keep it safe from her switchblade stilettos, laddymelove."
Here's an unusual post, out of my usual style of blogging. you may not like it.
By now you may have realised that i am leery of being intimate with the citizens of the world wide web. I wax lyrical on clothes, friends, books( have i yet?) and crafty bitty things, become profanial [sic =D] on school, work, family, and what have you's. But those of you in my life know that that is far from a genuine reflection of it. or genuine maybe the wrong word. call it just a reflection of sliver of my life. or whatever right.
So i was reflecting on that chancy business, choices. choices between paths that create many coloured futures. like a tree that blooms and unfurls flowers and leaves of a thousand different shapes, scents, colours and fates. one decision to be wary of a potentially volatile situation and its plotted escape. what could have happened if i weren't tired, sick of conflicts and committments and flighty at all those times when my judgement failed me?
in marketing terms, those are the oppotunity costs.
a cool and unfeeling term for a flighty, wiggly potential for regret in the choosing.
i have friends i greatly admire for their ability to truly never regret the shots they call as they come. those are the happy few, that never attempt to screw eyes at the back of their heads, so that they can moan and groan over what-if's and what-coulda-woulda-shoulda-have-been's, while at the same time gingerly negotiating the paths before them.
they are like racing horses with blinders on, if you would pardon the imagery. if you honestly don't see the shoulda's and coulda's, how can they possibly distract you and your nervous energies?
i was flipping through my real diary, which i usually refrain from doing more then twice a year. if you keep one yourself, you would understand that in my personal diaries, i can be ugly, bimbotic, a freak, silly, contempteous, girly, cold, ridiculous, rude, uncomprehensive, mean, gushy and immature. the list goes on.
the point is not to judge yourself, but be yourself, where ever you truly can be that honest to yourself. i do that by long walks, writing, crafts, runs, sketches, sewing, dancing and in the past, canoeing. whatever you do, my dear reader, that leaves you feeling the most naked, raw, sensational and freed, there you are, go say hey to yourself.
but i've gone off on a tangent. if you're still with me, congrats, stop for a coffee, stretch your legs, admire the pretty tattoo on the prim and proper ankle above. it's the only thing i like about this skin.
alrighty, where was i? oh yes, the delicious gossipy bit.
so yeah, lost chances, the many other paths that are closed to you with every path that you choose. here's an example close to my heart.
i met an ex-boyfriend from some years ago, in a very cliche coincidence, quite some time back. i got onto the bus, and the fellow standing next to me turns and says hey. figuring him for one of the usual nutcases the comes with public transport, i ignored him til he called me by name.
by my pet name.
in accordance with the cliche, i was at my most unglam, to the appearance of being the same helter-skelter, loud, uncouth and messy tomboy i used to be. call it comfy/drab school chic.
we hit it off.
the bus ride was half an hour long.
for half an hour, we didn't stop to breath as we talked. he had gone overseas to study, which makes the chance meeting all the more a miraculous cliche. the chemistry, the memories, the boy caught me by surprise, and time rolled back.
with a clench in my chest and my breath caught in my throat, i beheld the man before me. the real deal did not compare to the boy of my memories. studying overseas had matured him, time had softened his coltish angles. and when we brushed against each other, my skin sizzled.
and yet, he also proved himself to be a good friend, remembering details and snippets of people he left behind in singapore and asking after them and me.
when we got off the bus at the same stop, we walked for a bit, dragging our feet while talking trivialities. when we reached the place where he was to turn aside.
we paused. in the first awkward moment that marred our chance meeting, we didn't know what to do. how do you behave at this point? a casual, g'byee, see ya around while you're in singapore? an offhanded joke about wierd fate? a hopeful, let's go for coffee sometimes?
we separated, and i tried, oh so hard, not to watch him walk away, not to look at all distressed. cool, calm and collected, as Jo March would say. We didn't exchange numbers. In my inner confusion, i forgot.
a few weeks ago today, i stumbled upon pictures of him and his new girlfriend that he posted online.
who's to say if this was an incident that heralded regret? who's to say that i could have been braver, could have found some way to keep in touch with him during his brief visit to singapore? or that i had let slip what the workings of chance and fate had done to present another oppotunity?
and even if there was regret, would it be regret for a good friend lost again, or a relationship left unexplored for a chance at rekindling?
many months on, i'm still left wondering myself.
i think that my point in this messy entry is that snippet i found in my diary, dated 1st of January 2005.
"my new year's resolution: I am going to live this year with balls of steel!"
and i think i'm renewing that resolution, to always choose the path that may be less certain, but is sure to be loaded with fresh adventures.
and no, i did not have cheese and corns for lunch :D
*yes, the horrible chance that he may be reading this too did occur to me. but our relationship was plagued with things left unsaid, silence where honest talk was urgent and misunderstandings from a lack of courage to be the first to admit that whatever we had then was more then a game. no more.
