Sometimes I'm afraid of the kind of person I'm becoming...
This strength, this stoic contentment, this feverish compulsiveness to knead every aspects of my life into perfection - they somehow feels abnormal.
I am supposed to weep, I am supposed to double over with despair, I am supposed to scream my lung out and never wake up.
But I didn't, and it scares me.
Sometimes I would go on about my life. Smiling and laughing and cheering happiness, and then I would stop short and freeze myself - paralysed with fear.
Is it today? I will ask myself.
Is it today? That I will realise that this bright crimson sunshine, clear blue sky and endless green plains are actually a dream and I will be sucked back into the vortex of my own valley of darkness? Is it today? That I will finally see the bleeding, shriveling heart of mine, and scream myself into oblivion? Is it today? That I will see myself holding crutches and find myself unable to walk?
I told someone I loved him, he smiled, and he married someone else. I moved on, we became friends and we live happily ever after.
And yet, and yet - all I want to do is scream.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
#4 - 18 November 2012
Today I'm leaving this place.
This formidable mountains and its limestone cave, this generous river that never stopped running as I walk, sleep, laugh and wonder in the past few days.
Having been on one's own with no one to talk to but trees, rivers and the stars, one can't help but wonder about one's life.
For me, one of the very reasons why I signed up for the trip is the inevitable purging of memories -
memories that are past, broken and need to be forgotten.
Sometimes I question myself, did I do enough? Have I taken all of my chances? Have I been brave and courageous, or was I too guarded? Have I conquered life or have I let myself be trampled by it?
I will never know the answers to these questions, probably.
"Perhaps you don't give yourself enough credit", a friend once told me.
Taking actions, and choosing paths based on what you feel, what you believe is right - takes insurmountable amount of faith, too.
This formidable mountains and its limestone cave, this generous river that never stopped running as I walk, sleep, laugh and wonder in the past few days.
Having been on one's own with no one to talk to but trees, rivers and the stars, one can't help but wonder about one's life.
For me, one of the very reasons why I signed up for the trip is the inevitable purging of memories -
memories that are past, broken and need to be forgotten.
Sometimes I question myself, did I do enough? Have I taken all of my chances? Have I been brave and courageous, or was I too guarded? Have I conquered life or have I let myself be trampled by it?
I will never know the answers to these questions, probably.
"Perhaps you don't give yourself enough credit", a friend once told me.
Taking actions, and choosing paths based on what you feel, what you believe is right - takes insurmountable amount of faith, too.
Friday, November 16, 2012
#2 - 16 November 2012
There are still development here; tar, concrete, buildings and all. The square road grid and Japanese cars, the men in suits on the billboard and bottles of Coca Cola and Sprite; somehow, these one-size-fits-all development template tend to make you feel like you have never left your city.
But they are not why I'm here. It's the lush and green spinal mountains, standing tall at the backdrop of the city and forming its backbone, that I'm after.
From inside the bus, as we inch nearer and the mountains rise above me - I couldn't contain my smile.
I'm answering the call of the mountains and its water. I'm coming home.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
#3 - 15 November 2012
We were stepping out of the mall when I first saw it.
The crowd were bursting with music, beer and sweat in the Oktoberfest-like atmosphere, and I was getting dizzy from the craziness of it all.
I don't really like crowd. They make my heart race.
But then I saw it from afar, shrouded in golden light, and my heart quickens - this time for a different reason.
My stride turned into a quick run. I didn't bother explaining my euphoria to my colleagues. I only turned briefly towards them, while pointing in frantic to the other direction. "Find me over there," I mouthed, and then I was off.
Knowing I only had little time in the city and confined to certain kilometre radius around where I stay, I didn't make any specific plans to visit generous temple and wats in Bangkok. I was contented to just roam around its streets and find what little signs of devotion I could in its people.
I don't quite understand my obsession with all things religious. It's just ever since the moment when I found out I have lost my faith (in God), I am always in search of a way to fill this gaping hole inside me. And no matter what I do, I can't seem to fill it.
It makes you wonder if you have some incurable disease no one else can't know what it feels like. It makes you feel as if you are forever missing out on something.
"Having faith is a gift", I blurted out to my friend. We were standing on the sidewalk, watching the locals stop by and pay respect to the towering Lord Ganesha, the one I was so excited to spot not a moment ago.
To be honest, I envy all of them. For having such devotion, such belief. Some of them are on their way home from work, some of them are itinerant youth with their spiky hairs and low cut jeans, bottles of beer in hand - but they all stopped, knelt, and prayed.
I concentrated my stare on the golden statue - elephant heads, four arms and all - and waited to see if I feel something stir inside.
Nothing, yet again - and I feel like a failure.
"Having faith is a gift", I blurted out to my friend as he walks towards me. A cloud of understanding wash over his face, and he looks at me helplessly. How I wish he knows what I'm talking about.
The crowd were bursting with music, beer and sweat in the Oktoberfest-like atmosphere, and I was getting dizzy from the craziness of it all.
I don't really like crowd. They make my heart race.
But then I saw it from afar, shrouded in golden light, and my heart quickens - this time for a different reason.
My stride turned into a quick run. I didn't bother explaining my euphoria to my colleagues. I only turned briefly towards them, while pointing in frantic to the other direction. "Find me over there," I mouthed, and then I was off.
Knowing I only had little time in the city and confined to certain kilometre radius around where I stay, I didn't make any specific plans to visit generous temple and wats in Bangkok. I was contented to just roam around its streets and find what little signs of devotion I could in its people.
I don't quite understand my obsession with all things religious. It's just ever since the moment when I found out I have lost my faith (in God), I am always in search of a way to fill this gaping hole inside me. And no matter what I do, I can't seem to fill it.
It makes you wonder if you have some incurable disease no one else can't know what it feels like. It makes you feel as if you are forever missing out on something.
"Having faith is a gift", I blurted out to my friend. We were standing on the sidewalk, watching the locals stop by and pay respect to the towering Lord Ganesha, the one I was so excited to spot not a moment ago.
To be honest, I envy all of them. For having such devotion, such belief. Some of them are on their way home from work, some of them are itinerant youth with their spiky hairs and low cut jeans, bottles of beer in hand - but they all stopped, knelt, and prayed.
I concentrated my stare on the golden statue - elephant heads, four arms and all - and waited to see if I feel something stir inside.
Nothing, yet again - and I feel like a failure.
"Having faith is a gift", I blurted out to my friend as he walks towards me. A cloud of understanding wash over his face, and he looks at me helplessly. How I wish he knows what I'm talking about.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
#1 - 13 November 2012
It is Tuesday. This morning I went out running again. I am beginning to love this ability to move around people so seamlessly, so anonymously.
It's been more than ten years since I am back in Bangkok, and I'm not sure if this lack of fear of the city has a lot to do with my previous relationship to it years ago when I was small, or if it just means that I've grown up, that I've grown formidable and strong that nothing fazes me anymore.
I'd like to think it's the former that's true.
Roaming around the streets of Bangkok in the early morning is beginning to bring home a lot of meaning I've been searching for every time I feel like I don't have enough answers for every questions I keep building up inside myself -
that I am fortunate, that I am insignificant, that I am big and small and I am capable of doing whatever I want to do and whatever it is I do, they actually don't really matter.
As I step out onto the street, everyone else is already ahead of me. The man who yesterday wore an orange t-shirt is pushing a cart filled with goods. He is probably heading towards the same spot in front of the tower where I saw him yesterday. I tried to outpace him (seeing as I don't have anything heavy to push), but he was faster.
Another man, older, one of his legs cut short by a stump. His skin dark, probably from days and hours under the sun, is washing himself with a small pail of water by his side. He is taking his time, slowly caressing dirt away from his body with a white cloth.
I wanted to look away, but I didn't. 'Feel this." I told myself. I'm not sure how long has he been on the street.
Moments like these are why I go out every day, pushing my body, my emotions and my mind to the limit. This is how I connect myself to the physical world, to the outer world, to make sure I am still somehow anchored, grounded to the roots of what is making my being possible.
Otherwise I will forever feel as if I am floating, drowning inside myself. As if I am not real, that I need to ascertain - I can feel something.
It's been more than ten years since I am back in Bangkok, and I'm not sure if this lack of fear of the city has a lot to do with my previous relationship to it years ago when I was small, or if it just means that I've grown up, that I've grown formidable and strong that nothing fazes me anymore.
I'd like to think it's the former that's true.
Roaming around the streets of Bangkok in the early morning is beginning to bring home a lot of meaning I've been searching for every time I feel like I don't have enough answers for every questions I keep building up inside myself -
that I am fortunate, that I am insignificant, that I am big and small and I am capable of doing whatever I want to do and whatever it is I do, they actually don't really matter.
As I step out onto the street, everyone else is already ahead of me. The man who yesterday wore an orange t-shirt is pushing a cart filled with goods. He is probably heading towards the same spot in front of the tower where I saw him yesterday. I tried to outpace him (seeing as I don't have anything heavy to push), but he was faster.
Another man, older, one of his legs cut short by a stump. His skin dark, probably from days and hours under the sun, is washing himself with a small pail of water by his side. He is taking his time, slowly caressing dirt away from his body with a white cloth.
I wanted to look away, but I didn't. 'Feel this." I told myself. I'm not sure how long has he been on the street.
Moments like these are why I go out every day, pushing my body, my emotions and my mind to the limit. This is how I connect myself to the physical world, to the outer world, to make sure I am still somehow anchored, grounded to the roots of what is making my being possible.
Otherwise I will forever feel as if I am floating, drowning inside myself. As if I am not real, that I need to ascertain - I can feel something.
Monday, November 5, 2012
You are part of a beautiful story
As you fall, remember that you are part of a beautiful story that did not start when you were born.It's November and rain is pounding on our soil like a long-lost lover. One evening I was out running when suddenly the wind shifted and torrential rain mercilessly poured down on me like missiles.
- I Wrote This For You
There were thunders and lightning too, and I was forced to take shelter under the small booth by the bridge, laughing and praying to God to keep me safe.
It's been a long time since I felt so alive, vulnerable, strong, thrilled and at peace all at the same time.
I don't know if I qualify to be defined as a believer. But I'm beginning to think whatever happened to me in the past years, they cannot simply be random, disconnected series of events bouncing off each other like gaseous molecules in a closed jar.
One thing is always a cause to another, and had I not the littlest faith to take so many unknown paths - I don't think I would have made it so far.
Which is why, as I stood there in the rain - feeling afraid and exhilarated at my own helplessness and the possibilities of surviving and life and living, I look up at the sky and found myself saying, I'm all yours, God, do with me what you will.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Like acid spilling out of a bottle
"...Emotional hurt is the price a person has to pay in order to be independent.
That's what I basically believe, and I've lived my life accordingly. In certain areas of my life, I actively seek out solitude. Especially for someone in my line of work, solitude is, more or less, an inevitable circumstance. Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle, can unconsciously eat away at a person's heart and dissolve it. You could see it, too, as a kind of double-edged sword. It protects me, but at the same time steadily cuts away at me from the inside. I think in my own way I'm aware of this danger - probably through experience - and that's why I've had to constantly keep my body in motion, in some cases pushing myself to the limit, in order to heal the loneliness I feel inside and to put it in perspective. Not so much as an intentional act, but as an instinctive reaction.
Let me be more specific.
When I'm criticised unjustly (from my viewpoint, at least), or when someone I'm sure will understand me doesn't, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it's like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realise again how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points. And one of the results of running a little farther than usual is that I become that much stronger. If I'm angry, I direct that anger toward myself. If I have s frustrating experience, I use that to improve myself. That's the way I've always lived. I quietly absorb the things I'm able to, releasing them later, and in as changed a form as possible, as part of the story in a novel."
That's what I basically believe, and I've lived my life accordingly. In certain areas of my life, I actively seek out solitude. Especially for someone in my line of work, solitude is, more or less, an inevitable circumstance. Sometimes, however, this sense of isolation, like acid spilling out of a bottle, can unconsciously eat away at a person's heart and dissolve it. You could see it, too, as a kind of double-edged sword. It protects me, but at the same time steadily cuts away at me from the inside. I think in my own way I'm aware of this danger - probably through experience - and that's why I've had to constantly keep my body in motion, in some cases pushing myself to the limit, in order to heal the loneliness I feel inside and to put it in perspective. Not so much as an intentional act, but as an instinctive reaction.
Let me be more specific.
When I'm criticised unjustly (from my viewpoint, at least), or when someone I'm sure will understand me doesn't, I go running for a little longer than usual. By running longer it's like I can physically exhaust that portion of my discontent. It also makes me realise again how weak I am, how limited my abilities are. I become aware, physically, of these low points. And one of the results of running a little farther than usual is that I become that much stronger. If I'm angry, I direct that anger toward myself. If I have s frustrating experience, I use that to improve myself. That's the way I've always lived. I quietly absorb the things I'm able to, releasing them later, and in as changed a form as possible, as part of the story in a novel."
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami
Monday, October 15, 2012
It feels like death
No one ever tells you it feels like death.
The tight constriction on the left side of your chest, like your lung getting smaller and smaller. The bitter saltiness in your tongue, when you are chewing your food it takes forever going down.
The panic rush in your head when you close your eyes, because you know in darkness and in sleep is when you lose control over your mind, when your heart starts to manifest itself.
You feel like you want to put something in your mouth. A cloth, your palm, a block of wood - because you're afraid a scream, a wail might escape from it, betraying your shame, your fear and your anger to the world.
You want everyone to see you as being strong, because if they know you are heartbroken - the world will win, and you will lose.
Monday, October 8, 2012
How to deal with losing
Life happens.
For every possession there is loss. For every meeting will end in separation. For every new thing flowering to life, an old thing passed on.
We all know it. Such turn of events happen to us every second of every day and we plug along. Like they are tiny little insignificant things.
Life happens, and death happens too.
How do you deal with loss?
Do you smile at it like a generous tipper? Do you snap its head off like a strong and indifferent warrior?
You opened yourself, you expanded yourself to fill with love - when love deserts you, how do you unfill yourself?
Does love turns into hatred? Does love turn into forgiveness? Strength? Weakness? Insecurities? Freedom?
What? What? What are you supposed to do with love bent and broken?
You walk on. That's what you do.
For every possession there is loss. For every meeting will end in separation. For every new thing flowering to life, an old thing passed on.
We all know it. Such turn of events happen to us every second of every day and we plug along. Like they are tiny little insignificant things.
Life happens, and death happens too.
How do you deal with loss?
Do you smile at it like a generous tipper? Do you snap its head off like a strong and indifferent warrior?
You opened yourself, you expanded yourself to fill with love - when love deserts you, how do you unfill yourself?
Does love turns into hatred? Does love turn into forgiveness? Strength? Weakness? Insecurities? Freedom?
What? What? What are you supposed to do with love bent and broken?
You walk on. That's what you do.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Who is your personal god?
I believe we all have a personal god we subscribe to and act for.
Many of us co-religionists will quickly say what are you talking about? My god is so and so!
Collective god, is what most people would be referring to, the god everyone claim they believe in, the god everyone is comfortable in believing exists (without having to go through the hassle of proving whether it does exist or not).
What I am referring to is a more personal god. The underlying forces which drives each and every one of our actions. The reason for our beings and the cause of our survival.
Perhaps, a better question I should ask is: What do you live for? What wakes you up every morning? What makes you take that step forward instead of cowering in fear in your little corner? What dries your tears and props up your feet to keep you walking when you fall?
What makes you take that leap of faith?
Many of us co-religionists will quickly say what are you talking about? My god is so and so!
Collective god, is what most people would be referring to, the god everyone claim they believe in, the god everyone is comfortable in believing exists (without having to go through the hassle of proving whether it does exist or not).
What I am referring to is a more personal god. The underlying forces which drives each and every one of our actions. The reason for our beings and the cause of our survival.
Perhaps, a better question I should ask is: What do you live for? What wakes you up every morning? What makes you take that step forward instead of cowering in fear in your little corner? What dries your tears and props up your feet to keep you walking when you fall?
What makes you take that leap of faith?
Friday, July 20, 2012
Why I run
"For me, running is both exercise and a metaphor. Running day after day, piling up the races, bit by bit I raise the bar, and by clearing each level I elevate myself. At least that's why I've put in the effort day after day: to raise my own level. I'm no great runner, by any means. I'm at an ordinary-or perhaps more like mediocre-level. But that's not the point. The point is whether or not I improved over yesterday. In long-distance running the only opponent you have to beat is yourself, the way you used to be." - Haruki Murakami
For the grit, the pain, the need to keep going.
There are days when I feel like I am lugging brick and stones in my leg. There are days when I don't feel like running. There are days when I feel like I would rather sit at home reading a good book with a cup of tea.
Most days I run because I need to.
For the grit, the pain, the need to keep going.
There are days when I feel like I am lugging brick and stones in my leg. There are days when I don't feel like running. There are days when I feel like I would rather sit at home reading a good book with a cup of tea.
Most days I run because I need to.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Where the one ends, where the other begins?
“Everyone and everything is interconnected in this universe.” - Jeff
We were on our way back to the city. They were belting out to songs coming from my friend's MP3 player, a biographical collection of her life. There were songs I remember fondly, from our times together in school and the forest.
They made me think of the weekend. They made me think of the surreal, but memorable trip I had up north.
My friend's mom has cancer, and I wish I could give the world for her.
There were fragments of memories of her in my life for as long as I had known my friend; him talking on the phone to her as her endearing abang chik, him berating us over the way we cook because they are never like his mom's, him telling us early in our friendship how he showed her a photo of us.
For us, the trip was for her. For my friend, the trip was an attempt of fitting us in his shoes.
From showing us his playground, to his normal weekend jaunt at the harbour haggling for fish, to him sitting down beside his mom, comforting her in the dead of night, to her strong voice waking her grandchildren up early in the morning for school.
We have been made privy to her life, and as I sit in the back of the car I was shaken by the revelation how the mere fact of her existence is the greatest gift I've been bestowed and one I will not be able to return.
Sometimes we forget we have a past. Sometimes we forget our lives are much more intertwined and complex than we think. Sometimes we overlook how a person we think so insignificant could have so much effects on our lives and people around us.
"The first is the recognition that the great mystery is not death but birth. The great gift is life and loving and being loved in return." - Arthur Dobrin
We were on our way back to the city. They were belting out to songs coming from my friend's MP3 player, a biographical collection of her life. There were songs I remember fondly, from our times together in school and the forest.
They made me think of the weekend. They made me think of the surreal, but memorable trip I had up north.
My friend's mom has cancer, and I wish I could give the world for her.
There were fragments of memories of her in my life for as long as I had known my friend; him talking on the phone to her as her endearing abang chik, him berating us over the way we cook because they are never like his mom's, him telling us early in our friendship how he showed her a photo of us.
For us, the trip was for her. For my friend, the trip was an attempt of fitting us in his shoes.
From showing us his playground, to his normal weekend jaunt at the harbour haggling for fish, to him sitting down beside his mom, comforting her in the dead of night, to her strong voice waking her grandchildren up early in the morning for school.
We have been made privy to her life, and as I sit in the back of the car I was shaken by the revelation how the mere fact of her existence is the greatest gift I've been bestowed and one I will not be able to return.
Sometimes we forget we have a past. Sometimes we forget our lives are much more intertwined and complex than we think. Sometimes we overlook how a person we think so insignificant could have so much effects on our lives and people around us.
"The first is the recognition that the great mystery is not death but birth. The great gift is life and loving and being loved in return." - Arthur Dobrin
Monday, June 25, 2012
Little daily miracles
"What is the meaning of life? That was all - a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark".
- Virgina Woolf and the Languages of Patriarchy
We were standing by the railing, looking out to the man-made water body in front of us. It's early evening and already dark, and I was remembering stories about how fish the size of a child can be found in the lake.
There was a group of tourists taking pictures. Besides them, we were on our own.
"A lot of people say it's boring," I was telling him about how the place is growing on me, "but I love it here. It's like..."
"...you own the place." He finished my sentence. I looked sideways at him, and he smiled.
I returned my gaze to the dark and unassuming sight in front of me.
- Virgina Woolf and the Languages of Patriarchy
We were standing by the railing, looking out to the man-made water body in front of us. It's early evening and already dark, and I was remembering stories about how fish the size of a child can be found in the lake.
There was a group of tourists taking pictures. Besides them, we were on our own.
"A lot of people say it's boring," I was telling him about how the place is growing on me, "but I love it here. It's like..."
"...you own the place." He finished my sentence. I looked sideways at him, and he smiled.
I returned my gaze to the dark and unassuming sight in front of me.
Friday, March 9, 2012
A letter to my 16-year old self: Money advice in your 20s
Dear 16-year old self,
You're about to embark on an utterly life-changing journey. You just graduated from high school a year earlier than your peers. You were raring to go and do medicine. You want to start the next step of your life as soon as possible. You want to grow up.
So I'm writing to you today to share with you three things about what I've learned about money and life in general. I hope in times when you feel pain, you will think of these words and know you are not alone.
1. Your parents have spent the best effort and money on your education.
The coming months will be important, you will decide on which university to go. You are going to be disappointed with a few rejections and missed opportunities. You will discover how options are limitless, and unfortunately, you will also learn for the first time how there are limits to the things your parents can pay for.
There will be times when you feel like your parents are not doing good enough, or like they are indifferent to your frustrations. But let me tell you;
dear darling, you're emphasising small faults over big wins.
Your parents have spent tens of thousands of dollars for your education when they decided to send you to the private school. They even sent you on a gap year stint in Jordan when you were 10. No small feat for a kid to go halfway through the globe to learn live and fend for herself with strangers, but even bigger feat for parents to sacrifice as much.
Now is the time for you to charge on your own. Believe me, the stars will always be on your side. You will not get the coveted scholarship to study overseas, nor will you get the full loan from the national education fund. Nevertheless, you will work hard like you always do, and after a couple of belt-tightening semesters, you will get the scholarship from a local university.
One day, your father will tell you, "It's true, we were never rich, but we are always comfortable", and you will realise how important such worldview is growing to become your own. Money is only important as far as it meets your needs.
2. Spend, but only on things that matter.
Getting the scholarship in your sophomore year will be grand, and I want to give you the permission to spend it. I tell you so because I know how you tend to get on board the guilt train, and feel like you don't deserve it.
Sweetie, the money is given to you because you prove how hard working you are. The money is given to you for your education. To learn, to explore, to discover, to do everything and to meet everyone new. So spend it, as much as you want.
Let me also tell you, handbags, shoes, or fanciful dress and tudungs, they will change with seasons. So too little trinkets of cute things or latest gadget. But you know what? It turns out I didn't need to tell because you already knew. How proud I am of you!
I still remember when you spent that first RM500 on books; your first Alexander McCall Smith and Eoin Colfer and Tony Parsons. How giddy you felt, how liberating. Like you were doing something naughty. When you blew hundreds when you drove over to Kuala Gula to volunteer during the International Wetlands Days, or when you maneuvered the houseboat on the Hawkesbury River. You felt guilty, but the experience was worth every penny, isn't it?
That's my dear, how good life should taste, and I want you to remember every time you spend your money. Money cannot buy you happiness, but it can help you get there, use it (correctly).
Do I think you should have saved the money so I can use later? No, I don't. I'll be alright. Like I said earlier, the stars will always be on our side.
3. Know what you're worth.
As you venture out into the big, wild, world, you will start to recognise how your family is as ordinary and middle-class as anybody else. I'm not saying it because it's a bad thing, but because I would like to let you know how grateful I am for your ordinariness.
Knowing there are times when we can treat ourselves, like getting a visit to the bookstore, with a ration of 2-3 books each, and knowing there are times when things are difficult, like the time when we had to move and live in dad's office to reduce the family's spending - made you think about life, and made you think what life is really worth.
No stuffs, no things, and certainly no branded items can determine how worthy you really are - only what you have inside; your determination, your courage, your curiousity, and what you have in each other.
I cannot make you see it now, because you will have to go through some painful process to finally see it. But to help you go through it all, I can tell you, even though painful, they will always be beautiful.
One last thing, honey. You didn't become a doctor. It turns out it wasn't right for you.
I love you.
From yourself, 10 years later.
This post is part of Women's Money Week 2012. For more posts about Money in Your 20's see Money in Your 20's/30's/40's/50's/Retirement Roundup
You're about to embark on an utterly life-changing journey. You just graduated from high school a year earlier than your peers. You were raring to go and do medicine. You want to start the next step of your life as soon as possible. You want to grow up.
So I'm writing to you today to share with you three things about what I've learned about money and life in general. I hope in times when you feel pain, you will think of these words and know you are not alone.
1. Your parents have spent the best effort and money on your education.
The coming months will be important, you will decide on which university to go. You are going to be disappointed with a few rejections and missed opportunities. You will discover how options are limitless, and unfortunately, you will also learn for the first time how there are limits to the things your parents can pay for.
There will be times when you feel like your parents are not doing good enough, or like they are indifferent to your frustrations. But let me tell you;
dear darling, you're emphasising small faults over big wins.
Your parents have spent tens of thousands of dollars for your education when they decided to send you to the private school. They even sent you on a gap year stint in Jordan when you were 10. No small feat for a kid to go halfway through the globe to learn live and fend for herself with strangers, but even bigger feat for parents to sacrifice as much.
Now is the time for you to charge on your own. Believe me, the stars will always be on your side. You will not get the coveted scholarship to study overseas, nor will you get the full loan from the national education fund. Nevertheless, you will work hard like you always do, and after a couple of belt-tightening semesters, you will get the scholarship from a local university.
One day, your father will tell you, "It's true, we were never rich, but we are always comfortable", and you will realise how important such worldview is growing to become your own. Money is only important as far as it meets your needs.
2. Spend, but only on things that matter.
Getting the scholarship in your sophomore year will be grand, and I want to give you the permission to spend it. I tell you so because I know how you tend to get on board the guilt train, and feel like you don't deserve it.
Sweetie, the money is given to you because you prove how hard working you are. The money is given to you for your education. To learn, to explore, to discover, to do everything and to meet everyone new. So spend it, as much as you want.
Let me also tell you, handbags, shoes, or fanciful dress and tudungs, they will change with seasons. So too little trinkets of cute things or latest gadget. But you know what? It turns out I didn't need to tell because you already knew. How proud I am of you!
I still remember when you spent that first RM500 on books; your first Alexander McCall Smith and Eoin Colfer and Tony Parsons. How giddy you felt, how liberating. Like you were doing something naughty. When you blew hundreds when you drove over to Kuala Gula to volunteer during the International Wetlands Days, or when you maneuvered the houseboat on the Hawkesbury River. You felt guilty, but the experience was worth every penny, isn't it?
That's my dear, how good life should taste, and I want you to remember every time you spend your money. Money cannot buy you happiness, but it can help you get there, use it (correctly).
Do I think you should have saved the money so I can use later? No, I don't. I'll be alright. Like I said earlier, the stars will always be on our side.
3. Know what you're worth.
As you venture out into the big, wild, world, you will start to recognise how your family is as ordinary and middle-class as anybody else. I'm not saying it because it's a bad thing, but because I would like to let you know how grateful I am for your ordinariness.
Knowing there are times when we can treat ourselves, like getting a visit to the bookstore, with a ration of 2-3 books each, and knowing there are times when things are difficult, like the time when we had to move and live in dad's office to reduce the family's spending - made you think about life, and made you think what life is really worth.
No stuffs, no things, and certainly no branded items can determine how worthy you really are - only what you have inside; your determination, your courage, your curiousity, and what you have in each other.
I cannot make you see it now, because you will have to go through some painful process to finally see it. But to help you go through it all, I can tell you, even though painful, they will always be beautiful.
One last thing, honey. You didn't become a doctor. It turns out it wasn't right for you.
I love you.
From yourself, 10 years later.
This post is part of Women's Money Week 2012. For more posts about Money in Your 20's see Money in Your 20's/30's/40's/50's/Retirement Roundup
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Buy (and do) things which make you (truly) happy
I discovered Gretchen Rubin’s post where she writes about how “what you do every day matters more than what you do once in a while” when I was browsing through Psychology Today (which I read for fun). I was struck by how clearly the article spoke to me, and how simple and obvious things are usually the most profound.
Later, Get Rich Slowly featured an article which describes how people tend to spend on something they do rarely, instead of what they do everyday. We usually spend for our “pretend life“, a life we wish we could have (parading around with a Prada, or driving a car you couldn’t afford, for example?), instead of investing in real life.
What have the articles got to do anything? Everything, our happiness, and (of course), our finance. I believe they demonstrate the fundamental of financial wisdom, spend on things you do every day.
As we know it, personal values, emotions, and environment underlie our spending pattern, and although it sounds simple, the great introspection required to understand them maybe not so.
Later, Get Rich Slowly featured an article which describes how people tend to spend on something they do rarely, instead of what they do everyday. We usually spend for our “pretend life“, a life we wish we could have (parading around with a Prada, or driving a car you couldn’t afford, for example?), instead of investing in real life.
What have the articles got to do anything? Everything, our happiness, and (of course), our finance. I believe they demonstrate the fundamental of financial wisdom, spend on things you do every day.
As we know it, personal values, emotions, and environment underlie our spending pattern, and although it sounds simple, the great introspection required to understand them maybe not so.
Friday, February 24, 2012
What's your trade-offs?
Q: “What thing about humanity surprises you the most?” A: Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices his money to recuperate his health.Then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present, and as a result he does not live in the present or the future. He lives as if he’s never going to die, and then he dies having never really lived.” - Dalai Lama
I first learned about opportunity cost a couple of years ago, in my Economics class, discussing about sustainable resource management, and putting a value to conservation efforts as opposed to development plans.
In making a choice, we are foregoing or sacrificing the cost (or value) of the second best alternative. The cost can be monetary, or non-monetary, like time, pleasure or other benefits which contributes to the overall utility (or happiness) of the foregone choice. In other words, trade-offs.
When I look at how much I’ve spent in 2011 for books, I realised I could have saved the money, and fund my first smartphone (a purchase I’ve deferred to more than a year already) with it. But when I dig deeper, books matter to me in more ways than a smartphone could, books gave me more happiness (or utility) way beyond what I can imagine a smartphone could provide me.
(On a side note, I still have a lustful desire for a smartphone. Happiness, desire, needs stand at a different angular facets of our life, I am beginning to learn).
I felt like a lightning struck inside my head, a moment of clarity I rarely encounter; I have made a trade-off.
The experience kick-started a series of reflection over the week, as I go through my day at home and at work. I am noticing trade-offs, big or small, in my life.
Running, so I can sleep better. Working late, at the expense of my own self development/social life. Eating out, so I get my share of vegetables (I only eat bread, egg, instant noodle, or canned soup at home). Paying more for rent, because I like my privacy.
Some trade-offs are bigger, more complex and intertwined. Like choosing to work at my current workplace, because they give deserving pay (I am able to spend willingly on myself, and on others, and I am able to plan for the future), because I enjoy the dynamic, the pressure, and the challenges it demands of myself (I am experiencing steep learning curve everyday, dealing with C-level executives and executing my tasks with confidence), and because it has an expiry date (the project I’m working on ends in 2013 – it gives me the leeway to plan for other things, in the future - gallivanting in Europe for example).
I am doing so at the expense of something else, of course, a long term secured job, saving for bigger things like a new car or a house (or even the chance to settle down and start a family). Are they the cost I’m willing to pay at the expense of my own independence, flexibility, and freedom? I would have liked to answer yes, but honestly, I don’t know.
How do you know if you are trading off the wrong things?
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Sense of right and wrong
When did it all began? I remember seeking to start a conversation with a virtual friend during my freshman years. She had just found her salvation through a close-knitted religious group abroad after a difficult break-up of her engagement, while I was fresh out of my high school experience – learning to swim in the confusion tides of different thoughts, cultures, and beliefs.
I was beginning to realise probably everything I was taught to believe in is inaccurate1, or off-the-mark (I’m avoiding the word “wrong”, for its definitive nature), so I told her, “I want to start all over again. From zero. I want to look at the world from a plain view of flat nothingness. Not guided or influenced by pre-conception of things I’ve been taught before.“
She was quiet, a silence I gather a result of being stunned. I have said something out of norm, I have stepped into a dangerous territory.
“What do you mean by starting from zero?” She asked. I was going to say, from belief to non-belief, and probably to belief again. Just like experiment, when you want to find out the effect of something new, you have to remove all variables and start all over again, right? But I refrained myself.
We didn’t continue our conversation. The friendship tapered off as the years gone by. She married a man she knew in the community she was involved in and had a daughter I’ve never met, while I continue to swim in my ocean of great confusion.
Today, I realised, it all started like a great snowball of chain reactions. I had in me planted a seed of doubt, and it has grown malignantly inside my head like a tumour. Infecting my earlier beliefs, thoughts and convictions. Manifesting abnormal symptoms and alienating behaviours. I am infected and there is no turning back.
I was beginning to realise probably everything I was taught to believe in is inaccurate1, or off-the-mark (I’m avoiding the word “wrong”, for its definitive nature), so I told her, “I want to start all over again. From zero. I want to look at the world from a plain view of flat nothingness. Not guided or influenced by pre-conception of things I’ve been taught before.“
She was quiet, a silence I gather a result of being stunned. I have said something out of norm, I have stepped into a dangerous territory.
“What do you mean by starting from zero?” She asked. I was going to say, from belief to non-belief, and probably to belief again. Just like experiment, when you want to find out the effect of something new, you have to remove all variables and start all over again, right? But I refrained myself.
We didn’t continue our conversation. The friendship tapered off as the years gone by. She married a man she knew in the community she was involved in and had a daughter I’ve never met, while I continue to swim in my ocean of great confusion.
Today, I realised, it all started like a great snowball of chain reactions. I had in me planted a seed of doubt, and it has grown malignantly inside my head like a tumour. Infecting my earlier beliefs, thoughts and convictions. Manifesting abnormal symptoms and alienating behaviours. I am infected and there is no turning back.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
How do you achieve balance?
Taking a deep breath, and looking deep within myself to find out (again, and again) what’s truly important.
Going for a 3km run between intervals of my hectic life. It’s short enough to fit in my erratic schedule, it’s intensive enough to give me the good, satisfying sweat.
Talking to my mother about our daily happenings; my nieces’ antics, my cat and her kittens well-being, the upcoming wedding and what we want to do about it.
Eating wholesome meal, with a lot of veggies on the side.
Crossing my to-do lists one by one.
Listening to peaceful songs of Kings of Convenience, Feist, or (if my mood permits) Pink Floyd.
Finally, curling up in my bed with the book I’ve read so often there are countless cracks on its spine. It’s so comfortable to hold it feels like sitting down with your best friend.
What do you do to achieve balance in your life?
Going for a 3km run between intervals of my hectic life. It’s short enough to fit in my erratic schedule, it’s intensive enough to give me the good, satisfying sweat.
Talking to my mother about our daily happenings; my nieces’ antics, my cat and her kittens well-being, the upcoming wedding and what we want to do about it.
Eating wholesome meal, with a lot of veggies on the side.
Crossing my to-do lists one by one.
Listening to peaceful songs of Kings of Convenience, Feist, or (if my mood permits) Pink Floyd.
Finally, curling up in my bed with the book I’ve read so often there are countless cracks on its spine. It’s so comfortable to hold it feels like sitting down with your best friend.
What do you do to achieve balance in your life?
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Seeking inconstant
The plane was descending through the clear clouds. It was early morning, and as the countries beneath her begin to take shape, she was gripped with an ironic sense of longing and nostalgia.
She has done it a thousand times, since she was ten or earlier, she couldn't really remember. Taking off and touching down, packing and unpacking, sitting in the unmoving transit of arrivals and departures.
Her life is discontinuous tales of hellos and goodbyes, and she knows no other way of living. She never stays, she seeks inconstant.
She has done it a thousand times, since she was ten or earlier, she couldn't really remember. Taking off and touching down, packing and unpacking, sitting in the unmoving transit of arrivals and departures.
Her life is discontinuous tales of hellos and goodbyes, and she knows no other way of living. She never stays, she seeks inconstant.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Break your heart open so new light can get in
“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone
wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you
everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your
own attention so you can change your life.
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.
A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
Monday, January 9, 2012
Do what brings you joy
"Do what brings you joy”, was the holiday message of Money Rabbit, and I concur.
The foreboding sense of a new year falling upon us, and the 2011 which came to an end in a split second has left me wondering about my life – and put me in contemplative mode of what-have-I-achieved-so-far and have-I-done-enough-for-my life.
2010, when I first started work – feels like a long time ago. 2009, when I left Australia almost seems like never happened.
Life has slowed down a great deal in 2011. As a compulsive achiever who is always greedy to get to the next point in her life, it means a lot to me.
However, to say my life has come to a standstill is probably inaccurate. It was not going forward outwardly (in the sense of adding new stuffs to my life portfolio – new degrees, new house, new friends, new jobs, etc.), but I ended up creating and expanding a lot of space inside me.
Looking back now, I am beginning to see 2011 is my year of great de-cluttering.
I learned to make peace with moving through life at a slower pace, I learned to appreciate how being here and now is enough.
I recognised and accepted the realities of my relationships with everyone around me, why some is working while others not. I learned a lesson on ownership and entitlement; I do not own people, and I'm not entitled to own people.
The result was a liberating experience. I feel light. Accepting I alone am responsible for the direction of my life, while at the same time recognising there are always larger things at play in influencing the course of my life - allows me the simplicity of taking one step at a time.
Every day, every decision I make; I choose joy, I choose empathy, I choose love.
It's not easy, sometimes I carelessly chose anger and vengeance, but I am learning.
The foreboding sense of a new year falling upon us, and the 2011 which came to an end in a split second has left me wondering about my life – and put me in contemplative mode of what-have-I-achieved-so-far and have-I-done-enough-for-my life.
2010, when I first started work – feels like a long time ago. 2009, when I left Australia almost seems like never happened.
Life has slowed down a great deal in 2011. As a compulsive achiever who is always greedy to get to the next point in her life, it means a lot to me.
However, to say my life has come to a standstill is probably inaccurate. It was not going forward outwardly (in the sense of adding new stuffs to my life portfolio – new degrees, new house, new friends, new jobs, etc.), but I ended up creating and expanding a lot of space inside me.
Looking back now, I am beginning to see 2011 is my year of great de-cluttering.
I learned to make peace with moving through life at a slower pace, I learned to appreciate how being here and now is enough.
I recognised and accepted the realities of my relationships with everyone around me, why some is working while others not. I learned a lesson on ownership and entitlement; I do not own people, and I'm not entitled to own people.
The result was a liberating experience. I feel light. Accepting I alone am responsible for the direction of my life, while at the same time recognising there are always larger things at play in influencing the course of my life - allows me the simplicity of taking one step at a time.
Every day, every decision I make; I choose joy, I choose empathy, I choose love.
It's not easy, sometimes I carelessly chose anger and vengeance, but I am learning.
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