Good Friday

'Easter weekend' as the Good Friday following into Easter Sunday here is called is the next biggest celebration to Christmas.   Like Christmas this holy week too has been vastly commercialised.  I've never seen so many types of Easter eggs out on the shelves.   Most are the edible version (chocolates! Yum!) ... that come in addition to the traditional 'eggs' to all sorts of shapes, size and flavour (it's mind boggling ... I've never spent so much time gawping at Easter eggs.  In one particular supermarket one entire long aisle was dedicated simply to easter eggs!  And yes, all in Easter cheer each one of the family will be getting a Easter egg each.  Unlike BFL I got them weeks in advance and had the luxury to choose the best - or rather eggs befitting personal preferences.  BFL at my behest has decided to avoid the 'man rush' for Easter eggs and shopped for his eggs today ... only to discover the supermarket aisles just about stripped bare of Easter eggs.  (Wow. That's a first ... I never thought it would be this popular! Must make mental note - wise move to get Easter eggs early)

Moving away from the commercial side of Easter,  most tend to overlook the religious aspect of the Easter weekend.  Other than the fact that Good Friday is a bank holiday here, the true significance of why it is called 'good friday' tends to be overlooked.  Without actually having to write preachy bits in this rather secular-rish blog that accounts for my journey upwards and onwards, I am reminded without what was actually achieved on Good Friday - the ultimate sacrifice made, I would probably not have the hope of even a second chance.  Good Friday is all about that.  Being redeemed. Being offered the Hope of second chances to make good.  Even if I hadn't done the most religious thing today (that is to attend church service instead of moseying around the Ideal Home exhibition with BFL - yes! my second visit) I did take the time to take stock of the significance of today.

Interestingly enough, I've observed that in both my country of origin and my new country of residence come three in the afternoon the skies would cloud over.  Just like it did that many many years ago on top of that hill when He finally uttered 'it is finished!'.  It is as if the universe wept for one so innocent to have sacrificed himself for all mankind.    In his human form, He probably went through just about every single darkest fears and angst any ordinary Joe would suffer in face of an ordeal ... Yet, it was a choice He willingly made just so that we would be given 'second chances'.  (Had it been me I would have chicken-ed out long before Good Friday!)

Without Good Friday, the Hope of Easter - new beginnings and 'second chances' would not be possible.  It is this 'hope of...' which makes life worth living in our fairly screwed up, imperfect lives on earth.  On that point of reflection,  simply by knowing that a great sacrifice have been made one can't help but appreciate any second chances to make good even more.  Hope is, undisputedly, certain!

The (near) arrival of biometrics

My biometric documents have apparently arrived - that's what the courier letter stated.  Being at work however, I have yet to take actual stewardship of my new found legal status.  It is all rather exciting.  I can't wait to get my hands on my new biometric documents.  Although they are what I would call 'bridging documents' - it's not exactly citizenship, nor is it permanent residency; being given permission to stay on in this country on account of 'Family life' (i.e. married to a British) is definitely a step up from being previously (albeit briefly) in limbo.

I've since instructed the assigned couriers my work address.  Am not sure if my request be accept since it was sent after 4 pm today.  So we shall see ... whether they be calling at my work place.  Perhaps a phone call tomorrow would clarify matters.

On the work front,  A had called in sick today.  I can't help but wonder if it is a ploy to set in the point 'la bella prima donna' is indeed indespensible.  I was assigned the task of pulling out the required documents for the audit in April.  It was rather challenging, to say the least.  Particularly when A had held on to her job by confounding others with her chaotic way of doing things.  Faffing about was part of the act.  Being left to figure out where everything was, I slowly piece together (with pieces of information that she's fed me so far) the mysteries of 'la bella prima donna's filing methods and why she's got monopoly on the company's databases.

Don't get me wrong, am not moaning about how things are at work.  I rather like solving mysterious.  I have to say, it was a blessing in disguise to be left on my own to figure out where everything was and how it worked without worrying about upsetting the prima donna.  It was admittedly tedious work and for the first half of the day it all was rather like trying to find a needle in a haystack.  However,  having always fancied being an anthropologist - I kept digging.  Pulling out documents from all over, trying to figure out where they were and how they all fit together and putting them back just so that the prima donna won't have a fit that her things have been moved.  Am just thankful that unlike a true anthropologist am not out digging in the elements.  I am, admittedly not made out of very stern stuff.  I don't take cold very well nor the heat. 

Speaking of elements, the office today felt rather chilly.   The heater's not exactly broken, however, with the snow we've been having over last week and this, the building even if heated is bound to feel chillier than usual.  To think next week when the clocks go forward an hour marks summer .... *brrr* The weather's gone all mad here ...

All part and parcel of life in my adopted country of residence ... I hope I get my biometrics delivered tomorrow!

Name Changing

Part and parcel of having married BFL is changing of maiden name to married name.  It's more a culture here than it is in the Far East, ironically enough.  My mother in the 41 years of being married to my dad, had always maintained her maiden name.  It's on her passport, her bank accounts and documents. Apparently that's the norm back home for women not to adopt their husband's name.

Although it gives me great pride to adopt BFL's family name, it is still a felt change.  A change not without some nervousness and reservations attached.  It is not so much an unwillingness to change but the uncertainty of extent of change.   Although it is a change I have openly accepted having married BFL, I can't help but acutely wonder  as to how that change will affect everyone who've once known me in my former maiden name and new friends here who know me in the latter, married name.  Will there be confusion between the two?  Would the change be perceived by the former  group that I had forsaken my former self by changing my name?  As far as I am concern, I am still 'T'.  That would never change.  However, with my life now here, I am known increasingly here as 'G'.  Admittedly, it still needs some getting use to that more and more of my personal documents address me as Mrs BFL than the name I've been accustomed to using all my life.

I am well aware that I would have to eventually make that decision to pick a name that would eventually be shown on all my personal documents.  To do so would mean to choose the name that I am widely known here as - my second Anglocized name that I've hardly ever (so much so that I don't answer to) used back  in my country of origin.  I suppose there was a very good reason why my mother gave me that name after all ... who would have known G would eventually gain prominence?

I would now have to make a mental note to now answer to both.  I am both T and G.  I am glad that when BFL calls me G he says it with an emphasis.  'G'!   It more than arrests my attention. I often come running ... or snap back into the reality.  I suppose he understands how absent minded I sometimes (what day is it today?) am and the tendency to in a world of my own - musing over anything and everything -  from the inane, 'what you mean?! 'dogging' is not the same as 'dog walking?' to the deeply profound 'what is the value of ...?'

*muse*muse*muse*think*think*think*hum*hum*hum*....

So! Now that I have my leave to remain approved for the next 30 months of my life, I would have to step up efforts to integrate into life in this new country of residence.  The first would be to standardized what I am known as here in my personal documents.  And I suppose in answering all those questions I posed earlier about how this name changing business would take effect, the only way to find out is to live each day here as G and occasionally reverting back to being called T with my friends from back home.

I can't help but feel both excited and cautious.  On one hand, it is an exciting journey onwards further into this brand new life in a country I've always dreamed about.  Yet on the other, as it is a journey of discovery there will be many challenges and uncertainties to reckon with. And that creates a sense of nervousness and reservation.

Life, so far has taught me I could do anything if I determinedly set my mind on it.  I did after all, got out of that hell hole.  Then, there's divine intervention which I have honestly believe plays a large extent in where I am today.  Life has indeed panned out bigger and better than I could ever even imagine! You can bet your last dollar I am determine to make the best of what I've been given.  Yet having said that, that doesn't mean I'm not without fears and nerves. So, in God we trust and our best foot forward. :)

Who would have thought ...?

It had dawn upon me  last evening as BFL drove us past the commons, that I had before meeting BFL been driven past those very same roads.  Though the roads are more familiar now than it was then, I recall being impressed by the Commons.

'What a nice place ...' I thought out loud.  Aunty C was always in the scene then commented how it was an expensive place to live.  Having just arrived in the country, I hadn't exactly understood what it meant in terms of London property prices then ... but who would have thought that musing out loud would eventually become my reality?

Which brings me to my next thought.  In all my years, I had been fortunate enough to be living in nice suburbs that I had somehow stumbled into by chance and was wowed by the place.  Naturally, the next thought that followed would be 'won't it be nice to be living here ...?'.  It is a hopeful but not expectant thought.  One uttered out of being impressed.

Somehow along the way, that thought becomes manifested reality.  I find myself living in the very area I had chanced upon and was impressed.   So, is there such a thing as coincidence in this life?  Or was this 'chanced' finding merely a preview of what is in store.  Just, we don't know it yet ... like a story within a storybook unfurling.  We only know what's on the present page.  Further along these pages lay these places which would form part of your life ... but not yet. You'll come to them eventually.

Despite going through some harsh times, I have to admit I've been pretty lucky so far.  In this instance, my life's journey has led me to live in pretty wow places (at least in my books) -which I am truly thankful about.  Leafy suburbs in a sleepy small town by the equator that I was impressed by.  In this present chapter a move from equator to one of the most happening capitals of the Northern hemisphere. And what's most amazing is that I'm now living just off the Commons - that leafy suburb we happen to drive past on our way to some where.  Even in those dark period (both of the season and in my life), the Commons had made an impression.

I can only surmise, that when you trust God in any struggles and loss, He will give you more than you can ever imagine. It is and will come.  Like pieces of a puzzle being carefully put together.  It is only a matter of time when you finally realise the current 'big picture'.   How remarkably amazing it has all panned out.  Only an unseen force like God could achieve such a feat.

Now, who would have thought ... :)

Lo and behold ...!

In my previous entry, I wrote rather pessimistically about the state of our visa application.  I had, in my rant lamenting the inefficiencies of immigration authorities failed to admit the fact I had posted the slew of documents required in last Friday's letter by courier on that day itself.  Tuesday. 19th March 2013.   You can imagine how curious I was when I picked up the letters on the landing yesterday evening after coming home from work.  Amongst them lay one of those red cards from the post office notifying a pick up.

'Can it be...? Nooo ... but all my online shops have arrived.  Could it be ...?  Can't be ... I had only posted it a couple days ago ... and they're not known to be efficient anyway ...'

With all those time in limbo, I dare not even hope.  Having said that, my pessimism had not stop me from praying.   In suppose behind every pessmist is an eternal optimist.  I had weighed worst case scenarios ... yet prayed that this application would be considered favourably. That we would get our passports and documents back soon.

I didn't think 'soon' would be today...!

Yes, lo and behold! When I finally made the trip down to the local post office this afternoon, my heart leapt when out appeared a very recognizable plastic courier envelop that I had inserted with my application (just so to make it 'easier' for my case worker).  It was instantly recognizable because it was self addressed in my own handwriting.

Gosh ... I have to say, I'm taking back everything negative I said about immigration.  With our passports and documents in hand, we can now go places.  Well admittedly not so soon.  We still have to wait for the biometric card to arrive.  The letter said in 7 working days.  Next week?

It is a relief that our wait for permission to remain in this country as BFL's wife is now over. Although in 29 months the nerve wrecking suspenseful process will begin all over again, I am no doubt thankful.  Thankful that if you really took a long hard look at the process that we had both been subjected to, immigration authorities hadn't been as inefficient as I have previously lamented.   They did advise to start the process at least 28 days before present permission expires.  Which I did.   More than 28 days to be exact.  My student visa expired on the 29th Jan 2013.  My application was submitted on the 22nd Dec 2012. 

With Christmas, New Year and their processing policy, they couldn't really do anything about it until the student visa ran out.  So, to be fair, it took them 52 days.  A month and a bit.  Not as long as I thought it would pan out - particularly with horror stories I've heard. 9 months?!  A year?  Rejected and spouse had to return home...!

Arguably, 52 days is rather long for one piece of paper/card to be considered.  But hey, I'm no longer complaining.  I'm in fact thrilled that:
a) My prayers are answered and application has been approved
b) That we're no longer unclear about my status quo
c) I can now legally work full time.

So, there you have it.  When you least expect it, it happens.  Prayer does work!

The low down on the visa application

The 16th March marks three months without a passport.  To think having paid a hefty fee they (the immigration authorities) would process application as quickly as they can.  But it's been months of dawdling unknown particularly when there's no way of finding out about state of application.

Website, you suggest? If you care to painfully trawl through the website of conflicting information, you will discover:-
1) it's all confusing waffle which leaves anyone seeking to shed light on 'how to' even more bewildered and confused
2) the ever changing goal posts of visa policies.  One day X is policy, the next day it's been scrapped and replaced with Y ... the following, Z ... and it goes on ...
3) And in the event one seeks to contact them either by email or phone call you are reminded by the website that just about stop short of saying 'DON'T CALL OR WRITE US! WE WON'T ANSWER YOU!' 

It is an annoying enactment of non-existent customer services ...

To be fair, at least they've bothered to write once every month they've compounded our passports.  Interestingly on my part, I've since learned to recognize that white almost non-descript envelopes from the organization.  There's something about it that distinguishes it from the rest of the white enveloped bills (and more bills).  Maybe it's the shape, or the hue of coloured 'white', or something about the type fonts used ...

I've pored over my analysis and anxious anticipation almost like one awaiting a love letter from a beloved. I find myself counting the days to the next missive.  Each day is highlighted by the visit of the postman.  The postman becomes the most favourite in the world (next to BFL, that is).   One's heart races in anticipation whenever mail pops through the door.  'Will I or will I NOT hear from them today?'

Sad, really...It all sounds rather consumingly obsessive ... not like that's going to do much good.

We've done everything we can.  The letter that came last Friday afternoon requested yet for more documents that were not originally in the 42-paged application form I had initially filled in.  Bank statements.  Employment letters. Forms - which I wasn't aware existed so had to Google to find out.  To top it all was the looming deadline of less (SEND THESE TO US BY ... OR ELSE!)  Rather 'high handed' I have to say for an organization falling over in inefficiency.  God forbid if I had to appeal I would argue that letter was dated, 7th March.  Posted on the 13th via second class mail.  Arrived, 15th. Followed by a weekend (16th and 17th).  The 22nd deadline gives us a maximum of three and a half days to get things and that's that's to factoring in the quickest postage time.

Following that, just based on the logistic of the letter further reveals how inefficient processing is.   The letter originated from Sheffield - which I assume  is where the assigned caseworker is.  But posted in Croydon five days later?  I understand if it took 2 days to arrive - being second class mail.  But why didn't they post it straight from Sheffield instead of making that loop down South to Croydon and then up to London? So, it goes to question is our casework, Mr F in Sheffield  or in Croydon?  Or does Mr F have to consult with his line manager in Croydon and only when authorized then letter is posted?

Tortuous inefficient bureaucracy - that's all I can say.  No wonder organization is reported to be in a mess.  I've heard of similar cases that's taken 9 months to 9 years.  Scary ... it does make you wonder what they're actually doing in office.  Probably just as confused as their baffling waffle of their informative website.  I suppose  as that phase goes, 'if in doubt stay put ...'  Not make a decision, they do.

And so in limbo we remain ... :(

Dangling carrots ...

An email from the stalker came this morning.  More 'carrot dangling' business. This time with a photo of a 'pay-in' bank slip.  The stalker had banked in money into my account.  This is him encouraging me to get an iphone 5.  I'll let him do whatever.  I'll simply ignore - as I've done over the years.

Best not to deal with a forked tongue snake.  That I've learnt.

But I do however wonder what he's truly up to.  Why would he want to pay for an iphone 5?  Simply because I like iphones?  As much as I like them, I can very well live without.  They are only things. Dead. Lifeless. With limited novelty.

On more conjecture, perhaps it is a sign of guilt..?  His feeble attempts at trying to make amends.  As well as I've known him, he's a superstitious fellow.  He's always quoted something along the lines of what goes around comes around.  With all the evil he's done, maybe karma is swiftly honing in on him.  And being the person that he is (he thinks that money can buy his way around) he's trying to disarm karma that by offering a peace in form of an iphone.

Honestly...!?! Doh!

I suppose you can't blame a man who's lived his entire life calculatively manipulating others to come up with such a feeble superficial solution. One lousy iphone for all those vengeful destructive effort to destroy my reputation!?!  I know my worth.  I'm certainly not cheap.  He should know by now that the circle of life is deep.  A complex tapestry that often times the good dollar and sense cannot unwind or solve.

I have to admit I am feeling rather smug.  I've not done a thing even after all he's done.  Yes, I was admittedly hopping mad.  I had my moments of bewilderment. Followed by angry cursing and swearing.  But other than that, I've since learnt to let go.  What's the point of holding on to bitter anger?  It'll only bring more grief to oneself.  Besides, he can't hurt me now.

So,  I can only speculate that he's finally coming to his senses that his life which is in disarray is a result of his own doing.  The way he treats others - manipulate, bullies, steam rolls is returning to himself a thousand fold (so I'd like to think ...)  It's no wonder 'good people' don't stay.   Maybe it has finally dawn upon him that his very toxic vibe that can only attract equally toxic vibes.  Hence, a troubled complicated life - where at the end of the day, he's all on his own.  I did warn him a long time ago.  But there's only so much a person of that mindset can understand.

On different note, I've chosen to ramble here instead for good reasons.  One, is to spare someone's (usually the closest and dearest) poor ears.  I've learnt that it helps any one work through issues by hearing or reading themselves think.  Writing this blog to a large extent is a cathartic exercise, a sounding block, an expressive confessionary outlet.  It is her I share my inner most thoughts and musings without drawing on judgement onto myself.

I also like to think I keep my rantings relatively short.  Once am done, am always mindful that life should be lived forward looking.  Yes, we occasionally need to look back, take stock of events and vent - like what I do here.  But since we only have so much time in this world, I'd rather focus on living a fulfilling live with BFL.  So onwards and upwards ... there's simply so much to look forward too here and now.

Becoming an 'egg'

'I'm turning into an 'egg', piped BFL. 

An 'egg'...? You wonder.  Let me explain.  The man was referring to his changing food palate.  And this is the story:-

We had dinner out last night after a concert at the RAH.  And since we both tend to gravitate towards restaurants we know best, we ended up in the usual French franchaise.  Good food, value for money.
However,  since his exposure of food from the Orient, BFL has discovered that meats are done far better in terms of flavours and tastes in comparison to Western recipes. While we both do like French cuisine, he's declared that the meat wasn't quite as good as cut out to be. 

'I'm done with "French'' he declares.  'Next time we eat out, we're going Oriental'.

Hence, the term 'egg'.  Meaning, white on the outside, yellow on the inside.  This white man has developing Oriental taste buds.  ;)

Having said that, he's not really gotten into the heights of noodle fancy like I have.  It reminds him too much of pasta which, strangely enough, doesn't eat.  I on the other hand am into any sort of noodles.  Egg noodles, mung beans, rice, thin, fat, curly ... just say 'Noodles' and I'm your best friend!  While I like them soupy, BFL would rather his noodles fried.  Like fried rice.  I suppose he's not gotten into the knack of blowing his food cold before putting it into his mouth.  It's funny that ... watching him struggle with his brothy noodles.  It slips off his chopstick (which he is determined to master). And when he does get a hold of noodles, it's too hot to be eaten.  I don't blame the man for being turned off by soupy noodles.  It all needs a skill which he's yet to master.  It's abit like me and crabs.  I think it's simply too much effort - to bang, bash, pry and crunch shell for meat.  So as yummy as they come, I usually give it a pass.

Which brings me to the issue of dinner.  It's fish on the menu today.  So off I pops.  Got to make sure it's bursting with flavours that BFL has become so accustom to.

Stalking revisited

Like that card above, as traumatic as hard past experiences were, I am thankful for it. As it shows me who I am and capable of.  More importantly it revealed to me whom I do NOT want to be.

The stalker wrote a barrage of emails again recently.  Emails of the 'bribing' sort.  It's his style to dangle a carrot after episodes of cruelty.  Hence, 'stalker revisited'.  It's not as if I like to look back and dwell.  However, moving upwards and onwards occasionally requires backward glances to gain a better understanding of the present.

BFL knows of my past.  Stalker etc.  However, he does not about the spate of emails that I've chosen to ignore.  But just in case, I've carefully file them away.  You never know what insidious tricks he would be up to.  Like getting the man who done the kitchen to write me a legal letter threatening to sue me for 'not being there' - when he's already been paid to complete the kitchen. That absolute nonsense!  When that didn't work, the published a missing person allegedly involved in an assault case in the local papers.  And all these while I was blissfully ignorant nose in the books churning up assignments to meet my deadlines.

Do I sometimes feel a twinge of longing with my backward glances?  No.  Admittedly there were some 'good times' where I thought he was considerate.  However, it was all a ploy.  Any act of consideration always came with a hefty price.  Like what he's doing right now.  'Dangle the carrot', once he's thinks you've taken bait, he'd reel you in and then the abuse begins.  No loved one should ever be treated that way.

The toxic cycle always began with a lull before the storm.  You're left to your own devices.  One that spells of neglect.  Then the drama begins.  It usually begins with nitpicking of some inane non-descript issue which explodes into some full blown accusations.  From affairs to being a low down cheat with no-morals, this tortuous toxic infliction could drive any sane, even tempered person off the edge.  It's as if the aim of each episode of cruelty is to tear someone apart.  At the end of the day, he's the sort of person that brought out the worst out of me.  I fought tooth and nail to survive. 

Each dramatic epsiode, showed me the harsh truth.  I didn't like who I was with him.  Because of his ways,  I was so up in arms whenever he approached.  Like an injured incensed animal, I became a gibbering emotional wreck every time a drama unfurled and accusations thrown.  I knew, if I wanted a shot at being happy again and to lead a purpose driven and hopeful life, I must distance myself from his insidious toxic schemes.

I put half the world between him and I.  Fairly drastic measures, I have to admit.  But the opportunity arose and I took it  ... admittedly with much initial trepidation.  But God has been faithful.  Although He's shut one door, He's faithfully opened another and provided what was needed to journey well into this 'new life'.   I didn't know it at that time, of course.  All I knew then was to 'get away' and learn to be strong again.  I didn't have a clear plan of what and how to do that.  All I knew was to take things one day at the time, and find ways to engage oneself in gainful activities - that sort that would both be learning opportunities and would stretch one's horizons.

Having come this far, any 'backwards glance' would always leave me with a sense of gratitude and relief.  That I had 'escaped' a life of pain and grief.  While that meant having to give up a certain lifestyle and sense of material security, that was a small price to pay for a life of hope and happiness.  No amount of 'carrot dangling' would make me go back.  I'd rather be where I am now than live in a huge house, drive a nice car ... however one with no future.

Moreover, being with BFL means alot more to me than some silly multi-million dollar lifeless property. 

Office politics

Office politics.  The bane of any organization - big or small.  The temping work place I've been at offered me a dynamic view of the people working there.  The office manager disgruntled at the sales director who makes double the salary thinks she's doing more than her fair of work while he isn't.  The way I see things, it's about being vague about job specifications and descriptions.  I suppose as simply as I see things, there's more than meets the eye.  I've been there a month and I suppose as low as I keep my nose in my work, in an office that small, one's nevertheless exposed to the dynamics of office politics.

Also, I am beginning to realise that my being there is beginning to be seen as a threat to the office manager.  As much as I like her and look up to her, she is abit of a prima donna and thrives on being the centre of attraction.  With a younger, more qualified and capable person coming along most prima donnas would feel threatened.  Furthermore, her needing to always be the centre of attention and bossing the men about does not bode well with the men in the office.  However, since she's fairly efficient and knows where the paper work is, they tolerate her traits.

'She is rather stressful, isn't she?'  uttered the new sales director to the out-going one when she was out of the room.  I have to admit the way the office manager sighs and struts around the room in a sort of dramatized attention seeking fashion can be rather disconcerting. Particularly for men who are accustom to the civility of an officer's mess.  However, here's where past experiences (the bad) have benefited me. Having been through hell and back, I've possibly seen and experienced much of the worst of what human insecurities can play up.  Thankfully, with work to concentrate on, I am unfazed.  And I suppose the men being wary of women (because of office manager's faffing about), steer clear of me too.  Which is okay by me since am not really big on small talk.

I suppose what office manager crave is to be the centre of attention.  Maybe she's lonely.  Maybe it is just her nature.  To be a drama queen.  Which probably explains her bent for all things arty farty.  It's her trying to differentiate herself from the ordinary humdrum of the rest of us who tries to blend in rather than stand out.  I've noted she does enjoy talking about herself.  And she did say that talking to me was good for her ego (I tend to agree with what she says).  Best not to rock boat.  Besides, I know nothing.  But whatever it is, it is not my problem but hers.  And it is not my job to make things right for her.  I'm there to do my job and learn and once am done I'm off.  The less I have to do with the office politics, the better.

Unlikely combinations

Like french fries and ice cream, strawberry and balsamic vinegar ... some combinations are least unlikely yet somehow works. 

Like BFL and I.  Two different cultures.  Two different countries.  Even two types of age cohort.  Yet despite of the apparent differences, we share even more similarities.  From integral core values right up to the fun silly stuff we indulge in.  Chocolates.  Silly poems.  Out of sync dancing. Mucking around in the mud on country walks. 

The most uncanny coincidences were us spending considerable time at the same place however at different times. To name the few: we were both learning french at Institute Francais.  We spent quite a fair bit of time in a building at Waterloo.  BFL's first civil posting. A decade and much refurbishments later, me having classes and working in the library of the very same building.  Our first jobs was in a book shop - just him in London, the other Borneo.

Because we began our journey together on the premise of 'within differences lies similarities' - we have always treasured that each other's sense of individualism.  Giving each other the space to just be yet in the same stride,  by introducing each other to those differences we have by far enriched our sense of awareness and understanding of life and in particular each other.

BFL always jokes about him being the man 'your mother warned you about'.  I retort in jest how he's introduced me to all the 'decadent gwailo ways'.  But in addition to alcohol and chocolates,  he has been instrumental in developing a deeper understanding of European history and culture. 
For example, experiencing both opera and ballet (admittedly my max is 3 hours ... anything more is torture)  In return, I've introduced him to the great oriental past time: Eating! - Initiating him into different types of Oriental foods - from Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, Malaysian and Indonesian.  He has since developed a deep rooted appreciation for 'prawn crackers' ('so good it's not true!') and fried rice. 

On another track, his rather stark bachelor pad has been transformed into a place more cosy and homey. We've now taken to hosting friends and family in our little kitchen.  Me being chef, he the sommelier. This comes also with cleaning up services (I, strangely enough like cleaning).  While he does ironing, taking out the rubbish and the de-cluttering.  That's us in our natural state.  

One unlikely combination ... yet it somehow works.

Life travels than the speed of light ...

'Forget shooting stars, comets or meteors ... life travels faster than the speed of light' (Sullivan.M)

That line stuck because of its truth. 

And she goes on to write, 'The trick is to keep your eyes open so you don't miss the fairy dust that happen to blow your way.'

In not so many words, she refers tacitly that the tendency for humans travelling at such velocity to brace themselves.  There are a few reasons why we tend to shut it out.  Natural reaction - eyes shut to protect itself.  Out of fear - we squeeze our eyes shut thinking that by not seeing would somehow make the experience different.  More bearable.  Less scary.  But we end up missing out on so much.

On the flipside, sometimes seeing everything can be overwhelming.  Sensory overload.  The fear of the unknown.  And the insecurities of one can only handle so much ...

But you see, we are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for. Ironically, it is in those life overwhelming moments that our horizons and awareness are expanded.   While we may not fully understand the extent of it all just yet, the main thing is our limits have been lifted. And in time, wisdom and appreciation would follow.

On that note, I would rather be challenged and overwhelmed by keeping eyes wide open while travelling faster than the speed of light than having it safely shut.  Least by the end of the my journey, I have a wealth of memories to draw on than a black void of shut-out experiences.

The first week of March

The first week of March officially marks the season of spring.  Yet it feels no closer to spring with how cold the days have been.  I do pity the spring blossoms though - now that they are out.  They're probably suffering from some form of shock like we humans have been for the last few months.  'Eek! It's freezing!'  :(

The first week of March also marks that 'time of the month'.  Where hormones go awry.  This time around, my immune system's taken a plunge.  With all that coughing and sneezing in public, plus BFL earlier spell of flu, I'm thankful I've been relatively unaffected until this week.  I suppose the body can take only so much stress ... trying to balance hormonal 'oil change' coupled with working in a small office and battling all manners of ill-meaning germs , something's got to give.  So bouts of sniffles and cough it is.  A general 'feeling under the weather', thankfully  nothing quite as severe as BFL's ...

Which brings me to my third point of musing:  It dawned upon me having perused graduation list published online that the Merit degree I earned is certainly more rare than I generally thought it to be.  And I found myself feeling ever so proud of my achievements all over again.  For me, it was a personal aim.  To excel towards something realistically achievable.  I am certainly not brilliant (so a 'Distinction' was out of the question).  Bright, perhaps.  (But there are always many others far brighter than I am).  So a Merit was the target.

Admittedly, beyond that lies a deeper motivation of setting out on this academic journey.  It was to find out a simple fact:  Whether the years of personal trauma had taken toll on my mental faculties. Those toxic people I had once been with had often tried to put me down.  Belittling who I am and what I could achieve to pittance.  So insidious and cruel were the mental and emotional abuse,  there were admittedly dark moments where I began to wonder whether I was indeed the mad gibbering wreck these toxic people made me out to be.

I've not only learn but proven on this very long and arduous journey onwards and upwards that one should NEVER allow anyone to undermine one's self esteem.  While I am aware that there will and always be others far better and brighter than me, I should never discount nor underestimate my abilities and capabilities. Although it's only an academic Merit,  it proves that I am still capable of excelling.  I am 'NOT' the mad gibbering clueless idiot those toxic people make me out to be.  My abilities and capabilities are no less than others on an international scale.  And my internal values fairly grounded (I like to think that I do the least harm to others).  That said without any trace of 'big headedness' nor malice.

My parents often prayed this:  That the good Lord would restore unto me all the years the locusts have eaten.

That prayer I have since taken to heart.  Like the bible character, Joseph.  Better known in secular times as Joseph and the Technicolour coat, the narratives tells of a boy having incurred his brothers' envy had them plotting against him.  The plan was murder.  However, due to eldest brother's intervention, Joseph was thrown into a pit and later sold off as a slave.  He was served an important man briefly, before he was framed and wrongly accused and sent to prison.  There he remained and by the grace of God and divine intervention (and through his hard work, talents and abilities) rose to Pharaoh's right hand man.

Therein lies my other point: That on any journey upwards and onwards one should never limit what God can do.  Naturally being human, one comes with certain fused ideas of  'what, how, why' things should or ought to be.  Anything straying beyond our comfort zone or stereotype scares us.  As a result, we often dictate to God what and how He ought to act in answer to our prayers.

However, God like it is often quoted, works in mysterious ways.  He doesn't always work the ways one wants Him to.  His ways are higher and bigger than one's mind, no matter how brilliant, can fanthom.  In my own personal journey, just when I thought all hope is gone and I find myself at a brink of giving up except for one prayer uttered in earnest desperation, He always opens a way to a whole new vista.  Always far better than what my mind could conjure up. 

BFL is prove of that.  Who would have thought that on this academic journey to prove to myself that I'm no gibbering wreck,  in addition to proving a point, I also find a best friend who is now my husband?  This comes with a wonderful new family and (old and new) friends - people who mean well and helped me along the process of adapting and integrating into my newly adopted country of residence.

So you never know how life might pan out.  Just a deep rooted belief that He will indeed 'restore all the years the locusts have eaten ... '