Papa, Je pense a toi...

Something interesting happened today. I was being driven to Goldman Sachs. A beautiful shiny new bentley turbo stopped at the lights next to me. The old, distinguished man at the wheel turned to face me and blew me a kiss. He wound down the window, as did I , and I said, beautiful car. He said, come for a ride. I declined with a smile. We drove off... As my car turned towards my destination, he yelled something out to me. The Bentley sped up and he stopped precariously in front of a red London bus. What is your name? Daphne. I said. Daphne what? Wong. And off I went. as did he.
i smiled to myself.. how funny it is to share ones name with a stranger...even stranger, at the intersection of fleet and farringdon.

Time passes with a blink of an eye, and all we have are our memories to reflect upon.. Today, I looked lovingly at the photograph I keep constantly at my bedside. That of my family, at our last complete Chinese New Year, daddy, mummy, Dawn, Diane and me. 2 years now, in a blink of an eye. And I still rememeber him as the slightly overweight, always quick to quip, selfless, loving and giving father. 2 years now, and not a day passes that I do not miss him.

Daddy, comment ca va? I am learning french. how are you in heaven? I hope you are happy there. We are well here. Some things have changed, but I think as you look down upon us, you will smile and your heart will fill with pride.

Diane is doing well in school. I miss her. I missed her growing up. Just as I remmeber you as your perfect healthy self, I rememeber her as a 6 year old. My little sister.. She is so grown up now, so intelligent, and learning so much about the world. She has so much love for those around her, so little resentment for the fact that the man dearest to her life was taken away so soon. I promise, she will grow up to be a strong, beautiful woman. In fact, she is almost there..

Dawn will graduate this year. I am sure you will watch with pride as she walks onstage, with innate grace, to receive the honour she has worked hard for. Maybe she is still a little princess, but she has become more responsible than one could ever imagine. remmeber how you used to worry about her? you can stop worrying now. She is a survivor.. she is more than that. She will soon be a star, she was born to be a star.

Mummy? as always, she is the selfless, giving mother and daughter. She was very ill recently, and my heart nearly broke when I spoke to her as she lay recuperating from her operation. Remmeber you said to me, as we watched her prepare your medicine, sitting in the front yard, painstakingly bent over the herbs, never a doubt in her mind that these plants would make you well again, you said to me.. that you loved her so much, and that you didnt know, had the situation been reversed, if you could have the same courage as she did? I ask myself the same question.. would I be able to give the way my mother does? Is there any other woman like her? You were so lucky, and you knew it, to have someone like her. We know it too, and we are thankful everyday that she is in our lives. That she gave us our lives.

et moi? I am going to business school, pops. As you always hoped, I am going to do my MBA. it has been an interesting 2 years, but I always rememmerb every lesson you have thought me. your memory gives me strength, your words are always in my heart. I am often disappointed by people around me, because i ask so much of myself, and i ask the same of others. Remember you said, that one should give but not expect anything in return, or one will invariably be disappointed? That, I am still trying to learn.

Next year, we will all be there to speak to you. in singapore. we will be together again. I await that moment with bated breath. I feel your presence when I am in the air.. i feel your presence when i am in singapore. i feel your presence in my room , in my dreams, everywhere... I know you are always here.

i made a promise. to my family. they will have everything they wish for, as much as i can give. for now , it is only my support, my wisdom (although it pales in comparison to that of yours), and my love. but i will also give them the experiences they want in life.

The man in the car today... made me think about you. Because I made you a promise a long time ago. That one day I would buy you a beautiful sports car.. remember?

I like to think I keep my promises.

I miss you daddy.. Je pense a toi.. toujours...

Alexander the Great.

He was the greatest conquerer in all of history. This was a man who never denied his fears, but instead lived his entire life facing up to them. Great men die young, and so it was at the age of 33, Alexander succumbed to fever as the ruler of the world, and he died a free man.
His was a life supported by the unwavering loyalty of the love of his life, Hephaistion, shrouded by the darkness of his mother, Olympias, and bolstered by the unfinished legacy of his father, Philip. He went , he saw and he conquered.

In a time when no one knew where the end of the world lay, he dared to venture into the unknown. In our time, when we have conquered the lands, the seas and the skies, our fears are no longer of the unknown. Or are they?

Alexander could not accept defeat, so he fought on. And although his failures overshadow the successes of most men, in the end, he was but a mortal. As we all are.

so what do we fear? I fear the unknown. Except, what I do not know is hardly something that lies beyond the highest peaks of the himalayas, or the deepest depths of the Pacific . What I fear, is something that most mortals have experienced- a broken heart. Alexander was one who fought numerous battles, won and never lost. And in the end, he died of a broken heart. But above all, he dared to live.

What is it to love? What is it to have lost? I do not know. There are those who are brave enough to have lost , and dared to love again. And so it is, that I, empowered by the courage of the brave, dare to find what lies in the unknown. Because to live in fear, would be to die in its shackles, and to never taste freedom.

Tick Tick Tick...

What is a bad day? when the alarm fails to go off, the bus is late, traffic is in gridlock, your manager yells at you, it rains and you forgot your umbrella and youre wearing your Manolos.
Ive never believed in bad days. We like to string all the bad together as we do with the good. Today was no exception. I wasnt having a bad day. I was just being myself- a time bomb just waiting to explode, and today the timer ticked to 0.

For 2 weeks now, I have been comtemplating turning 27. I have been waiting with bated breathe for the results from INSEAD, my apparently successful weeklong courtship with the most recent suitor had fizzled away, and my annoyance with my company , run by a round table of incompetent fools , was simmering to the surface.

This morning, I celebrated with my mentor after successfully obtaining an internship for his 18 year old at my useless company. We chatted candidly over a coffee a chocolate cookie, and he agreed with me- my managers deserved to be shot. As I walked back to my office in the warm sunshine, my mood was light, lighter than it had been in a while. I felt inspired, as always, by my mentor. Then i heard someone call out to me , over the music playing from my ipod . It was him- Mr S. the only man i nearly fell in love with in this city. We made small talk, we squinted at each other through the glaring sun, but even then, I knew we had missed each other. (perhaps i was just projectin...). He gave me a warm, long hug and we went out separate ways.
back at the office, I was feeling fragile once more. My period was making me more emotional than usual, and his reply to my invitation to my 27th birthday party ( i will be in town and would love to attend), made my heart jump and my stomach feel sick.

Then came the straw that broke the camels back. Mr team leader in name, aka I really have no responsiblities, but i love pretending I am running a nuclear power plant, blatantly tried to palm off the most boring of his duties to ME!
I fumed, I turned red and I blew up. There was no way I was going to be bullied by him. He was less than amused by my explosion in front of the entire team, and pulled me into a room to reprimand me. Thanks to my raging hormones, I burst into tears. Ah the shame of showing weakness in the workpplace. Nevertheless I managed to be petulant and insubordinate whilst contributing to deforestation with the number of tissues i was using to blow my nose. Fuck off, I dont need to talk about my problems, much less with you.

Of course, I then had to re-glamourise and head back to my clients office and if i really believed in bad days, i was definlintey having one. There are 2 buildins, with 7 levels each, and my meeting that afternoon was with a new client who sat right behind Mr S. Sigh.

Perhaps we are all ticking away.. just waiting for that final moment.. the timer has been restarted.. for now.

Dont panic, its only love

I had a friend who suffered from panic attacks. These would come out of the blue. when she was in an underground tunnel, an aeroplane, the Tube. She would feel paralysed, her heart would beat to fast and hard she thought it would burst out of her chest. The walls would seem to close in on her and she felt like she could die. Panic attacks are triggered by a chemical reaction at the back of the head, somewhere near the base where the skull meets the spinal chord and can be controlled by medication.

I probably came close to having a panic attack twice in my life.
The first time was when i introduced by a friend to a revolutionary new way of relaxin- floating in a tank of salt water. The tank was an egg shaped capsule filled with warm, salty water. I stripped down into my swimmers and stepped into the contraption, which was lit by a warm orange light. There were 2 buttons on the inside of the tank, one to dim the light and the other to shut the lid. Ironically, in a bid to relax, I found ways to distract myself, starting with the light switch. unware that the light would slowly dim and switch off completely with one touch of the button, rather than be activated in a series of pushes of the button, I tapped at it once, then pushed the button to close the lid. Before I knew it i was entombed in this egg-shaped coffin, suffocating in the dank vapours of the warm salty water, in complete darkness. On the verge of panic, i groped at the sides to locate the 2 buttons. Excruxiating seconds ticked by as i splashed around, and it took all my mental capacity to keep my composure. If i had panicked, i most certainly would have suffocated and passed out. Finally my fingers found the switches along the salt encrusted and slippery sides of the tank and the coffin opened.

The second time was an aeroplane. After a relatively heavy night of partying with no sleep I popped a valium and snuggled into my seat, ready for a much needed sleep on my 7 hour flight back to singapore. To my horror, my muscles relaxed but my heart and my mind started to race. paranoia threatened to take over and as the plane started on the runway, I was on the verge of screaming out to be let off the plane. I was sure I would crash, and die in a ball of fire. I was sweating and shaking but unable to speak, breathe or move. The plane took off and i gripped weakly at the arm rests. Finally, as the plane reached cruising altitude and the fasten seat belt sign went off, I managed to relax and fell into a restless slumber.

I am also familiar with the panic attacks that are triggered by fear, caused by chemistry felt with the opposite sex, rather than a chemical reaction in my brain. The intense attraction, and the fear of becoming vulnerable, of falling in love, causes the same physiological reactions in a panic attack. When I think about picking up the phone and speaking to this person, my throat and mouth go dry. When I await the next meeting, of broaching our expectations of a possible future, my hands shake, I sweat and I feel paralysed. I want to speak but I literally gag on the words. Panic attack, caused by the fear of failure and of the pain that comes with it. So I take the easiest way out, the path that I have chosen time and time again- I turn and I run.

Pilots take beta blockers when attempting emergency landings. These are the same drugs I consumed when I was playing competitive pool . They block out beta waves which cause panic, they slow the heart down, prevent physical reactions like shaking hands and sweating glands.

Perhaps this is exactly what the love doctor would prescribe to me. So i will calm down, and realise, what the hell, no one ever died of a broken heart.

Its like sunshine in London

Yesterday, I took a leap and ventured out of the 2 km radius of Notting Hill. With friend in tow, I hopped onto the number 27 bus , headed for Camden Markets, where 6 of my pot loving friends from Sydney were spending the day recovering from a particularly big night out. As we sat around, the boys sipped their beers tenderly, conversation was minimal as their fragile states meant that simple actions like lip movements required excruxiating effort.

After Jason had bid aieu, time to return to Sydney, my friend and I decided to make the best of the 6 pm speical- all takeout boxes were slashed from gbp5 to gbp2. We sat on a bench in the open air, willing the dark clouds to hang in there, and discussed the weather ( a favourite topic of conversation this side of the equator). He looked meloncholy. Why, I asked. Was it the weather? NO, he replied. He was just an intrinsically meloncholy person. There are times he is happy, but most times, he reckons that this is just a transient state, that good things come to those who wait, although, the wait can, in itself, be excruxiating.

I thought to myself, this was a person who had had the guts to leave his home, with nothing but the shirt on his back, move to london with the hope of seeing the world , and yet, he was searching for happiness. When was the last time I had met someone who was truly happy? I dont think i had. ever.

On wednesday, at the invitaion of my new friend, a certain Mr S, I braved the rain to join him for a quiet dinner at his humble abode. Deciding that mouldy bread and M^S tomato soup was not my choice of a gourmet dinner, I whippid out my umbrella and headed out to seek out my meal du jour. I spotted a little middle eastern kebab shop and decided that a shwarma would be very dlightful indeed. The proprietor was an arab looking man of about 28. He had a clean white apron, white paper hat and a wide smile whcih exposed pearly white teeth. As I watched him prepare my dinner with intense concentraion, I wondered to myself how many hours he had been on his feet, smiling, welcoming customers and painstakingly preparing each order, for a mere pittance. was he happy? I shared my thoughts with Mr S, also of arabic descent, but hardly spent a second in the work day standing up. He was an extremely succesful banker in a top American Financial institution. He wore white tailored shirts, walked in prada shoes and made more money from each customer than Mr kebab store would make in 10 years. Was HE happy?

Mr S replied, perhaps, the man in the kebab store is happier than I am.

I realised, that happiness, is not a destination. We all imagine that no matter how dire our current circumstance, if we had goals and we worked towards achieving them, one day we will attain nirvana. Life would be perfect.
But in reality, happiness is like the english weather. Some days we wake up and there is sunshine. We know that it might not last, so we get out of bed and head to the park , to lap up the best the day has to bring. When dark clouds gather, as they invariably do, we pack up our picnic baskets and hurry indoors, snuggle up on our sofa with a hot chocolate and a DVD. We talk about how great the morning had been, and how unfortunate it is that it is so desolate now.. and we sigh.. and hope for the rain to clear so we may once again bring out the rose and sunglasses.

That is life, that is happiness. It comes in snatches, when you least expect it. It is made up of those moments when you sit back and ask yourself, could anything be more perfect than what you have right now? Would you wish to be anywhere else than where you are right now? And you smile to yourself, and you whisper under your breath- no.
The rain will most definlintey come again, but so will the sunshine.
We arent hurrying to reach the end. We are content to accept, that after the clouds clear, we will be happy once more.

My Naked Passion

I had never realised until now, the passion in my writing, and the impact it would have on those who reaed what I have to say. Some people paint, some draw, some sing. I write. And when I write, all the feelings and emotions that I suppress come to the fore with unbated passion, the kind of passion i never thought I would be capable of. Someone once read the blog I wrote, I had a Dream, and thought it was an excerpt from Paolo Coelho, and that was the greatest compliment anyone could pay me.
In a world where we are judged all the time, we find ourselves trapped within ourselves. The words we want to say, the emotions we want to express, we keep deep within ourselves, because to show our emotions would be to expose our very being. And to me, someone who believes that to show the truth of how i feel is to be weak and vulnerable, to be unable to control the desire to let myself go, is to be a failure.
So i hold it all inside, with a smile and a facade of devil may care. but underneath that happy go lucky exterior is a creature brimming with unbridled desire, passion and want. and so it is in my writing that I express myself. My naked passion. This is who i am. How many of you will embrace it and how many of you will draw back instinctively, because in my writing, I hae also exposed the side of you that you have expended all you have to protect?

A Day of Mourning...

As the enormity of the terror attacks on London sink in, I am filled with a sense of relief but also sadness at the innocent lives lost and the realisation of how the world we live in is changing. All four tube stations are stations I pass through daily to get to and from work, and had i been on the tube one hour later, it could have been me caught in one of these blasts. Accidents happen, people die. But when lives are lost do to planned malicious attacks by other human beings, attacks intended to cause as much trauma as possible, it brings fear to the heart. This was no 9/11 by any stretch of the imagination, but it was still horrific and cowardly.
I walked 2 hours from my office to get home and there was an eeriness in the albeit crowded high streets of London. Shops were shut, police cordons abound, and there was no laughter, people were not smiling, they were all shell shocked and trying to find a way home.
The worlds biggest cities have now been attacked on a large scale by these terrorists. New York, Madrid and now London. When will the actions of these extremists end, and when will the ending of innocent lives stop? Probably never. But to give in to these fanatics, and to allow our lives to be filled with fear would be to give up the one thing that we in the civilised world have that they do not- freedom.