sleep, at some point.  I can't remember how many hours of sleep we managed that night since I got home so late.

But I will remember for the rest of my life, at least I intend to remember, that our last quality conversation was that we were both so happy.

Perfect, we had what was better than being perfect.  What do you call something that is better than perfect?  I don't know, heavenly?  Divine?

How can I replace something that is better than perfect...I cannot.  I may well be sentenced to a life time of solitary for what we had, what you gave us was so pure and divine.

During a chat a few days ago, Zal asked that I don't replace, but to find something different, to find a different way of living.  Not think about how to replace...I quote her:

"Whatever it is, i guess I'm saying don't dwell backwards lah k? Don't try to fill the space he left. Make 

new spaces. Not necessarily human shaped spaces... there's no way to intellectualize the missing bits 

away. I guess you literally have to develop a new habit."



A new habit...ok.  But you know what they say about old habit hard to beat.  And you and all that you were, an old habit very very hard to beat.

I am the same, I sing a lot.  I sing a lot a lot more now.  I also read more, I plan to travel more.  I still don't spend as much time as I wish to with your family.

Many things changed.  Your Mom told me that Hussein doesn't go to your house to get fed anymore, they call out to him everyday but he doesn't go there to eat anymore.  They said maybe because sometimes they bring his food out too late.  But he is getting fed by other neighbors, so don't you worry.  Hilary is the same, still manja as ever, still eat and lounges at your car porch.

Will write more.

Have to go now, pianist coming over soon to rehearse for a gig.


Yours forever,

B

第一步

終於都學到了。 是， 非常辛苦的，慢慢的在黑暗中摸出來 ：）

這個感覺真好。

好吧， 希望下來的日子自己會繼續的｀寫‘ 下去。


繼續的唱下去。

books just happened

Anyone who loves reading knows that the fastest train in the world is your mind, the speediest way to travel is by reading.

Whatever my childhood may be pale in comparison with the more affluent families, my parents made it up by letting their children read whenever they want, wherever they want.  Even during Chinese new year where some older folks frown at the sight of books because `shu' - 书  also sounds like 输, losing...not something old fashioned Chinese want to be associated with during Chinese new year.

Hence even though my parents' house was shabby and my siblings and I never grew up with a VCR player...or fancy electronic games and overseas holidays (I don't remember any holidays other than our CNY visits to Ipoh), we always had books in the house.  Though it was never a big thing, as far as I can remember, books just happened in my childhood.

It wasn't like a vegetable force-feeding thing for some kids, or kids having been dragged to ballet class...or piano lessons (though now I kinda wish that it did).  Reading for pleasure just happened at home.  I was not a high scorer at school subjects, I was horrible at sports, I didn't join the school choir, my mathematics were borderline case.  Vivid memories of joy during my primary school days were that twice a week during recess time, I raced other kids to the small school library to choose two books to borrow.  I have clear vision of me and other kids, standing on old wooden chairs in front of the ceiling height (or maybe it was just so much taller than us that it felt like it was ceiling height?) book shelves to access to books on the higher shelves.  I was reading a series of all the the translated classics like Little Women, Great Expectations...etc, in the Mandarin edition.

Yes, I only read books in Mandarin back in school.  My primary and secondary school days were spent in national Chinese schools, till form 4 when I transferred to a Malay school near ISA Kamunting. The world of written English only came to me in high school where it started rather slowly and not without a bit of teething pain.

Other memories involving books and reading include those late outing with my father to town in Taiping.  My father would take me with him to run his errands and work in town, he was the accounts person in a small cinema then and would go to the cinema office in the evening.  Within walking distance from this dodgy little cinema (they screened dodgy films too, I remember watching some of them!) there was a Chinese bookshop called Nan-Hwa Shu Ju (南华书局) run by this tall and skinny lady whose name I have forgotten but not her face, she was a friendly figure, short curly permed hair with big mouth of big teeth jutting out of her constantly talking or smiling face.  Am sure if I asked my father now he would still remember her and her name.

She would let me loiter in the shop for hours while my father muck his accounts in  the office down the road.  The shop wasn't air-conditioned and only had an old fan but to be able to read pages from different books before I finally put them back if I couldn't buy one was good enough for me.   Sometimes it gets so late that I would walk to my father when the bookshop closes and on the way there, there was another opportunity to read.  Right in front of the entrance to the cinema and its office, there was a kiosk selling Chinese comics, novels and magazines.  I have no memory of the dude who runs it now but I remember standing there with my sore legs squeezing in as many pages as possible before I had to put a book back and go home.  I have bought many copies of comics from that store too..mostly girly stories.

Then my sister left school and got a job in the city!  Shortly after her stint in a music school and a few interviews with Malaysian airline she started her training as a stewardess.  She would write me letters from the city in Malay (she doesn't write Chinese) at first, because my English was very limited.  Slowly she would mix the letters with simple English and ask me to check my dictionary if I couldn't understand the letters.  She encouraged me to pick up my English writing and speaking, "so that when you are bigger next time I could take you flying with me to visit other countries, but first you will need to speak good English."

To me that would always remain as the...for lack of better word, the starter or initiator for my chapter in discovering the world of books in English.  The desire to want to see the world and be more sophisticated - I had to be good in English, back then in the late 80s and early 90s.  I didn't need much pushing, soon after that I was tuning into Radio 4 and listening to the late night broadcast of `song dedication' hosted by Janet Ambrose.  In the morning I listened to the crazy duo Yasmin Yusof and Patrick Teoh breakfast show.  I tried very hard to understand the punch lines and conversations in sitcoms like Growing Pains, Family Man, The Simpsons, Saved By The Bell...Doogie Howser, etc.

For reading I had to start with Enid Blyton...constantly being confused with very old fashioned words such as `crossed'.  I was already in high school then and the library in the high school was way bigger and it even had an air-conditioned section.  I would have a after school lunch (peanut butter sandwich my mom made for me) and stayed in school till 3 or 4pm before my father come around to pick me up.  Those wonderful lazy afternoons were spent dreaming and reading in the library, looking at books that I couldn't borrow and choosing between ten books that I want to borrow.

I was reading elementary books in English while I devoured advanced Chinese literatures like 巴 金's 家,春, 秋 and others (like my favourite 三 毛) to satisfy my otherwise rather mundane life.  Soon I moved to what I remember as the simplified versions of classics like Picture of Dorian Gray among other titles (I wish I kept a record of what I read then).  When school holidays came when I was in form 2 or 3, I graduated to reading old copies of Reader's Digest, given to my family by friends. The days spent at home during school holidays were long and hot (no air-conditioning in my parents' house, not even now) but I was very much pacified by lying on the cool cement floor in my room, glued to the pages of various Reader's Digest.  I was lucky like that that my mom let me get lost for hours everyday in my room, I never have to help her with cooking and much chores, also explained my very very limited cooking repertoire now.

Then I started going to the town library near the Lake Gardens, first on my bicycle and later on on my motorbike when I passed my license.  The library was a symbol of worldliness to me back then..especially when I walked over to the magazine area in the library where adults lounge and read magazines like Newsweek, Times and Economics.   My understanding of the English language was still limited.  I remember sitting in the huge sofas next to the library main door trying to decipher the articles in those magazines.

Oh, and the entire building was air-conditioned so there's never any need to go anywhere to stay cool, except when it closes and everyone gotta get out.

I was introduced to Sue Townsend's books in this library.  'Rebuilding Coventry'...I was immediately attracted by the novel's opening line, (somewhere along the line of, since I don't have a copy with me now)

"The two things that you need to know about me immediately are that I am very attractive and I have murdered my neighbor yesterday."

The town library was the last place with books that I hang out at most in Taiping, before I left for the city.  And then reading became a different creature once I started making my own allowance for books, with my own money.

Reading morphed into owning and collecting books besides just reading them.  I started to buy and collect at a rate way way faster than I could read them.  With the distraction of a gazillion things and chores in an adult's life, reading without a care in the world is a conscious effort and a luxury.  There were months where I wasn't really any book in particular, it's too easy now, I have books by the shelves full in my flat and more within my reach - they have been taken for granted.

The influences I got for my grown-up reading were from my city friends.  Meanwhile, my sister became a part time contributor for various magazines and dailies, and then she started to publish her own books.

SeeMing and Justin were possibly my biggest influence in what I read when I was fresh out of college in late 90s.  Both fast readers, like how SeeMing could finish one book in one sitting.  They were trading books between themselves and would pass me some to read.  I was at the hand-out corner, hungrily awaiting ideas and ideals.  Through Justin I learned to love reading science books written for layman.  It took me a long time to finish Carl Sagan's "The Demon-Haunted World" but the ride was worth it, I would never see the world the same again! And what a liberating feeling it was to understand and to know why people always have ghostly encounters at night!

I would made many many more friends later in great many different circles but finding your mates in reading in a city like KL is a little harder than find the perfect tenant or landlord.  These days I trade reading list with my colleagues in music, we talk about writing we benefit from and we exchange.  My jazzer friend Cher Siang has been instrumental in bringing me back to my Chinese roots in reading.  And thanks to Lynn, the next book to get curled up in maniac depression is going to be "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?"

The list of great books that change my life goes on and on, and so many more to change me further lies all around me.  I have been living a charmed life and am gifted with many things.  The ability to find immense joy in reading is certainly somewhere very close to the best gifts I have in this life.

And of course, years after those letters from my sister and her promise to take me traveling.  I finally confronted my sister when I speak a lot more English since I started in standard 6, "So when are you taking me flying to those English speaking countries?"

She smiled, "Silly, now that you speak English fine, you can go out and visit the world yourself!"

a good soul

I wonder what is the root of evil.

Back when I was still in school and first learn the concept of doing good and being a good person and being mindful - it wasn't in the school classroom doing the Pendidikan Moral paper.  It was when my family and I attended our weekly lecture at the Tao centre.

The lectures given by senior Tao practitioners were mostly in Tawainese Hokkien with thick accent, and some were in Mandarin which I could follow better.  Doing good, being good, all seem to be a rather tedious and highly intellectual thing through my half-cooked understanding of these lectures.

And then I became a vegetarian.

Years later now, when almost all of the content of what I learned back then is a blurry page in my mind - I feel that I finally understand what being good is about.  I learned about being good all over again after I left school.  The society is really the best place to study, the working place, in a family, on a bus, in an office, over the post office counter, at a public toilet queue, over the cyberspace, between two best friends, from a book, over two paragraphs of written wisdom...etc.

The more I build my relationship with my work and understand the role I play at work, the more I see that being good, doing good, and being happy, and spreading love, are all inter-related.

I have a sense of having-arrived at a good place in my life now, without having to be a high flying achiever.  Answers for my questions are always found easily when I stick to my fundamentals of what is intrinsically good.  On a day when being right or wrong gets blurred, I go back to the foundation of being loving and kind.

I guess this is the point in life where the strong thinker in me (proven a Myers-Briggs 'ENTP' type) is starting to mould into a balanced person, merging the character of a thinker and feeler.

Whenever anger comes, pause and take the journey forward with love in my heart and anger leaves me.

Whenever frustration enters, pause and walk the gratitude road and I will find my way out.

Whenever a self-doubt hits home, I measure all that I have to be grateful for and I see clearly that hard work and diligence is the answer to self-doubt.

Whenever am feeling stuck and confused, I retreat to a good book, either fiction or non-fiction...

This brings back to the childhood study of being good and doing good - maybe I had a hard time understanding what it meant in those lectures back then because I was too young and had little life experience to appreciate what it meant.

In a world that spins increasingly faster and crazy as ever, I know we can change things around if everyone can just look inward and just do your part of goodness - that would do a lot of good already.

Even that means just to spay your home pet, and keeps it well cared for and loved.

And love your neighbor.

Live in the moment, put on the signal before turning.

Register to vote.

...maybe this is a very poor illustration of what I understand lately, I shall leave the painting to someone who is better, I close here with a quote from my friend's (Cher Siang) blog - Thank you Cher Siang.


一直都在想，我们不是要改变世界，最主要的是充实自己，从而期望可以影响身边的人，进而广之。人要有理想，进而尽全力追求这理想，在努力的过程学习，看到自我的价值，有自信的增值，对尊严的肯定，进而领悟生命中的意义，自然会致力于世界的平衡，进而影响世界。

我一直都相信国人的素质的提升是高于一切政治改革的。国人素质低落而有了政治变异，得到的就只有混乱和渺茫。（并不代表我们就不改变政治，因为如此的政治，确实也是国人素质低落的罪魁祸首）
“自我提升”，虽然已经被直销公司骑劫多年而老生常谈，却还是我们看到希望的一个重点。

有素质的人，他不会乞讨小惠小利，他不会埋怨上天的不公平。他会默默耕耘，去创造，去以自己的能力来改善自己的条件；更有能力的会因此影响其他人。他不会遇到问题就逃离，而是运用智慧与环境周旋。

Letter one hundred and eighteen - The days go on

Dearest J,

I finally watched the movie [Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close].  The book is still sitting on the bookcase.

It was nice to watch the movie alone in our home, with no one around and just the cat.

I think I know now that the story for most people who have lost someone they love very much is very very similar.

Love,

B

Letter one hundred and seventeen - The days go on

Dearest J,

Today is one of those rare Mondays when I have a window of time to clear the mini pile of books and CDs off my writing desk.  Put them back on the bookcase, I felt quite uneasy looking at the huge number of new books I have accumulated but have yet to read them.

Then I proceed to look inside the fridge and check for expired foods.  I have done it about two weeks ago and cleared out a crazy pile of foods that have been sitting there for great many months.  Your Kelloggs bars, they have been sitting in their boxes since before Oct 2010.  I took out the two boxes and checked for Best By dates...I think I read October 2010.  I remember you swore by Kellogg's then when you were losing weight back then, for your biking.  Lower body weight on the bike means you could go faster and be more efficient, you told me.

I can't quite comprehend the reason why I kept the bars in the fridge for this long, knowing I am not going to make use of them.  I place them now on the kitchen top, along with this tub of fermented black beans that you bought for me to eat with the special wheat Japanese noddles...which I never got around eating.  I felt terrible that I have let these good stuff gone to waste, and also your good intention.

But I won't just cry in vain over spilled milk.  I am taking steps now to eat better and take better care of things...and people.

I miss you lots.

Love,

B

for me, for you, my songs

So I remember what needs to be done, from scratch...ground zero.

My album.

10 songs.

5 covers, 5 originals.

English and Mandarin.

I write, he writes, she writes.  I have 2 songs, 1 more in the workshop with Cher Siang.  

What songs do I cover?  Think, sing, try, chat...think, write, chat, share, try.

Ok, let's go.

Letters one hundred and sixteen - The days go on

Dearest J,

Am sure many lovers all over the world who's in love with this song think Pink Martini wrote the song just for them...just like how I have been thinking, since the first time I heard it many months ago..




Everywhere

Everywhere I go I know
Everywhere I go will glow
The sleepy summer sky
The lovers passing by
All the cities too
Make me think of you

Everywhere I go I see
A world designed for you and me
I always realised with every new sunrise
That you are with me everywhere

I've never ever known a love that lasted
Beyond the thrill of a first kiss
This love of ours has utterly surpassed it
And now my bliss is this

Every time I'm far from home
I am never quite alone
Whenever we're apart
You're always in my heart
For you are with me everywhere



I think it speaks for me, every single line of it.  I hope to perform it one day soon...for you, everywhere.

Miss you much,

B

at the playground all day

Am too busy having fun.

And then I would stop and examine the situation and try to see if there's a catch in this whole business.

Is this all right?  What did I do to deserve so much fun, I need to pinch myself to check for reality?

Am also busy accumulating bruises from my weekly classes of assortment of clean, physical fun.  In my Monday and Wednesday classes of contemporary dance at Enfiniti, am the oldest in class, being the only untrained dancer, among the young and very flexible ballerinas - the routines in the class reek of pain but seriously satisfying, serotonin-pumping.  I am taught various ways of moving, turning, rubbing, pushing different parts of my body on the dance floor...plenty of throwing limps around with maximum control.  Yes, throwing things around with lots of control...yea, like singing too - to sound effortless requires plenty of control within.  I have matching bruises on my left and right shoulders, pieces of skin rubbed off various parts of my feet, my elbows are decorated with spots of bruises too...knees.

In my Tuesday jazz class at Caterpillar, I am the youngest person in class, still dancing among a few trained ballerinas, older than me.  The contact to the floor is a lot less, there's plenty of pirouettes work and sexy routines to master...the scene is different.  Here I mingle with ladies who discuss relationships and anti-aging products.

On Saturday mornings I try to get to yoga class at Aravind Centre on time.  I talk to no one but the instructor, interaction with fellow classmates are mostly a polite nod and a smile.  I spoke to less than three persons in all of my four sessions there so far.

Thursday mornings I make sure I hit the road by 1040am in order to arrive in Subang in time for my singing class with Cecilia.  This new relationship started in February, what was suppose to be a push and boost to my singing has turned out to be a really slow and consistent struggle of understanding and doing it right...all boils down to lack of homework and practice.

Off the weekly class and such, I find myself in a constant tug of war with time, chasing after a better time management.  From taking phone calls to meeting clients, sending an invoice via email, booking a band, collecting dry cleaning, making a song list, etc - I know I want to better my time management and  find more time to practice my music.

And then there's a long list of friends to meet, family to see, strings of performances to catch.

Oh, so all these fun things to do, even work is too much fun - singing with my top cats on stage and get paid for doing so.

What's the catch?

For how long can I do this for?  I don't know but I hope whatever it is I do now is going to contribute to sustaining my lifestyle of having fun non-stop.

Sometimes, maybe a tad too often, I wonder how things would turn out if J is still around.  Would I be as busy?  Would he be happy, would his work fulfill him as much as mine fulfill me?

I know I would never never find out.

Sometimes I close my eyes hard and try to picture a future with a new lover, I see a long winding road to that point and then I open my eyes again and ask myself why should I bother - the routine at this moment is too much fun, this freedom is blinding me from that future.

Too many new songs to learn.

So many great books still unread.

Still so many roads not travelled.

Many more blank pages in my passport waiting for new stamps.

This playground is so huge.  I need to stay focused and play hard.