Tag Archives: Singapore

Places, San Francisco

Tonic

I’m sitting now in the middle of a darkly lit bar, with cheesy pop music courtesy of Rihanna playing in the background. It’s a bar called Tonic, which sits in the area between the Marina district and Russian Hill, and the mere mention of the two districts spark certain looks in locals. Snobs. White people. Posers. Douchebags. Meatheads. Surprisingly, I feel quite comfortable sitting here, typing away, holed up in a corner on beat up leather barseats, slowly meditating on pear cider, which has become my poison in America. Because everyone must have a drink here. Everyone must have a poison. Drinking is a part of life.

The past week, no less the past month since I’ve moved here, has been a series of emotional trials for me. Alone. Confused. Stranded. There have been times where I have felt like just taking off and flying back home. But then, I sober up and remember how much I hated what I called “home”, which in my mind synonymized with Shittapore, and how hard I worked in order to escape from there.

Standard
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.

Continue reading →
Standard
Musings

All Advice is Bad Advice

Weeks ago, when I was struggling with a decision whether to quit school, I faced a situation I’ve faced countless times: people everywhere offering me advice, although I almost never ask for it. Or, maybe in my sheepish subtext, I’m secretly beckoning to people to tell me what I should do. But really, no, I almost never ask people for advice — I ask for a listening ear, yes, a shoulder to cry on, yes, a friend to pig out with, yes, but never for what I should do, because I know I will do what I want to do in the end. As for more practical advice, I usually go to my friend Google or Wikipedia or web forums. So, while I was at the train station waiting for the MRT one day, I got to thinking about advice and jotted down some notes in my notebook. Why are we so good with dispensing advice but never good at heeding them? Could it be that they don’t work? What is the point of advice then?

I’m guilty of being the most uncontrollable spontaneous advice dispenser of us all. I vomit advice to everyone, even people I don’t know, especially on relationship, money, school, work and writing, those same topics I currently suck at — big time. But I don’t know, I just can’t help myself… these nuggets of advice keep creeping out of my mouth everytime I hear a problem. And I’m probably the worst advice vomiter of all… because I take offence when people don’t heed my advice, which I always consider at the time of vomitting them out great, practical advice that will somehow change your lives for the better. And shame on you, pooh, for not heeding it. :p

Continue reading →
Standard
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.

Continue reading →
Standard