Confusion never stops
Closing walls and ticking clocks
Gonna come back and take you home
I could not stop now that you know
๑۩۩๑


Yeah I pretty much realized that it was in terminal condition thankyouverymuch, and that I hadn't updated in a long time. I actually noticed a pattern. When I got into the swing of writing and reading, when I got really immersed in Internet Literacy: those are the times when I'm hooked on a drugfic. Mind Games, and then CoD, then Poison Apple, Devil's Trill, and those inbetween periods of oneshot obsessions...That's when I really wrote and wrote and wrote and blah blah blah. But 2009 has been a year mainly focused on my AMV ... 'career', especially of late so I suppose it comes as no surprise that writing and rambling has almost halted. And it also amuses/disturbs me that when I do blog, it's largely about...my fandoms.

Uh but I'm really getting off track here.

What I wanted to say, was, truly, what a happy coincidence that the post below this was the one I wrote when I'd just found out I'd be returning to Singapore, and the one after it (this one), is the one about when it actually happens!!

That's right folks, today, I got up at the ungodly hour of 3:45 am to catch my flight back here.

I went to bed at ten-ish after TopGear, and I didn't really sleep much. It was rather reminiscent of my days when I was younger and had thoughts running amok in my mind at night, I must've been quite the insomniac back then.

The drive over to Wellington airport was a nice one; me and my father talked the whole way. I was actually a bit conflicted over the fact that Papa wouldn't be coming with us. He's the person who's had more roots in SG than any of us, truly: He's older, he's definitely less patriotic but more knowledgeable, he's got more family there and less family here, in NZ. It didn't make sense how he wasn't coming with us. I considered the possibility that he was sacrificing this opportunity to let us come here instead.

But then I stacked up the reasons why he wouldn't want to come here. As I said before, he's pretty much anti-Singapore...And he loves it in NZ although the culture is still an unfathomable paradox to him. He's got a job here, and most of all: he gets dreadfully airsick. And carsick. And seasick. So on so forth.

Still, the drive to Wellington Airport during the wee hours were comfortable. And during the stretches of silence, it was memorable. As we drove along the quiet road, the river stretched out to my left. The darkness melded together, island and water and sky were all a bottomless black so I only had the lights to give me an indication of the horizon. It was all very disorienting and beautiful. All the streetlamps lit up and streaked yellow, dripping light down unto the black water beneath. Some blue and purple billboards shone in the darkness and their colored auras spilt beneath them, like shimmering teardrops.

Papa gestured to me as we were going through the outskirts of the city. He told me this was the rougher area of town, a little darker, a little dirtier, and little more danger, and a little less decent folk around here.

Out of the deceptively healthy heart and into the nicotene-drenched lungs, I thought. Crazy metaphor, but it worked. I suppose all cities have their little shadowy corner. I like shadowy corners, though. I enjoy the dirty little dives and confusing alleys.

But then finally we reached the airport. Hugs and cuddles were exchanged and well, yeah, I did feel kinda sad that my father wouldn't be coming along with us ):

Anyway I won't go into detail about customs and all that terribly boring junk. We took the same route home as we did when we left home. Wellington -> Sydney -> Adelaide -> Singapore. All I did throughout the flight was fidget, sleep in cramped positions, eat, talk, watch and listen to stuff. Four episodes of Two and a Half Men, probably about an hour's + worth of TopGear, and then rocking out to Coldplay and Muse. Ah bliss. And then the journey was over, just like that. We landed. Finally. I actually did a sharp intake of breath when I saw the familiar face of the buildings.

'We're home,' I grinned at my mother.

I took quite a few photos as we disembarked. I'm planning to do a huge slideshow thingie on Vegas when I get back to NZ. It's a shame my handphone camera is so crap though.

Anyway, we were both probably too full of adrenaline to be jetlagged, even though there was an extra hassle with our luggage almost being lost.

The airport was comfortingly familiar. The 3 Terminals, the ATCC looking like a stick with a golf ball perched ontop it, the ostentatious, glamorous rooms.

As I waited alongside the trolley while my mom just went to check out the runaway luggage issue, I saw the huge crowd behind the glass door, behind the metal railing. The waiting family and friends to greet their loved ones as they returned. I felt sad that in that whole group, nobody was waiting for my arrival. No one saw my expression, and just as well, for it resembled that of a kicked puppy.

Oh well. I'd get to hang out with my folks soon enough.

That was pretty much what kept me going.

After we solved The Mysterious Case Of The Missing Luggage, we stepped out the glass doors into the warm, early evening air and hailed a taxi.

I'd known that Singapore would be much hotter, but I guess I underestimated how much. The air was so warm and heady, it was like walking into a hot shower. But once I stepped into the taxi it was fine, because there was air conditioning. And speaking of the cab, it had that lovely smell that cabs have.

Now, even when I was in Singapore I'd hardly ever been in a taxi. But the few times that I had, I found that they all smelled the same. I'm pretty certain that it's not meant to be a fragrance, but I ended up loving the smell like it was a perfume. It smelled wonderful. And every single cab smelled the same. What the hell?

We drove along and I instantly felt overjoyed. All those buildings were so familiar. The gargantuan office buildings, the huge shopping malls, the HDB flats, the Singapore flyer (of which I took a photo of).

And I got even more excited as we neared into Jurong West and into the carpark lot of our old flat. As we loaded out the items, me and my mom sat there talking about the luggage.

"Where's my jacket?"

"You're so forgetful..."

"...What? OH! In my bag isn't it? Haha"

I noticed my grandmom walking up behind my mother, which meant I could see her. But I didn't really say anything. Let her have the element of surprise and anyway, what could I say?

So she managed to sneak up behind us. She and my mom exchanged cordial greetings and girly gossip as we made our way up the lift floors. Cantonese or Hokkien, didn't know nor did I care. I was pretty speechless in their presence anyway, and not in the 'awe' way. It was slightly awkward but I'd grown used to my lousy language skills.

When we did get ourselves back into the flat, the first thing I did was check out my room. Aunt Michelle had of course adjusted it since then, to her likings, but I recognized my familiar items everywhere. It seemed she was still using my stationary. And my old CPU! And I found my art files and stationary where I'd left them. God my old stuff was so embarrassing. I took a quick video and some snapshots of the place. And immediately turned the aircon on. It was really getting hot.

After that I changed into Singaporean getup. I realized that in NZ people really did care more about what they wore, whereas here they didn't give a toss. You could wear whatever you want, look hideous and still blend in. I wore a black-ish sort of shirt with a rather pretty kind of logo on the front, but an ugly and totally mismatching plaid orange/yellow skirt. Still, as yuky as it was, I fit in. If I'd worn my stylish shirt and simple black jeans, as cool as that would've looked, I would've appeared strange to my fellow natives. Save the dressing up for going to the mall.

Oh, and...Those clothes were my old ones, left behind in the flat. Yes, I'm surprised they fit too.

We had fishball noodles for dinner, and god, it was so nostalgic. This was true Singaporean fare, so spicy that all you could focus on was the food. The chili left a numb sensation in my jaw and a tingling in my tongue. Mom bought teh tarik, and shared some with me.

All the while there had been joyous singing and celebration coming not too far off...probably just one or two blocks away. We'd arrived, it seemed, just during the Mooncake Festival season. There were party lights everywhere, and singing in various dialects by people of various accents.

I could very well have fallen asleep to that lullaby, but it ended far too soon.



...But I must admit something.

In the quiet moments in the car, on the plane, in the taxi, in my mind, I'd wondered whether I actually wanted to come back. "Is it worth it? What if it all goes wrong and I just can't have fun with my cousins and friends like the way I used to? What if they've moved on without me? What if I've moved on without them? What if we've lost it all to Time?"

But looking out the balcony at the urban scenery of brick and neon and the love that holds it altogether, I find that I really don't care for the outcomes. In the end, I'd rather be here than anywhere else.


Oh nothing else compares
And nothing else compares


Home, home, where I wanted to go.