Places, San Francisco

Oh Mila, Where Art Thou?

Yes, I’ve been MIA for a while now, but not just from you guys. Also from my family and friends back in Singapore and other places as well. Wow, I don’t even know where to start or what I should say, but the loyal followers among you would have guessed one or more of the following things from my occasional 140-character tweets:

1) I am still in San Francisco.
2) I have initiated a break-up with my husband.
3) I am in love.
4) I have found a job in Oakland, California.

Of course, the majority of you don’t give a shit and I might just be talking to myself here. But I felt a sort of responsibility to those of you who care to share the whirlwind experiences of the past two months of my life. Since I can’t explain everything in one post, I shall talk about one thing at a time. So first, why am I still in San Francisco? Wasn’t I supposed to be in various parts of the U.S. on a roadtrip that I was so psyched for?

So, logistically speaking. Initially, I planned to stay in San Francisco for only a couple of days, then David, my couchsurfing host in my next destination L.A., told me that he had to go on a business trip on the days we had agreed on. He asked if I could change my dates, and because I hadn’t booked a ticket yet, I decided to change my itinerary a little and stay a couple more days in SF. Here comes the really shitty part: after I had booked and paid for the ticket, nice guy David emails me and tells me that his business trip was cancelled and if I could change my ticket to the earlier date because it would actually be better for him. I had already set my heart and mind to staying a few more days in SF, so I suggested coming to L.A. at an even later date. Because the airline didn’t allow changes to the itinerary, I had to buy another ticket.

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Places, San Francisco

A Mid-Spring American Dream

In the U.S., or even in Europe, it seems a regular rite of passage for one ascending beyond adolescence to take a sort of a roadtrip to find oneself – to know what it is that one can accomplish and live with beyond the comforts of one’s environment. The roadtrip gives one the opportunity to experience different cultures, different opinions, different surroundings, and most of all, the chance to test the limits of one’s endurance and character, and what one would make of one’s resources in situations where your family or usual go-to friends would not be of assistance. In other words, you find out who you really are and what you’re capable of because you’re forced to and with limited resources.

When I told friends and family I was taking a roadtrip around the U.S. for several weeks, the reactions ranged from shock to worry to ridicule. When that failed to faze me, they’d find some logical reason to justify my wanting to go on a solo trip – sans husband, sans friend and sans familiar connections. “Are you alright?” “Is there something wrong?” “Are you going there to look for a job?” “Are you going to look for a boyfriend?” My mum called me several times to ask me what my husband would do for a month in Singapore without me. Well, I guess he has lived decades before he met me; he’d do fine without me for a month.

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Places, Singapore

Get These Thoughts Out of Me!

I literally have too many things trapped in my mind that they often seep out of my gatekeeping mouth. I figure, if I don’t let all these often-imploding thoughts out somewhere, I might end up like one of those losers I see so often — especially in socially, sexually, mentally (the list goes on… it’s a wonder not more people implode) repressed Singaporeans — so hypersensitive to a stranger’s touch, so unhappy, so stoned and yet so scared to say anything that will do some justice in the world. So, here I am… hoping to see to fruition at least one thing in my life.

The truth is, I’m just so angry with my life in Singapore — I’m angry that people are so complacent, I’m angry that the government treats people like they are 10-year-olds, I’m angry that when I’m at the door of the MRT waiting to get out, a storm of people barges in without any regard for the people who want to get out. I figured that rather than complain about it in some stupid, useless forum page in the local newspapers, or worse, suffer in silence and walk around like I have a rough-skin, bark-type stick up my arsehole (not pleasurable as it would to some of you who like a smooth cock or dildo up your forbidden, illegal, can-get-you-straight-to-jail sexual-cum-excretory exit). Nope, I’d rather die than lump myself with the 30 or so losers who regularly write in to newspapers complaining about their neighbours, about public transport, immigrants or God-forbid, property prices or the fact that their lives are so fucking empty that they have nothing to do but to complain about the petty, ridiculously absurd things about life. As if life in Singapore is not made convenient enough that you don’t even need to think for yourself.

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