social caterpillar

Some people are social butterflies. I'm a social caterpillar, hiding in my cocoon and stalling to fly out of my shell. It's not that I don't like people - I do, most of the time. It's not that I don't like talking - I do, to certain people. But small talk is annoying. It's pointless to spend a night out with endless conversations that go no further than, "Hi, how do you like this party so far? What do you do now, work, uni, unemployed? Do you hate reality TV, too?"

I'd rather talk to people about things that matter. For some people, the transition between small talk and substantial conversation comes easy. I have friends who can sit down with complete strangers and have fantastic conversations. I don't understand how this works. I can't even maintain a conversation with the people at work for over two minutes. Maybe I always lose interest, so I don't bother keeping up with the conversations. I'm more content talking to my close friends about what's happening with them. Does that make me antisocial? I can be social, but I can't fake an interest in people or bother to approach strangers, unless they are that handsome guy on the train. Maybe I just care too much about what people think of me. Or, perhaps I'm not willing to invest myself in others when I know that I will probably never see them again or see them often. Maybe I'm just lazy. To be polite and make small talk sounds like a lot of work.

On the flip side, I sometimes meet people with whom I have an instant connection. I automatically click with them, and conversations run smoothly with little effort. I get this gut feeling that I'll be good friends with them and feel comfortable sharing my personal thoughts, even if I've only just met them. This is what true friendships are made of - long-lasting friends with whom I will forever share that special bond.

rain

There was something about the November sky last night. The peculiar shades of grey in the heaving clouds and the cool sensation of the crisp air were so comforting and so lovely. I love rainy weather.

It rained as we walked around Darling Harbour, under one umbrella. Unlike other times, I didn't have to quicken my small steps to catch up with your big strides, and for the first time, I felt like I was up to your speed, or perhaps you unconsciously slowed down for me.

We sat and talked. I compared this time with the first time, the previous times, and the other times, and I realised so much and yet not much has changed. You're still poking fun. I'm still jokingly upset. We're evolving at the same pace as we're learning about each other. This is the beginning of a very beautiful friendship.

I liked how we shared one umbrella, though I became too self-conscious and fought the urge to walk in the rain by myself when you started to tease me. But I was hoping - wishing - that it would never stop raining, for I had found another reason to be fond of the rain.

thinking outside the box

I was rummaging through our kitchen and accidentally knocked over a bottle of fish sauce, the pure kind with no added sugar. The sauce splattered everywhere, and the kitchen reeked of dead fish. Oh, why did we have to be Vietnamese? My mum and sister weren't home to (help me) clean up, so I had to get on my hands and knees to wipe up the mess. My dad and the boys (Chino and Socks) just stood around watching - typical males. I'd love to end up with a guy who'd cook and clean. I'd be glad to be the breadwinner, as I don't mind being the one to wear the pants in a relationship. Or perhaps I haven't met anyone who could 'lead' me.

Speaking of cooking, when am I supposed to start learning these sorts of things? I asked my mum when she learned how to cook, and she replied, "since I was in sixth grade." Well, duh, that's because there was a war going on at the time, so she was thrown into the role of being a mother to her many siblings. If there was a war right now, I'm sure I'd magically morph into a responsible adult too. Mother wasn't impressed and told me to start praying for a good husband, one who would tolerate my laziness, clumsiness & uselessness. I told her that with this face, I wouldn't have any trouble finding a sucker to marry me. So she retracted her comment and recommended that I be a spinster, already showing her condolence to the unfortunate soul who was going to end up with me. I don't think my mother understands me; I have big dreams! I enlightened her about my dreams, and she advised me to wake up.

This is my last week at CBA. I'll hopefully be out of the corporate world for a while. After three years of being cooped up in an office, I'm sick of this routine, so I'm going to step out there and take a breath of fresh air. It all started with the usual emailing marathon that LN and I have at work. When you have that much time to email, you start to question what sort of profession you're in, or maybe we're just outstanding at multitasking. Our regular series of gibberish led to a serious discussion about where we were at and where we should be.

I'm an unconventional person, so don't expect me to stick with a typical 9-5 job for the rest of my life. I'm impatient, yet ambitious (deluded) - what a rare combination. You often hear about success stories of people with great accomplishments, who are well-established and who’ve moved onto writing How-To-Get-Rich books. These self-help books were published to educate and inspire us to think outside the box, but do they give us the courage to take that giant leap? I frequently wonder where I'd be in ten years' time - if I had made something out of my life or if I’d still be wondering where I'd be in another ten years.

you're beautiful

There’s this stranger (let’s call him RD) that I’ve seen four times in the past six months. The first time was on my way to work. I woke up at Wynyard station, and there he was - way too good-looking for that early in the morning. I even rubbed my eyes, thinking I might still be dreaming, but no, he was real. It would have been a fairy tale if he’d fallen equally in love with me, but he didn’t even notice me. Probably for the best, since I likely had drool on my face (from the nap, not from staring at the handsome man). He seems to exist in some Hot Guy parallel universe because I hardly ever see him.  

A few months later, I was on the train home from work with my best friend. We were playing this silly game where we’d purposely sit in different carriages to see who would follow. I, being stubborn, stuck to my carriage, so we ended up sitting apart (which completely defeats the purpose of travelling together, right, LN?). She woke me when we got close to our stop, and there he was again - rushing past me. At this point, I started wondering if he was some kind of dream, considering he only seemed to show up when I woke up (okay, twice). To prove he was real, I said, “That’s him!” LN, totally lost, just said, “Him, who?” clearly not keeping track of all the guys I’ve stalked. I told her he was my future husband, and she agreed he had a rugged, manly look. 

Last week, I caught the train from a different station, and there he was yet again. I noticed he was talking to someone I vaguely knew from years ago. So, naturally, I decided it was time to reconnect and went over to say hello. The guy I approached must have wondered why I was suddenly being so friendly, but unfortunately, he didn’t introduce me to RD. The train arrived soon after, and I ended up sitting just behind them (pure coincidence). I could overhear RD talking about software, programming, and other tech stuff (I have a soft spot for IT nerds). That was the 8:07 am train. I took that train again today, but he wasn’t there. I almost missed it because it took me an hour to get ready (yes, it takes that long to look presentable). I considered waiting for the later train, just in case, but figured no guy is worth being late for work. I ended up being ten minutes late anyway because I stopped to grab a big breakfast from a takeaway shop. I’ve got my priorities straight.