Friday, August 30, 2013


Due to being injured, training has taken a battering. I'm sorely tempted to go ahead despite the pain. However that would be foolish of me. Rather than sabotage myself by being stubborn, I know that taking a breather is necessary here.

I do feel restless and uneasy and discontented, at the same time I'm aware that the best way out of this is to allow myself to make a full recovery so that I'll be able go all out once again. . 

While I wait for my body to heal, life goes on. I need to remind myself that this is a journey, not a destination. There will always be highs and lows, rushes and lulls, agonies and ecstasies. 

You can throw whatever you like at me, you can put obstacles in my path and cause me to stumble. I will pick myself up, brush myself off, and keep going. Come what may, my head is clear and I'm sure of where I'm headed. Nothing will get me down or cause me to fall off track.

This is just another hurdle which I need to push through. This is only a temporary setback, not a failure.

I WILL come back stronger.

Cela aussi passera.


Wednesday, August 21, 2013


" How can you pursue it, if you don't even know what it looks like? "


Look to the right of this window. 
"4. Get published."

I used to think I wanted to be a writer. If you're a regular here, you'd know that writing is something I adore. Nothing gives me greater satisfaction than threshing out my thoughts into structured sentences, lovingly arranging my inner musings to form prose. Writing makes me feel alive.

To the point that I was certain I would have a career in it. The title "Chief Editor" was something I always felt would eventually become mine one day. There was no question about that. It was my dream, which I cherished and adored. It was only a matter of time before we would find our way to each other.

I would inspire others, speak to thousands through the written medium, challenge the norm, melt away the rigid, defiantly stare down the unconventional, destroy boundaries and scoff at the mundane. 

People would take notice of me, they would ask "Who is she?", "Who does she think she is?", they would sit up in astonishment at my audacity to speak as such. My boldness and tenacity would earn me many enemies, but even more loyal allies.


Then, I stepped into the world of journalism. I was excited, overjoyed. Finally! All my lofty dreams and ambitions were going to take flight! I was ready, brimming with eagerness to stride out and carry home what I KNEW belonged with me.

But. (There's always a 'but' isn't there?)

I started out fresh faced, starry-eyed and naive. But gradually, doubt crept in. One by one, things were revealed to me, which challenged the foundations of my aspirations. For the first time, my certainty began to falter. 

If you are a commissioned writer, tell me, do I speak falsely? For you know, you know! That writers are shackled by heavy chains of the pledge to be loyal to our respective publication houses, all for the sake of profit. For the big, important people sitting in their cushy offices, so that they can make money from the house. While us writers scuttle about on the ground generating content to drive profits, they rest on their comfortable footstools of complacence.

The truth? There is no profit to be had in the truth. No market appeal, no glitz and glam. Certainly not a desirable package at all. It would not do to put out something which would offend certain members of society.

What good is the truth? It would tear down rich men, break the powerful, cause the elite to squirm with unease.

And so we roll out pleasant stories. We paint pretty pictures. We cut, snip, and trim our tales to woo and cajole. We indulge in idle banter, lazily sipping cups of tea as the truth wails mournfully and writhes in agony at our feet, begging to be set free. 

The players of power continue to make merry, arrogant in their inpenetrable facade of invulnerability and corruption. Surrounded by their mountains of moolah, buoyed by their hangers-on with wagging tongues ever ready to flatter and proclaim praises of sweet decay.

We throw the truth out onto the darkened back lanes, sweep it as we would dust under proverbial rugs, banish it from our presence into exile. 


My eyes were opened to what I would have to bow to. What I would have to submit to and call my lord. I would be like the dog who does not bite the hand which feeds me, even if it were feeding me poisoned meat. The impact was gargantuan, it knocked me out of breath. I was forced to consider :

Could I do it?

Could I kneel to this?

Could I pledge my loyalty to this heinous, slithery master?

Was I willing to cast away what I stood for?

Could I sacrifice the values and principles I value and hold dear? The virtues of truth, integrity, honesty, honour, transparency, and uprightness? 

Was I willing? Willing to proudly broadcast lies as truth, to hold my head high while fully conscious that what I was doing was deceitful and despicable?

The gilded path to that childhood dream stretched clearly before me. The gatekeeper had flung the doors wide open and was smiling expectantly, waiting for me to step forward. The golden opportunity was laid before me. All I had to do was take that pledge and go forth.

It took me a while to decide.

I realized that I could not sacrifice these things, not even to fulfil what I had always longed for. 

The doors shut with a resounding clang, jolting me awake.

There I stood in the darkness. The dream which had always been mine had firmly turned its back on me, or I on it (whichever you please.)

There I stood. Alone. Disoriented. Unsure of where I would go now nor where my path lay.

But then I looked about, realized what I still had with me and was glad that I had chosen them instead. I hugged them close, held them a little tighter. They revived my strength, comforted my being. We reassured ourselves that we would always be there for each other. 

So hand in hand, we continue onward in the quest for another purpose, a new dream to run after.


Tuesday, August 20, 2013


I was in the car with my mum this afternoon when she decided that we had to get some eggs.

We popped by a grocery shop. I went down, got the eggs, then headed toward the exit.

Standing by the counter was a frail old man, stooped with age. He was holding at a framed picture in his wrinkled hands.

He stepped aside when I approached, still staring at the picture. As I was paying for the eggs, he looked up at me and smiled. 

" Look at them. " He thrust the picture towards me with a flourish. It depicted a couple in each others arms laughing at the camera, beautiful in their carefree youth. They appeared to be in their mid-twenties.

" You see? That's Rueben and Julia. They're living in Australia now. " He said proudly, beaming at me. 

" And I love them both. " His voice quavered with emotion.

" I see. That's.. that's very nice. " I answered uncertainly, not sure of how to respond.

" You would love them too, wouldn't you? " He said beseechingly, smiling at me from ear to ear. His watery, pale eyes stared at me pleadingly from behind thick framed glasses.

" Well sir, I don't know. After all, I've never met them. "

His face fell.

The cashier gave me back my change. I walked out, leaving him still staring dejectedly at their merry faces. 

I really wonder if they love him too.


Monday, August 19, 2013


So I did Viper. Honestly I didn't find it as dreadful as I'd imagined, it was more fun than torturous! 

The only real obstacle to me was running it without my left shoe.


I knew there was going to be a lot of mud, water, and rocky terrain. Since I didn't want to spoil my Asics, I put on this ancient pair of shoes which have been sitting for goodness knows how long in the store room.

I should've been smarter than that. Shortly after we started, I realized that the sides of my shoes were digging into my feet. Since I couldn't do anything about it anyway I kept going, but it grew increasingly painful as we pressed on.

As a result, I now have these huge open sores on both feet. They do hurt a fair bit, but what sucks more is that this will require me taking more time off from training. No idea how long these beauties will take to heal. Hopefully they'll be better in a fortnight, tops.

The soles of my left shoe ripped off at the 6km point. With 14km more to go. all I had between the bare skin of my left foot was my sock and a layer of nylon material on the bottom of the shoe.

I did it with a team of more than 20people, so we buddied up in pairs to complete the race. My buddy Ian was asking me if the pain was too much, and my response was 

" I will only accept two outcomes : 1) Finish this or 2) Kill myself and I can tell you that I am not too keen on the second outcome." Hah!

Ian and I were the second pair to finish in our team.

Next up : Reebok ONE Challenge!


Saturday, August 10, 2013


Reasons I'd make a good great incredible magnificent splendiferous good girlfriend.

1. I can cook. 

2. I can clean.

3. I am classy, sophisticated, and educated.

I’m an independent lady who doesn’t need a man to complete her, but would rather find somebody who compliments the already amazing person I am and has their own life, with their own goals and their own dreams. 
I’m not looking for my Prince Charming, I’m looking for the Robin to my Batman.


Tuesday, August 6, 2013


The other day, I went to buy lunch at a coffeeshop nearby. I knew what I was going to have. I'd tried all the stalls there, and the only one I liked was the mixed rice. So I had my mind set on that.

Turns out, the mixed rice stall was closed that particular day. I was rather disappointed because I didn't really like the food at all the other stalls.

Since I was already there I just made do and ordered some soup dish.  I'd tried it before and knew it wasn't all that great, but it was all I could settle for anyway.

Staring at the soup swirling in my bowl, I was asking myself - why did I take it if I knew it wouldn't measure up to what I was looking for anyway?

Like I already knew, it was blah. And I was pretty dissatisfied with my meal.

Then I came back and typed out this cryptically overanalyzed post. Just to remind myself that it's better to hold out for what I want, than to just 'settle' for options which don't measure up to what I have in mind purely because they are available.

And now. Chicken porridge for dinner.