of the big move

There are two kinds of people in the world; those who find order in chaos and those who believe that compartmentalizing is the way of life. Fortunately (or unfortunately), I belong to the latter. Compartmentalizing is a never-ending ongoing project and it can get tiresome. Being the anal-retentive self, no one is allowed to interfere with my sort of orderly for fear that my universe will be misaligned.

In the past few weeks, I have been going through the same process of boxing up my past life, unboxing them and boxing up my current life. Oh, what a back-breaking December. For now, I do not feel like moving, ever again.

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Of shit getting real

a war zone is what it is

Here comes fall and it is my favorite season. Winter is magical but the cold and I do not go very well. In truth, there’s really nothing quite like fall. I ought to be somewhere, anywhere; but I doubt that is going to happen, at least not this year. In true blue game of thrones fashion, my house’s words will probably be ‘shit just got real’.

The last quarter of the year is always a grand mad rush. This year, it is going to be exceptionally crazy. There are two mega things which I need to check off my to-do list: A major presentation and an interview in early November. In all honesty, I am not looking forward to them but they have to be done. I have to pen this down to remind myself of this hair-pulling, teeth-gritting pain that I am subjecting myself to.

And in just the tiniest recess of my heart, I am still harbouring the thought of being somewhere.

of the escape (albeit short-lived)


Nara, 2013

“We travel not to escape life, but for life not to escape us.” – Anonymous

Travel is rebellion in the purest form. It’s ingrained, pulsating in the veins, waiting to be unleashed. The (travel) bug sure bites. There is much to be done considering we are only a sleep away from the trip. Given that no fancy cold wear is needed, I am hopeful that there is (finally) a chance that I can travel light. Indulge me as I take immense pleasure in such escapes, albeit short-lived.

 

Of the coffee break 

An uninspiring day of shopping led me to the coffee house to take a break. It’s just one of those days where nothing (NOTHING!) on the shelves appeals to me. So, coffee house it is. I am unusually indecisive whenever I am at coffee houses. There are just way too many choices; Hot or cold? Frappucino or latte? Tall or grande? Good grief, these are not even life-changing decisions. 

***

Me:  Green tea frappucino without whipped cream

Dude: Having here? Can I have your name? 

Me: Yep. Filicia. (wrestling my handbag which is way too tiny to retrieve some cash) 

Dude: So is it Filicia or Leng Loi?  (flashed million-dollar smile) 

*** 

I swear I wanted to die there and then. The best part was there was a long line of impatient patrons giving me the dirty look. Note to self: Do not go to any coffee house alone. 

Of the last good day

The problem, of course, is that there’s no way of knowing that your last good day is your last good day. At that time, it is just another good day.

This hit especially close to home. Last year, we lost two colleagues in the span of two weeks and it was beyond heart-wrenching. We took a long time to come to terms, each in our very own quiet way. It’s always tough on the living, having to bear with the loss of loved ones. I can’t imagine how the teaching fratenity at TKPS is holding up. Always remember the good days for you never know when is the last.  Make it count.