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.

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.

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?

At Airport Terminal

I'm off. See you all in a week.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

Home and Back Again

I'm home.

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"

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 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.

It's Over Part II

The bar exam is over. It was less difficult than I expected. Of course, this might mean that they will just curve it to higher grades.

I actually feel kind of lost at the moment. All I have is this vague inkling that I need to pack and come home.

Update: To perpetuate a tradition...

*****

He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day
...
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

****

Funny how much this verse reminds me of home. I was first introduced to this from a dear old friend from AC Drama. We ended up in law school together and yet, now we take such seperate paths.

Time is truly circular, and this is the proof.

Bar Exam Minus 3 Days

I am suprisingly calm.

My taking of this exam has been an unmitigated disaster. I have, in the process of preparing for my bar exam:

(1) my laptop crash so badly I can't use it for my California Bar Exam
(2) have to leave a job, because of the stress of everything that was happening

and last but not least

(3) Go through a week of cursing, swearing, crying, angsting and finally, accepting that my wife and I have marital differences, bad enough that she wants to leave the marriage.

I'm done - everything I know, I know. Everything I don't, I can only read lightly to stop myself from imploding from the sheer weight of material.

I've been reading that the California Bar is a psychological test of endurance. Somehow, it looks absolutely pale in comparison to what I've already been through.

I don't know if this will be enough to pass, but I know that whatever happens, it will be in God's hands.

A Hard Day, Knight

In the trail of my own tragedy, another one happens.

Knight of Pentacles leaves us for a better place.

Farewell, good Knight. I am happy for you that you've lived your last days a free man.

And So, It Ends

A week from my bar exam, it's over.

My marriage that is.

My wife and I have been discussing this back and forth for the better part of a month. I can't make her stay. I can't persuade her to stay.

Therefore, I can't stay.

I've made the arrangements as best as I can, and there's nothing more I can do.

I've given it my best shot, and it's not enough.

Update: I've made arrangements to fly back on August 15th.

Making Peace

I spoke to my friend yesterday for the first time in 8 month.

I'm still angry at him. I understand, however, that it's not his fault. Regardless, fault has very little to do with this - he understands what his responsibilty is - to pay me back. I am very encouraged to hear that he has taken 2 jobs to help out with the repayment. He is at least making an effort, which is all I really wanted to see.

I forgot, somewhere in my mad rush to stay in California is how important my friends are to me. Sure, they can be demanding at times. So can I. My friends have my back, I have theirs. Sometimes, its really just that simple.

****

Things haven't been going well since my bar exams started. I've been behind at lot of times for my bar exam review. I've had some significant problems on the home front. My laptop has crashed and I'm facing the prospect of having to handwrite my exam. I've basically screwed up on my part time gig because of having to deal with too many things at once.

I've fought back. I'm speaking with my boss to see if I can extend my probation period to a month AFTER I clear my bar exams, and he sounds agreeable to that. I'm practising handwriting my exams. It slows me down. It also forces me to stop writing fluff and concentrate on what's really important.

There is nothing I can do about my problems on the home front. Ultimately, though, my problems on my home front are not my problems.

I've forgotten what it was like to have my balls to the wall. Now I remember. The world may beat me up, but it will never keep me down. This time I -know- it's me. Every part of me. Especially the relationships that keep me strong.

Besides, nothing annoys God more than a moving target.

A Good Deed

I finally had some time for personal upkeep yesterday. As I was winding down towards the last two weeks of my bar exam preparation, I decided to shave off all the remaining stubble on my head for good.

I must admit I was influenced in part by this. I've always been a sucker for children's charities. I can't join them, and I'm down on my luck, so the least I can do is show some support in spirit.

I've never really been happy with my hair. Fully grown, it is a curly monstrosity that just refuses to be tamed. My scalp stubble feels like velcro. My t-shirt gets caught by it as I am putting it on. My hair is -that- thick. Yet, there are children who would kill for any hair, even mine.

I hope people sign up for this. If nothing else, it reminds us how much hair means, and how little hair -really- means.

Putting the "Crash" in "Crash Course"

So this is what going mad feels like.