hello one and all this is the long overdue post.

which I'm afraid is a rather emo one..
but maybe the length of the post makes up for the length of time i've been absent from these pages...
oopsie haha..

and this is rather odd but i've just finished reading the completed post posted on my blog and i'm rather happy with it!

Work has become now a regular part of life, waking me at the proper times, and lulling me to sleep when time is up at the end of the day. Between charming young, power-house executives and middle(to old)-aged socialites to part with their hard-earned (or not) money, and taking stock and maintaining the display and doing all the tiddly things that come with making a living as a salesperson, however, lies puh-lenty of time for the mind to wander and wonder, at the meaning of the universe, and humanity, and the mysteries of life.

Yar right.

Actually all I selfishly think about are the mysteries of my life. Like if I'll be able to live life the way I want to, if I'll ever fall in love and walk off into the sunset, and if I'll get through the next week and keep the pounds off.

I've very recently (Tuesday this week, to be precise) applied to a course that will see me through four years of education in music education, and another five years as a music teacher in secondary schools. While previously it seemed so pretentious and premature to tell anyone but those closest of this grand masterplan (oh hear hear the dramatic tones are coming on even now) except in bits and pieces, as the days go by more and more the anxiety builds up and the irrational part of me says "hey, if so many people know and root for you, then maybe it'll come true after all!" and I think, "hmm, maybe the letdown of not getting it (ohdon'tsayitoutloudyou'lljinxit) and the embarrassment of everyone knowing that you tried so desperately may be reasonable risks to bear if in exchange some mystical force of the goodwill of friends would help your chances."

And of course, Leonard, ever the best friend, knows exactly, and intimately, what the hell I'm going on about.

And then slowly I find myself letting more and more out to the fanciful, flamboyant characters who patronise my stall. These nameless but never faceless ladies, some of which I'll never see again have become the first people who hear of my plans as if they were reality and not some hope I'm clinging to, and who know me as the jewellery salesman who's going to be a music teacher. They all wish me well, not to say that I'll charm the socks off the interview panel and pass the auditions with panache, but to say that I'll make a fine teacher, as if it were unavoidable as destiny. And as kitschy and Hallmarkesque as it may sound, the kindness of strangers surprises me.

So all that's left now is to very childishly proclaim and request: one and all, please please pretty please wish me luck!

Some nights are delirious with pleasure and anticipation, imagining I'm already where I want to be, and that's how I drift off to sleep, pretending to be teaching kids the mysteries of Do, Re, and Mi. Yet, sometimes, during harsh day the thought sometimes comes a-creeping, that perhaps even something as positive as this may be bound to the eternal rules of economics. What happens, then, if there's an opportunity cost to pursuing passion?

Now keep in mind that this year has Valentine's Day with all the hand-holding couples clutching bouquets walking right pass me every darn second (yes, commercial as that may be, eternal, hopeless, romantic that I am I succumb to that). And this year also has Lunar New Year where every single uncle, aunt and distant relative at the dinner table count off the girls to be married off and count off the guys that will one day bring a girl to the table and "hey," they say, "when all's good and done we'll be left with the same number of seats at the reunion dinner table!" and then they go on to very happily count off who's expected to be the next usher of good tidings for the family.

And, of course, at some point or another my name comes up and all I can do is smile the most politically correct smile I can muster and hope that those people won't notice, and a thousand thoughts (all of which completely unknowable and inconceivable to them) run through my mind.

So sometimes I wonder if life has enough goodness in it for me to pursue both my passion and fall hopelessly in love (yes I know it seems I'm going round in circles but it's all going to fall into place very soon, I promise) and of course, when that thought occurs to me at one of those moments when I'm thinking about whether I'm going to be called up for interviews and auditions for the teaching course I go ohmygodofcourseI'llchoosemusicoverlovehandsdown but then I catch myself, because I know how we weak humans have the propensity for making unwise wishes and promises, then I swing this way, then that, and then all of a sudden, I'm left lost and confused.

Leaving the restaurant tonight, for example, meant a drive past Clarke Quay, and glimpsing a sight of a long, quiet stretch of the river, and sudden and unbidden, a twinge twinged itself in my heart as I subconsciously told myself to remember that spot for a long, romantic, hand-holding, bouquet-clutching walk. Then I wonder if that future I just saw in my mind's eye means that the other future I see in my dreams must be forgotten. But the other passion then retaliates and I think, what if finding love (or even, God forbid, thinking about it) means I lose a small bit of hope for that future?

And then remember, that all of that is going on in my life while global warming and climate change and carbon emissions (which on a positive note has been acknowledged and for which plans for its rectification and amelioration have been put on top priority) and all of that that sounds like the end of the world goes on in the background, adding to my list of things to think about.

Yes, unbeknownst to most of you out there I'm quite a save-the-environment kinda guy. So recently I've decided to watch less TV, spend less time on the computer and not use the air-conditioner in my room; basically, cut fuel consumption. And, because I know, perhaps more than some, what it feels like to have someone else's convictions forced onto you, all I'm going to say is: think about it. Don't use your computer for a day, and when the people around you ask you why you make their lives difficult by shutting yourself off from the world, tell them exactly why. It sounds terribly like something we all cringe at when we read it in the National Geographic or hear it on the Discovery Channel, but I can't find another way of saying it without getting the message succinctly across (believe me, because at the dear cost of guzzling more electricity, I've tried).

Well that was a rather long and ponderous aside but it's something I've wanted to say for a long time now, and since I'm at it now I might as well get it out of me.

Well then, back to where I left off, things are never that perfect and defined, but for the sake of completion all I can say is that for now, at this point in time, at least, music still has the upper hand. After all, in all my (very limited) experience it's all that's left with me when I'm left nursing a broken heart. So that means that either, the optimist in me still has some way to go, or that I should prepare for a fulfilling life immersed in passion, and hopefully the music that sates the appetite of the ear can do as well in filling the stomach of the heart. But since I'm somewhat almost an optimist (see above) I refuse to believe in the latter choice that seems to mean living half a life.

So I tell myself, well maybe just not today, or tomorrow, or next week, or this year; but definitely one day you'll have your kitschy, Hallmarkesque, long and romantic, hand-holding, bouquet-clutching, riverside-strolling walk into the shielded-by-perfect-levels-of-carbon-in-the-air sunset.

And more often than not, that satisfies me.



(that, and because i'll be spending next week on a beach somewhere in Thailand)