three full days of the runs have doused my passionate call for civic action and world peace, but i am too in love with eggs florentine and morton’s (free) steak sandwiches to abstain from food so that things could be just that little bit better, so i shall retire meekly and whine about other things instead.

like how work returns after a brief lull – not in the form of a pleasant drizzle, but rather, all at once like a sudden cold shower. i have too much work again, and am somewhat torn between relief and despair. and i hate it when i cannot settle on a single emotion, so it has generally been an annoying day.

the weather won’t settle into any sort of permanency either. i strutted out with my sunglasses at three in the afternoon today, only to remove them and don a cardigan just two hours later because it started to pour. and pour. and pour. i haven’t been friends with sunglasses for something like… ten years (because when you are young and poor, you can generally only afford the variety that makes you look like you need a white cane too). i suppose i should be grateful that i could be as pretentious as i wanted to be for at least a couple of hours.

and in the vein of young bloggers who like to detail every single thing that happened in their lives, and every single thing they have to do in the next twenty-four hours – did i mention that i have yet to look through that nightmare of a piece for tomorrow’s practice; nor have i learnt the arias for voice class the day after (incidentally, the new assignment is due that very same morning); nor have i completed the photo-video i am supposed to be making for The Bride on behalf of ten friends (or thereabouts) and the wedding is in all of four days. i received the manuscript for the new book i am supposed to be working on for the next three months and really have no inclination to even glance at the first chapter (which is due, again incidentally, on the day i return from The Wedding).

i don’t suppose anyone understood any of that, or even cared to read through it (but it is all so meaningless, i would likely respect you more if you had not read it)… but then i write for no one to begin with. i am still not sure why i blog so much when my words do not mean anything to anyone. perhaps having a nom de plume makes me feel mysterious and important, and possibly famous. or perhaps it looks a little more sane than sitting around talking to myself the whole day. or perhaps i could pretend that someday, it would become a celebrated book – a record of life in the twenty-first century, a study of creative expression on the web, a testimonial to the infinite greatness of unlimited cable connection.

oh, i think i’ve lost my point. do you not think it is admirable that i actually spell out all my numbers?

completed all my work right.on.time (although i had to rush out after that), but thanks to that, i succeeded in having a guilt-free night out.

martini and free flow of steak sandwiches at morton’s! silly jokes! reminiscent talk of school and ‘the young people today’! playing with funny-looking toys hanging on handphones! cam-whoring! japanese sundaes (sesame, sesame, and more sesame…)!

essentially, four single girls, good food (and drinks), and lots of talk simply add up to a relaxing, uncomplicated outing. think sex and the city with a huge dose of wide-eyed innocence and less dirty talk. i haven’t had that kind of night for a long, long while now. it was good to not have to talk about babies, homes, careers, or have people probing worriedly about my relationship (or lack thereof) or career (or lack thereof!). granted, i believe most people are sincerely concerned, but really, i can only talk about my ‘yeah, whatever’ situation this many times. hell, even i get bored trying to update myself.

being in the choir has always been enjoyable, albeit somewhat stressful, but being with the choir is something that i am only beginning to experience. almost, i don’t wish to leave singapore. i feel as if i have finally found a little niche of my own, and am loathe to uproot myself all over again. as you age, changes become less of an adventure and more of a hassle. you begin to think about adaptability and other strange, ‘age-y’ things like that.

we had a thunderstorm yesterday, and the air has been lovely and cool since then. as i was walking home today, a balmy, tropical breeze came at me, whipping my hair (i love that sensation of being in a shampoo ad) and making the leaves at the foot of a tree swirl around gently for just a second. and for just a second, i hated the thought of leaving home. people ask me if i prefer singapore or country x (wherever it is we are talking about at that point in time), and i can never answer them. it’s a moot question. home will always be home. the heat, the buses and trains, the lack of interesting free-to-air tv channels, and sometimes, even the people drive me nuts… but home is still home. you cannot look at it objectively and critique it – it would be akin to asking a mother if she prefers her own daughter or that other clever girl she babysat. i was born of this land, and it is in me. i will always find something in it to love.

well, i just wrote an entire national day speech. but my country has given me so many good days… i don’t wish to pretend to be one of those singapore-bashing intellectuals. running away does not represent ingratitude or loathing; you love your parents but have to leave them, don’t you? it’s one and the same.

i’m sure i will come home to roost for good one day. just… when? or perhaps… with whom?