#2 Il est vraiment temps d'aller sans toi maintenant.

Hi Friend,

I'm a little sick with the deadly Singapore flu, but otherwise, the weather is light and cool at night and I really like it. My slavedriver mother is still trying to get me to work 24/7, but luckily, I have perfected my avoidance skills over the years and have managed to slip out of several responsibilities. Truthfully, the bug couldn't have came at a more perfect timing. I love you, flu.

The mosquitoes are still diligently doing their job at biting while I sit in the dark, in my balcony, typing away at 2:56am. No thanks to Insomnia, like a very good friend, luring me out of bed and onto my keyboard, I find comfort in the typing sounds- tip tap tip tap tip tap, forming some sort of queer, melodious rhythm. I will finally find my typewriter tomorrow. I will. Even if it means mobilizing the entire Bangladeshi crew. I've had enough of this limbo and procrastination. (Secretly, I cannot wait.)

I feel myself inching out of my shell each time I return to Singapore, like sprouts wriggling out of a green bean. How? I'm not exactly sure. Truth to be told, I hadn't a clue about what to do after graduation, which is in about 6 zooming months' time. There is and always will be something to do, but I'm not referring to that which fills time rather than passion. (Then again, what is Passion? Is it Love? Is it a fluttering fallacy that exists only as a vague word?) If I could, I would do something difficult, truthful, and kind. Something that doesn't necessarily prize money as the prime measure of success (which is sadly the opposite of sound Economic theory). It has to be difficult, because nothing easy is ever worth doing. Something, that puts me to bed at night knowing that I am being true to myself. Something that I will not regret having wasted my entire life over, on my death bed.

This is really tricky. And I think I need to be braver. I need to stretch my imagination across the discomforts of how to pay the rent, for my clothes and shoes, for my fancy dinners, for my overpriced coffee, and, for my lack of courage.

I once read this quote, "Never take life too seriously, nobody gets out alive anyway." And then Steven Wright just had to say, "A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good".

These two corny quotes were sufficient to convince me to you know what, just screw these pretentious social norms and go with my heart, and more importantly, my GUT. (Bet they don't teach you how to do that in school.) I think law school might be my answer. Then again, I may be wrong, but that's okay because I'd be a step closer to finding out what that something could be. It could simply just be anything that fits the aforementioned criteria. I may get out of this mid-life crisis alive, after all.

Step #1: Do not be afraid of anything.

Step #2: When facing a barrier, cry and swear at it, then take a ladder to climb over.

Thanks Insomnia, I wish I could stay longer, but the mosquitoes are eating me up alive now.

We'll talk again tomorrow.