… Stories of My Mind …

As I walked home after a whole day of diving, I had a thought.

I have been by myself more than a year now. Surprisingly, I am happy. Surprising, not because I am happy, but because I am more me than I have ever been before. A me that I am more than ever before, happier about, prouder of, more relaxed.

I can imagine being somewhere else, but I can’t imagine being anyone else, doing anything else that I do these day. I wouldn’t give up any bit of it right now.

I am definitely losing my “cool” one major notch - I have been reading The Bank Analyst’s Handbook, and surprise! I am actually enjoying it.

I enjoy it so much, that I think it shouldn’t even be classified as a textbook at all.

By the end of this book, I get the feeling that I may understand banks a little more and not go into meetings completely floored not understanding anything.

Yes, I am just one big nerd. And a half.

Like my father, I am stubborn, rational, disciplined, strong-willed.

Like him, I don’t deal well when it comes to failures.

I knew, from when I was young, that my personality was a lot more like my father than my mother. Emotionally, we were a lot stronger too. Stronger, or detached? It depends on how you choose to look at it.

But, I never wanted to be my father. Or my mother. They are amazing people, for what they have done for me, but they are not who I want to be. If there was one flaw that I have to pin it down to, is that they do not have enough foresight. They plan, but without going through the options. They do, according to society’s norms. They make decisions, some times without understanding the consequences.

I remember back in High School, when I did make it past the exams to graduate, my parents were not present in giving me advice on tertiary education. No one told me about the choices that I had. I know how lucky I was having parents who were willing to pay my school fees. But I was also lost.

Nowadays, my parents tell me how to live. “You shouldn’t spend so much money“; “You shouldn’t work so hard“; “You should save more money“; “You should find someone to settle down with“; “You shouldn’t do so much sports - you look too masculine“; “You shouldn’t be so loud / opinionated, boys don’t like that“; “You should clean your apartment more, make it nice” - I tend to not take them too seriously.

Like my father, I have never dealt well with emotional outbursts.

My mother cried whilst we were speaking on the phone this week. Because, once again, she is dealing with the emotional issues that she should have dealt with a year ago. And I find myself repeating what I had already said numerous times, months on end. When she wailed out “I don’t want to burden you“, well, it’s a bit too late.

I love my parents, they could do many, many crazy things and I would never abandon them. Maybe it is ingrained in my blood from this Asian upbringing I have. Some times I feel like running away from this responsibility. I wished, that I had a say in the uptake of this responsibility. And I immediately feel bad saying that, because it is so incredibly selfish.

I suppose this is what it means, to grow up. To be responsible. Like my father.

Speaking about vacation, I realized that I’d want someone who love traveling. Not just “travel”, as in the ritzy hotels, but really, travel.

Amongst the traveling that I’d like to do, here are some I have in mind - climbing Kilimanjaro; taking that train from Beijing to Lhasa; trekking in the Himalayas; work through London - Paris - Spain - Morocco by train and foot; Morocco to South Africa and the Safari; some partying in the Greek Islands; an Antarctic adventure…

Yes, I am high maintenance.

If I am cold, I apologize. If I am short, I really did not mean to be rude.

I am starting to have mood swings, I rarely ever have mood swings. I keep trying to bring myself back up, but I feel more tired than ever.

Definitely need a vacation.  

There is something wrong with me.

I am grumpy; running out of patience; writing curt emails. I am jealous; not confident at work; tired. My laugther is taking more effort and I am growingly more dispassionate.

There is seriously something wrong with me.

I am jealous. I hate being jealous. Being jealous means that you’re not getting what you want, it means that you are losing. There aren’t that many things that I am jealous of, I am usually at peace. When I am jealous, I find it very difficult to deal with.

Acting like it’s no biggie failing the CFA is starting to haunt me. I know I did not deserve to pass. After all, I spent more time whingeing than study. But there is something in it, that’s pulling me down. I struggle.

This whole “finding out my ex really did get on with the last girl he cheated on me with” is actually a lot harder to swallow than I thought it would be. There is this bitterness that I didn’t work, that maybe there was something wrong with me afterall.

There is someone I have special interest in. Knowing that I am of no significant difference to that person makes me jealous.

I know I am not invincible, and mostly I am not perfect. What I thought I had dealt with a long time ago is starting to come back to haunt me. Again, I remind myself, I have to distance my emotions, learn to be unemotional. Again, I cannot, and should not, have special interest in any particular one. You can’t fall off a cliff if you never climbed the mountain to get to the cliff in the first place.

I refuse to be taken hostage by emotions.

I failed. I failed. I failed.

I have never failed. I have come close to failing, but I’ve never failed outright. No matter how little effort I’ve put in, I’ve never failed.

Well, time to wake up and smell the coffee. I’m not invincible, I’m not perfect. I didn’t study hard enough. My heart wasn’t there and I wasn’t focused. I whinged more than I studied, and that was my fault.

Too little, too late.  Learnt my lesson, next chance comes next year.

I finally let my guard down. This time I actually chose for it to be broken down.

The funny thing is, instead of being some random night out, we actually conversed. After all, I had only known him for two days. Those kisses were soft and warm as they landed. Shoulders, lips, neck were only some of the places he discovered. He knew how to apply the right amount of pressure with his hands, and most importantly, where.

We talked about dreams, of the future and those of which were broken. We talked about our mistakes and those of which we wish we will never make again. We talked about how lucky we are in our lives, and what made us each our own.

He would break into this wide smile and then plant a gentle kiss some where.

Showed up at a friend’s farewell not knowing anyone. Luckily for me, I’ve been single so long that I can work these situations just as I would if I had known everyone. I may not remember everyone’s names by the end of the night (alcohol may have something to do with that though), but I’m pretty sure everyone would have heard my loud voice.

Mr Common gave up his seat for me. Mr Common occasionally flirted and smiled and joked with me. Mr Common was not ugly, or sleazy, or arrogant. In fact, he was quite agreeable, he had his on charm, accomodating. He was not striking, therefore definitely not controversial. He was actually really quite common.

So, I let him come with me to the dancefloor. I let him come close to me. I let him lingered. I liked it that he could move on the dancefloor, and I liked it that he smelt, well, to put it plainly, nice. Mr Common was nice, all in all.

Mr Common played with my hands underneath the table. His hand lingered on my knee. We caught a cab together and he even managed to walk me to my door. But I wasn’t about to bring him home (yes, still traumatized a year on, besides, I would be too busy the day after). He takes my number and left his on my phone and asks me to call him when I get back. That he’d give me golf lessons.

To be honest, I’m not really sure what to do with Mr Common. If I had strong feelings either way, I would have known what to do, but I don’t. I’m not sure if it’s because of these walls I’ve built - I didn’t feel much; or was it just I’m too busy? Or maybe I make too many excuses.

Onwards and forwards. We see what happens. My golfing skills (or the lack of) may need improvements. He did mention he was a good teacher afterall.