I saw the sign.

WHAT are you taking? WHERE are you going?

I waited for the right time, because I knew that it will come. I decided not to make up my mind on anything, and it has already been almost three years now, three years of eagerly waiting for the answer. A lot of people have been asking me about it, and although most of them do not really care whether or not I tell them, I have been, in a way, feeling very bothered about my frequent vacillations. The so-called panakip-butas replies have emanated from my mouth from time to time, modifying themselves to suit a human conversation, and at the end of it, everything said and done just seemed like a cornucopia of surrealistic ideas that only indecisive people can manufacture instantaneously.

But today was totally unexpected. In hindsight, I processed everything that I was told, everything from the first word to the last, from the controlled facial expressions to the choice of words, from the nod of the head to the widening and the slinting of the eyes. From the wry smile to the relaxed disposition, from the invisible aura that tells me to “try and not be afraid, because I believe you have a good shot at it.” Clearly, the little body languages spoke louder than words themselves. Never have I felt so much butterflies in my stomach swirling around like a merry-go-round. Is this it? I asked. Is this really it? I asked again.

Really, I did not expect to receive such an insight. I was there for the main purpose of getting a general feedback. Not a commendation. Nor an answer to the long-awaited sign that I have been eagerly searching for quite a long time now.

As I closed the classroom door, left the world to be in the comforts of my own solitude, I then have realized that I have gotten it. It was worth the wait. The sign has finally arrived.

I smiled.

My Version of Enlightenment.

Hello.

Update, update. TGIF.

It is said that how long a minute is depends on which side of the bathroom door you’re on.

True, true. Very true. Everyday, I wake up at six in the morning with the eagerness of removing the morning stars on my eyes, with the eagerness of filling my empty stomach, and with the anticipation of an empty, available shower room which I share with Niko, John, Bradian, and Christopher. No, it’s not what you think of. We don’t bathe together. Okay maybe you didn’t think of it. Now you are.

Never mind.

It is almost impossible for me to get ahead of the toilet since Bradian wakes up unbelievably early in the wee hours of morning, when the security guards are sleeping in the middle of their night duties, the poor nurses tending to dextrosed patients, the prostitutes covered under the littlest amount of clothing possible, on the loose in the streets of Geylang and somewhere else who knows where. Waiting for someone to get out of the toilet somehow makes you feel that he’s taking too long and you’re running out of time. It also makes you feel like you’re going to shit on your pants before you even reach the depository. Okay, that was gross.

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photos taken during our thursday run

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Anyway, that’s not really the main idea. I was just wondering how time has been so slow this week, how it has made my June holidays feel like a second instead of a lifetime; how it has made me tired and yet happy at the same time, that upon the gradual slowing of time, I have begun to realise that to live in haste is not a requirement to live a life. I have noticed that for the past few months I’ve been stressing myself to do this and do that, finish up work and stuff asap, as if they are a bunch of popcorn that you must consume immediately, or the crunchiness will fade away along with the sweetness and the warmness when it was still served fresh. But, no, I think I have learnt something new. I think I have learnt to slow myself down, to take time to reflect and think, to wait, to lengthen the ephemeral days through slow breathing paces and unhurried strolls along the sidewalk, contemplating about life, the future that lies ahead, people, love, peace, war, even thoughts unconscionable and short of moral scruples, to immerse myself in the chlorinated blue of the swimming pool when I feel stressed, to play my favourite songs over and over to give myself a sense of consistency in life.

Life has been simple this week, amidst the complexity of life itself.

I’ve learnt it from the woods. From the quiet, unhurried life of the trees and the rocks and the soil and the fallen leaves on the ground.

This sounds like Siddhartha.

I have been gradually realising that there is no need to rush to the shower every morning. Time is not selfish; it’s not it’s fault that it can neither reverse nor stop itself.