Episode 98: Just Over 24 Hours...

Till I'm back on an aeroplane to the UK. I'm going to say something that will make me sound like a totally horrible person, but I don't care and I'm going to put it down here anyway: I'm actually very glad to be going back. Whining about packing aside, I do miss the quietness of my Westwood room, where I can hide from the whole world if I feel like it, with just me and the latest episode of Fringe, Gossip Girl, House or Privileged for company. Even eating rubbish most days of the week feels good in a way, and doesn't seem to have done much harm, since I didn't gain any weight over Autumn Term. I can't explain it properly, but I think it boils down to the whole hassle of having to pack, unpack, repack my life every time I move between Singapore and the UK. I've only done it twice so far, but I really, really hate having to do it. This is the part of me that enjoys the routine of waking up in the morning, already knowing exactly how the rest of the day is going to turn out, the part that needs to be in control and self-consciously map each moment out in advance, so that it happens exactly the way I want it to. I seldom get it perfectly right, but that doesn't keep me from trying. I suppose what I'm really trying to say, in my messy, disorganised way, is that being alone in the UK isn't difficult, not for me at least. Even leaving isn't difficult, that brief instant when you perhaps turn and wave to the people who've come to send you off. It's the period leading up to the goodbye that is trying. Not because it reminds you of what you're leaving behind, but because it reminds you of what you have to lose again and again, before you can finally regain it, and even then it won't be the same anymore because you won't be the same anymore. If you've read this far, I applaud you, I guess, for enduring my ramblings. I played mahjong today with Ben Woon, Ka Tsai and Ming Yong. For a brief couple of hours, it felt like contentment.