I think it's strange to feel a certain age - how does one feel like, a number? It's like I feel old and young and ageless at the same time; old but unwise, young but cynical. Sometimes I look at adults and wonder, how did they get from where I am now, to where they are now. Taking life is a mountain we need to surmount, eighteen years has been one crazy long climb; ironically, the actual ascent has barely just begun. To grapple is tedious, but to stagnate is tragic.

As morbid as it sounds, I often dally with the thought of how long I'd live or when I'd die. If I had it my way, in all my youthful levity, I'd like to live up till the big 30. And that's enough. Live through the "roaring twenties" and simply leave the game altogether.

There's a certain daunting association of age to responsibilities, to commitment. And beyond this, it's the perpetual uncertainty that plagues us, making life so tough, so unpredictably challenging and so unprecedentedly scary.

But life is also unexpectedly beautiful. Unspeakably rich. Admittedly, life has been increasingly kind to me lately - I'm in a good place and at a good stage of my life. And more than anything, I've eventually learnt to live it up.

You want that opportunity? Apply, audition, try.
You want to ace that assignment? Invest, persevere, consult.
You want to meet that new person? Approach, initiate, acquaint.

It's liberating to be able to embrace such an attitude at this stage. When I turned fifteen, I was eager. Sixteen - hesitant. Seventeen - jaded. And Eighteen - simply surreal.

I feel twelve.

I woke up to this thought this morning:
If 7-year-old Me looked into the future and had a glimpse of my life right now - to immerse in the experiences I encounter, to peruse the work I produce, to meet the people I know - will 7-year-old Me look in awe and admiration and say, 'Yes, that's who I want to be when I grow up.'
Or. If 57-year-old Me looked into the past and had a glimpse of my life right now - to revel in the experiences I've encountered, to review the work I've produced, to reminisce time spent with the people I've known - will 57-year-old Me look in bliss and contentment and say, 'Yes, that's who I wanted to be.' And I was.

I am living, growing. And I am blessed.

---

It has been an amazing day – both today, and Friday. Extremely blessed to have such dear people in my life. Have to repeatedly remind myself to focus on these people who matter, who cherish my presence and the person that I am. I am truly so incredibly lucky to have such amazing people in my life. Cannot help but kick myself at times when I keep wishing for other things or other people’s company. Learning to treasure the moment and the right people are still skills that I’ve yet to master.

And on this day, I also give thanks to my parents who have invested so much in me and supported me so tirelessly through these eighteen years. Without them, there’d be no me.

So as we kiss goodbye to the days of the dancing queen (young and sweet, only seventeen~~), I welcome a new phase of my life. Hopefully filled with greater wisdom and maturity, and also a huge load of fun and excitement!

I am blessed. I am thankful.

"The denial of your own worth negates that of others in your life.
Start now. You are worthy. You are a fucking Unicorn.
See yourself... To see them."

This quote in the programme booklet of Oon Shu An's #UnicornMoment nicely sums up the hopeful concluding message of the play. Feeling moodily pensive, yet somewhat invigorated, after watching it. Really enjoyed how this highly introspective one-woman piece bravely tackled many elusive and complicated issues about life and growth and relationships, which we often conveniently sweep under the carpet or push to the back of our closets. Shu An's incredibly poignant reflection of her personal experiences through role-played skits and recounted anecdotes both tugged at heart strings and elicited hearty laughs. Beyond the fourth wall, this revelation of a performer's deepest insecurities and doubts to a full theatre studio of strangers translated to a raw display of uninhibited honesty and courage in its purest most-beautiful form. Concurrently, it also provided an uncanny manifestation of the looming uncertainty and fearfulness I am now made to face, standing at the cusp of adulthood, facing unprecedented decisions regarding my future and its prospects. Ultimately, the tension accumulated through the fleshing out of life's harsh realities was ameliorated by prevailing undertones that stressed the encouraging omnipresence of hope and light in this world. This play's universal resonance offers a sense of comfort as well as liberation for all - so let's pray for more Unicorn Moments today!

(This piece joins the top ranks on my list of favourite local works! It sits alongside City Night Songs – loved that piece. And Oon Shu An is such an insanely amazing performer; I'm sure she's even more amazing a person. Much admiration!)

---

Haven’t posted here in ages but have been trying to re-cultivate the habit of writing. Hence, I’ve been making myself write a little as regularly as I can, but by more traditional pen-and-paper means. I must start writing proper prose again. Sigh!

I think it's strange to feel a certain age - how does one feel like, a number? It's like I feel old and young and ageless at the same time; old but unwise, young but cynical. Sometimes I look at adults and wonder, how did they get from where I am now, to where they are now. Taking life is a mountain we need to surmount, eighteen years has been one crazy long climb; ironically, the actual ascent has barely just begun. To grapple is tedious, but to stagnate is tragic.

As morbid as it sounds, I often dally with the thought of how long I'd live or when I'd die. If I had it my way, in all my youthful levity, I'd like to live up till the big 30. And that's enough. Live through the "roaring twenties" and simply leave the game altogether.

There's a certain daunting association of age to responsibilities, to commitment. And beyond this, it's the perpetual uncertainty that plagues us, making life so tough, so unpredictably challenging and so unprecedentedly scary.

But life is also unexpectedly beautiful. Unspeakably rich. Admittedly, life has been increasingly kind to me lately - I'm in a good place and at a good stage of my life. And more than anything, I've eventually learnt to live it up.

You want that opportunity? Apply, audition, try.
You want to ace that assignment? Invest, persevere, consult.
You want to meet that new person? Approach, initiate, acquaint.

It's liberating to be able to embrace such an attitude at this stage. When I turned fifteen, I was eager. Sixteen - hesitant. Seventeen - jaded. And Eighteen - simply surreal.

I feel twelve.

I woke up to this thought this morning:
If 7-year-old Me looked into the future and had a glimpse of my life right now - to immerse in the experiences I encounter, to peruse the work I produce, to meet the people I know - will 7-year-old Me look in awe and admiration and say, 'Yes, that's who I want to be when I grow up.'
Or. If 57-year-old Me looked into the past and had a glimpse of my life right now - to revel in the experiences I've encountered, to review the work I've produced, to reminisce time spent with the people I've known - will 57-year-old Me look in bliss and contentment and say, 'Yes, that's who I wanted to be.' And I was.

I am living, growing. And I am blessed.

---

It has been an amazing day – both today, and Friday. Extremely blessed to have such dear people in my life. Have to repeatedly remind myself to focus on these people who matter, who cherish my presence and the person that I am. I am truly so incredibly lucky to have such amazing people in my life. Cannot help but kick myself at times when I keep wishing for other things or other people’s company. Learning to treasure the moment and the right people are still skills that I’ve yet to master.

And on this day, I also give thanks to my parents who have invested so much in me and supported me so tirelessly through these eighteen years. Without them, there’d be no me.

So as we kiss goodbye to the days of the dancing queen (young and sweet, only seventeen~~), I welcome a new phase of my life. Hopefully filled with greater wisdom and maturity, and also a huge load of fun and excitement!

I am blessed. I am thankful.

"The denial of your own worth negates that of others in your life.
Start now. You are worthy. You are a fucking Unicorn.
See yourself... To see them."

This quote in the programme booklet of Oon Shu An's #UnicornMoment nicely sums up the hopeful concluding message of the play. Feeling moodily pensive, yet somewhat invigorated, after watching it. Really enjoyed how this highly introspective one-woman piece bravely tackled many elusive and complicated issues about life and growth and relationships, which we often conveniently sweep under the carpet or push to the back of our closets. Shu An's incredibly poignant reflection of her personal experiences through role-played skits and recounted anecdotes both tugged at heart strings and elicited hearty laughs. Beyond the fourth wall, this revelation of a performer's deepest insecurities and doubts to a full theatre studio of strangers translated to a raw display of uninhibited honesty and courage in its purest most-beautiful form. Concurrently, it also provided an uncanny manifestation of the looming uncertainty and fearfulness I am now made to face, standing at the cusp of adulthood, facing unprecedented decisions regarding my future and its prospects. Ultimately, the tension accumulated through the fleshing out of life's harsh realities was ameliorated by prevailing undertones that stressed the encouraging omnipresence of hope and light in this world. This play's universal resonance offers a sense of comfort as well as liberation for all - so let's pray for more Unicorn Moments today!

(This piece joins the top ranks on my list of favourite local works! It sits alongside City Night Songs – loved that piece. And Oon Shu An is such an insanely amazing performer; I'm sure she's even more amazing a person. Much admiration!)

---

Haven’t posted here in ages but have been trying to re-cultivate the habit of writing. Hence, I’ve been making myself write a little as regularly as I can, but by more traditional pen-and-paper means. I must start writing proper prose again. Sigh!