It was the winter of 2003 and I just came back from my family's christmas holiday from California. It was the first time that I actually felt petrified... because for the first time, I didn't know what was going to happen. I finished my undergrad courses the month before and I was free from the clutches. Somehow, however, I felt like crawling back to the whole world of text books, lectures and crummy dorm rooms. At least I knew where I would stand if I were back. Alas, I couldn't.

It was my first time to rent. I didn't know any better... I was initially quite psyched with the whole concept of being grown up and adult. And I was also about to embark in a mortgage for a car. I was little by little getting pulled into a trap they call "responsibility and obligation." Then again, it didn't seem quite so serious because I still had my college roommate, Ashley. We rented an apartment on Commonwealth Avenue just in front of the T's green line (the B line, to be exact). Our room was on the second floor; nice floor boards, spacious enough for the 2 of us and cream colored walls that looked like they were dying to get repainted over.

It was my closest brush to a bohemian life. Up until this day, I still feel uncertain whether I liked it or not. I did, however, enjoy it. Zooming in on the dangerously low numbers of my bank account and the rising debt incurred by my credit cards... post-college mortem, is it? It felt liberating at first. I had no one but myself to look after and I could do absolutely anything I wanted. I had my whole life ahead of me and it was all mine to live! I knew deep inside though that it's just all a pipe dream. I had to get grounded. At night I would lay in bed trying to sleep, trying not to think of the interview I probably just blew that day, listening to the train making its numerous stop. Ashley would be in the living room finishing up her paper; she was probably looking forward to ending her senior year. If only I can let her know how much it sucks at the other side of the fence. Then again, she probably knows it too.

Those were the slowest three months of my life. It consisted of scrounging for any job that would take me (no thanks to you, 9-11), attending morning masses to satisfy my spiritual thirst (ie. desperation), going on trips to the beautiful Boston public library because purchasing books were a luxury, doing my fair share of contributing to the community by teaching English as a Second Language (ESL) at the Boston Red Cross Center... and surfing Craigslist on a daily basis seeing if anyone would like to dispose of their dear furnitures. At those moments, I realized that I really cannot live life as it flows along. I needed an anchor. I needed to know that I would be okay the next day. I needed to know what I am supposed to be doing the next day. I needed a proper routine... one that I can rely on.

Some two hours ago, I watched the movie rendition of my favorite musical, RENT. Even though the life depicted in the film is light years away from mine... or any aspect of my life... I felt a connection to it. Sure, I was never nearly as broke as they were (though it sometimes felt like it), but not knowing what your next step is going to be can get really scary. When nothing in your life seems to be falling into place. The direction and ambition is there, yes, but the means of getting there is a suspension bridge that has planks threatening to fall off. Tell me, what is there to do?

I was petrified of the unfamiliar and the unknown. I still am.

"Because I'm used to relying on intellect. But I try to open up to what I don't know. No other road, no other day... no day but today..."

My hiatus from writing worked... I've missed it tremendously regardless of the fact that I write full-time now. No, not that kind of writing. The kind of writing that sends people fast asleep if they're not interested in it. And unfortunately, only a handful of people are interested in the kind of writing I do for a living. And even more unfortunate, those people make millions out of the craft I'm currently nurturing. Why can't I be the one to make the millions?

So, yes, I will push myself once again to come back to the shadows and to unload everything locked up in here *points to head* It can get lonely, you know? It can get lonely keeping it all inside. At least even though the wall never talks back, there might just be a slight chance that it's listening. Only because we can never know for sure.

More travelling done for this little one. Nevertheless, I've barely scratched the surface of my life-long dream to walk the grounds of as many continents as possible. Then again, beggars can't be choosers so I'll take these little ones for now... I'm not sure when I'm due to travel again. My short trips to Indonesia and Hong Kong have tickled me enough to plan for a more solid one with loved ones next year. But while that's yet to happen, I'm back to chronicling my life.

Chronicles, indeed... of foolish thoughts and impulsive actions.

It's been a month, more or less, since I even attempted to write. It actually feels more like a decade than a month. It's been a cyclone of experiences -- I've been working, travelling, working some more, meeting up with old friends, with family and working a bit more... and thinking. I've been given a chance to think a lot over the past month. What about? Nothing, really. Just stuff. It's like an insignificant cloud in my mind that just happens to be there.

I went to Bangkok with a girl friend for a long weekend mid-month. It was awesome! Not only because I went to the shopping oasis of Asia but because it signified a big step in my adulthood and finally having the courage to defy something that has always imprisoned me. In the long and short of things, I can finally concede that no one -- not even those closest to me -- can ever ultimately stop me from controlling my life. Sure, they can impinge my decisions and they can tap into my conscience but at the end of the day, the decision is mine. All mine! It's tough having to tiptoe around my own life. And it's especially hard knowing that I'm tiptoe-ing because I want to please everyone surrounding me. It was the worst and best four days of my life.

Barely a week after that, I flew to Manila on business. It was a lonely one... not because I was alone but because I've come to terms with the fact I'll never truly belong there anymore. It's difficult coming to terms with such knowledge because I still consider Manila my home. Somehow, though, it doesn't feel right anymore. I will know the language, the culture, the expectations, everything forever. The loneliness of the place, however, will haunt me. The funny thing is, almost everyone that I still love and care about live there. So why do I feel this way? Is it because the trip emphasized my need to explore and discover new things? Perhaps it wasn't the right time for me to settle yet. Maybe I'm still meant to conquer more... and to climb more mountains.

It was very exhausting though -- physically, mentally and emotionally. I enjoyed coming back to my home country and operating under company expenses but truly there was a price to be paid. My body gave way on my last day. I attribute it to the lack of sleep and rest but hey, I'm not employed to lead a laid back life, right? Hopefully one day, I'd be able to say "It was all worthwhile." Snort!

And there have been those fleeting thoughts about where my life is leading me -- and not the other way around. I thought I've buried those evil thoughts a few years back. Evidently not. And apparently, they regain strength and comes back to hound you like a mofo. I will be a quarter old this year... and it frightens me that I have no master plan. I do, but it seems to be a punch on the moon right now. What do I do if everything falls through? What will become of me? Seemingly, from the outside world at least, I have everything under control. It's just that you have no bloody idea.

And it scares me.

My expenses the past month have absolutely skyrocketed. I've the next few months to recuperate. I don't think of them as losses -- more like gains really -- but still, I need to top up my ailing bank account. And I have to catch up with my inner thoughts. It's been on top of me ever since I've abandoned writing. So hopefully, today, the start of the latter part of the year, I'd be able to gain back my grip on things.

Welcome me back with a bang... Because I'm here to stay.

Sometimes it feels like trudging through mud and glue. So exhausting -- both physically and mentally. As as we get older, it seems like responsibilities and obligations just keep on piling up. Never running out of things to do. I pray that life won't lose its meaning... and for everyone I care about to never stray. It's only at the end that you realize what is most important. Through the everyday dealings, they seem rather trivial -- often we take for granted the presence of our reasons for living.

Every moment that I get where I don't have to deal with worldly things, I just wish to sleep. If only I can sleep forever and never have to open my eyes again. I feel drained, I feel tired. And I especially feel lost. And scared. What if the feelings of dread never stop???

I like the musical laughters that I hear and the smiling eyes that I see. It keeps me grounded... it gives me hope. Perhaps at the end of this long tunnel, there is a light after all. It's just something we all have to go through. But why? What for? Is the light worth seeing and working hard towards?

Having to hurt some people on your way over, will they heal? Will they forgive? Will they understand? And getting hurt by the people most important to you... they're just going through the tunnel as well. You can't blame them now, can you?

I'm tired. I just want to sleep. Because in my dreams, there are no tunnels. All just light.

Tonight, I found myself eating yam-flavored ice cream using a Chinese bowl and a Chinese soup spoon. Prior to that, I was eating McDonald's chicken nuggets with chopsticks... and I was craving for ice kachang.

Tell me, when did I get so localized?

Admittedly, I do complain about Singapore and how tiny this island is. I whine a lot about the inefficiency and box-type mentalities of people... but I rarely get to describe the magnanimity of the local food here. It's incredible!

I'm a foodie -- it's no secret! But I don't recall loving another cuisine outside my own this much. I don't even like American or Spanish food as much as this; and I came from a colonial country. I like all sorts... Thai, Japanese, Italian, Brazilian, name it! I've eaten it and I've probably enjoyed it. But local Singaporean food... there's something about it that stands out.

I reckon it's the fact that Singapore is a convergence of cultures. A lot of people have the misconception that Singapore is like Hong Kong -- purely Chinese and Oriental. As a matter of fact, Singapore was a part of Malaysia once upon a time. A lot of its culture is derived from the Malays. The official language here is still Malay (and I learned recently that the national anthem is also sung in Malay). Never mind the fact that 70% of the population consists of the Chinese, it's still a very Malay society. Plus there are the Indians too... not to mention the token Indonesians, Filipinos, Cambodians, Thais, etc from neighboring countries. And then throw in all the expats from overseas -- England, France, Italy, Australia, the US, name it; we probably have them here.

Honestly, how can one TINY country contain so much richness? And I'm not talking about material wealth either. Indeed there's a little bit of everything here -- not just culture-wise, but food-wise as well.

If I get asked how to describe local Singaporean food, I honestly wouldn't know how. The first thing I'd probably say is that it's spicy. People here thrive on chili. But other than that, their food is a celebration of many wonderful pieces of culture. It's a mixture of Indian, Chinese, Malay and some European flavors. And best of all, I noticed that people really enjoy their food here. Ironically, the best food aren't the ones found in posh and expensive restaurants. They're actually found in food courts and hawker center stalls. They're the authentic ones! Don't let the cheap prices fool you...

Every night after work, I look forward to dinner. I've been living in this flat for about three months now and my kitchen is still spotless. My pots and pans still have the IKEA sticker emblazoned on them. Not once have I ever cooked in my kitchen. Why should I? I have the best kitchen downstairs, and next to me, and near my work... I'm surrounded by lots and lots of food courts that have some of the country's best food. I can actually get away with not repeating the same dish for two months. Except of course for the occassional cravings for Mickey D's and Subway :P

So yes, I do enjoy Singapore... its food and its orderliness. I don't think I could ever live in another country where all I need is $10 a day in order to survive. Quite amazing, isn't it?

It's getting late... but I have ten minutes to decide whether or not I want beat the closing of the eatery across my flat. Cold sesame paste with tapioca sounds good right now.

Hmmmm.

Passion -- I hear that word all the time used in various contexts. It's an easy word to say too. Passion. Pa-shun. Pas-yun. Pashon. Pah-shin. Passion. Passion in life. Real passion for. Passionately done. Extremely passionate. Everywhere we see it, we hear it. It's on perfume, for crying out loud! And a fruit is named after it too. And it sounds incredibly similar to something close to women's hearts: fashion. It's one of those words that we spit out liberally because it sounds good.

Do we know what it really is though?

I work ridiculous hours. Something to the tune of 10 to 11 hours a day (on average). I don't mind my job; it's pays the bills after all. And I know for a fact that working long hours (beyond comprehension) is something common. I know of people who practically sleep in the office and go home simply to shower and to catch a few hours in the land of nod. Can you, however, say that all of us have passion in what we do? I think not. Some people do it simply because they have no choice; they have to do it. Others do it because it's what everyone else does. A variety of reasons, really.

Where does passion fit in though?

On a personal note, passion is when you look forward to something. This is not to be confused with something you don't mind doing. You actually have to really cherish this particular something (or someone). It's more than refuge, it's more than relief. And neither is it an obsession. It's something that you want to enrich and learn more from/about. And here's the clincher: it's something that you may possibly not have any kind of return from.

Big names like Michael Jackson, Madonna and Britney Spears -- I'm sure at one point they were all passionate about singing. And they probably still are. Money, however, is part of the equation now though. I'm willing to bet my left arm that the passion has gone down even the slightest notch. Money has the reputation of ruining certain concepts for people. It blinds us, it distracts us. Doing something for money, in theory, makes that thing a job. And a job can only be so fun... up until a certain point.

I had a colleague a few years back who used to play golf professionally. He loved the game; absolutely adored it. After a year of playing pro though, he quit... he reckons that playing for money ruined the game for him. It became a job. It started to drag. And he wanted to save his passion for it... by not playing it for a living.

It's very rare that I meet people who are very passionate about their jobs. Some are passionate about working hard... but it doesn't necessarily equate to loving what they do. And others are, of course, passionate about making money. And this leads us to think that they're passionate about their job but there's really an underlying cause to that seemingly painted picture. See the difference? There's a strand of hair splitting these ideas apart. And more often than not, people can't see it.

Passion is when you do something because you want to. Not because you'll get something out of it... besides 100% pure satisfaction and fulfillment. A mother who works two shifts in order to feed three mouths, and doesn't complain about it... that's passion. A husband who still finds the time in helping his tired wife to keep house after a long day at work... that's passion. A grandmother who will lend her grandson her last few hundred dollars so he that he can buy that car he's always wanted... that's passion.

Passion is unconditional love. Towards someone or towards something.

Passion is when you write your most sincere thoughts even though you know no one is going to read it. It is like creating art even though no one is there to view it. Similar to sports, it becomes passion when you give it your all every single time although no one is watching.

And passion is when you love someone as if you're not capable of getting hurt.

Woo! Like any Internet addict, what's the first thing I do once I get back home from my 4-hour long flight from Hong Kong? Check my email! And what do I see? A message that my article is up... HURRAH!

Do check it out and leave comments:

http://www.asiancemagazine.com/sex-health/200604_dating_yellowfever.php

I started writing for Asiance Magazine (a magazine geared towards Asian Americans) just last month and this is my first published article with them. It's awesome, I love writing... and I especially love writing for them (keeps my uncolorful life interesting). I'm currently working on my second article; it's just that I've been so busy given my new "career move" and that I've been travelling to and fro Hong Kong to visit my family (this time for the long Easter weekend).

I promise to make it up! I shall neglect this blog never more. Well, in fairness, shopping takes precedence over blog writing ANY DAY! Hong Kong is my shopping paragon *happy sigh* I went there with just a hand luggage... and I had to come back with an uber-sized-luggage that ended up being overweight when I was checking in. Life is grand.

Back to reality now. I have to do some work (yes, tonight!) before I retire for the night. And back to work tomorrow too.

Oh sigh.

I love rain -- when I'm indoors, that is. In the middle of the night, when I wake up to the orchestra of thunder, wind and strong rain, I snuggle in deeper into my covers and mountains of pillows. I absolutely love it! I don't sleep better than nights like these. It doesn't, however, take me long before I start feeling bad for the unfortunate people who don't enjoy the same luxury as I. Those people out there without a roof over their heads, no means to keep warm and no comfortable bed to lay in... what happens to them in the middle of a stormy night? Then I'd feed bad.

Something similar happened today. Not the rain though. Not quite.

I got word of my semi-promotion today. I say semi because it was a horizontal move as opposed to a directly upward one. It's a better one though; more challenging and more interesting. In other words, an opportunity that I probably wouldn't have been able to obtain if not for the faith and support of my upper management. Truly I am pleased.

The thing is, my director called my mobile last Saturday to give me a premonition about all the drama that happened today. Logic requires a space to be empty before it gets filled... so naturally, someone was evidently going to get sacked. And yes, someone did. My conscience flooded with guilt as I watched my friend get the boot from my desk... I could see her head inside the fish tank that she's sitting in. The expression on my director's face was unreadable though I learned later on that he was able to mince his words quite well. Goodbye to her now, hello to me... as the latest addition to the analytics team. And this is what kills me even more. She has no idea that I'm to replace her. Neither has she any idea that the role was enhanced.

And it's killing me right now thinking that... I could've at least warned her. It must have been horrible walking into the office on a Monday morning not knowing what destiny has in store for you in about an hour. I remember getting laid off from my first job right out of college. Horrible! I was so angry that I wanted to burn the whole place down. I couldn't of course... Then again, no one warned me of what was going to happen.

All just a part of life, right?

May it be enjoying the weather while sleeping or enjoying the high of a promotion or a new opportunity, there's always someone out there who's unfortunately doing the opposite. It happens to everyone; me, you, the lady at the pharmacy, the man running a country, the lad carrying the football trophy, simply everyone! It chooses no one.

Congratulations to me, I guess. Perhaps I ought to be happy while the buzz is still present. Soon enough it'll all fade away... when the 14-hour days begin, when the lunch breaks vanish and when the papers pile up.

Again, whoop tee doo!

Neutrality is perfectly possible. But is it synonymous to indifference? I'm not quite sure.

I have my own beliefs and philosophies, yes, but I'm rather accepting and tolerating when it comes to other people's views. The reason? Respect. I'm a devout Catholic but it doesn't mean I can't indulge in a relationship with a non-Catholic. Or, being pro-life doesn't stop me from being best friends with someone pro-choice. Or, the fact that I marry for love won't hinder me from having coffee with someone who marries for money.

Mutual respect. That's what everything is about. Unless of course, one commits a deed perfectly sinful and immoral... like molesting children (for one). Then we're painting an absolutely different picture here.

A few weeks ago, I was getting dinner takeaway from one of the food courts near my flat. There was this old Chinese man standing in the middle of the food court, perhaps deciding what to buy, and he was wearing a bright yellow dress adorned with lovely bright flowers. And he was sporting oversized and trendy glasses. He didn't seem femininely kept though. His hair still shaped in a manly fashion, short and cropped, and his legs still were still covered with curly hair. It was as if he had no intentions of passing himself as a lady at all. Odd? Yes, terribly. Wrong? Not at all. I told you, I respect everyone's philosophies -- and this includes self-expression.

I spotted a few kids nearby sniggering at the sight. The old man remained untouched and stolid. He was probably used to it. A handful of men were talking about him in Mandarin ("Hen qi guai de lao ren")... I knew enough words to actually decipher it. And some people were calling him gay.

This is where I think people got it horribly wrong.

Gay or homosexual people are people who are attracted to their own gender. They have no qualms about being a particular gender though. Transexuals are people who feel very strongly about being the opposite gender (just being trapped in the wrong body). Their issue isn't about gender orientation (not always anyway)... but it's more of an internal conflict. An identity crisis, if you may. The old Chinese man in a yellow dress is a cross dresser; there's no assurance that he's gay or not. He may or may not like men; he simply enjoys wearing women's clothes. He gets a natural high from it... the same way that I get a natural high from wearing gorgeous stiletto knee high leather boots.

I've been to Bangkok a few times -- the transexuals capital of the world. This is how scary it is: there are some women whom you wouldn't think were men once. It wouldn't even occur to you! They've gotten the process down to a science over there. Some of them even look better than real women, for chrissakes! I noticed, however, that not all of them were attracted to men. Not all of them were even looking for male partners (of course, there are the quintessential cases where they go through the operation so that they can earn money with their bodies). It's more of a self-fulfillment thing. They feel happier, they feel more confident. And they should! They're eff-ing gorgeous!

Anyway, my point is, instead of judging people for who they are, learn about them a bit. Maybe you'd understand better. The human mind can be quite feeble... especially the unexposed ones. What if people started making fun of you because you were a straight male wearing the proverbial jeans and t-shirt? Who's to say what's normal or not? Because it's not something that everyone does? Pssh, if that's the case then why don't we all just work 9-5 jobs trapped inside cubicles and watch our lives waste away? People are different. And that's what makes people interesting.

There will always be people contesting your judgments, opinions, beliefs and mentalities. It's called debate and argument. It doesn't have to be the unfriendly yelling type nor the microwave-throwing/hair-pulling kind. It's an exchange of ideas. It gets your mind rolling... it's good for you. I just despise it when people shove their opinions down my throat. So what if I think of the Bible as mere literature? Does it hurt you in any way? So what if I believe in spanking my future kids as a form of discipline? Unless you're my husband, then don't tell me what to do.

Respect. If you want it for yourself, you've to learn to give it.

Coming back to my question, maybe neutrality isn't very easy to accomplish. Neutrality towards an issue, that is. One can be indifferent towards something; when there's disinterest... but neutrality is difficult to achieve. As long as there's passion (as long you take some kind of side), neutrality is an impossibility. It is, however, possible to be fair despite your own strong beliefs.

And it's by being respectful of others.