....Crusader Fluffy.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Warrior Bunny
In grand tradition of Bun-Bun and the Vorpal Bunny, I give you....
....Crusader Fluffy.
....Crusader Fluffy.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
WHACK!
Contrary to Hollywood belief, a 3-kg sword made of solid wood striking someone's ribs at practically full-force does not in fact make a sound. Not unless the sword broke said ribs.
That day, I could have sworn I heard a loud resounding "WHACK!"
We were at swordfighting practice. A couple of seniors were taking turns with the instructor at free sparring. I was up next so I was watching intently. It was brutal and elegant. Twice I saw my instructor, Greg, let a blow or two slip by to strike his fencing mask. Most of the time, though, Greg dominated. The seniors were getting seriously owned.
Right up to the point where one of the attacks went awry.
It was a chest level blow. Greg moved to trap the blade under his arm - a legitimate move under the system we use, considering that the ribs would normally be protected by chain mail, plate and padding. One of the seniors mistimed his swing. Greg mistimed his shift. The result - bruised ribs.
Greg was left breathless for a while. I've never actually seen him in so much pain. I offered twice to drive Greg to get his ribs checked out, but he said he was okay. He was. That incident didn't take any edge off him when I sparred with him.
Greg was left breathless for a while. I've never actually seen him in so much pain. I offered twice to drive Greg to get his ribs checked out, but he said he was okay. He was. That incident didn't take any edge off him when I sparred with him.
The incident reinforced in me how dangerous this activity can actually be. Tough as Greg is, we were all worried that a rib might have been broken.
It hasn't dissuaded me. Neither did the five thrusts in the face, the two swings to the head, the locked arm, the circular body shove that nearly sent me sprawling.
I'll get better. I must.
*****
Here's another project I'm working on. I'll leave the picture to do the talking.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Changes
"I like your new glasses. They look funky"
Yes. I also wear Zara shirts, Marks and Spencer trousers and Hush Puppies now. I weigh the same, but I've lost inches off my waist and gained inches around my shoulders. I eat out more often, but have mostly stopped snacking. I have more social appointments than I can conceivably handle, but less time to be with myself. Strangely, that matters less to me than it did.
I've almost completely stopped WoWing. I've almost completely stopped watching TV. I spend my time quietly trying to understand myself. I spend my time trying to quietly understand my surroundings. I think more in terms of physical violence, less in terms of concilliation. I read more widely now. I wonder less about how the world works, and more about how I affect the world.
I make more money now. Paradoxically, I am less ambitious. I want to do my job and have the time that is due to me. No job will ever own me again.
The scars have become itchy keloids now. Movie scenes of a BART in motion remind me of its iron tangy scent. From pictures of San Francisco, Berkeley and Oakland I can feel the chill coastal wind, the light humidity of the ever-present fog, the golden champagne of the Californian sun. I'm not Singaporean, any more than I am Californian. Going to one place makes me miss the other. These itches, they remind me that I am in transition. Perhaps that is my fate then, to always be in transition.
It doesn't matter that much to me now - stability, and yet, I am more stable than I've ever been in my life. Perhaps that is life - to always be in transition, always moving from the past to the future, through the junction box we call the present. That is the purpose I chose to impose on my life for now. It is enough for me.
I sleep on a sofa bed. I understand it is not permanent. I will be moving soon. There, then, will be another change. I still cannot spend a night in my old bedroom. I go up on occassion, when I have something to fetch. It's a corpse of the former me. The stuffed toys have understanding looks. I still hear their soft voices . They say to me...
"I like your new glasses. They look funky"
Yes. I also wear Zara shirts, Marks and Spencer trousers and Hush Puppies now. I weigh the same, but I've lost inches off my waist and gained inches around my shoulders. I eat out more often, but have mostly stopped snacking. I have more social appointments than I can conceivably handle, but less time to be with myself. Strangely, that matters less to me than it did.
I've almost completely stopped WoWing. I've almost completely stopped watching TV. I spend my time quietly trying to understand myself. I spend my time trying to quietly understand my surroundings. I think more in terms of physical violence, less in terms of concilliation. I read more widely now. I wonder less about how the world works, and more about how I affect the world.
I make more money now. Paradoxically, I am less ambitious. I want to do my job and have the time that is due to me. No job will ever own me again.
The scars have become itchy keloids now. Movie scenes of a BART in motion remind me of its iron tangy scent. From pictures of San Francisco, Berkeley and Oakland I can feel the chill coastal wind, the light humidity of the ever-present fog, the golden champagne of the Californian sun. I'm not Singaporean, any more than I am Californian. Going to one place makes me miss the other. These itches, they remind me that I am in transition. Perhaps that is my fate then, to always be in transition.
It doesn't matter that much to me now - stability, and yet, I am more stable than I've ever been in my life. Perhaps that is life - to always be in transition, always moving from the past to the future, through the junction box we call the present. That is the purpose I chose to impose on my life for now. It is enough for me.
I sleep on a sofa bed. I understand it is not permanent. I will be moving soon. There, then, will be another change. I still cannot spend a night in my old bedroom. I go up on occassion, when I have something to fetch. It's a corpse of the former me. The stuffed toys have understanding looks. I still hear their soft voices . They say to me...
"I like your new glasses. They look funky"
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Following Authority
Here's my first reading recommendation for the year.
It takes a while to get through, but it's worth it.
In a nutshell it is research on followers of authority, and the characteristics of authoritarian followers. The reason I find it so fascinating is its application to the Singaporean mindset - both pro and anti-government.
In my attempt not to bias my readers, I will not write more. Read and leave a comment if you want a discussion. I may post my thoughts on this sometime in the future.
It takes a while to get through, but it's worth it.
In a nutshell it is research on followers of authority, and the characteristics of authoritarian followers. The reason I find it so fascinating is its application to the Singaporean mindset - both pro and anti-government.
In my attempt not to bias my readers, I will not write more. Read and leave a comment if you want a discussion. I may post my thoughts on this sometime in the future.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Swordfighting
As promised, I return to writing about post divorce issues.
I had recently obtained news that cast my divorce in an entirely different light. I don't quite want to talk about it, but suffice to say, quite a number of the issues that I had written about weren't entirely accurate. In some senses, the divorce still has its impact on me.
A highly cosmetic change was weight. My weight yo-yoed fantastically during this period. I went from blubbery to (relatively) stick thin to blubbery again in a very short period of time. I was seriously wondering if I was developing body image issues or some form of clinical depression. Fortunately, the cause for me was more mundane than that.
When I am upset, I don't eat. My stomach ties itself into knots. When I finally regain my appetite, I usually feel so starved that I eat tons to compensate.
How I regained some measure of discipline was one part discipline, seven parts coincidence. An old friend of mine referred me to this. Over the month and a half that I have started taking it up, it's become the lynchpin of my routine. I've since lost 2 kg over 1 month, and developing some muscle tone.
I suspect my current, slightly-healthier disposition has more to do with the mental aspect than the physical. Having a routine to stick to helps. Doing something you would enjoy helps even more. When that something involves your childhood fantasy of actually being able to swing a sword around, it becomes that much more engaging. Engaging enough that you consider how to make yourself even better at it.
I'm not encouraging all divorced men to go out and take up swordfighting. It's just something I chose to do. What is more important is to head out and do something. Recognise that there is probably going to be a lot of anger and hurt inside you, but there is also going to be a lot of unspent energy. I suggest channeling it into something aggressive and macho-shit.
Yes, I am aware that I will be accused of overcompensating, but I think of it this way. My pride and self-worth took a serious hit during the divorce. Learning to fight, to swing a sword, and to wrestle my opponent to the ground builds my confidence, teaches me something new, and allows me to vent my frustration without actually hurting anyone.
Plus, if I get my hands of a snooker cue or a broomstick during a streetfight, I'd at least be able to take down one assailant before the damn thing breaks and I get overwhelmed.
I had recently obtained news that cast my divorce in an entirely different light. I don't quite want to talk about it, but suffice to say, quite a number of the issues that I had written about weren't entirely accurate. In some senses, the divorce still has its impact on me.
A highly cosmetic change was weight. My weight yo-yoed fantastically during this period. I went from blubbery to (relatively) stick thin to blubbery again in a very short period of time. I was seriously wondering if I was developing body image issues or some form of clinical depression. Fortunately, the cause for me was more mundane than that.
When I am upset, I don't eat. My stomach ties itself into knots. When I finally regain my appetite, I usually feel so starved that I eat tons to compensate.
How I regained some measure of discipline was one part discipline, seven parts coincidence. An old friend of mine referred me to this. Over the month and a half that I have started taking it up, it's become the lynchpin of my routine. I've since lost 2 kg over 1 month, and developing some muscle tone.
I suspect my current, slightly-healthier disposition has more to do with the mental aspect than the physical. Having a routine to stick to helps. Doing something you would enjoy helps even more. When that something involves your childhood fantasy of actually being able to swing a sword around, it becomes that much more engaging. Engaging enough that you consider how to make yourself even better at it.
I'm not encouraging all divorced men to go out and take up swordfighting. It's just something I chose to do. What is more important is to head out and do something. Recognise that there is probably going to be a lot of anger and hurt inside you, but there is also going to be a lot of unspent energy. I suggest channeling it into something aggressive and macho-shit.
Yes, I am aware that I will be accused of overcompensating, but I think of it this way. My pride and self-worth took a serious hit during the divorce. Learning to fight, to swing a sword, and to wrestle my opponent to the ground builds my confidence, teaches me something new, and allows me to vent my frustration without actually hurting anyone.
Plus, if I get my hands of a snooker cue or a broomstick during a streetfight, I'd at least be able to take down one assailant before the damn thing breaks and I get overwhelmed.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
A New Hope
My divorce is finalized.
I did not cry as much as I thought I would. On the contrary, I feel a vague sense of relief. The worst is over. Time to move on.
****
Somewhere in my flailings to maintain equillibrium, I resorted to hunting for online articles on coping with divorce. What I discovered was fairly shocking.
I did not cry as much as I thought I would. On the contrary, I feel a vague sense of relief. The worst is over. Time to move on.
****
Somewhere in my flailings to maintain equillibrium, I resorted to hunting for online articles on coping with divorce. What I discovered was fairly shocking.
- A large number of divorce sites are focused on women's issues.
- A large number of the remaining sites focused on men are focused on prospective single parents, especially on how to get and keep custody.
- A large number of sites focus on legal advice, without discussing the emotional impact. This is especially true on Singapore sites.
- An overwhelming number of sites focused on divorced men maintain how one-sided the legal system is against males.
- A minority of divorce sites dedicated to men are incredibly misogynistic.
In short, I could not find many sites that could offer what I was looking for: A fair balanced view of how to cope with life as a divorced man with no kids.
So, here I am, writing again. I am doing this for three reasons.
The first is that it will help my recovery. Writing stuff down allows me to document my progress and track in a tangible fashion how far I have gone and have left to go.
The second is to address the dirth of literature in this area. I confess that I write from a fairly limited perspective. I do not know anything, for example, about what it is like to be the one initiating the splitup. Nevertheless, I am optimistic that what I write here will be comforting at least to the extent that a divorced man can know that he is not alone.
The last is based on a piece of advice that Mr Wang gave me a long time ago. Write about what you know. I know what I've been through very well. I am far from being an expert at this though. I will be writing about what I did to get through this. You mileage may vary.
I will not be writing about certain things though. Don't expect to see these up here. My communications with my ex-wife, if any, will never be mentioned. I don't think she was entirely pleased that I wrote stuff on my blog about our breakup, even though she consented to it. Hence, to be cautious, I will not be writing about it.
I will also not be writing about my dates, relationships or my sex life. I understand that these are aspects of recovering from a divorce. Understandably, I'm a little raw in this area, so I'm not entirely comfortable writing about this.
Oh, and I will still be writing whatever I feel like writing. Interesting stuff I see, shameless plugs, whatever.
****
Yes, this does mean that I'm back. I will be writing as regularly as I can and probably at the frequency that I used to write while I was still in California - i.e updates once every 2 weeks if possible.
I'll be working on a post later in the week about dealing with weight gain/loss during the divorce. In the meantime, if you are interested in hearing about a particular aspect, drop me a line.
It's good to be back.
Friday, December 29, 2006
A Hiatus
This will be my last post for a while.
I had originally intended this blog to document my life's amusing stories. Somewhere along the way, it became a story of hope, of a new life 8000 miles from the place I called "home". Where I could be who I wanted to be.
The story has soured. Hope became tragedy. The anecdotes had turned into raw bleeding word-wounds. I cannot write my story down anymore. It reminds me of the darkest hour I've ever had to face. I don't want to face it anymore. It is too painful.
Oh, the price of wisdom.
I have the opportunity for a new start. A new job, offered to me by an old friend. A new place to live sometime in 2007. A new life. All I want is peace, quiet and a life to call my own. I'm not sure if I am comfortable writing about my new life, so close to the shadow of my old one. Only time will tell.
If you see me in Singapore, wave and smile. You know who I am. I don't know who you are. Email me at khaycelim-at-gmail-dot-com if you prefer.
Have a happy 2007. I hope it is better than 2006.
I had originally intended this blog to document my life's amusing stories. Somewhere along the way, it became a story of hope, of a new life 8000 miles from the place I called "home". Where I could be who I wanted to be.
The story has soured. Hope became tragedy. The anecdotes had turned into raw bleeding word-wounds. I cannot write my story down anymore. It reminds me of the darkest hour I've ever had to face. I don't want to face it anymore. It is too painful.
Oh, the price of wisdom.
I have the opportunity for a new start. A new job, offered to me by an old friend. A new place to live sometime in 2007. A new life. All I want is peace, quiet and a life to call my own. I'm not sure if I am comfortable writing about my new life, so close to the shadow of my old one. Only time will tell.
If you see me in Singapore, wave and smile. You know who I am. I don't know who you are. Email me at khaycelim-at-gmail-dot-com if you prefer.
Have a happy 2007. I hope it is better than 2006.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
And Through It All...
I wavered.
I feared.
I cried.
I raged.
I bent.
I broke.
But I did not fall.
The Bar Exam results are out today, and by God, I did not fall.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Thank You
For 6 wonderful years. For showing me a different way. For loving me. For being my wife.
Now we have decided to part ways. We both want it now. I can't live alongside you. You can't live alongside me. I don't know what will happen to both of us, but whatever it is, we can no longer share this road we have walked together for 6 years.
I still love you. I will always love you. I cannot wait for you forever. And now that we are to be apart, I just hope you will remember me well, in spite of everything I've done.
Goodbye.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
您吉祥
One of the most interesting experiences I've had to date in Beijing is dinner at 白家园，or "The Bai Family Courtyard". It is a historical site somehow involving the author of 红楼梦, or "The Dream of Red Mansions". I forget how it is connected.
The Entrance
The Family Poem
The entire place is decorated like a Qing Dynasty royal household, complete with lovely ladies dressed in cute Manchu costumes. The men were dressed in Qing soldier uniforms as well, but since they didn't interest me as much, I didn't take any photos of them. Everywhere we went, we were greeted with the traditional Manchu greeting "您吉祥" or "Good luck to you".
My Lovely Guide and I
Assembly of the Maids
The courtyard itself is lovely. Some historical artifacts have been lovingly restored, others replicated.
Bai Family Carriage
Chyrsanthemum Plot
The Courtyard proper.
The interior of the main dining hall is equally impressive.
Replica Throne
The Seats
The food is nothing to write home about. It's mostly typical Northern Chinese faire. I much prefer Southern Chinese cuisine like the kind we get in Singapore. Nevertheless, it was pleasant and the ambience sure made the dinner interesting.
The Spread
Did I mention the maids were extremely easy on the eye?
The Entrance
The Family Poem
The entire place is decorated like a Qing Dynasty royal household, complete with lovely ladies dressed in cute Manchu costumes. The men were dressed in Qing soldier uniforms as well, but since they didn't interest me as much, I didn't take any photos of them. Everywhere we went, we were greeted with the traditional Manchu greeting "您吉祥" or "Good luck to you".
My Lovely Guide and I
Assembly of the Maids
The courtyard itself is lovely. Some historical artifacts have been lovingly restored, others replicated.
Bai Family Carriage
Chyrsanthemum Plot
The Courtyard proper.
The interior of the main dining hall is equally impressive.
Replica Throne
The Seats
The food is nothing to write home about. It's mostly typical Northern Chinese faire. I much prefer Southern Chinese cuisine like the kind we get in Singapore. Nevertheless, it was pleasant and the ambience sure made the dinner interesting.
The Spread
Did I mention the maids were extremely easy on the eye?
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Thursday, October 12, 2006
To Peking
I am heading to Beijing for a short trip. Things are getting a little emotional here in Singapore and the distance would do me good. Since there is no access to Blogger in China, I apologise for the state of my blog over the coming week. Will return with updates and hopefully some nice pictures.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Pyrrhic Victory
My degree scroll arrived in the mail today. I worked my ass off for it, even though I could have just coasted. I am supposed to be proud of it. Why am I not proud of it? Why am I not happy?
I spent dinner last night with someone very dear to me, and someone that I am secretly ashamed of meeting because I let her down terribly in her time of need. Yet, there she is, being with me in my time of need. I should be happy for her company. Why am I not happy?
We spoke last night of fond rememberings in AC Drama. They are some of my dearest memories, productions I literally gave my all to, pieces of work that have imparted a good portion of the polish I have today. Yet, the memories are bittersweet, marred by feelings of inadequacy, of never being good enough. This nostalgia supposed to be my best memories. These memories should make me happy. Why am I not happy?
For months I've been functioning, and suddenly, last night it all unravels. Why?
Friday, September 29, 2006
A Filthy Mind
One of the things I love most about learning a new language is taking its sentences completely out of context.
I learnt the classical Greek word for seed today. It is "σπερμα". Anglicised, it is pronounced "sperma". Yes, the modern word is derived from the Greek word for seed.
Needless to say, it made today's lessons very interesting.
Found in today's Greek lessons:
"έλθε δευρο, ώ καταρατε, μη κατθευδε άλλα βοηθει. λαμβανε γαρ το σπερμα και όπισθεν βαδιχε."
Translation:
"Come here, you cursed creature! Don't sleep but help! Get your seed and come behind me!"
"ό μεν όυν δουλος το σπερμα και όπισθεν βαδιχει, ό δε δεσποτης καλει την Δημητερα και λεγει "ίλαος ίσθι ώ Δημητερ, και πληθυνε το σπερμα."
Translation:
"While the slave takes the seed and goes behind his master, the master calls out to Demeter and says, "Be Gracious, Demeter and multiply the seed!"
"έπειτα δε το κεντρον λαμβανει και κεντει τοθς βους και λεγει "σπευδετε, ώ βοες έλεκετε το αροτρον και αροτρεθετε τον αγρον"
Transalation:
"And then, the master takes his goad, goads the oxen and says, "Hurry, oxen! Drag the plough and plough the fields!"
Nothing is ever boring with a dirty mind.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
The Meaning of Life
"Can you tell me the meaning of life?", said the man seated next to me.
Linda must have caught my "WTF" expression. She interjected, "I told him that the meaning of life was here" and pointed towards her heart. I tried not to look too long where the finger was pointed.
"Hey you. Yeah. Can you tell me where in Singapore I can find the meaning of life?" At this point, I figured out that he was drunk. His speech was slurred and his cheerfulness seemed chemically induced.
Another man was seated opposite him, and he said at this point, "Forgive him. He almost started a few fights in the bar." I made some reassuring noises.
Linda and I exchanged glances again. She looked amused. I must have too.
"You are in the wrong place if you're looking for the meaning of life. Ask me for something else. Want to know a decent bar?" I leaned back. A coherent response might take some time.
It was the other man who responded. I took the time to examine him. Caucasian, slight build, intense look, and spoke English with an accent I couldn't place. "We just came from a bar. Didn't like it. Too..."
Linda poked her nose and lifted it, "Too proud? Too uppity?" I stifled a laugh. "We were just talking about that. I was just asking her for a place where I could get a drink, without loud music and just chill out. Doesn't exist."
The other man sighed. I took the opportunity to lean in to ask Linda if she was offended. No, she didn't mind, and was having fun.
With that, we proceeded along our new playground - the minds of our unsuspecting neighbours.
We found out in time that our friend had 22 beers and was in Singapore by way of San Jose. Our other friend was from Singapore, by way of Ireland. Both had worked in Singapore for years. We talked through the night about absolutely nothing, and everything. Our newfound friends bought us a round of coffee. We talked some more.
Our San Jose friend tried to convince us Singapore was a peaceful wonderful place. Linda and I, veteran Singaporeans, defended our non-existant freedoms. Our friend cited fighting in Cambodia and Vietnam. I cried plurality in US and UK. Linda, who had never lived outside Singapore, had my full support. It was great.
At the end of it all, Irish guy asked for Linda's number. I had a suspicion that was what they were after for a while, if not necessary from the start. Linda playfully deposited only her email, much to Irish guys disappointment. We stalked off with big grins on our faces.
I maintain that Linda needs her own warning label.
Linda must have caught my "WTF" expression. She interjected, "I told him that the meaning of life was here" and pointed towards her heart. I tried not to look too long where the finger was pointed.
"Hey you. Yeah. Can you tell me where in Singapore I can find the meaning of life?" At this point, I figured out that he was drunk. His speech was slurred and his cheerfulness seemed chemically induced.
Another man was seated opposite him, and he said at this point, "Forgive him. He almost started a few fights in the bar." I made some reassuring noises.
Linda and I exchanged glances again. She looked amused. I must have too.
"You are in the wrong place if you're looking for the meaning of life. Ask me for something else. Want to know a decent bar?" I leaned back. A coherent response might take some time.
It was the other man who responded. I took the time to examine him. Caucasian, slight build, intense look, and spoke English with an accent I couldn't place. "We just came from a bar. Didn't like it. Too..."
Linda poked her nose and lifted it, "Too proud? Too uppity?" I stifled a laugh. "We were just talking about that. I was just asking her for a place where I could get a drink, without loud music and just chill out. Doesn't exist."
The other man sighed. I took the opportunity to lean in to ask Linda if she was offended. No, she didn't mind, and was having fun.
With that, we proceeded along our new playground - the minds of our unsuspecting neighbours.
We found out in time that our friend had 22 beers and was in Singapore by way of San Jose. Our other friend was from Singapore, by way of Ireland. Both had worked in Singapore for years. We talked through the night about absolutely nothing, and everything. Our newfound friends bought us a round of coffee. We talked some more.
Our San Jose friend tried to convince us Singapore was a peaceful wonderful place. Linda and I, veteran Singaporeans, defended our non-existant freedoms. Our friend cited fighting in Cambodia and Vietnam. I cried plurality in US and UK. Linda, who had never lived outside Singapore, had my full support. It was great.
At the end of it all, Irish guy asked for Linda's number. I had a suspicion that was what they were after for a while, if not necessary from the start. Linda playfully deposited only her email, much to Irish guys disappointment. We stalked off with big grins on our faces.
I maintain that Linda needs her own warning label.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Twinges
Home is where friends who will drag you out incessantly are.
It's been almost a month since I've returned. I'm in pretty good shape. I'm meeting up with friends, old and new. During quiet days, I read, or play silly computer games, or observe a little quiet time.
My memories of the Bay are becoming increasingly hazy. Occassionally, unexpected corners jolt those memories awake. My hand still hurts when I write. Small amounts of text will send jolts of pain through my arm and shoulder. I know I must have done something to my hand writing for three days consecutively. I'm not sure when my hand will recover.
Come to think of it, my hand is a pretty apt allegory to my situation. When I'm awake, the situation bothers me little. I know I have done everything conceivable, and for that I will not regret what has gone on. Yet, late at night, I occassionally wake up to some bizzare thought or vivid nightmare.
I am alive. That is more than I can ask for.
It's been almost a month since I've returned. I'm in pretty good shape. I'm meeting up with friends, old and new. During quiet days, I read, or play silly computer games, or observe a little quiet time.
My memories of the Bay are becoming increasingly hazy. Occassionally, unexpected corners jolt those memories awake. My hand still hurts when I write. Small amounts of text will send jolts of pain through my arm and shoulder. I know I must have done something to my hand writing for three days consecutively. I'm not sure when my hand will recover.
Come to think of it, my hand is a pretty apt allegory to my situation. When I'm awake, the situation bothers me little. I know I have done everything conceivable, and for that I will not regret what has gone on. Yet, late at night, I occassionally wake up to some bizzare thought or vivid nightmare.
I am alive. That is more than I can ask for.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Monday, August 14, 2006
One
"Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you
Now you got someone to blame
You say
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
It's one love
We get to share it
It leaves you baby
If you dont care for it"
So ends this chapter of my life.
Somewhere through the mess of recent events, I hear a small voice. It is a familiar voice, one I had not heard in years. It is a voice of breathtaking clarity and aching beauty.
That voice is me.
It is happiness only found by following your heart, whatever the consequences. It is hope that drives away despair. It speaks with every tear shed, every moment you never get back. It reminds you that pain, like love, is necessary to grow. The voice is so clear. I travelled 8000 miles to find it. It was always with me.
I hear you now.
"Did I disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's too late
Tonight
To drag the past out
Into the light
We're one
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One"
Unconditional love is impossible because we are not perfect. All we can do is to love, in what way we can. Sometimes it hurts. I understand now that love is not about consequences, a happy ending or a life together forever.
Love is it own reward.
I have no regrets loving my wife in the way I did. I want so much to blame her condition, hate her for making me cry and for cutting me out of her life. I cannot. You never really stop loving someone. You just learn to live without them, and that's okay. I will love until it hurts, because there will always be more, until you decide there is no more.
I will love again.
"Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come tor raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
We hurt each other
Then we'll do it again"
I have no regrets coming here. I've grown in ways I did not expect, in directions I never thought I'd take. I am grateful for this unexpected detour in this vast journey of life. The pieces of my life finally fit together. With it, I can finally move on.
I go where my feet take me.
In three months, I get my California Bar Exam results. Whatever happens from there, happens from there. I may end up anywhere. I don't know and that's okay.I will always have memories of the one amazing year I spent at the Bay.
My voice is yours.
"You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt"
Who among us has never suffered heartache, disappointment or failure? Somehow, we live. The pain dares us to be better than what we are. The voice tells us we still hope, dream and love. The tears remind us we have been hurt, and it's okay to grieve.
My life is yours.
In our pain and tears, we are connected. In our hopes and dreams we are connected. Our lives speak of many events, some hurtful, some wonderful, but it speaks in only one voice. I hear that voice now.
It is me. It is us.
"One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other."
- U2, "One"
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you
Now you got someone to blame
You say
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
It's one love
We get to share it
It leaves you baby
If you dont care for it"
So ends this chapter of my life.
Somewhere through the mess of recent events, I hear a small voice. It is a familiar voice, one I had not heard in years. It is a voice of breathtaking clarity and aching beauty.
That voice is me.
It is happiness only found by following your heart, whatever the consequences. It is hope that drives away despair. It speaks with every tear shed, every moment you never get back. It reminds you that pain, like love, is necessary to grow. The voice is so clear. I travelled 8000 miles to find it. It was always with me.
I hear you now.
"Did I disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's too late
Tonight
To drag the past out
Into the light
We're one
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One"
Unconditional love is impossible because we are not perfect. All we can do is to love, in what way we can. Sometimes it hurts. I understand now that love is not about consequences, a happy ending or a life together forever.
Love is it own reward.
I have no regrets loving my wife in the way I did. I want so much to blame her condition, hate her for making me cry and for cutting me out of her life. I cannot. You never really stop loving someone. You just learn to live without them, and that's okay. I will love until it hurts, because there will always be more, until you decide there is no more.
I will love again.
"Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come tor raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
We hurt each other
Then we'll do it again"
I have no regrets coming here. I've grown in ways I did not expect, in directions I never thought I'd take. I am grateful for this unexpected detour in this vast journey of life. The pieces of my life finally fit together. With it, I can finally move on.
I go where my feet take me.
In three months, I get my California Bar Exam results. Whatever happens from there, happens from there. I may end up anywhere. I don't know and that's okay.I will always have memories of the one amazing year I spent at the Bay.
My voice is yours.
"You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt"
Who among us has never suffered heartache, disappointment or failure? Somehow, we live. The pain dares us to be better than what we are. The voice tells us we still hope, dream and love. The tears remind us we have been hurt, and it's okay to grieve.
My life is yours.
In our pain and tears, we are connected. In our hopes and dreams we are connected. Our lives speak of many events, some hurtful, some wonderful, but it speaks in only one voice. I hear that voice now.
It is me. It is us.
"One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other."
- U2, "One"
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Almost Home
One more weekend, a Monday, then I fly off Tuesday. I return August 17th, Singapore Time. Standing offer to meet up with fellow bloggers. Drop me a mail at khaycelim-at-gmail-dot-com.
The last week has been a slow, drawn out process of watching the apartment disintegrate. The apartment is now one tv, two desks and a computer - almost like the first horrid week I spent here, only in reverse. Sometimes, I see the empty space and I break down and cry.
I worked so hard to put all this together. This is much much harder than I thought. The only thing keeping me going now is that I'm coming home in 3 days. I'm counting them down.
The last week has been a slow, drawn out process of watching the apartment disintegrate. The apartment is now one tv, two desks and a computer - almost like the first horrid week I spent here, only in reverse. Sometimes, I see the empty space and I break down and cry.
I worked so hard to put all this together. This is much much harder than I thought. The only thing keeping me going now is that I'm coming home in 3 days. I'm counting them down.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
The Story
UPDATE: If you've followed a link here, I ask that you read the entire story before passing any judgment.
A year ago, my life-changing journey began. Today, I write about how it ended.
I write this for whatever wisdom my readers can take from it.
*****
My wife was bulimic and anorexic. I never knew this. Not until 3 weeks ago.
She has not exhibited the symptoms over the 6 years I have been with her. She has her methods of keeping these symptoms under control. What I didn't realise until 3 weeks ago was that bulimia and anorexia are themselves symptoms of a deeper condition.
I have no name for this deeper condition. I only know how it works. It feeds of healthy self-respect people should have of their bodies, excreting guilt and shame. It whispers dark seductive thoughts of how you can be the image of what you are bombarded with, and the teeny little sacrifices you have to make, but they are worth it, right? It is the dark monster formed of objectification and false images.
I know this condition well. More importantly, I know how ill-suited I am to tend to this condition. My ex was also anorexic and bulimic. She did terrible things to get my attention. Once, she tore her wrist open with a fork. "It's the only control I have", she told me.
I set myself up against this unquenchable thirst and failed the first time round. I lost my ex-girlfriend's attention, and she moved on to another man in very short order. I grew bitter.
When my wife asked about my ex, I told her all the horror stories, never knowing that my wife had gone through something similar. She was scared by my stories, and how bitter I had grown. She felt she couldn't tell me. She tried for 6 years to work herself through this and she failed. I don't blame her. I saw the same symptoms but I didn't understand them. Without understanding them, I was doomed to repeat the mistakes of my past.
And so it was. During the 6 years, I hurt her badly, and I never knew.
I dearly want to work through this with her. I love her deeply. I still do. Being the cause of her pain, however, I cannot. She cannot help but see me as a source of pain. She cannot heal with me beside her.
Alone, she might stand a chance.
Hence, I wait. At a determined point in the future, we will sit down again and decide whether we can heal. If it ends, it ends arbitrarily. We will have our closure.
*****
Thus ends my journey. I return to Singapore for three months. Even if I get back together with my wife after three months, it will be to face the future together. If I face the future without my wife, then at least, I face it with a clean slate and hard-won wisdom. I am content.
This is only one of many reasons behind the seperation. I choose to write about this one because it is the most poignant. If I cannot avoid my past, I can at least prevent someone else's future. More importantly, this is my attempt to make people understand: The monster claims no single victim, because it hurts us too.
I refuse to be a victim. Today, I take the fight to the monster.
A year ago, my life-changing journey began. Today, I write about how it ended.
I write this for whatever wisdom my readers can take from it.
*****
My wife was bulimic and anorexic. I never knew this. Not until 3 weeks ago.
She has not exhibited the symptoms over the 6 years I have been with her. She has her methods of keeping these symptoms under control. What I didn't realise until 3 weeks ago was that bulimia and anorexia are themselves symptoms of a deeper condition.
I have no name for this deeper condition. I only know how it works. It feeds of healthy self-respect people should have of their bodies, excreting guilt and shame. It whispers dark seductive thoughts of how you can be the image of what you are bombarded with, and the teeny little sacrifices you have to make, but they are worth it, right? It is the dark monster formed of objectification and false images.
I know this condition well. More importantly, I know how ill-suited I am to tend to this condition. My ex was also anorexic and bulimic. She did terrible things to get my attention. Once, she tore her wrist open with a fork. "It's the only control I have", she told me.
I set myself up against this unquenchable thirst and failed the first time round. I lost my ex-girlfriend's attention, and she moved on to another man in very short order. I grew bitter.
When my wife asked about my ex, I told her all the horror stories, never knowing that my wife had gone through something similar. She was scared by my stories, and how bitter I had grown. She felt she couldn't tell me. She tried for 6 years to work herself through this and she failed. I don't blame her. I saw the same symptoms but I didn't understand them. Without understanding them, I was doomed to repeat the mistakes of my past.
And so it was. During the 6 years, I hurt her badly, and I never knew.
I dearly want to work through this with her. I love her deeply. I still do. Being the cause of her pain, however, I cannot. She cannot help but see me as a source of pain. She cannot heal with me beside her.
Alone, she might stand a chance.
Hence, I wait. At a determined point in the future, we will sit down again and decide whether we can heal. If it ends, it ends arbitrarily. We will have our closure.
*****
Thus ends my journey. I return to Singapore for three months. Even if I get back together with my wife after three months, it will be to face the future together. If I face the future without my wife, then at least, I face it with a clean slate and hard-won wisdom. I am content.
This is only one of many reasons behind the seperation. I choose to write about this one because it is the most poignant. If I cannot avoid my past, I can at least prevent someone else's future. More importantly, this is my attempt to make people understand: The monster claims no single victim, because it hurts us too.
I refuse to be a victim. Today, I take the fight to the monster.
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