Many things easy, some things hard

 Thoughts to think:

1. Work

Things have changed, slowly, as always. People have come and gone and or are going. I remain, but I also change. It's hard to have a barometer without comparison, I always compare. Daniel Kahneman says that's just how we translate things into good or bad, by comparison, sort of. I think, I believe I am happy, and that I'm the tortoise in the hare and the tortoise, except there is no race, really. I'm happy the hare took a nap, if they were tired and wanted to. There was no need to win, I don't know what the prize is, carrots?

2. Communication

Difficult and awkward and frustrating. Supposed to be hard, I understand. Harder when different culture. Harder when you feel like you can see it and have to translate for them. Probably true, and probably my responsibility, as the immigrant. But what if I'm tired, what if I want to learn new things, have people translate for me? I feel restless, like I want to "get on with it". I don't like repeating, I feel like repeating is doing things that've been done (duh), and it's like, a waste of time? But I know in my head, that's how things are - attention waxes and wanes, and things are hard to comprehend or know. Ironically, this is what I've failed to do myself - comprehend, know, accept, that it takes time. Dr. K said something basic, somewhat contradictory, but I reflected on it to understand. He said that most people start in anger - or I guess, that they feel like they have to communicate now! urgently! importantly! while feeling the feelings! But our mind is wonderful because it forgets - the feelings pass, and you will get over it (well, first world problems that is) - by all means, communicate to not get taken advantage of, set your boundaries. But you don't need to do it in the moment, if the moment is aggregated. I shut down when I'm over-burdened, like an over-clocked CPU.

3. Quiet

I have some quiet now. I also have some quiet in the bus. How to tell people I want some quiet without hurting their feelings? Without risking miscomprehension? I re-read the last post I made - I felt like I wanted to just be in a library. How healthy is it to be alone in your thoughts? Maybe it is sort of meditative - I have many thoughts, so I have to face them, talk (blog) through them, and then I can let my mind be bored and empty but satisfied. This has been hard to communicate to Chris, I am afraid I will be the person who tells her I am not interested in things she's really interested in, and I feel (but I don't know!) that she's disappointed, or takes it badly, when I do say I'd like to do something else or be somewhere else, or just do my own thing. But it is not healthy to be pent up and to stew for too long. But I am also uncertain if this feeling will last, or I just need a few good hours. Perhaps that's what I need to communicate - I would like to be alone or quiet for a couple of hours, that's all. I do not want to talk or listen right now, it's tiring to be tuned externally all the time. I think next movie I'll watch is perfect days.

4. Singapore

I took a break before writing this part. Longer break than intended. Told myself I would have to address this sooner or later. Singapore has taken on nostalgic qualities. I haven't lived there in so long. All memories are like this, I know rationally. But it's addictive to think about it, to pretend like I'm forever an alien pining for home. It's unhealthy, and probably an avoidance of my responsibilities here, which are overwhelming. It reminds me sometimes of Martian Manhunter as represented in the justice league animated series. A stoic guardian who had lost his home, and only after a long time decides to look for happiness in his new one.

I just finished reading my brothers' book, it's pretty good, I think, for a first time "writer" (nobody really is, since we all write essays and stories in school, I guess). Maybe I'm biased, there's sort of a confounding variable here - on one hand I do believe that writing something personal is always apparent, and it was expressed here. On the other I am also personally involved, and may have been moved by it and failed to see amateurish mistakes. Regardless, it's not the only book I'm reading at the moment with references to my home.

I'm also reading a Singaporean short stories book Chris got at Littered with Books. Ironically this fulfils my reading challenge book salad criteria and not the cat book I bought, which I will read later. Anyway, it's a lot. Like emotionally a lot. I feel both like I understand everything and yet I have so much I don't know. I feel many things about this. I am ashamed of my mandarin, lack of dialect, no malay either. Though slowly I of course lose even my singlish accent probably. This is of course my choice. Living here I mean, I'm just, reminiscing and wishing. I wish people could understand me and how I feel. But so far I merely feel unheard or never get to the point of taking deeply. It's probably the first time I've felt so far and homesick. Maybe because in college, there was a thought that I would move back, that my identity was clearly Singaporean since everybody asks me about it all the time. It was the clear defining factor, as we all hold on to some and project onto others. Now it is not so clear. It is also not so clear that Chris wants to be in Singapore, which I understand. I'm at peace with it, kind of. It sort of comes and goes I suppose. As in past lives though, it's the one piece that she cannot ever understand - or is that the fallacy being shown in past lives? No, I think it was a tragedy, the grieving of the past life. Grief is a big part of the theme in my brothers' book, and also these short stories actually. I'm grateful for the sprinkling of humorous tales, but a majority are about things lost - there's a lot of ghost stories to this effect too. I feel like even at a meta-level, I understand why the stories are being written. Intellectually, I can do so for American stories too, but my heart and soul do not necessarily follow as closely. Ironically, I feel frustrated in my privilege. As if I want the pain of the empathy for all humans! No, I close off, as a safety measure. It's enough to think about Singapore's pains and longings. I'm reluctant to engage emotionally, because I am a frightened and selfish child, who wants empathy too. Ironic that I cannot pay the price myself.

Or maybe I'm just tired, and people pleasing, and not able to communicate effectively, or want to be taken care of, or to be understood easily, or all of the above. I remember talking to Jacob, my new director, sort of unabashedly, in my typical candid way talking about how much I miss Singapore after going back. But then I play the tape all the way through , and it's the same, and there is no magic that my nostalgia promised. It just is, things are, that is. Maybe what I want and need to communicate for is just the peace and quiet to think and blog and take the bus silently and not be constantly dealing, partially self-imposed. I want to travel somewhere quiet, just to read the signs, to not have to talk about it except when I want to, later. To sit on the bus and see the hilly landscape that makes the land of a thousand hills.