Moving, and not

As some of you may already know, I have bought my own domain after much deliberation.
This means, I have already moved to a new site, the address of which is www.myname.com, assuming of course, you knew what my name was.

If you don't, and want to, email me. If you do, and still can't figure out what my new site is, also email me. Or leave a comment.

I have loved writing here for it grants me anonymity, which can't be said for my new site, so I'm not shutting this space down, simply for the fact that sometimes I just need to bitch, good and proper about something, and can do it here with no name attached.

So for all you know, you might still be getting the juiciest bits of writing here. Just that it'll probably not happen very often seeing as how many sites I now have to maintain, with the most important one of all, still in the very-far-back burner.

So till then, it's bye for now!

3am

It's 3am and my mind is racing.

Sleeping is impossible. After tossing and turning and feeling my heart beat at about 170bpm for the last hour, I decided I was trying in vain.

So I'll write instead. Again, time seems to be flying by and again my life seems to be a whirl of an intangible mess of "things happening".

Looking at my last post, that nye incident seems a lifetime ago.

Let's see: since then, I have been on a 4-week long course that served to recharge me well; written many stories, some significant, others less so, won story of the month; joined a gym for almost 2000 bucks; went to see The Police - who were legendary. Sting is so bloody hot, even at his age, I hope my bf ages the same way; gambled and ate lots at chinese new year; invested lots of my CPF money; bought new shares in the market; and just tonight, finally caught No Country For Old Men.

It was so Coen brothers, if you didn't know theme or their work, the majority of the meaning of the film gets lost. It was also so Fargo - just in the southern states instead of the north. Made me think back of my film studies days, oh how we would all just sit around and dissect the film, sequence by sequence, and analyse all the social satire brimming beneath the strung-together shots. I kinda miss it. Not many would understand, but for those who do, the conversation is something I would have relished so even more.

So between churning some beautifully-shot sequences, and the macabre-ness of it all, it didn't help that my mind's still racing about my upcoming story.

It's been awhile since I felt that excited or emotionally attached to one story, it scares me while at the same time almost titillates me. I remember the last time I felt like that was when I had the news that no one else had back in London and I had got a freelance assignment from The Times to write about it. Although it wasn't in the end a really fair deal for me, because they gave my story to someone else to write the main piece, getting my name in The Times was enough to keep me awake in anticipation for a few nights.

That now seems so long ago, and how far I've come. I think if I could turn back time I would have demanded that I wrote the main story, but hey it's all lessons learnt.

Where I am now, I can't even begin to describe, only that the sense of fulfillment and unfulfillment overwhelms me at the same time. And it's like there's a vast, black, hole - with promises of the future and tasks left undone - that's hovering above, mocking me.

I have such high hopes for this story. For this year. For everything.

I really should be grateful J and I are doing so well. More than a year ago, back in the UK, our lives were inhabiting such an alternate reality: the dosh, the drinks, the work and the people.

Now, we're but a fraction of the way on our journey and the future, unknown but brimming with unimaginable outcomes, seem simultaneously a miracle and a curse.

I can only hope my story turns out the way I want it to, that the choices J and I make turn out the way that ultimately makes us happy.

There's wanting something so badly that you think about it all the time, and then perhaps you get it, and you knew you would anyway and you think that'd make you happy but it turns out to be a delusion that chains you to the expectations and tardy perceptions of this world.

So, do you, or do you not, really want all that?

I say Yes.

And no.

Happy New Year

It's been a funny New Year, in many senses of the word.

For one, didn't celebrate it with J which was a little weird. But he was ill, and I guess we could consider ourselves lucky to be on the same continent. We planned to go for the fireworks party but it didn't work out and maybe just as well, since I heard the minister made an appearance and it wouldn't have been too good for one of my biggest newsmakers to see me thrashed.

Had such a good time at the countdown with some of my colleagues and even though at the start it was only the 4 of us counting down in this uncrowded, trendy bar housed in a quaint shophouse in chinatown. It was lovely, affordable champagne, a party pack, and we made a lot of noise at the countdown, hugging each other shouting happy new year and going in a round declaring our resolutions. We cheers-ed to that and then promised we'd help each other fulfill our promises for the year. or so we hoped.

A wanted some to do some 'lancing' and somehow we convinced ourselves that going to clarke quay would be a good idea, god knows why and how. i remembered clinic played really good house/trance music and was sorely disappointed to find out it had been turned into a canto-pop club. Why the hell that happened, I don't know. It's a bit sad to think market forces have ruled out the rave in favour of canto - we are just getting infested by too many canto-dancing people on this island and very soon all us who love rave music will only have one little one by one sq m room to dance to, ipod earphones in our ears. how tragic.

The night soon became eventful - the turning point being my momentous decision to put my clutch bag down on a corner of the stage.

There was this crazed looking guy in trying-to-hard-to-be-cool spectacles who came up to me and shouted for me to take my bag off. I tried to reason with him, told him it really didn't matter if I was occupying a teeny weeny corner. He got aggressive. Very. And guess what he did next?

He actually spat at me. I was stunned and shocked. And then almost blinded by anger. Which fucking moron in this day and age spits on anyone, much less a bloody paying customer in a bar. WITH a cover charge. it's such a primal, hunter-gather pre-homosapien thing to do and he should go back to living in the stone ages, that asshole.

I wished J was there so he could punch that asshole for me. But then again it would have escalated into a full blown fight and that's not necessarily a good thing. To cut the long story short, the barmen tried to appease me into not pursuing the matter, and gave me two free drinks in a reconciliatory gesture. I tried my hardest to forget it but how could anyone take being spat on on new year's day lightly?
Perhaps on hindsight I should have demanded to speak to the manager of the place on the spot and get that guy fired. But it wasn't new year's for nothing and after already had 6 glasses of champagne and a few others after that... i definitely didn't have the right head space for reasoning, so I settled for getting him back by throwing a glass of water (or was it gin and tonic?) at him (my friends led us to the dance floor and it just seemed a natural thing to do, you could say the stars were aligned for it to happen) and giving him the 'read between the lines'. Then I took off - went out, got a cab, went home to J.

I was tired and so pissed off by then, I didn't give a shit about what happened. All I knew is at least I had the last laugh. That'll teach anyone to think they can get away with spitting at anyone. Later, A told me the rest had a sort of 'confrontation' outside the bar and some dialogue worthy of a singapore version of the godfather were exchanged. This included, "don't be so rude later I slap you bitch" and "I want to beat you up", but thank goodness nothing more than just words happened or I would have felt so guilty.

After such a long night, I went home and promptly fell asleep and the next morning when I woke the whole episode just seemed like a weird-funny and haha-funny night. I am unsure if I should take the issue up with the management. Somehow, after the drink pouring, I think I've given away any rights to negotiate... But if anything, I'm just glad the guy didn't get away with thinking he could just do what the fuck he wants and that people will swallow up his unbelievably rude gestures just because he has a crazy, I-am-a-murderer look. And from now on, if that place, or that band can get any bad press from me, it most certainly will.

For next year, A and I have concluded we should just stay at home and watch DVDs and drink amongst ourselves. If J wasn't ill we actually would have just gone back to mine for another ipod party and play her cool african rave track to dance the night away - but hey, as i said, the stars were aligned and maybe this was meant to happen, just to give our new year a bit of a kick and for me to contemplate the whole reason for living, resolutions and all that shit we're supposed to contemplate at the turn of the year.

While I could dismiss this as stupendous bad luck that it happened, maybe it happened for a reason and I have wondered why we all insist on going out and getting drunk on the 31st dec of every year and pay over 100 bucks for the privilege of getting spit or stamped on and waiting on the roadside for more than half an hour for a taxi to go home.

I wonder if the concept of the new year is just that - a concept. What makes the difference going from May 31st, for eg, into June 1st - and that 31st Dec is so special? Companies start and end their financial years at times anywhere during a given year - maybe I should declare 31st July my own financial/personal year so 1st August won't only be my birthday, it'll also be my new year every year. and I can go out and get drunk with all my good friends, and countdown without having to pay overpriced cover charges and when dec 31st comes I can say to the losers out on the streets, hah-hah! I had a better countdown already!

Meanwhile, my mum says it's better to forgive and forget and after listening to the whole story, said that the guy actually deserves my pity and prayers because what kind of sad life, childhood did he have, and how stupid he must be to inhabit that sphere of existence where such an act could supposedly liberate him. Of course, she also said I should stop being such a hot chilli padi and make a new year resolution to calm my life down since eventful things always seem to happen to me.

But would I want an otherwise boring existence? that is the other million dollar question. Sometimes I think to myself I really want a boring, peaceful life and then at other times I think that would really be so dull I rather have the more exciting one with lots of trials and tribulations even though it might mean more pain and unpredictability in the long run.

So in the true spirit of the new year tradition, I have made some resolutions myself and I am going to stick to them by hook or crook:

1. Take more deep breaths, be a calmer person, even if that means listening to 92.4FM (classical songs) instead of 99.5 (hard trance/house)

2. Save more money (worked for more than a year and nothing to show for it except lots of ikea furniture)

3. Sell my car and get a more fuel-saving one

4. Go to the gym and tone up. I'm not fat but I've lost all my muscles it's becoming so flabby.

5. Be healthy - in body, spirit and mind. Stop drinking so much ( I was hungover every single day on the last week of december)

6. Be more adventurous - do more than the same-same, even if you're stuck on this island.

7. And get started on my big project which I've been sitting on for so long...

8. Spend more time with my family, complain less and go to mass more often.

I'll stop at 8 since it's the year 2008 after all, and it's supposed to be auspicious.

Happy New Year my dears, I love you all.