Dear 2011,

Looking back, you've been one shit-ass year. I hope your sister, 2012 is kinder and loads more cuddly than you've been.

Here's hoping!

Love,

Me

Tokyo, Take Two.

So last month we went to Tokyo to celebrate Boo's birthday. It was our second time there in as many years, and instead of feeling like we were tiring of it, it only made us want to make Tokyo a part of our annual holiday itinerary.

I'm not sure what exactly it is about the place that we love. We watch endless episodes of Japan Hour, and never tire of marvelling over the food and the sights. And each time we go, we discover yet more to love about the place. Everything from the people, to the food, the magical and enchanting out of the way alleys and shops, their wonderful service and attention to detail, even the familiar chime of the train that heralds our stop at Yotsuya.

I'd really love to spend a year or so working in Japan, travelling around and picking up the language.

I do, I do, I do.

Today I'm telling myself, let's take this one baby step at a time.

Leave the past behind, and go forth.

What's the worse that could happen?

Get my heart trampled upon again? Or someone to shuffle into the sunset with?

Now if only I can convince my heart to be brave (er). Because you gotta admit, the former's pretty scary.

So yesterday was Polling Day for the Presidential Elections and I was on duty for a good 14 and a half hours.

Needless to say, I came home beyond pooped out, and whiny. So I did what I always do whenever I'm pooped and whiny, I activated the Boo. He came down to take me for dinner, and then give me a foot squish, hand squish, arm squish and back squish. The works.

The day started at 530am.

And it rained on and off throughout.

I was on wheelchair duty, and it didn't help that the ramp area wasn't sheltered.

I think the most eye-opening part of the day was seeing the many different types of people from all walks of life, who lived within an area I've lived in my whole life.

Most jarring was the two very disparate income groups that reside in the area. I saw an aunty who came in with a plastic bag full of empty cans, that she would then recycle to supplement her income. And on the other end, I saw more Porsches, Mercedes' and BMW's than I could keep count of.

I also saw people I kinda knew at some point or another, but who didn't recognise me because it'd been years - and I couldn't find it within me to say a jolly "hello" and make small talk because it was such a gruelling day. But it did amaze me to think just how many people have came in and out of my life over the years, and I wondered how different life would be if I were still in touch with some of them.

And of those that I assisted with the wheelchair, there were the grumpy old people who complained that they were getting wet, despite us trying to shield them as best as we could with the umbrella, and getting wet ourselves. But there were also the old sweethearts who thanked us profusely for our help.

My favourite part of the day was seeing the many different types of couples who came by.

Especially the old foggies. How they lovingly still held each other's hands, and looked out for each other was too sweet for words.

Or the hubby who begged us to let him drive his car into the compound (we only allowed handicapped drop offs) just so he could pick up his wife, who would otherwise get wet in the rain.

I want that.

Manado | 6-10 August 2011

Had to write an account of our trip to Manado as soon as I got back, lest the memory starts to fade and I fail to remember the tiny details that made the trip awesome.

Of course by 'as soon as I got back', I mean after having my lemon water, tablespoon of Manuka honey, prune essence, a shower (hello all my deliciously luxe beauty products, I missed you), a face mask and some random trawling of the worldwideweb.

Day 1 - Saturday, 6 Aug

We woke bright and early at 630 with every intention of leaving the house by 7am, which meant that we left closer to half past 7am of course. But we were in no real rush, as I had checked us in online the day before. Got to the airport just before 8am, and found the queue to check our bags in.

It took awhile, so we got trigger happy.

Happy hot pink holiday nails

After dumping our bags, we headed to Maccas for our usual pre-holiday brekkie. We normally eat a whole meal each, but decided to go light and have just a hashbrown (each of course, light but not that light) because for the first time in ages, we were not travelling budget. Which meant free food, drinks and blankets, yay!

Us @ Maccas

Was expecting to hear from Char at some point as we were having our breakfast, but didn't. So decided to go through immigration and go shopping instead. I'm a beauty products junkie, so duty-free shopping is like a tiny slice of heaven. I get drawn to the bright white lights like moths to a light, leave all rational thoughts about money behind and get busy surveying rows after rows of beauty and cosmetic products.

I usually shop till final boarding call, and so was thinking it was odd that by the time I had finished, I still hadn't heard from Char.

Thought that maybe she was already at the boarding gate so that's where we headed. Went through and still no sign of her so I decided to call. Finally got her on the line and the long story short, she wasn't coming.

Decided we'd still have a blast anyway.

And then we were off in a poof.

En-route

Landed, made it through immigration. There was a security guy standing near customs who checked our baggage tags to make sure that we had indeed taken our own bags, and not attempted to steal someone else's luggages. Satisfied with what he saw, he let us pass.

And we were officially in Manado.

Found friendly faces holding up a Cocotinos Resort sign and headed straight for them. Checked our names off a list, told them the Chars weren't coming, got our bags tagged and ushered to the side to wait for the other guests who were on the same flight.

They even offered us chilled bottled water whilst we waited - a far cry from the dodgy, immigrant'ish middle-of-the-night arrival at Dayang, that's for sure.

Manado airport where Boo's new Raybans made a guest appearance

It was indeed a rare appearance. I think he's probably worn these all of 2 times since he got them, and only for about half an hour or so each time. It's like he's afraid of wearing them out or something.

Saw this on the way to the resort.

How many villagers can you fit in/on a truck/pick-up?

Check-in at the resort was again quick and painless. We were taken to the cafe for iced tea and sandwiches, whilst we filled out the forms and got briefed on our respective dive itineraries.

@ the only cafe/restaurant in the resort

Guy in white in the background is James, apparently DM extraordinaire according to my cousin, but unfortunately he was teaching a basic open water course whilst we were there and so wasn't able to come out with us

After filling out the requisite forms, we headed to the room to unpack and roll. Him unpacking, me rolling.

Discovered there was E Entertainment on the telly, and decided it was going to be an awesome holiday.

Our room

The room was clean enough on the surface, and seemed to offer all the requisite amenities. But closer inspection and 4 nights will tell you that there are bed bugs and at least 5 other types of flying insects lurking at every corner. Still, it was a dive resort and at least 8 steps up from Dayang so you really can't complain. Besides, they had E!

After settling in, we took a walk around the resort. Didn't take us more than 15minutes to cover the grounds. It was essentially just pool, cafe, dive centre, jetty and front desk.

View of the village from the jetty

I booked a massage for just before dinner, so with some time to kill, we decided to take a walk around the village with the intention of getting some snacks.

Our resort is located right smack in the middle of a tiny fishing village, with huge padlocked gates. As we were waiting for security to unlock the gates, some of the little village kids ran up to press their faces against the grill. They smiled, said "hello" and followed us on our little walkabout.

We got to the first warang (Bahasa Indonesian for tiny stall, or something to that effect) that was just across from our resort. Discovered that there wasn't actually very much on offer by way of snacks, aside from a small selection of local keropok that looked quite suspect.

The one time we decided not to stock up on snacks, we find that there are none. It was a dramatic moment in my head. How was I going to survive the next few days! But then I decided that perhaps it was a sign from the big guys above that I was pushing 30, and should not be snacking so much. So I decided to take it as a blessing in disguise. It was either that, or spend the next few days scowling at him for not being better prepared.

After the dramatic outburst (in my head), we decided to walk a little further down just to see if we'd find more. The next few warangs we passed all had pretty much the same things on offer, so I resigned myself to 5 days of no snacking.

As I was silently processing this no-snack shocker in my mind at the third warang, he turned to me and said "baby, shall we buy some snacks for the kids?". Completely threw my self-obsessed thoughts off kilter.

I looked around and saw all the little eager faces around us. Of course, these seemingly meagre offerings were nothing to us, but such a treat to them. They got in line as soon as he said he was buying snacks, and happily each picked up a packet from the shopkeeper.

He paid for the snacks with an IDR 50,000 note (it was the smallest we had), and the shopkeeper had to run around to two houses in the village to get him change. She finally gave him the change in wrinkled, damp, notes.

It was nice being able to make them smile, if only for a little while.

Then we headed back to the big gates where it was again shut and padlocked behind us.

I couldn't help but wonder how they felt, looking at the tourists pass through day in and day out. Living a life of relative luxury behind those gilded gates, compared with the dusty streets they were accustomed to.

One of the few pictures I got of the village

Those tiny packets of snacks that brought so much joy to their faces cost us only IDR 1,000 each. Whereas a massage at the resort, just 2minutes away would cost me IDR 350,000.

We were told that at least 60% of the staff hired at the resort were locals from the village, and I wondered if the kids grew up thinking that they would one day like to work at the resort. Or if they ever resented the fact that we had such different lives.

I felt truly humbled by the experience.

We ended the night with a buffet dinner and an E! marathon before going to bed.

View from our room at dusk

Day 2 - Sunday, 7 Aug

We woke bright and early for a quick breakfast, before setting off for our first dive.

Got intercepted by James the DM along the way who asked if we had left our dive equipment in the baskets outside the room. Boo told him not to worry, and that he would carry it over himself later. I told Boo to just give it to the man already. Boo insisted. I was hungry, and James just seemed mild by nature, so neither of us bothered to argue.

Over scrambled eggs, I told him again to just put the stuff in the basket already. The dive centre needed to know what equipment we already had, so they could supplement it with whatever else we didn't.

Of course I was right. He relented and had to carry our stuff over to the dive centre himself. So much for being stubborn. Sometimes I think he just argues for the sake of it. Doesn't get that it disrupts systems that have been put in place for a reason.

After dropping our equipment off, he rejoined me to finish his breakfast.

A girl from the next table came over to introduce herself and asked if we wanted to go to Lembeh the next day. She needed a minimum of four to go.

I smiled right back and said "no thank you, we'll be diving tomorrow.". She gave me an odd look and walked off.

At this point, I noticed him giving me an odd look as well.

I'm pretty sure he didn't have a clue what Lembeh was either, but didn't dare say anything because he was Mr Nat Geo, and therefore, expected to know such things.

Anyway, turns out Lembeh was a dive site. How was I to know. I thought it was one of those trekking trips up some mountain that the resort organised.

Oops.

Made up my mind there and then to file Lembeh reference away for a day when I could rub it in the face of another diving newbie.

Got on the boat.

Felt a little nervous because it was the first time we were going diving without the safety of Fazz and the school. We were like baby birds, stretching our wings solo for the first time in the company of other more seasoned birds.

And because each time we go diving I like to start it off with a little drama, I had to lose my pretty pink mask and snorkel in the deep blue Bunaken sea just before we arrived at our dive site.

I was truly devastated. It was my first mask and snorkel ever. But I comforted myself with the thought that it would drift to shore and get picked up by some young girl in the village, who would now be able to fulfill her dream of growing up to be a divemaster.

Boat guy and the DM gave me a look that said "what are you, an idiot? who dangles their mask out of a moving boat to wash it!?", and then gestured wildly at the box of fresh water sitting innocuously in the corner of the boat.

Yes yes. Next time I will wash my mask there.

I could only look sheepish and hoped that they had a spare.

Our DM, Hengky, very kindly offered me his personal mask. His mask had a tiny tear near the nose area, but it was the best I was going to get. There was only one spare on board. The DMs examined it and decided it was way too dodgy to use. So they made an executive decision to split us into two groups, instead of the original three.

3 girls were going to go with one of the other DMs, and 5 of us were going to go with Hengky.

They were soon to regret this decision.

Everyone suited up and got into the water fairly quickly. But being the newbies that we were, we took a wee bit longer. Even though all our equipment had been set up for us by the boat crew.

All through this, Boo was fussing over me and telling me repeatedly to let him know if my mask leaked at any point.

When we finally made it into the water, Hengky gave us the signal to descend.

I felt uncomfortable going down as water kept seeping in so I refused to go down further. Hengky kept asking if I was ok, expecting me to give him the ok sign back. But I kept giving him big, dramatic 'not ok' signs. Not the dive-approved ones. My regular everyday-use ones. After 3 more tries he gave up and told me to ascend.

I did so, happily.

He signalled to the other DM on board that he had to come into the water to take us two idiots - or rather, just me, the idiot, with my innocent buddy - down.

Anyway, after some mask adjustment, it was all good. The three of us descended and were on our merry way.

I was absolutely astounded at the underwater sights. The marine life was so rich, there were just fishes everywhere. I'm not a fish person, or any sort of a Nat Geo geek, so of course I couldn't tell the difference between the rare ones and the common ones. I just pointed excitedly at everything that looked colourful and pretty. And everything amazed me.

But the one big thing that amazed me the most on that first dive was this hugeass turtle we saw. It was perched on a coral, looking calm as anything. Boo said it was getting cleaned by tiny wrasses. It was so big it must have been at least a hundred years old or something. Was later told by the DM that it was probably about 60. We observed it for a bit, and I even touched it. Very gingerly.

I gestured at Boo to take tonnes of pictures, but he gave me the 'no go' sign. I later realised that the camera screen had cracked from the pressure. Oops. Yet another booboo.

When I got back, I told my dad about the hugeass turtle we saw at 25m. He told me about the hugeass turtle he saw whilst snorkelling in Sipadan at just 2m.

After the drama of the morning, the next two dives of the day passed by fairly smoothly.

Except for a tiny part of the third dive where I almost ascended and broke surface. Both Hengky and Boo panicked. They grabbed me by the flipper and hand respectively, to pull me back down. Think they were worried I would either die of nitrogen narcosis, get run over by a boat, or both.

At the end of our third dive, I happily told Hengky that I wanted to go on a night dive the next day.

He looked a little hesitant. Ok, a lot hesitant.

He was probably thinking in his mind, "this insane girl wants me to take her on a night dive!? she's got to be kidding. first she loses her mask, then she can't descend, then she spoils her camera, then she almost accidentally breaks surface without doing a safety stop, and now she tells me she wants to go on a night dive! And has no torch! Oh my god, she's going to die and I'm going to lose my job."

Then he asked me how many night dives I had done before.

I beamed right back and said none!

Which must have sent yet more shivers up his spine.

He thought about it and asked how many dives I'd done in total.

"Only 11!", I said.

He looked at me again, and then walked away with a non-committal response.

Day 3 - Monday, 8 Aug

Our two morning dives passed by with no drama. By the end of the second dive, Hengky seemed slightly more optimistic about taking me on our night dive. Told us to meet him back at the boat at about 530pm.

Waiting at the jetty for the crew to depart for our night dive

Saw the most gorgeous sunset whilst waiting

With Hengky, our DM who was probably saying a little prayer as the boat departed

The plan was for us to perch by a coral somewhere for about half an hour, in hopes of catching the Mandarin fish mating and then going about to explore the area.

We descended, and we perched. I had serious issues with my buoyancy and the best I could manage was a precarious half-kneel atop some hard corals.

And there we waited, for those elusive Mandarin fish.

Finally caught a glimpse of them. I honestly didn't see what the big fuss was, but played along anyway since there were huge groups of grown men all hovering around, waiting to catch a glimpse of them.

It got increasingly dark, with the only light coming from our torches. Boo decided to hold on to my hand, lest I disappear into the black abyss, never to be heard from again.

Happy to report, we survived.

After our night dive

Day 4 - Tuesday, 9 Aug

Decided to take a break from diving and spent the day just lounging around the resort. It was nice, doing nothing at all.

Day 5 - Wednesday, 10 Aug

Finally, it was time to leave. Kind of bittersweet. On the one hand, I was happy to be going home to clean towels and bedsheets. But on the other, I was sad at leaving this gorgeous island with its wonderful marine life and friendly people.

All I could think about after that was where we would go on our next holiday, and/or our next dive trip.

As we were waiting for transport to take us to the airport, he asked me what my favourite dive experience was so far. I thought about it, and told him it was seeing the hugeass turtle on our first dive.

But as I am writing this now, I think my favourite dive experience - although I'm not sure if it can be called that, rather, my favourite part about diving, if you will - is that the lifestyle makes me go back to basics and appreciate the things that really matter.

It's not just the accommodation which forces me to sleep in places I would never have otherwise slept in, or eat dodgy looking food (often with flies either in and/or around them) served on dodgy plates and eaten with dodgy looking utensils. But also the local crew that we meet. They lead simple lives in the villages, yet seem so oddly happy and contented with their lot in life.

Life I said before, it's truly humbling. And makes me appreciate the many things I've been blessed with.

Can you really love someone, if that person doesn't have the ability to hurt you?

I think when you really love someone, you open yourself up and make yourself vulnerable to that person.

You put your heart in their hands, and trust that they won't hurt you.

But you never really know.

And that's the point.

It's a leap of faith.

But if you hold back on a part of it, and you've already decided that person can never hurt you. Have you really loved then?

Have you really given your heart away?

Or will you always be holding a part of yourself back.

And when you hold that part of yourself back, you've limited how much love you're willing to give out.

And when you've limited how much love you're willing to give out, it's because you want to remain in control.

And then maybe in turn, because you're in control and are not in a position of vulnerability, you're never really afraid of losing the other person.

And so, you do things that you want to do.

That might hurt the other person, but it doesn't bother you because you believe you're in control.

And because you never really made yourself vulnerable, or gave your heart away, you don't fear getting hurt.

It's a long and roundabout way of getting to the point.

But that's my theory.

And I don't think it's so far from the truth.

DNS #2

Date: 29 July 2011

Location: Satsuma, Filmgarde (Bridesmaid)

Maybe it is time to make more of an effort to put the past behind.

As much as the memory hurts, if I don't move past it, it'll only continue hurting me. And gain momentum as it goes, before finally swallowing me up whole.

I can't change what's happened.

Now I just need to keep repeating that till I finally believe it.

Stop. Dwelling. Kim.

Think of now. Think of the future.

Try. Harder.

Because Friday's gone off to a brilliant start, I foresee a fantabulous weekend ahead.

xoxo,

Me, because I say so.

Heard a nice song on the radio as I was driving home tonight.

If I Die Young - The Band Perry

Here are my favourite bits from the song.

If I die young, bury me in satin

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Sink me in the river at dawn

Send me away with the words of a love song

.....

Life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no

.....

The sharp knife of a short life

Well, I've had just enough time

.....

A penny for my thoughts, no I'll sell them for a dollar

They're worth so much more after I'm a goner

And maybe then you'll be hearing the words I been singing

Funny, when you're dead people start listening

Truth be told, I think I'm very much an open book. Anyone who wants to understand need only listen when I speak, not just to the words but at the intention behind the words, and all you'll ever want to know will be there. Or here.

Because words are never just words to me.

I don't know if it's a curse or a blessing to spend so much time mulling and reflecting over everything big and small, but I guess you'd say I'm a by-product of my childhood of books and no toys or games.

I feel nobody really listens 90% of the time, and maybe now that I think about it, that's why I like the idea of dying young. Aside from not having to deal with excessive disappointment.

Because maybe my words will matter when I'm gone.

People need to learn to appreciate the present a little more. Isn't that why it's called the 'present'? Because it's a gift?

"You need to get MIO tv because there's nothing to do in your room but read", he says.

I suppose it's true. There really isn't a whole lot to do in my room. I have FTA channels - and hey, we've come a long way since just Channel 5 and Channel 8, now there's also CNA, Okto, Channel U, and extremely poor quality Indonesia and Malaysia channels - my computer and lots of books.

But now that I think about it, isn't that most people's rooms?

Not all of us have game systems.

I know he thinks reading also stimulates my already overactive imagination, but what are you going to do? Words are my escape and my solace. They can make a bad day good, and a good day bad. This topic feels kinda familiar. Like I've written about it quite recently.

Anyway, again it feels like the weekend's gone by all too quickly.

I was haunted by dark and twisty thoughts for a good part of it, more so than I have been in the past couple of weeks. Not sure why. Could be hormonal. Or maybe it's my stars. I read in today's papers that something about the alignment makes me particularly emotional and vulnerable. Maybe it's a deadly combination of both. In which case I can only say, I'm glad I survived.

When I talk about it, I'm not really looking for a long-drawn out dissection of what happened. Yes, there are questions that I want answered. But only because once you start poking, it's a little hard to stop - like a moth, drawn to light. So it takes effort and repeated coaxing - however repetitive it may feel - to make it stop.

Time to make the most of what's left of sunday.

The one thing that I'm slowly learning is that I want to spend my life with a man that I love with all my heart, and who also in turn, loves me with all of his. A man that I can rely on, and entrust my heart and my life with.

A man that is as great a man as my dad is.

Who can hold me up, when I can't. And help me see the other side of the coin, when I can't. Who will hold my hand and support me, whole heartedly and unquestioningly through the dark days, and skip with me through the good days. Who is willing to be kind and patient with me, when my emotions get the better of me. And know that I mean no malice. Who is willing to listen to me, beyond words, and understand my intentions.

Who will put us in a safe bubble, where we can be free to be us. Who wants me and you to be 'us', and have it be 'us against the world'. Someone who will fight for our relationship and me, because I matter. Someone who wants to be my defender and protector in this big bad world.

Someone that is willing to give me his 100% in return for mine, and feel not like he's losing himself, but rather gaining another half.

Someone who'll be there through the big stuff, and also the little stuff like changing the light bulb and setting up my TV.

I want it all.

Not a half fucked version of a boy.

And maybe there's some criteria out there for an ideal girl too.

I realise in the past few months I've stopped attempting to write titles for my blog entries. I used to make feeble attempts at it, but the truth is I'm not good at headings because I feel like I'm a whole lotta grey - and condensing it all into a few words feels like I'm selling things short.

So because it's not me, I don't bother trying anymore.

And I suppose that's the sentiment of late.

I feel like my life was rudely and horribly intruded upon and torn apart - it's akin to the feeling of having a burglar break into your home and ransack through your things. That complete invasion into your happy place, your sanctuary is awful. It makes you vulnerable. And then angry.

And for awhile it was all I could think about. I wanted to scream, slap and cry. All of the time. Reprieve from these thoughts, if ever, was always shortlived.

Then something else happened. And the penny dropped.

Life feels long when you don't know when the end will come, and so you allow yourself the luxury of dwelling on all the wrong things. I've come to the realisation that in truth, it really isn't all that long. Especially if you've spent it living well and been surrounded by love and all manner of happy, fluffy things.

Shit happens. You can either let it eat you up, or you can pick yourself up and tell yourself (and the world) that you don't have to take this shit. But I believe everything happens for a reason. As much as I've been hurt, I'm sure I've caused hurt to other undeserving people at some point as well. So I accept it all.

I guess the bigger question is, where do you go from here?

I can only say, up. But in (a whole lot of) time.

You learn to be stronger and wiser, just like the cliched quotes tell you.

You realise what you're capable of, and what you're willing or not willing to settle for. But as with all things, it's an ongoing journey till life pulls the plug. So perhaps the story's still unfolding, and you just have to wait and see. Of course it could very well end abruptly with no happy ending, but the reverse could also be true.

I've never been a big believer in the journey. I've always been a Disney sorta girl, and girls like that only love beginnings and endings. Everything else in between is a blur that is often best ignored because you can never get from serendipitous beginning to dreamy ending fast enough.

But now I am. I think.

Yesterday I chanced upon a lovely TVC for KFC.

And I loved it for three reasons.

1\ It featured a loving old couple, and though it didn't show very much of their life as it went back through the years, my imagination filled in the blanks. Of a couple who spent all their years together, happy and in love. Dancing through their years together in their treehole. I believe in sweet sweet love, and I want that.

2\ I loved the soundtrack. I've been listening to it on repeat since yesterday. It puts me in a much more optimistic and dreamy mood, than Fall For You did. It makes me dream of a happier time, of a life that would be wonderful just because we're together.

3\ It reminds me of my passion for advertising. I know I've crossed over to the other side, but as much as I used to rant about hating the industry, I've always known deep down that it's where I'll go back to one day - hopefully overseas. I truly believe that great campaigns can change people's lives. Feed their hopes, dreams and aspirations. Because that's exactly the impact that this TVC has had on me.

Life's not back on track yet. I'm not sure it ever will. But I think I see a new path starting to take shape.

I can't say I'm glad that all of this happened - I truly wish none of it did. But I'm trying to see the bright side of this upheaval. Everything from us to what's happening at home. And I guess the one good thing that's come out of it is that I feel like it's made me want to live a better life.

As always the weekend went by in a flash, and the start of a new week is just around the corner.

This weekend we spent loads of quality time together, and slowly I feel my heart becoming whole again.

Of course there were moments where memories and thoughts hijacked my mind, and flooded it with imageries I wish were just an outcome of an overactive imagination (unfortunately they're all too real and are a part of my reality now), but for the most part, it was good.

I guess it felt like we were line dancing to a two-step chacha. One step forward, two steps back. Two steps forward, one step back.

I hope in time to come we'll be taking three steps forward, and only one tiny step back; but as with all good things, I suppose it'll take time and patience.

Admittedly at times I look at you and wonder if I can really accept all that you've done, and trust that you'll never do it again. But I never say it out loud, because I'm afraid of planting seeds of doubt in our already fragile relationship - one that's still vulnerable whilst the bubble's being rebuilt. I suppose you'd call that the two steps back.

The other thing that seizes me with fear is the thought of resuming my usual weekly mahjong sessions. I was supposed to do that on Friday, but backed out at the last minute because I didn't want to spend my Friday night wondering what you were up to, and going all paranoid psycho girlfriend. I think about next week, and the same fear floods my heart again. I know I can't hold on this way forever, but for now, I just don't dare to take plunge and trust that I won't tear my mind to pieces and spend the night mindfucking myself.

But conversely, in the moments of two steps forward we took this weekend, I felt happiness and love like we used to. Laughing at silly things, talking and cuddling. I also felt loved when you took me for my run, then fed me, made sure I was well hydrated, washed up my stuff and tucked me in bed for a nap post run; before we went to see baby Alex.

I think I'd say the good outweighed the bad this weekend.

I've always been moved by music, and at almost every significant moment in my life there has been an accompanying soundtrack.

Right now it's Fall For You.

And I can't repeat that enough.

"This is not what I intended, I always swore to you I'd never fall apart.

You always thought that I was stronger,
I may have failed but I have loved you from the start."

I guess you could say I'm emotional like that.

I think the reason I always latch on to a song of the moment is not because I'm trying to express the way I feel. But because I feel the song represents how I hope the other person feels/will feel about me, without me having to spell it out explicitly.

I love words, they mean a lot to me. And I look for hidden depths and meaning in all of it.

It's what compels me to listen to a song over and again to fully grasp the significance of its lyrics, to prefer books over movies, and to love receiving the written word whether it's by hand, email, a text or otherwise.

I love being on the receiving end of words because it means someone's taken the time to craft a message just for me. So it has to mean something. As opposed to nothing.

I spent some time reading my past entries a couple of weeks back. It's something I've never felt inclined to do in the past because I don't like reading my writing. It makes me cringe and feel slightly vulnerable.

But I forced myself to.

And going through them I could genuinely feel the happiness of each word I put down.

Writing used to be an outlet for me when I was feeling down or had something happy to share. And though I'm updating a lot these days, I'm never really sure how much or even what I want to say. Because spelling it out makes it too real. So instead, I settle for logging on and filling this page with abstract bits of random thoughts.

I don't feel I'm writing from the heart - whether it's happy, or otherwise. And that there's no soul to these words.

For now anyway.

Fall For You - Secondhand Seranade

The best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting
Could it be that we have been this way before
I know you don't think that I am trying
I know you're wearing thin down to the core

But hold your breathe
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
Over again, don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
I swear it's true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
You're impossible to find

This is not what I intended
I always swore to you I'd never fall apart
You always thought that I was stronger
I may have failed, but I have loved you from the start

But hold your breathe
Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
Over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
I swear it's true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
It's impossible

So breathe in so deep
Breathe me in
I'm yours to keep
And hold onto your words
Cos' talk is cheap
And remember me tonight
When you're asleep

Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
Over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
I swear it's true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you
Over again
Don't make me change my mind
Or I wont live to see another day
I swear it's true
Because a girl like you is impossible to find
You're impossible to find

When I get these sick stirrings in my belly, and the paranoia sets in - I wonder what exactly it is I'm looking for.

Why am I going in search of things I know will inevitably hurt me?

If I discover something, my heart will sink.

And if I don't, then I'll be torn between wondering if you've gotten better at hiding, or if you're really telling the truth.

I'm tired of feeling this way.

Of being hijakced by paranoia and heartache throughout the day, especially when I least expect it.

I'm trying to tell myself to set these feelings aside, because if you're intent on lying, you will.

And there's not a thing I can do about it. But that's certainly easier said than done.

Maybe fundamentally what I'm most afraid of, is of my reality being a facade.

Because what this all boils down to, is whether the life I'm living is real or not. Whether the things I believe in are real, or not.

And I'm afraid of that reality being shattered. I'm afraid of being happy in case it isn't real. I'm afraid of hoping and dreaming, in case it isn't real.

I don't want to be that girl that people pity and laugh at behind her back.

I never even knew I was that girl. Till now.

I want control of my life back.

I want my choices in my life back.

I want to have a say in whether I can or cannot accept things that affect my life. Because it's only a relationship between two parties, if both of you get a choice in picking out the path you take.

So please mind and heart, for my sake, stop wondering.

Have you felt like you were baring your heart to a stuffed toy?

Like you're not being heard.

Like your intentions and feelings don't matter.

Like no one's listening.

Fall For You by Secondhand Seranade popped up on my iTunes yesterday.

I don't know how or why I have the song, but I felt like it really connected with me and for once, I felt a glimmer of hope again.

Like everything's not so bleak.

It's true nothing's the same, and the path to happily ever after isn't quite what I'd thought it'd be. It's a lot less Disney, and a lot more Grimm Brothers, but I accept that's what my life is now because everything happens for a reason.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that where once, I thought hope only showed itself in the form of unicorns and rainbows (which I now know are fictitious, unless you show me otherwise), I'm accepting now that it can also manifest in other ways.

And for me, that's the hope this song brings.

It's not a Disney rendition of fireworks and magic dust, but it represents to me hope in that I want to find a guy who feels this way about me.

That he wants to fight for me. Because I matter.

And so I make this my anthem of the moment.

"But when I'm way up here, it's crystal clear, that now I'm in a whole new world with you."

"How blue can I get, you could ask my heart. But like a jigsaw puzzle it's been torn all apart."

Saturday, 25 June.

One month and three days.

Still picking up the pieces.

"some day when my crying's done, I'm gonna wear a smile and walk in the sun"

Deeper, longer, smoother

After a weekend of roughing it in Dayang, we're now certified Advanced PADI divers!

And yes, we can now go deeper, for longer, and enjoy a smoother ride down to the bottom of the deep blue sea.

Pre trip

It was a mad rush to get all our gear in order. Picking up our booties, buying our flippers (yes, I'm a dolphin), digging out our goggles and tube thingy (so much more fun sounding than mask and snorkel don't you think?), pulling out the wetsuits from my cousin which I had stashed all the way to the back of my closet in a black rubbish bag, and all the other miscellaneous things like food and sea bands (best invention, ever!).

Friday

Lugged all our gear to work. Bag was getting a little heavy so I decided to offload some of it into my tummy - namely two packets of cheese crackers. I'm sure it made a difference.

After work, we met at the Hans just on the corner of South Bridge road for a quick dinner of cheese omelette and some last minute studying before hauling ass over to Hong Kong street to catch the bus to Mersing.

Put on my sea bands and didn't feel queasy at all.

The queue at customs was kinda insane, and we finally made it to Mersing just after midnight.

Hopped onto a boat that was dark, dingy and already had people curled up in the few bunk beds that were available. We had to crawl through two boats to get to ours, and it all felt very covert and illegal immigrants-ish.

We made do with some seats up the front and tried to go to sleep.

Saturday

Arrived at Dayang at about 5am. Was told that we were bunking with the crew and that we would have no aircon - thanks a lot Boo! The two mosquito bites on my leg thank you too. The only upside of that arrangement was that we had an ensuite bathroom - but let's just say calling the place a resort is a stretch. No aircon, no hot water, no towels, no blankets. Need I say more?

Managed to sleep for a couple of hours before we had to wake for our first dive of the day.

My only thoughts as we were suitting up in the boat was, "please let this be over soon".

The day passed slowly, and I got incredibly sea sick after the third dive of the day. Threw up in the water as the OWD students were surfacing. Thank god for them they barely missed my lunch of chilli, rice and watermelon.

The boat took us back to the resort for a quick change of tanks and a short break before it was time for the night dive.

By this time, I was feeling well and truly sick. And was thinking that I never wanted to dive again. I just wasn't built for the water!

He was great through it all though. Fussing over me, and taking care of all heavy lifting whilst I perched daintily by the tiny ledge on the side of the boat trying to "look far".

Decided that I just could not brave the night dive, so he went off with the rest of the group whilst I stayed back to shower and hang by the jetty waiting for him to come back.

I sat there like a sailor's wife, peering out longingly at the sea. Getting up each time I saw a boat pull up, wandering if he was going to be back safe.

Finally, they came back and we trooped off to dinner on the beach. It sounds a lot more chichi than it is. In truth, it was a whole lot of suspect-looking food, served on plates that looked like they needed a wash. But I suppose some of it didn't taste too bad.

Sunday

Had to wake at 5am for our first dive of the day. It was a deep dive, and we were going in from the shore. I honestly believed that I was going to die out there, and was imagining all sorts of scenarios in my mind of becoming fish food because I hadn't eaten dumplings this year.

But I actually quite enjoyed it! And I think I was also starting to get the hang of the breathing thing, because I no longer used up air as quickly as I used to when we first started.

After our first dive, we had two more leisure dives which were just as much fun.

After the second dive of the day I was feeling great, and so decided to make a guest appearance by the tanks to do my own changing (of the tanks). I think he nearly fell over when he saw me removing the BCD. By this time, he had gotten quite accustomed to doing it all for me. And generally going round the boat helping everyone else with theirs. Adjusting their tanks, tightening it for them, helping them into the water, turning on their oxygen for them.

I'm proud of him for helping out, but like I said, you can't be there doing everything for everyone. You need to teach them to fish so they can learn to feed themselves! It's different for me because you'll always be there when I dive. So it's ok if you do it for me. But you won't always be there when other people need help. Nonetheless, he did well. I think he (not so) secretly wants to be a divemaster.

Ended our final dive in high spirits, and decided that I was really getting into this diving thing - all leisure dives from here on out! And I'm glad our next dive's going to be a semi-chichi one in a proper resort with a spa and all! It's no Maldives Four Seasons, but it's a hell of a long way from our budget diving that's for sure!

The journey back to Singapore was long, but we got to stop at Mersing again for about half an hour. He bought me ramlee burger and a bottle of water from a roadside stall and called it a date. I guess it was kinda sweet, in a quaint way, and was a nice way to wrap up the weekend.

I choose to disregard everything that happened after - including the mini fight on the bus, the long wait at customs, and the taxi that never showed.

Listening to random songs on my playlist - haven't done that in awhile - and Blessid Union of Souls came up. Such a throw back to the past.

It makes me miss a yesterday when I didn't feel quite this way.

I can't put my finger on it, I just know it's poo and I want it to go away.

Haven't been eating or sleeping well.

Please. Let. This. Pass.

Soon.

A new beginning

It's not a re-write, and we're not wiping the slate clean. We're just opening up a new chapter, wiser from the experiences of the chapters before.

Trying isn't going to be easy, but from the conversation we had earlier, I think the elements are hinting of good times ahead.

Better even, than the good times we had before.

All at once, my world feels complete again. And sappy love songs are just that, not tear-inducing and wallow-encouraging.

What a whirlwind the past 36hours have been.

I can't wait to get to know us all over again.

And this time, you get more than plates and utensils.

(Warning: Don't take this as free rein and try to poke your nose into everything too quickly. I might get territorial and bite, but be patient. I'll try.)

"You can take the girl out of Disneyland, but you can't take the Disney out of her."

Alright, so maybe no one famous said that, and therefore it can't be a quote.

But I'm making up the rules today.

A lot happened in the span of a day.

And I felt my heart break into a million pieces like it never did before.

Above all, I was sad that the life I had imagined was perhaps never to be, and I grieved for it. I also grieved for the memories, the happy times, and the ghost chairs that might never be.

I've always thought I was a fairly intuitive person.

So never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that you would have been so grossly unhappy, and for such a long spell at that, without any realisation on my part.

I didn't realise the lies stemmed from unhappiness. But in retrospect, I guess I should have. Though when I confronted you about the lies, you never said more than it being just easier and that you were just doing a guy thing. A stupid, cliched guy thing.

Was my interpretation of the happy times, solely mine? A figment of my imagination? I refuse to believe that's true, but the words that come out of your mouth and your actions tell me otherwise.

I don't believe in breaks, but I tried to give you the space you need. I really tried, but pride got pursued by heartache, and decided to bail on me.

So we spoke. For a long time.

But what struck me was that it didn't feel so different from the conversations we had on any regular day. Except this time, tears were constantly threatening to flow forth.

It is beyond me how your endless quest for life and excitement with acquaintances and colleagues can be so easily prioritised ahead of anything we share. And it saddens me to realise how much a line of distinction you also choose to draw between the two.

But still, that's who you are. You treasure life and excitement above all. And as much as I'd like to think I've become important to you, I guess it's all relative.

I couldn't sleep, so I was just reading random blogs when I came across this one of a girl who just got married last week. She put up pictures and videos of their happy day. And what struck me was that they looked genuinely happy to be there, the both of them, and that the day genuinely looked like it had been planned by the both of them.

Maybe I've been selfish because I want to control every detail of the day. I see now that a union takes two to clap, and two to create three.

I don't want to stifle you, and nor do I want you to be just a participant on what really should be a life of two.

And as much as I love my happily ever afters, I know it means nothing if only one of you truly wants it.

I won't force your hand, and I know I can't anyway. But I just thought you should know.

We said we'd compromise, and that we'd try.

But for the second time, the thing that scares me is that we wouldn't be here, if I didn't insist we spoke.

I'm not sure if I did the right thing or not, insisting that we spoke and work things out because I guess the knowledge that you've wanted a break twice in the span of year, tells me that perhaps I'll never be able to find a place in your life. And each time you say it out loud, each time you burst the bubble, it becomes more real. A real resounding echo of the you inside that just wants to break free and be rid of these strings.

That as much as you say you love me, it's all relative to the thousand and one other pursuits you still want out of life.

I've never had pride bail on me the way it did last night. But I believe some things are worth fighting for. And so I tried.

But slowly also, I'm understanding that sometimes the white flag must be raised.

That there sometimes comes a tipping point where you can't go back from it all.

I believe that time wasn't yesterday. But I also know that it's all or nothing now, and that scares me. Truly. I don't know if I could go through again, the heartache but tenfold.

I don't want to get jaded by love.

I still want my Disney ending. But I suppose that's the risk you take.

I'm saying this all now with unbridled honesty, because it's the only foundation strong enough to support a life of two. I asked the same of you, as I have many times before. But I hope you hear me this time around because we're on a see-saw, and it's about to tip over if you don't get on the other side to keep it balanced.

Maybe I shouldn't be spilling my guts out this way, and truthfully, I never normally would. But what have I got to lose anyway. Except my heart, all over again.

Like I said, it's our last fight.

ps: I hate the way this sounds. All of it. So morbid and unlike me.

Attempting home-made pasta

Ever since I got hooked on Junior Masterchef Australia - aside from making me miss Melbourne heaps - it's made me look at food in a whole new light.

Or rather I should say, it's made me look at food with a whole new level of appreciation.

And that's saying a lot, and a lot, and a lot, given how much I already love my food.

The kids on Junior Masterchef are amazingly talented. They're only wee (8-12), and are all incredible cooks. What I admire is how they never say no, or get defeated. They're always willing to try. They gamely try anything new, even if it urks them, and whip up gorgeous dishes of things they've never had.

They've definitely inspired me, not just with food, but on my general outlook of life. Starting with food, of course.

Last Friday I decided to attempt one of the recipes from Sophia (age 12, from Queensland).

A homemade ravioli with prawn mousse, and a tomato vierge sauce.

I've never made pasta in my life, but I figured, how hard could it be! Especially when the recipe only called for eggs, olive oil and flour.

I didn't have a pasta roller, but I had boo and a rolling pin.

And so we got to it.

He was all eager beaver about getting his hands in the 'fun stuff', and didn't want to do the 'boring stuff' like chop garlic. So I let him.

My theory is that he made a mess of it with his lousy squishing technique, which is how we ended up with too-tough pasta - but still yummy, for a first attempt.

After the squishing, we set up a factory line between the two of us.

He to roll and cut with a little sauce dish, and me to fill it with the prawn mousse.

It didn't take us long to realise how hard it was to roll the dough out nice and thin with a rolling pin.

So we started with one vaguely wanton (as in dumpling, not slutty) looking ravioli, which then evolved into ravioli of all shapes and sizes because we got lazy with cutting it nice and equal. We even had some wee ones from the scraps of dough and christened them wavioli - as in wee ravioli.

We got to about 18 pieces and I decided that was enough.

I dunked them in some boiling salted water, drizzled the vierge sauce over it and tada. Dinner!

I have a theory that all recipes lie, or at least omit certain truths and I'm on a quest to prove it.

Recipes should be written without the assumption that you 'get it'. There's no reason amateur cooks like myself should be excluded just because someone decided to cut a few corners in typing out the recipe. Perhaps the addition of certain information made the line breaks look ugly, or wouldn't fit neatly on the page. Whatever the case, I'd like to put together a dummy-proof recipe, with instructions like they should be.

Yup.

Shin Kushi-yucks

We've been having a month-long craving for kushiyaki since our very yummy Valentine's meal at Satsuma.

So a couple of nights back, we decided to try out some of the other famous kushiyaki places.

There were a few contenders - Shin Kushiya, Joo Joo, and of course, going back to Satsuma.

We decided that Joo Joo can't be all that good since it's all young and fun sounding, plus it doesn't even have a vaguely Japanese name. We contemplated going back to Satsuma, but Shin Kushiya won out because I read a review on it recently on a blog I stumbled upon - it made it sound like skewer heaven - and I tend to like to try out new places.

So off to Shin Kushiya we went.

I took pictures, but it's not even worth the effort uploading them because the simple conclusion is that the food was mediocre at best and overpriced.

Plus they don't serve chicken hearts, which according to Colin, is the mark of a good kushiyaki place.

Next time, it's back to Satsuma we go.

Certified Divers

Last weekend - not the one that's just gone by, the one before that - we went to Bintan for our Open Water course.

I'd like to say it all went well and I loved every second of it, but that's the version I smile and dish out to acquaintances. People I don't want to spend more than 2 minutes of my time story-telling to, because the full story is just too exhausting. There are dramatic hand gestures, lots of eyebrow-raising, and even a point where my voice gets all high and squeaky - even more so than it usually is. So you can see how the full monty can take its toll.

But I thought it best to capture the whole experience in truth, for posterity's sake. Not that I know what the word 'posterity' means, but I have a very fluid relationship with words and sometimes, I just know when things sound right.

Kind like with 'assasinator' - people who kill other people, and 'drawer' - someone who draws.

(I do know those aren't real words by the way)

Anyways, I'll start at the top.

The entire PADI Open Water Dive Course consists of three components:

(i) Pool session

(ii) 2 x theory classes and an exam

(iii) 4 x dives in the deep blue sea

THE POOL SESSION

We did the pool session one hot sunday at Outram Secondary School. It was the dirtiest pool I've ever been in, and I might or might not have peed in it - to be fair, I was wearing a LOT of equipment. So no judgement. Besides, I know for a fact I'm not the first, and nor will I be the last.

Seriously, dirtiest pool ever. When you go underwater with your mask, everything's magnified tenfold and you can see the dirt, algae and snot floating around.

But that is the one and only pool where all the dive schools hold their confined water session, so at least you can be safe in the knowledge that the travelling gunk will never make its way to your friendly neighbourhood swimming complex.

I felt gross even before we stepped into the pool because the rental equipment, well, lets just say they're a great marketing tool to entice newbies to buy their own gear. I found flies, algae and dried up salt caked into the rubber rims of my mask. That's how icky it was. The only consolation was the regulator, which was actually surprisingly clean.

After the pool session, my ear itched for days and I was convinced it was because of the dirty pool water. Had to be.

THEORY 1

After surviving the pool session, it was time for the classroom stuff.

First day of class, there were only three people. "Great!" I thought, we'll be able to finish early and go home to sleep. It was after all a work day.

I was sorely mistaken.

We seemed to have ended up in the same class as the dumbest guy on earth. Alright, that sounded mean. And I probably said it just for dramatic effect, but it doesn't sound half as funny if I said it some other way.

I can forgive dumb. But dumb and lazy just takes the cake.

Not only did he NOT pre-read his reading material, he seemed to have the comprehension skills of a gnat. And since the class can only progress as fast as it's slowest member, we were crawling. Didn't help that Colin and I were super competitive know-it-alls, the type who raises their hand enthusiastically in response to every question going "oOh ooh ooh, I know, pick me!". And I mean literally, it didn't help. The instructor still wanted to make sure Mr Slow Pants in the back was catching up.

After class on the first day, we did a bit of shopping. It started out with just wanting a pretty pink mask, and ended up with me going home with a pretty pink mask and a pretty pink snorkel.

I have to say, my instructor gave me a super good deal on the two and I'm a true blue shopaholic at heart, which means I recognise a good deal when I see one. I nudged and urged Colin to get a mask and a snorkel too. But of course he had to go home and 'research' first - he's that kind of shopper, the one who always lets great deals and awesome things slide past because he needs time to think.

It's not a bad trait, and something I could use more of really - I'm Miss Instant Gratification, "now now now!!!" - but I think I'm getting better, and sometimes, when there's a good deal, you just got to DO IT NOW.

So anyways, he dawdled, and unfortunately when we went back the next day, it was a different guy at the shop. He still got a discount, but not at the awesome low levels that I did. Oh well.

I contemplated getting also booties, fins and a wet suit - all in a pretty shade of pink of course. But this is the part where his "let's wait and see" got to me. You'll see how this almost kills me later on.

THEORY 2

Back to class again. You would think after his dawdling on Day 1 that Mr Slow Pants would kick it up a notch, maybe do some reading before coming to class so he wouldn't continue to lag behind.

But no.

He did not.

We crawled through the remaining two chapters at a snail's pace before the final exam. Poo. After handing out the exam papers, our instructor told us we could complete this at our own pace and just holler when we were done.

I was done within half an hour. I don't like dawdling over exam questions. They give me the heebie jeebies. I just like to zip through them and be done. Of course, this attitude has more than once, cost me some careless mistakes. But I can't help it (actually no, of course I can help it, I just can't be bothered).

Anyway, I finished up and bounced out of the room to hand my paper to the instructor.

96% - yay! One careless mistake, and one which I happily accepted because it asked me for the difference between a DIN and YOKE valve - an entire section which I skipped past because I hate memorising differences between things. If they're differences I can understand and comprehend, sure. But the type that requires memorising? Not for me. These grey cells are reserved solely to memorise grudges against my boo and the latest Hollywood celeb gossip.

Anyway, shortly after I finished, Colin finished too.

Yay!

"Now we can go home!" Or so I thought.

Turns out, our instructor wanted us all to finish the paper - by all he means us THREE (2 down, 1 to go) - so we can run through the ones we got wrong.

Colin got 98%.

Which means that between the two of us, there were only 3 questions we had to go through.

We waited another 45 MINUTES for Mr Slow Pants to finally finish his paper.

And even then, he failed!

So first we had to wait for him to finish, and then go through ALL the questions he got wrong before we finally got to leave.

It was a painful wait. I spent most of it Whatsapp'ing the girls and playing Burger Queen.

BINTAN - DAY 1

We convened bright and early at the Tanah Merah Ferry Terminal to catch the Ferry to Bintan.

It was an alright 50minute ride - I slept through most of it.

But then started my horrid 48hour motion sickness extravangaza.

It was a bumpy, torturous hour-long bus ride to the resort. It was neither picturesque nor rustic. I was just grumpy and having a headache. So I decided to spend most of the ride stuffing my face with fish strips, dropping crumbs all over my jacket and looking out the window at vague things on the horizon.

Finally, we arrived. The resort was quite bare and rundown, but at least it had all the essentials like hot water and a clean bed.

After checking in, we were told we had 20minutes to rest before lunch.

I collapsed onto the bed whilst he spent a lot of time fussing around the room, and unpacking everything.

Lunch was Nasi Goreng with a fried egg, and the driest looking chicken wing I've ever seen. I don't like meat on bone, so I swapped him my unedible chicken wing for his egg. Clearly I was getting the better deal, but I flashed him one of my too-cute-for-school smiles to pull the wool over his head. Or maybe he knew, and gave it to me anyway out of love. Either way, I got the egg.

After lunch, it was time to check in at the deep blue sea.

Urks!

I gulped down a sea sickness pill and prayed to god I wouldn't die at sea.

We took an old chugchug boat out to a floating platform - where we remained for the better part of the day. I hate moving-anythings, and a floating platform is the worst kind. Solid ground, but not really.

Luckily, we were the first group to go down.

We saw nothing. Just bubbles and swirls of dirty water. But even that dirty water was cleaner than the water at Outram. Or maybe it's just because the salt water is a natural antiseptic.

When we surfaced after the first dive, I had a cut on my hand which was bleeding out. I don't know how it happened, but it didn't hurt till someone pointed it out - at which point I shoved it in Colin's face and put on my saddest look.

Truth be told it didn't hurt, but I milked it for all it was worth. Using it as an excuse to get out of changing my tank and keeping my equipment - I was on a floating platform!!! If I moved to do all that, I would have hurled all over the equipment and everyone would have hated me. It was just better that I didn't get near them.

We did a second dive, and then it was time to chug back to the resort.

Yay, dinner!

It was absolutely awesome.

They had the best sambal belacan ever! Loved all the dishes.

Went for a Thai massage on the beach after dinner. Was seranaded by a Thai and a Malaysian dude who were taking turns massacring the free karaoke machine - I think at some point they even did a duet. And in between the karaoke, there were shots of fireworks. It was kind of nice actually.

When you stay in fancier resorts, people seldom leave their rooms to do communal type things. But when you stay in a budget resort, you have no choice but to want to leave your room.

We took a slow walk back after my massage, and stopped by the cafe for a glass of ice milo - for him - before going back to sleep.

BINTAN - DAY 2

Woke up bright and early. Had a huge breakfast, before we chugged out to the platform again.

Our first dive of the day was spent practising yet more skills. We also swam around for a bit, and I saw a sea urchin!

Our second dive of the day is when it all gets dramatic.

A boat chugged us away from the platform to another dive site. It was quite dramatic for us because up till then, we had been diving off the platform. So this was our first time diving off a boat - we went in backwards, which I thought I would have hated, but actually turned out to be alright.

As soon as we got in the water I knew it was going to be bad.

The waves were horrid and just swishing me all over the place.

I felt so helpless. But I held on to the side of the boat and waited for everyone to get in.

It only got worse.

The waves kept on coming, taking us further and further away from the boat.

I thought it would get better when we descended, because you don't tend to feel the surge as much when you're 6 feet under - literally, no pun intended.

But we never got to go down. Our fins were grazing corals that were barely 2 metres beneath us, and before we knew it, were all knee deep in the middle of nowhere, with the waves continuing to push us over.

Didn't help that the equipment was really heavy.

I started getting pushed over by the waves every two steps and ended up with coral cuts on my hands and legs.

It wasn't pleasant.

That's when I realised we were kinda in a shitty situation.

Thankfully our dive master was a sea of calm. He immediately took charge of the situation, and told us all what to do - he really was awesome. He told me to take off my equipment and just concentrate on walking. He held my hand in one so I wouldn't fall, and my equipment in another, no easy feat!

You think it doesn't sound very hard, but try walking in fins, over corals, with waves pushing you over. That's no easy feat.

Luckily for me, and him, I was the only girl in the group, so the rest of the guys could all manage with carrying their equipment.

At that point, I wish I had bought that pretty pink full-body wet suit so I wouldn't have all those coral cuts on my knees. And the gloves. And booties, so I could take off the fins and walk properly. !!

After close to 45minutes of walking, we finally made it to a side where it was deep enough for us to swim. The waves were still horrid. But the amazing boat guy jumped into the water with just a mask and swam towards me. He told me to lie on my tank, and dragged me all the way back to the boat - all the whilst, swimming against the huge currents.

When we got back to dry land, we wanted to give him a big tip because he really risked his life jumping in to tow us all back.

But we were told the standard from everyone in the group was only 5SGD, and that if we wanted to give anything extra, we should give it to him personally. Sadly, he had already gone back by then, so we weren't able to thank him properly.

So that rounded off our Open Water course.

Wanted to upload pictures, but it's getting late and I need to shower.

Next up, Dayang!

And hopefully this time we see some proper deep blue aquatic life. The pretty kind.

After work today I walked to the bus stop and waited for a bus.

I got on the bus, and then I got off the bus. And then I got on another bus, which took me home.

I got home, made myself some pasta and a simple salad.

Ate my pasta and simple salad whilst reading an old copy of Archie.

Decided I was still hungry, went downstairs and had more pasta.

Feeling filled up, I took my bowls downstairs and then decided to go down to Cold Storage to buy yet more cleaning products to disinfect my desk at work. The citrus Dettol spray I bought yesterday smells horridly like a toilet - and instead of making me feel clean and sanitised, just made me feel kinda grubby, like I was in a wet, dirty toilet by the beach.

So today I went in search of Dettol - the original solution. Because at least THAT, is a sanitised smell. I also bought a squigy bottle (it's really an empty spray bottle, but the word squigy just sounds much better) to contain my Dettol and water solution, that I could bring to the office.

And I bought a bottle scrub. And a glass for the bottle scrub to sit in on my desk.

Tomorrow I will go to work and Dettol my work station. Then I will bring the horrid smelling citrus Dettol spray home so that it can be used for what it smells most appropriate - cleaning our home toilets.

But I digress. The point I wanted to make, aside from the fact that I seem to be becoming a little compulsive with cleanliness, is that on the way to the supermarket, Mikey and I sang along to Glee. Well, I sang, and he kinda just whimpered and moved around a lot in the passenger seat.

It was a happy and carefree kind of feeling, one that I haven't felt in awhile.

I felt neither exhausted nor drained.

I didn't finish work on the dot at six.

But still, I was happier because there were no unpleasant situations I had to deal with. No ego's and tantrums to speak of.

And honestly, that makes a world of difference.

N.O.T Shopping

I've been very good over the past few weeks about not shopping.

Of course I still spend lots of time putting myself in temptation's path - insisting on going into shops and trying on things, browsing blogshops endlessly, even going so far as to stand in line at the check-out counter (or add items to my shopping cart, for blogshops) - but so far, I've always managed to back out at the last minute.

I don't know why I go through the entire process above if I'm trying hard not to shop. I really should be doing more productive things like eating or sleeping. But I can't help it.

I suppose I just find it therapeutic. And it helps to curb the urges, somewhat.

But I was just reading randomly blogs earlier when I chanced upon this one of a girl who took a picture of a HUGEASS wasp nest that was growing around her bracelets in one of her accessories containers.

GROSS.

I suppose that's the result of having too much stuff. Too much stuff that you don't end up using.

And I certainly have more than enough.

Clothes and accessories that is.

So no shopping.

And on a separate but related note, the older I get, the more particular I get about cleanliness.

Dust and grime sends shivers up my spine.

So in my future home, I want no odd/unused corners. I want everything to be wide open and fully visible, so it's constantly used. Besides, I feel unused/seldom accessed corners gives bad vibes to a home.

Like my storeroom at home now. I feel like I have to tiptoe in and out really really quickly whenever I want to get something. I never linger more than absolutely necessary because it feels gross just being in there.

Urks.

My new office is unfortunately quite the epitome of old and grubby office furniture. Shall go get myself some dettol and wipes to keep at my desk so I can give it daily wipedowns.