Time is what keeps everything from happening at once. – Ray Cummings
We are always saying that there isn’t enough time, that life is too short. Hardly anyone ever complains about life being too long, of having too much time.
But we are its creators. We decided to count the number of sunrises and sunsets and we invented watches, clocks, calendars to keep track.
Some people never get to see the next sunrise, some never get to see the next sunset. It’s only when we’re running out that we count and realise that we’ve seen too little, we regret and lament that we never got enough time, that we should’ve gotten more – Please, please god, why me?
We created time. And how much we get depends on us. My only hope is that I would never have to say that I don’t have enough time. There is enough, if we try harder to make our time count, because counting time doesn’t seem to make things better.
The bright lights not forced upon me
Gentle glitter outside my window
The sound of stillness all around me
My silent thoughts now finding flow
Imperfections become small matter
Life is easier when you don’t see me.
An alarm goes off, it’s starting
A flurry, for coffee, it’s morning
The pressure of life, and living
Moving, climbing, the clock is ticking
I carry the weight of the day.
I have much to be happy about.
After months of learning and training in Pilates, I’ve finally passed my theory, practical and teaching modules and I’m now a certified instructor.
I’m going to Philippines in October for a friend’s wedding, and Clif and I will be going to one of the world’s most beautiful beaches for a good tan before the wedding.
I’m healthy and everything is good.
But there are some days that are just downs, for no particular reason, and they’re just mellow and slightly grey. My brain gets into itself and things get messy in there.
Today is one of those days.
I remember being so in love with books when I was younger that I’d hide under my blanket covers to read.
Fairytales and Sweet Valley Twins, Enid Blyton and Nancy Drew.
I loved stories about Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield. Having a twin sister sounded like the best thing ever, a best friend I could depend on.
My brain doesn’t hold many memories of my childhood, but one good memory I have is one of my brother bringing me to the large Borders bookstore at Wheelock and then telling me to pick one book as a Christmas gift.
I was spoilt for choice.
Sweet Valley Twins – Big for Christmas
The one I finally picked was Christmas themed, to go along with the spirit of the December season.
I must have read this about twenty times (or more).
You might also be surprised to find out that I still have this book with me.
I realise now that it’s not the coolest thing to talk about, but I was never exposed to Roald Dahl. I think I was probably turned off by the illustration style on the Roald Dahl books, which would have been unappealing to me as a kid.
And as much as I’d like to think I was a bookworm, I was never the Rory Gilmore-type who’d read Moby Dick or Pride and Prejudice.
Trust me, I tried with Anna Karenina.
Wheelock no longer holds a bookstore, and now, I get my books off booksdepository.com.
Latest novels to arrive are the second and third books of Miss Peregine’s Home for Peculiar Children.
A dormant hobby? Did I say that watching vintage bags on eBay would be a dormant hobby? I was wrong. That was a week ago, and a week ago I was young and naive to have thought that watching beautiful things on eBay get sold to other people was an enjoyable, passive activity.
What was I thinking?
I discovered a new impulsiveness. One you would only understand if you’ve ever watched the last 30 minutes of an online auction. It was almost as gripping as an episode of Game of Thrones (Season 2).
All I can say is…as the number on the countdown clock drew nearer, a different kind of fear gripped me – what if I win? And then panic, what if someone outbids me and my bid gets pushed to my maximum bid?
I’m now waiting for the arrival of my new most expensive not-so-new bag.
Even though a sturdy plastic bag could probably do as good a job of holding my wallet and my phone.
And thus begins a new type of sharing, that is in no way original, but the first of its kind on this blog – what I’m obsessed about this week. Let’s see if I’ll regret these things in the next ten years like I regret 90’s baggy jeans. Jumping right into it…
…I’m currently infatuated with ❤ vintage bags
I’ve been telling myself not to be such an easy victim of consumerism and get too materialistic, but vintage Chanel bags are so classic looking and just so intriguing.
I mean, the things that these bags have seen – there needs to be a short film on vimeo around this, amiright? Plus the thought that these pieces can get pretty rare (depending on design), gives me crazy, grandiose dreams of what a unique human being I am. I know, it’s mad.
But look at how beautiful it is!
Is it not the most exquisite Chanel bag you’ve ever seen? Can you believe I have one of these babies in my possession? I got it last year for less than a thousand bucks (thanks Carousell!).
Sadly, it’s not seen much of the outside world due to my lack of participation in cultured activities that allow teeny tiny purses.
I mean..since I’m running around all day with my laptop and gym gear, it only makes sense for me to carry a bagpack these days.
So, maybe creating watchlists of bags on eBay may just be a dormant hobby for now. But I make no promises – there’s still one more Tiffany & Co. vintage bag I’ve been dreaming of.
Funny thing is, I can imagine a younger version of me looking at a these bags and wondering what the big deal is. Black quilted bags? For how much? And you’re saying they’re second-hand? Siao.
My neck hurts, and there’s another session of Pilates tomorrow! So much pain.
Today’s workout lasted 6 hours, and each trainee teacher was challenged to step up to the front of the class to lead and teach the group for a short period of time.
Did I mention how this Pilates thing is really getting me to step out of my comfort zone? I was questioning my motives for joining the course when I found out that this was how we were going to learn to teach, but through ignoring the purple Inside Out character in my head, I managed to get it done.
Pretty sure this is the guy controlling the console most of the time
It didn’t go particularly well, but the good news is that it went. And there was a tremendous amount of relief that it was over. There’s so much more I’ve got to work on – about controlling the class, and on getting more familiar with the pieces. The basics, and especially the intermediate pieces.
I realised today that I’ve been running away from the intermediate pieces, and that I hadn’t actually pushed myself to work beyond the basics – because once again.. hello comfort zone, my old friend.
Todays’ workout made it clear to me that I wasn’t putting in enough effort in improving my basic pieces and I was definitely not putting in any effort in familiarising myself with the intermediate pieces.
I’m horrified. There’s so much more to do and I don’t feel confident about this at all.
I guess we can all agree that life is actually really boring if we don’t keep finding new things to try. This probably accounts for everyone’s dreams of becoming a world traveller, and Singaporean foodies’ never-ending hunt for good food and stuff.
This is probably somehow related to every girl’s habit of hoarding makeup and beauty products. We’re all just looking for new experiences, new products to try, and new lessons to learn. Even if that means spending $100 on a lotion, only to find out a month later that it’s not more satisfying than the $10 product we already have because – what about that newer $30 product we haven’t tried yet? Damn you, Sephora.
I realise typing this out now that this was a very long intro to what I really mean to say – which is that I’ve started my Pilates instructor training course!
I’m hoping to be able to keep up. Everyone’s just such quick learners I feel scared of being left behind. But what’s new about that?
I was terrified of taking the entrance test to the instructor training course, nervous about the movement anatomy classes, the matwork classes, the First Aid course, and scared out of my wits teaching my first Pilates class..
I’ve just gotten out of my comfort zone about twenty times ever since I’ve started the course, but I’m still alive and so glad I took the leap. I might be afraid of a lot of things, but holy fuck I swear that fear is not going to stop me.
I’m on the train now and I’m thinking about how grateful I am for Singapore’s really well-connected train system. Ever since I started freelance work and studying, I’ve been shuffling between home, gym and class, and on the rare occasions to the office.
It could always be better, I would never complain if there was a train station nearer to Kaki Bukit – but I know that it’s coming up soon and it’s only a matter of time that the Kaki Bukit station opens (Blue line!).
Still, extremely grateful that it only takes me half an hour to class and the entire journey doesn’t cost more than lunch.
On the way to class now so I’ll stop here, but who knows what I’ll be thankful for next?
Yesterday was my last official day at work. It’s been a whirlwind adventure, and it swept me up in a tornado of things. There was a certain sense of autonomy but also a great sense of responsibility which crippled me.
I told myself to look at it as a challenge, but I realised after fighting for it that it wasn’t me. The industry that looked so enticing at first no longer excites me. I can only describe the disappointment in that discovery as if I figured out the trick behind the magic.
I was constantly on the lookout for the nearest escape route. I could be a librarian. I could be a barista. I could help in the family business. I could do anything I wanted, and live ten thousand different lives. The world was huge and there are other things to explore and learn.
So I decided to leave.
It was difficult because I felt like I owed it to everyone to make it work. But it became easier after I realised that it was the most responsible thing for me to do.
In Singapore, it feels like success is measured with a ruler. Being someone, somewhere, doing something big and important.
I remember writing in autograph books when I was in primary school that my wish was to be successful when I grew up.
What does that look like? I’m still searching.