It's about time

"To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven."
- Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NKJV)

I don't have the words to explain the reasons now; perhaps they will come in time, but they won't be here.

This blog has finally served its time, and I have only wonderful memories and gratitude for the lessons that I've learnt and people that I've met through it. Thank you to each and every one of you who's been a part of this journey.

These past months, my priorities have been reshuffled in a huge way, and it's time for me to move on. This isn't to say that I won't be writing anymore. In fact, one of the reasons that I won't be writing here anymore is precisely because of my time commitments to actual writing gigs; I'm sure many of you who've been here long enough have some idea of just how much that means to me.

While I do value my anonymity, I value relationships more. (Those of you who've written to me in the past two years would know that -- as far as possible -- I sign off e-mails with my name and not my pseudonym.) So please feel free to keep in touch; you're welcome to write even if you haven't in the past.

I will probably do some housekeeping, but most of the entries that have been penned will remain for your reading pleasure. ;)

Lastly, I guess it's only fitting that this blog that has seen so much laughter in the form of guest appearances by friends and family has one last chuckle at their expense.

So long, and thanks for all the fish! :)

***

Me (looking at Mr L's mobile phone): "Why is your text font so small? It's so difficult to read!"

Mr L: "Small fonts are kinkier. Makes my screen look big."

Me: "???"

Home

I'm home.

***

Too many things have happened these past couple of weeks, and words are simply not enough to tell the stories. You had to be there.

I told my sister, when I visited her in Perth, that the one feeling I had the entire time I was there was the constant awareness that I was an outsider. So the most surprising thing I felt when we landed was that of being at home.

Perth is in many ways similar to Singapore -- the big city, the labyrinth of well-paved roads -- but in the unfamiliar culture, living conditions, and language, I felt -- for the first time in my life -- more home than home. To literally reach out the window for grapes, apples, pears, apricots; to lie beneath the blanket of twinkling stars -- it was an indescribable comfort. Which is not to say it was a walk in the park at all; we worked hard the entire time we were there, and hardly had any time off.

If you know me, you'll know that I'm not a morning person at all. I typically don't have breakfast, because by the time I manage to wake up, I'm already late for school or whichever appointment I have planned. Perhaps a huge testament to the kind of joy that I felt there was that I sprung out of bed every single morning before my alarm clock rang -- just too happy to wake up and start a new day.

***

I didn't want to leave, and while part of it has to do with what I've mentioned -- how much I loved the place -- it has more to do with the people that I fell in love with and gave my heart to.

To build relationships with the teenagers in the homes, and the patients in the drug rehab centres, and then to leave them so quickly -- it's too cruel, and it breaks my heart. I don't know if I can do this short-term missions thing, and I don't want to scare my parents, but the only way I can continue this wonderful thing that God has shown me, is to devote my whole life to it.

It's something that I'm still praying about.

***

Before we left Kazakhstan on Sunday afternoon, we said our goodbyes and gave each other farewell hugs and handshakes. It's the first time I've been in a group where I've been the youngest, and I've been unspeakably blessed, encouraged, and inspired, by the people I've met and worked with on this trip. I had so much on my mind then -- too much to think about -- that I didn't even have time to take in the finality of leaving. I took one last look at the green gate that housed my new home, took a deep breath, and got into the taxi.

It was only after we had crossed the treacherous border, and finally moved into Uzbekistan, with Kazakhstan behind us, that the magnitude of what the last two weeks had done for me finally hit -- and the tears started to flow.

***

I'm home.

I'm home, but why does it feel like I've left Home behind?

Somewhere over the rainbow

It's funny how my impending departure has seemed to spark off a torrential pouring in of interview invitations; I only hope I can squeeze them all in before I leave next week. The initial few were slightly nerving, but since then I've actually enjoyed them, and I've learnt more than I'd expected.

But it's been a few months now, and with the commencement ceremony making things seem even more final, I do think that, if I don't get any firm offers by the time I return from Kazakhstan, I'll start to look up engineering openings (yeah, I've been looking elsewhere, surprise). Not my first choice, but if nothing else, I really do have to start pulling my weight at home.

***



Rocky used to do that -- prop his head up -- but only on the lower ledges. I can't imagine how this position would be comfortable, but he seemed to like it, and so, it appears, does Amy. :)

***

Saturday night, I complained to my mom that I still hadn't found Rocky's nail clippers.

"How is that possible? I just saw you clipping his nails!"

"Just? By that, do you mean, a year ago?!" I asked incredulously.

She eyed me suspiciously. "Has it been that long?"

We paused, and I took a look at my watch to check the date. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I turned to Mom.

"Tomorrow," I said softly. "One year tomorrow."



Has it been that long?

***

"A lot of people would say 'I wouldn't want to be in their boots.' I gotta say to you, John, I would love to be in any one of their pairs of boots this evening. World Cup final, penalty shootout; what an opportunity! Is your glass half-full or half-empty? It's half-full!"

-- Gary Stevens, co-commentator at the Italy-France final, while the players prepared to go into the shootout

Sleeping positions 101

Somewhere out there

I mentioned how much I loved Kazuo Ishiguro's A Pale View of the Hills. In fact, I was so fascinated with the read that I bought a copy the very next day and shipped it off to my sister in Australia.

With the exams having come and gone, she finally had the time to sit down and read it, I guess. I got a call from her while I was on the train today.

"OH MY GOSH. So who was Sachiko?!" she screamed.

We spent the next 15 minutes trying to dissect the story.

Me, on the train.

Her, out in the country with very bad reception.

I wonder if other sisters do this.

(Oh, and there will be further investigation when I'm not stuck in a packed peak-hour train, and when she isn't knee-deep in cow dung.)

RIP: "Eddie"

:( Goodbye, Eddie. Thanks for the years of laughter.

Bits and pieces

The World Cup is upon us once again, so head down over to JayWalk's World Cup Prediction League for some fun. :) My prediction for the opening match has gone to the dumps (and I'm doubtful many predicted that scoreline), but 'tis early days yet! Poland vs Ecuador is up next in just a while, and many thanks once again to our neighbours across the causeway for bringing the matches to us poor folks who don't have cable! ;)

***

We headed down to Sentosa for some fun in the sun yesterday (even though there wasn't much sun), and then to Marine Parade for high tea buffet at Sakura.



I can't get over what an incredible deal it is. $16.90 nett doesn't sound particularly cheap, but Sakura's buffet trumps any other sushi chain's buffet because it includes all the premium items -- we're talking free-flow sashimi and soft-shell crab!



I'm surprised there aren't more people flocking there every day.

***

Me: "Hey, my dad has some questions about this contract. Are you free now?"

K: "I'm charging legal fees of $100 per hour."

Me: "Yeah yeah. Anyway, do you mind just talking to my dad directly? He can explain it better that way."

K: "WHAT?! NO! I mean, I'm just a third ye..."

I pass the phone to my dad, and in the faint distance, I hear...

K: "OEI, come on... HELLO?! Oh, hi Uncle."