It's been a while since I last swung my tennis racquet, so when the noncomittal rain of the last few days finally let up today, the four of us decided it was too good an opportunity to let pass by.
The weather held up - it was perfect actually, I was relieved to find that I still have a stroke, and we had a good two hours of play. It felt good to be out and active again; the last time I did something outdoors that resembled exercise was when I went walking in the rain in Mulu, Sarawak, over a month ago.
The urge to get off my bum and start moving on a regular basis has made a somewhat sneaky return. This should go nicely with my ongoing effort to eat healthy. As part of my resolution, I've been having cereal for brekkie at least a few times a week - the rest of the time I usually end up having an early lunch instead.
I watch the Nadal vs Bellucci match from my sofa after a good shower, relishing that clean, fresh and very relaxed/pleasantly exhausted/recuperating feeling that comes from using more than three muscles and getting a good sweat.
At a stage in my life where I have become so cynical, so sceptical, so resigned even, to many things in this world that I cannot control;
Where I am learning to be who I am without care or worry about what other people might think of me;
Where I struggle to hold firm to my opinions and believe that it is perfectly okay to have opinions that may perhaps differ from other people;
Where I am so far away from who I was a mere five years ago some of my university friends would be shocked to hear what I have to say today;
Where just recently I wondered if I could even call myself a 'Christian' because I don't fit the definition of the label - not here, not anymore;
Where soon after I decided the label really doesn't matter;
Where I increasingly find myself in a world that is no longer black and white, but more often than not in varying shades of grey;
Where I no longer judge according to what I may once have been taught because I now know a lot of things really aren't that simple;
At a stage in my life where I am regularly aware of how I am changing / have changed, where I am constantly tuned in to my innermost musings and reflective rambles for better or for worse, where I surprise even myself on occasion;
If our eyes are truly the windows to our souls, sometimes I wonder how much my eyes give away. While I believe in not lying, or trying my best not to, there are times when the urge to smile and nod in expected approval and support far outweigh the desire to speak my objecting mind, if only because the former is the much easier way out. We all have to pick our battles, right? During times when I really need my eyes not to reveal too much, times when I'm panicked, or feeling really awkward or mortified, times when I want to keep my emotions under wraps... do I really give away as much as I fear I do?
Back then, we had monthly checks to make sure everyone's hair was short enough, our nails were neat enough and our hemlines were long enough. That's Chinese school for you, not that I regret it now that it's been almost nine years since emancipation.
Reta and I are trying to feed Dawn a fry and a soft drink in her absence.
When Y wouldn't let me tell him all about the latest novel I'd read - Jodi Picoult's My Sister's Keeper - I whined, "But you have to let me tell you. It's so sad!"
To which he replied, "You always say that. Everything you read is so sad."
To which I stopped, and realised that he was right. Why is everything I read (and love) so sad? Just off the top of my head, I've recently finished The Kite Runner, A Mighty Heart and The Time Traveler's Wife, and yes, they have all induced tears, some more than others.
The sentiment crosses over into films as well. I seem to admire sad movies more than I do happy ones, although I did like Finding Neverland very much. That's not to say I don't appreciate a quality romantic comedy - I've watched Love Actually four times - but I think the sadness in books and films (and music) resonate with me because, let's face it, we live in an often very sad world.
I guess when films and books give me something other than the cliched happy ending, it strikes me as more real somehow, a stark reminder of how life isn't always fair, and things don't always turn out for the better, and good doesn't always triumph over evil, at least in the temporal. Many people watch movies to imitate art, but in a very depressing way, I'm glad art has also been doing its share of imitating life.
Ironically, these are thoughts from an avowed musical lover - the very genre of musical having been built on the foundations of escapism and happy endings. Maybe that's my exception, though to be fair, not all musicals have happy endings anymore. And oh how I love those that do not.
A friend has gotten engaged and I am truly happy for her and her new fiance. She's a great girl and he seems like a really cool guy. As the wedding invitations taper off after the boom of last year (or was it the year before last), I am reminded every time somebody takes the plunge that I, too, took the plunge, and have been swimming for the last almost three years.
I can't believe I've been married that long, even though it really isn't very long as far as happily ever after goes. People still ask me how's married life because in most of the circles I traverse, I'm a minority. Married life is great, thank you for asking, I've finally succeeded in teaching Y to actually glance in my direction when I start one of my rambles. I reckon it'll be another ten years' worth of work before he learns to make suitably responsive noises.
No, seriously, married life has been/is great. And I thank God almost every day that I got lucky. But that's not what I really wanted to blog about. A bunch of us went out last night - friends from my university days, either my age or give or take one to two years either way. And it struck me that right up to the day we graduated uni, we were pretty much on par in terms of where we were in life. We all went through school, we became friends, we hung out, we shared meals, we earned our degrees, we knew the same people, we were even fairly similar in terms of background...
Then we graduated, and everything changed in a flash. We got jobs in different industries, we saw each other once in a while, I got married, others were dating then they got married, others broke up, others remained single, some of us climbed the corporate ladder, I still wear slippers to work when I feel like it, others travelled the world, I wished I did, and really, we were not 'on par' in any sense of the word anymore. Each of us were on dramatically different journeys that we had forged for ourselves, sort of yelling across the grass to our friends on their respective paths every time the jungle cleared enough that we could see each other. And it had all happened so quickly.
It's no groundbreaking revelation, I know, but I guess it never hits me hard until I actually come face to face with these friends. And I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say, except maybe I had a good time. It's always nice to catch up and see how we're all so different now, that even though life has thrown us for so many different things, whenever we get together again, it reminds me of when we were back at uni.
Oh my. this is the result of itchy fingers and a restlessness that invades yet contradicts my urge to sit on my sofa and not move until I have watched every television series / movie I can get my hands on.
I want to. : Travel the world : Take dance classes : Learn another language : Go behind the scenes of a Hollywood movie : Meet a real celebrity : Whale watch : Scuba dive : Go white water rafting : Watch The Lion King musical : Go on the trapeze : Go for a U2 concert
