Little things that make your everyday life, really.
First, being out of school (Primary/Secondary, or basically one which requires you to wear a uniform and conform to uniformity); That makes you lose track of days, and weeks, and months. In the blink of an eye, it’s already the March holidays, that kids have been longing for. But we don’t; not quite. It is no longer an incentive for us. When we were young, perhaps it meant a lot, the only thing in sight after each lap of 10 weeks we marathon past. Now, it seems almost insignificant. Peculiar, isn’t it? Maybe that’s how we slowly grow old and attune our stamina to that of the working life (ie. reality). Somewhat aimless, keeping afloat. Our calendars, pegged with meetings, and deadlines, and targets, one after another. Escapades from reality, although they probably compose a minute,10-15 days of the 365 day-cycle. That’s horrible, because they expect us to be well-rested and to welcome another year of a crazy race with fireworks and countdown. As we drag ourselves and wear and tear like pointe shoes after each cycle, we live through countless countdowns (Isn’t it insane that we rejoice for it on the last day of the year, despite dreading the ones to come in the new work year?!) that clogs our ‘mileage’ points ie. experience. For work, for progress, for better pay, for greater foresight and for a good retirement in our final years of living. Life goes on, but I already feel like a dead driftwood floating through some meander; following the primary and secondary flows, allowing myself to be thrown around. But I’m not the only one. Around this already charred driftwood, I see debris and more around me. I am afloat, but I am less than alive, as compared to the submerged gravel, rocks, and pebbles beneath on the riverbed are. See, these days, we can’t even be bothered about these loads of knowledge we spent time learning about in school. It’s practically, incoherent.
Soon, as we completely integrate into the hard lives we are to lead, we would end up being the submerged river load. As to the extent of which we are eroded and transported, depends on… I don’t know; I’ve yet to figure that part. Perhaps we look forward to deposition along the way, where we can stay put and have something to look forward to. Priorities.
In this phase of transition, I don’t really have a holiday, or a weekend to look forward to – because it just means there is work to do, and if you’re bumming around, how do you support your expenses? In all honesty, I will say it loud and clear here – I do not want to be like the others around here; whose goals are dead, who seek for a life of comfort. We accept the love we think we deserve, and I’m certain I don’t want to settle for a flat I’m merely renting from the government, that would be returned to them upon my death.
And that brings me to the second topic I’m brushing on – departures, and arrivals.
Some people are Frequent Flyers; I’m a Frequent Cryer. Ha ha. Looking back at the past few occasions of bidding others “Bon Voyage”, I can assure you, there’s an 85 percent chance you would see me tearing, choking up on them, or bawling. Like how Voldemort seeks security from Nagini’s close proximity to him; how do I expect myself to be strong when my pillars of support go away? Mentally, it crumbles. The physical distance, the different timezone, and a new radius of friends. Inevitably, insecurity creeps in – would this friendship stagnate, as how vines and creepers grow over abandoned things that once reigned so gloriously? Would they forget you? Distance makes a friendship approximately ten times harder to maintain, and it becomes like another LDR – just that it’s with your best friend, not your boyfriend/girlfriend. For every ounce of fun they get, of course you’d be happy for them; but the challenge lies with coming to terms with the tinge of jealousy because you’re not there to experience it with them. For the many years of growing together, and past decade of having each other’s backs, I can’t help but to worry. I secretly envy those who interact with her because most of them would take it for granted, and they don’t realise that while they get to see her so often, some of us do not get that- luxury. That makes me vulnerable.
Tears that flush along with the heat, amidst the heavy heart-pounding and deeper breaths, overwhelming heartache, and you can probably guess what’s next. I watched Karen leave, and then Adeline, and about a month ago, Elizabeth. since 2010, since 2012, and since 2006/7. Time and again, the vicious process sinks its teeth in, without fail. The only time I don’t cry seems to be when I am the one going away, all excited to escape from this little piece of land i.e. reality, as i embark on another journey. That seems to be a little pathetic though, a little -mad. Even in the last awfully painful nightmare i scanned through, it was too vivid for my own good – yet another departure, but it left me in tears back there, to question my reality to lure my rationality back. Perhaps that was the most extreme of departures yet, but what it echoes – comes from the much dreaded moment of having to bid another goodbye.
In a couple of months, I would see Jodie leave, and then Gavin, and then Ong Yi, and maybe even Wayne.
Some of them are the stem of the support, to a sub-support. Without their existence, the very basis of the cliques would not have concretised. As you consider the brevity of our existence, life is but a series of change, an evolutionary process. Mine constitutes of dreams, lots of daydreaming taking place, and REM dreams at night.
Which we will continue in the third thing I’m currently experiencing.
Lately/Almost everyday, I have been having dreams. In the day, they would occasionally startle the mind with flashbacks of it. They would escape, but leave, itchy enough to put a frown on your face and lose focus and wander into the forested thoughts. On Monday I couldn’t wake up for work. Despite having heard my mother’s entrance into the room and numerous callings back to Planet Earth and Singapore and Bedok Reservoir Road, I could barely move: until the dream end. Upon Mother’s summoning, I could see myself running, along with the panting and synchronised breathing. How odd it is though, because I seemed to be targeted by someone, and I was heading towards… a thing, a door, i think? Upon having it ‘finish’, I sprang up. Then on another day I vaguely recall bits and pieces of the dreams I had: first was flashing images of the train, a little like a monorail, with infrastructure built rising from water. and circle line. There was an ongoing open house for some junior college located in the west, quite deserted and away from the hustle and bustle of the city. What made it distinct was the uncommon field of green, and… a very clear water table. Like a reservoir, but with water 80 percent more transparent, in a turquoise blue, and refracting the sun rays. A caucasian group of children (kids-teens) were by the edge playing. the youngest boy (aged three,or four years old), very much resembles Riley from the most recent children Masterchef US season, was close to the deep water – and despite knowing that there is wild life and big fishes lurking, he jumped in. How strange, because the wave of water struck me from within when I watched him jump in. As it happened, he was treading on water, alongside a huge creature-like fish/whale mix-breed. Peculiar. then at the wooden dock/jetty i saw my brother sitting on the tip, legs hanging freely just above the water, and a laptop on his lap. “munsterbeanz” was the name of the person whom he was connecting with via a Skype-like app on the screen. Only that it was an orange and yellow version… I remember walking across a suspension bridge above all of these that I see beneath me. While walking cross, the laughter of the group of children echoes, distant. My brother smiles and laughs at the screen, and the girl reciprocates. I was walking across the bridge with someone, but I couldn’t identify who it was, neither could i describe how she looks. But the part that seemed to shake me a little more than it should was the recurring scene of the little boy jumping into the almost transparent water, swimming alongside creature.
Dreams are weird, but i seek their company and comfort almost every night. Very odd, very unnerving. But now that I’ve penned it down, I guess I could go and sleep – for that’s one thing down. Now… how do i find the connection and join the dots?
BITES OF A DODO 