A bloody joke

When you said, "let's stay friends", I thought you meant it. When you told me that "if you really want to stay friends, you'd put in the effort", I thought you meant it. When you gave me snarky, sarcastic replies to my every attempt to remain friendly with you, I shrugged it off.  When you tried to hurt me with words, I responded by gently telling you that that isn't what friends do, and that it wasn't nice. And when you sent me those hateful messages then subsequently proceeded to block me on every social media site we shared, I accepted it. I went home and cried because every attempt to remain friends with you failed. 

But that's alright. I tried my best. 

And always remember that maturity comes with age. 

So today, a friend of mine sent me a couple of pictures from New Zealand. Specifically, Coromandel. And even more specifically, Colville, in Coromandel. It brought back a heap of unexpected memories and surpringsly, a pain that I thought no longer existed. The pain hit me in the gut. Deep.

" I went to dock the lambs today."

Its an unexplainable pain. It's one that I still find is rearing its head at me even after 2 months of conscious burying. Burying it such that my mind finds it hard to recall what the place was like. Yet I remember New Zealand like it was yesterday. Sometimes I don't even know why its so hard to forget. Was it something about the people, or was it something about the nature that my heart had yearned for and for which I left behind when I came back to Singapore? I don't know. Nights like this, I still struggle to find out.

I know that I am sentimentally attached to places easily. Far too easily for my own good, sometimes. And I hate myself for it. I'd recall the days I was back in that place, remember how I felt- essentially, cling on so tightly to a memory that has been locked securely in place by Time. As each day passes, I struggle to keep a firm hold of what I remember of that place, desperate to talk to anyone from the place I miss, desperate to remember every tiny little detail about that area, as if I was still there. Like what I do now. Checking google maps, looking back at Bryant Hall, remembering how I'd walk to classes, the meals I had in the dining hall, the pool table in the commons, my room in Y Block, the people on my floor. The list could go on forever. I cling onto every tiny little detail that sometimes it scares me when I can't recall what it is anymore. That's the extent to which my heart holds on to a memory. A lingering memory, no doubt, but one that is still there, nonetheless. On particularly nostalgic nights, I flick through my facebook album, looking at the photos that tried to capture every moment of my life in Waikato. And as ironic as it may sound, it helps to ease the pain, even momentarily. But it is never enough, because as I glance at the photos, what I am looking at is not the photo itself, but the series of events that led up to, and after, the taking of the photograph itself. And that is something photographs can never capture. The emotions felt at that point in time. Photos are nothing but man's way of beating Time, an attempt to freeze, to materialise a fleeting moment in its place and immortalise it.

Some nights, it hurts so badly that I lay awake, just staring blankly at the ceiling. I close my eyes and I can feel the room dissolve, and I am right back at home, in my hall, on my bed. I could open my eyes and see the familiar dark green door, the lime green coloured table, the shelves with my dusty array of books. I can hear the laugher of my floor mates outside my room, and I can reach over to my phone and text, " Hey Will, going for dinner?" But I open my eyes and suddenly reality crashes forward like a bowling ball, I'm in Singapore, I am thousands of kilometers away, and my room is no longer mine.

I struggle to not to cry because the vivid memory still haunts me. It's a beautiful memory, but one that is tinged with pain, knowing that I will not be able to visit that place again so soon. I recall how, at the beginning of my exchange, I would hold back making friends, knowing that I have this tendency to immerse myself in life there so much so that I would struggle to adapt back to Singapore. I did it anyway. And its something that, while I enjoyed, is the root of my pain right now. Talking to anyone in New Zealand makes me immensely happy, but beyond that, I find moments, like now, where I'm breaking inside. Breaking from the weight of the memory. And while a part of me is burying the pain because the reality is Singapore, another part of me yearns to revisit the memories New Zealand provided me with.

And as I looked at the pictures my friend sent me, I stop still at the image of a flat field of grass that welded against the soft rolling hills in the distance.  I sit in my warm, humid room in Singapore and I imagine the cold wind biting at my earlobes, the wind battering my hair. I bite my lip, holding back tears. 

Nothing, no one, is ever absolutely right or wrong. They're all in various shades of grey. And it's up to the individual to decide exactly which end of the spectrum they prefer. 

I'm finally settling into school life. It's been a month since I last posted, and within that month, things seemed to have gotten better. Or at least, I hope it has. I've met quite a bunch of nice friends, and though they are few and far between, I'm happy with that. I don't expect to be great friends with everyone, because not everyone's going to be understanding. So yeah, I've accepted that.

On another note, school's not too bad though. I don't mix much with the people from my class, due to reasons stated above and (some) racism, but if anything, exchange's teaching me to understand why cultural differences exist. Different interests, different morals, yeah. It's a new experience, and the more I learn, the more I embrace their culture.

Sometimes I feel that it's because I'm an exchange student that's holding me from making friends. They say make the most of your exchange, but I'm so afraid of how I'd feel at the end of this exchange when I return home in July. I feel that the more friends I make, the more I'd have a problem letting them go when July comes, the worse I'll feel when I return to Singapore. Because I know that it will be a long, long time before I return to New Zealand again. 

Dear God,
Please give me the strength to face the day, to face the people whom I'm about to meet, and to remain a pillar of support to those around me. Let me not be discouraged by my friends when they don't respond, and help me to understand the meaning of independence. Help me to understand the culture, to understand their language and their interests, and to get along with them. Help me to be less critical, to be less of a social-recluse, give me the bravery to continue talking to them even if I feel out of place. On their part, let them not judge my unassuming ways, my ignorance of their culture and my need to clarify doubts. Help them to understand my fears, and to be kindly.

Amen. 

It's been a long time since I last blogged here and honestly, is anyone even reading this anymore? Oh well. Anyway, to cut to the chase- I'm finally in New Zealand and I'm finally starting to settle in. The accent, the people, the lifestyle. It took me a while and sometimes I feel that I'm still experiencing culture shock but then again, the shock is probably because one is subconsciously comparing the home culture with that of the new one. Forcing myself to step out of the comfort zone is something I don't feel comfortable with, but then again, who does right? I never actually expected to feel homesick either, but I did, initially, although now I have to say that I'm actually quite enjoying the change in environment. I've got Nic, my only Singaporean companion, and made a bunch of new friends that I honestly thank God for putting in my life. 

Speaking of friends, when I first arrived at the airport, I met this guy called Michael who had come back to NZ for a holiday while he worked in Papua New Guinea. That was probably my first taste of exactly how friendly the NZ people were and I wasn't proven wrong when I met my RAs who moved me into a hall room. I was like, one of the very first few to move in so within 2 days I was so utterly homesick. I didn't talk much to anyone, and although the RAs kept trying to get us to talk to them, I didn't, which I kind of regret. That was probably the best time to get to know them and I lost that opportunity because I was still wailing about how I wanted to go home, to Singapore. 

It was only when the rest moved in that I finally felt a little bit more at ease. Although I got to say, the moment everyone moved in, time passed really very quickly. It seemed like the bonding sessions were over too quickly, and now school is starting as well. It's almost sad if you think about it. I know its a feeling I'll get over soon but as of now I'm really feeling at my lowest. Oh well. I wonder if the RAs will give up on us since we've already been orientated into the hall. Perhaps, but I hope not. I really hope not. 

I'm going to end this post here. I need to finish up my laundry since it's been more than half an hour since I sent it into the washer. I wish I was more friendly. Or more sociable. Or maybe I had a constant someone in hall. I don't know. Lost? Maybe. 

Finals are finally over and I cannot believe it but I'm kinda longing to write papers again. HAHA. Says a lot about my life if I miss school, and that I'm feeling empty because I have now nothing to do.
That aside, Yiru sparked my interest with writing about the contemporary and modern situation- enough to want to make me watch a little more of Futurama, at least.
With that said, I'm hoping to be able to write a paper like "Futurama- Is Moral Consciousnesses a human concept?" Or " A Feminist rereading of Robin Thicke's Blurred lines" or something.

What's wrong with me. Eek.

On another note, going to New Zealand for exchange has suddenly become extremely concrete. Not that it wasn't before, mind you, but up till now I had been living behind the Let's-Finish-Exams-First barrier. Now that finals are over, I'm finding myself suddenly engulfed in having to deal with VISA applications, chest X-Rays (seriously), and the booking of the airplane ticket. It's overwhelming. I'm apprehensive. I'm not one who likes to venture out of my comfort zone, because I like the sensation of being cacooned by the familiar. I like the comfort (if you could even call it that) of NTU's familiar profs, the familiar friends and faces, but well, that's something that needs to be overcome. I need to learn how to break away from this shell, to enter into a unknown realm.

As one of my profs said this semester-" Realise your potential. Believe that you have the capabilites to go out there and do something good. I have faith in you, and you should have faith in yourself. Go out there, make friends, do something new, and above all, enjoy yourself. Welcome New Zealand with open arms. " (Lee, 2014)

New Zealand then, let's do this. University of Waikato, here I come.