A-maze!

I feel like my life is a maze and I've been trying to navigate it in the dark. I used to feel my way around anxiously with my eyes wide but unseeing; sometimes I panicked and broke into a run. What good is it to run mindlessly?
So I've started to use my ears and my internal bearings instead. Just relax, close my eyes and take it all in. Now I'm so close to solving it I can almost visualize what's beyond... but there comes this feeling of apprehension. Should I even leave the maze? It's dark and boring but oh so familiar and safe!
There's no doubt though, I'll walk out of it.

The Cigarette Lesson

As I grew up in a fairly conservative family, I was brought up with teachings like drinking is bad, gambling is bad, smoking is bad and so on. I agree gambling is bad. Drinking, not so much. (But we do add alcohol to our dishes so my family is not that boring. Besides, daddy loves beer.) Smoking. Smoking is bad indeed.

I was not that convinced of course, I see things with an curious eye.

So at 28, I tried smoking. Ha! So old it's like a joke. But you should have seen the look on that old lady's face when I asked for a pack of cigarettes at her counter. That gives you an idea of how I looked - the typical goody-two-shoes.

The reason I wanted to try was because I was depressed, and I thought it's like chronic suicide to get hooked to smoking. Only I couldn't!

Every time I smoked, I felt sick. The first two times were fine, probably because I didn't keep the smoke in my lungs much. Then I started getting giddy as I got the hang of it. I thought the giddiness amplified by its interaction with my antidepressants. Whatever it is, it made me vomit.

So each time that happened, I said, 'I'll not try it again.'

I wasn't hooked, I wanted to be, but I couldn't. I was inclined towards self-destruction you see. So a few weeks after vomiting from one cigarette, I tried again. And puked again.

Another few weeks later, which was earlier tonight, I tried again. Oh god I clung on to the toilet bowl sicking up my dinner. After that, I climbed into bed, unwilling to move because it made me giddy.

I got wiser this time though, after sleeping off the worse of it. I was holding on to a packet of American Spirits, purchased a year ago when I visited the States. As you know American Spirits are 'Class A Cigarettes' containing only the real stuff, mine was the light green one so it contained tobacco and mint. Anyway I tore the cigarette paper and got all the good stuff out - tobacco and mint leaves - into an up-cycled glass jar. It smelled so good.

The reason I kept the herbs is because tobacco can be used to sooth bites, stings and small wounds, and stop bleeding from small wounds. It also acts as a tinder. Sounds like a good thing to have in a first aid kit if you asked me.

So, that marked the end of my relationship with cigarettes. I think my cigarettes are happy now. They've been liberated from their white cells and fiery death to live the dignified life they were intended for, albeit in a dried form.

I was happy about the whole incident though I puked and am still reeling from nausea, because I learnt that herbs are beautiful. Tobacco has analgesic properties, and probably wasn't meant to be smoked. Humans misused it. Now it's widely seen as a bad plant.

Which leads me to think about cannabis. Cannabis is an interesting plant with even more healing properties than tobacco - reducing seizures, treating PTSD, alleviating chronic pain etc. Mostly, it just makes people happy and hungry. In spite of that, humans all over the world, especially in Asia, has slapped cannabis with such a bad reputation it's cruel. I can't wait for the day stupid humans finally frees it.

In truth, plants should never have been manipulated by human beings. I hate that they're being seen in a bad light because of how humans used it. It's time to wake up!

Stupid Cupid.

I fell in love, and I fell out of love.

Right from the beginning, we knew things might not work, but we thought it's worth a shot. Like Kiss sang, "it's got what it takes!" I thought I guard my heart well, so I would be okay if it didn't work, because Julie always expects the worse.

And damn, Julie was right.

Like so many relationships in the world, it didn't work. In the weeks that followed, I found myself alternating between letting go of the memories and grabbing them tight. Am I really okay giving up? Should I try to salvage it? Then again, do I have a choice? It's a two-way thing after all. I went back to our conversations to see what was so special about him. I wanted to realize that there was nothing and I imagined our potential.

But it was there - alive in our conversations, ebbing and flowing like the tide, pulled by a spiritual connection. It kept me going, but it has since been reduced to a feeling captured in words and spaces between the lines; a feeling waiting to be forgotten.

These few days, I have been overcome by a sense of loneliness. Loneliness has always been tied to insecurity for me, never from the end of relationships. I've felt hurt, relief, loss, guilt, but never loneliness. Mostly, I don't need people. In fact, the break up before this one made me feel liberated; I could have popped the champagne. But this one brought me to my knees. Out of a sudden, sappy love songs started to make sense to me, and I torture myself by listening to them. (Very randomly, I will get a mental picture of myself driving and crying the words out like Adam Sandler did steering his yacht as he cruised away from Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates. It's amusing because I can't drive.)

I thought about the difference between my previous relationships and this one. After all, this is my shortest relationship, and we spent so little time together I'm amazed it even mattered to me. Anyway, I realized I entered the previous ones wondering if it will work, I entered this one wanting it to work. I guess it made all the difference.

As if missing him wasn't enough, I found myself longing to be loved - an ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING realization. I hate it and it has been difficult to acknowledge that feeling because it is desperate and clingy and I'm the opposite of needy. I don't need people, remember? I adore my own company. But I started to wish I could spend nights cuddling with that favourite person. Or receive a text from that favourite person saying sweet nothings. Doesn't matter if life is hard, I just want that favourite person in my life.

I guess I'll have to hunt for another favourite person? *shudders at the idea - too much effort, and IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO WORK THAT WAY!*

At this point, the only thing I want to do is to pry my fingers open and talk myself out of feeling not-good-enough-for-love. I thought I'm a decent person? No? Well, I know it's not me, but when life presents me with a beautiful bubble and pops it with an evil laugh, it's hard not to question my worth.

Fuck you cupid, and your stinking arrow.

Nostalgic Music

Once in a while, you hear a song that sends a pang into your heart. California Dreamin' is such a song. Strange enough, the first time I heard it, I felt certain I've heard it before, and it created such a tremendous sense of nostalgia.

It isn't surprising, considering it is a very good song. Except I was born in Singapore in the year 1986 to a very Chinese family. Could I have heard it before? Probably, from a movie or something.

Could I have heard it in a previous life?

I don't know.

It's extremely unscientific to think that way, but the feelings some old songs evoke in me are so strong, I can't help but suspect that. Songs like California Dreamin, Touch Me, Wouldn't it be nice, Summer of 69, Gimme Shelter, Have you ever seen the rain?, Me and Bobby McGee etc... They're before my time, yet so close to my heart.

What are the elements in these songs that stir my heartstring? They make me emotional in ways Mandarin old songs never could.

If you have an idea, do let me know.