Oh Darling, Let's Be Adventurous

Picture courtesy of fuckyeahtravel

Wanderlust: A desire to travel, to understand one's very existence

Two late night conversations with great friends inspired this post. The first was over a late night dinner which primarily involved butter chicken and naan with the odd bouts of travel talk. My butter chicken friend is heading off to the UK and Europe next month to explore the regions and visit friends and family. Needless to say, she is extremely excited about it all. I am very jealous - all that I have to look forward to next month is a winter intensive unit.

The second was over the phone for a general catch-up (this included my friend confessing that she dreamt that I had married a tall, dark and handsome Middle-Eastern man and we were shacked up in a mansion in Dubai). I would say that this conversation held my attention by a long shot. Pretty soon the conversation turned towards travel, again. It is slowly starting to dawn on me that I am unable to escape from it (well, not that I really want to talk about anything else; the only escaping I want to do is out of my hometown). Travel was all we talked about for 40 minutes over the phone. We both concluded that Europe, mid next year, is on the table. Understandably, I jumped online and took a quick look at some organisations, such as TopDeck and Gap Adventures, to start planning what we could do.

In some very twisted way, I like being pushed out of my comfort zone. I am, generally, a calm and collected individual. But I love hustle, bustle and chaos. Hence why some of my most beloved places in the world that are notoriously known for 'not sleeping' seem to be my calling. I've also been watching episodes of An Idiot Abroad, a Ricky Gervais production where his moronic friend travels to all seven wonders of the world. As with any Ricky Gervais production, hilarity is more than often ensued but jokes and the misery of one man aside, at the end of each episode, Karl is willing to change his one-set outlooks on the world. Although he is defeated and miserable at the end of a tiring journey to truly enjoy the wonders, his willingness to be pushed outside his comfort zone is commendable.

My (favourite) aunt has traveled the world extensively when she worked for an airline company. I can't help but feel jealous when she tells her stories of staying in $2000-a-night hotel rooms along the Grand Canal in Venice, Italy ala Angelina Jolie in The Tourist. I don't intend to come across as a person who loves travel when "You know, as long as it's clean and they speak English and it's safe." I want to experience the extremes of travel. I know people who have traveled to Antartica and braved the freezing temperatures then gone on to rural safaris in northern Africa. If you could attribute this to my competitive side, I hope to visit the extremities of this world (starting with the seven wonders of the world) before age takes over.

Travel truely broadens the mind by forcing you to immerse yourself in a different environment and accept what is given to you. But on a personal touch, it allows one to understand their very being. Being pushed on the outskirts of familiarity, makes you realise exactly how much your mind is willing to accept. I don't like to see myself as simple minded but there's definitely room for improvement. For me, this is the time to be saving some moolah and jetting off to far away places. I refuse to let my mind linger in one position for too long.

Herbal Tea, Fruit Smoothies & Cover Letters

Source of picture:veranoazul

My fingers are itchy and I need to take a break from all the cover letters that I've barely started writing. I'd say this is the perfect combination for a blog post on a somewhat respected online forum. I'm kidding. I'm sure blogger.com are the best in what they do and take every step to ensure that its users are satisfied with their service. (Please don't delete my blog!)

Here are some of the enlightening thoughts that are running through my noggin:

I attempted Pilates this morning, for the second time in ... my life. All I can say is that it is terribly difficult for something that looks like a 5 year old could do with ease. In saying that, a 5 year old would have the appropriate flexibility to take on the poses standing on his or her head. Getting old(er) is a b****.

Listening to music by Train. Music gold. Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance, five-hour phone conversations, the best soy latte that you ever had, and me? Still stands as one of my most beloved lyrics.

I want to travel to Spain where the rain falls mainly on the plain. Broadly speaking, I want to travel to Europe after I graduate mid-next year. By this time, I hope to owe it to myself to take some time off and celebrate the end of some harsh years with the rest of the world. I don't know where I will go or who I will go with, but adventures like these need to be taken. If only the bank account would agree. Not looking forward to staying in on Friday/Saturday nights for the next year. Someone find me a rich boyfriend... STAT.

Maybe it's due to the lack of H2O in my diet of fried chips and chocolate dessert but I'm feeling quite lethargic. I could use some of those delicious fruit smoothies sometime soon but as of this moment, I will settle for Pokka Jasmine Green Tea and an abnormally large, genetically modified-looking Fuji apple.

Oh well, back to trying to impress future employers. I hope all of this bodes well with my mediocre career soon.

A Toast To All That Is Great

Source of picture: Anna And Molly

It's the father's 80th birthday today. Happy Birthday, Dad! I'm just glad he lived another year to see Justin Beiber get egged by a passer by. He enjoyed his hearty lunch at a Chinese restaurant (somehow not a fan of European cooking) and blew out his "80" candle on a Coffee Pecan Torte. Mum and I were going to get him 80 individual candles but figured it would take at least an hour for us to find that many sticks and another hour for him to blow it all out.

I'm now waiting for him to pull me aside and give me another life lesson through his "Sabrina, I want to talk to you about something..." approach. I dread these conversations. Usually they result in me tearing up at the realisation that he won't be around for much longer. I avoid having these particular discussions as much as I can but it seems unavoidable as long as I'm living at home and am unemployed.

But truth be told, I learnt more about him and myself in the time I was in Singapore than I had known throughout my life. Going out for dinner every night with him for a month, we were able to have intimate discussions and find out what I was going to do with my life. I hated the content of those talks but somehow, I loved him more for it. In that case, maybe all of our conversations weren't that bad. They made me focus on who I wanted to become and how to become that person by the way I lived my life.

So here's to dad for being fit, active (mentally and physically), wise, cynical, talkative and loving. I hope to see you for your 81st.

The Defeats of Trepidation

Source of picture: theparamour

Fear has always been a fascinating concept for me. (Side note: If anyone is generous enough to buy me a copy of The Culture of Fear by Barry Glassner, it would be very much appreciated.) Fear brings out interesting qualities in humans. Why do some of us let this concept hold us by the neck, while others react with such vigour when faced with daunting scenarios? It's somewhat amazing as to what we are capable of doing and feeling when we are faced against our demons.

I'd like to think that I face fear head-on. While I was still in high school, I remember one moment where a Japanese teacher of mine made me and my classmates sit in a circle and mention our strongest qualities - in Japanese. Our teacher gave us an example so we could understand how to structure our sentences and adjectives. The example she used was this:

"I think Sabrina is brave."

I'd never forget the moment when she said that to not only me, but the whole class. (I hope she truly meant it, otherwise this post up to now will be very embarrassing for me.) To this day, it still stands as one of my favourite moments in high school (although, to be frank, there weren't that many to begin with). To my close circle, I've been to known to stick out my neck for those I care about to the point that I am known as the girl who has no fears. (Yes, I'm slightly gushing as I type this out.) But underneath this thin veneer of bravery, at times, there's nothing I feel more than hopelessness. Other times I feel the need to give up because what I'm facing is hurting me too much or I discover that the results aren't going to be worth my struggle.

Some worrying thoughts arise if I find myself in this position. After fear has been defeated, has it truly been conquered - in every sense of that word? What if those same fears arise again? There are moments when I'm tempted to back down and I admit that sometimes, I'm not strong enough to face my demons alone. Defeating my fears once does not necessarily guarantee that those fears will not return and we might think we have overcome the worst of our pains but the courage and strength really lies in how we handle ourselves when faced with the possibility that it could creep back at any time.

So how can the so-called "girl with no fear" brave each trepidation that's thrown her way? I'll tell you this: The biggest fears us mere mortals will ever have to face in our lifetime lies within our minds. Thoughts brought on by our troubles are much more toxic to us than physical harm ever will be. The truly unfortunate thing about fear is that it will never completely disappear but the only 'ammunition' we have to fight with is our own heads. Fight the troubles in your mind, with your mind. Know that something great and worthwhile lies behind each and every single fear. Stay strong and pack your artillery system with hope and faith. We are not powerless. Fight.

Romaticism, Selfishness and Hypocrisy

Source of picture: flyinghighdreamingbig

The following is an article I read on Thought Catalog. I am a fan of the writers on this website. I've come to enjoy their certain knack for delivering sensitive issues in such a blunt manner.

"On International Women’s Day I went to a Toril Moi lecture. It was about a novel by Simone de Beauvoir and it was being given in honor of a fellow at another college who had died recently. The first thing I thought when Toril Moi stood up on stage was, well, she’s hotter than I thought. I felt that I should not have thought that. But why did I think that?

I combine chauvinism with prudishness. That could be a definition of Romanticism. Why do I tell myself I’m proud of the fact that I have never slept with somebody I didn’t love? It’s not that I haven’t wanted to. I would have slept with Toril Moi in a second. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe it would have felt weird and wrong. Is this feeling of pride just a way of excusing myself for not having slept with more people? Why would that warrant an excuse?

In High Fidelity, John Cusack’s character cares mainly about men, not women. When he finds out his first girlfriend got married to the boy who stole her from him, he is happy. Being dumped for the future husband is like being knocked out of the playoffs by the team that will go on to win, and that’s okay. So is it all about some great big score-board in the sky?

I lose interest in girls when I hear they’ve slept with people who did not love them, or whom they didn’t love, or really anyone. I hate the thought of anyone I know sleeping with anyone at all. Except me, obviously. I think that the saddest thing about love is knowing that there were other lovers before you. I don’t even allow myself to think there will be others after. Does that mean I’m just worried that I won’t live up to the memories of other men?

Love is a way you can escape from being crushed by not being the best. There’s always someone better than you, even at the thing you do best in the world. I find that hard to live with. But the thing about love is that you can find someone for whom you’re the best person in the world. But what if you’re not? What if she’s thinking about someone else? How can there be more than one best person?

I think a part of love is trusting someone totally. I think it is, unlike most things in life, about intentions and not outcomes. It doesn’t matter if you couldn’t buy the flowers that you wanted to buy or if the shop just happened to be closed (look up the Wendy Cope poem, “Flowers”). But it does matter if you want to sleep with someone else, even if you don’t. Is that true? And so then why wasn’t I completely trustworthy when I felt like I was in love? How can love be about trusting but not be about being trustworthy?

Shyness is an excuse, maybe, but it’s also a kind of narcissism. In my experience, the really humble people are often the most outgoing. They are more interested in other people than themselves. Like the believers who walk out into the road without looking, they know that if they die (out there, on that stage) they’re going to heaven anyway. In bed at night when I feel lonely, I think of someone being there with me, not of me being there with someone.

I want to perform (and frequently imagine) romantic gestures of great scope and artistry. For someone? But mainly to make myself look good and to justify myself. I only want to put one point up on the score-board. But it has to be the greatest, most magnificent, most virtuosic, timeless point that anyone has ever scored, because it’s all about me."