25 going on 90

self-portrait in exercise ball

(before i begin and spoil the rest of this post, i’d like to thank my friends and family (and facebook reminders) for their generous outpouring of love and well-wishes on my birthday.)

and so, i was rudely transformed yesterday into a quart-centenarian, silver jubilator, 2 dozener + 1, etc. i think turning 25 is more significant than turning 21, because 21 is an arbitrary figure that begs to be shrugged off, whereas 25 is a nice, round number (alas, not a prime number!) that is more a milestone of mortality (i’d like to see this milestone at least 2 more times, if it’s ok. if not, 3 more also can).

this time last year, i was in the heights of nepal, and high in more ways than one. i remember very clearly the dutch apple pie (warm, not cold) which doubled as my birthday cake – a gift from 3 good friends and fellow travelers – and then freezing our asses off as we left the warm confines of summit hotel, heading home to our swindling landlord and also on to the rest of the mind-blasting internship experience (and the even crazier month in india).

that was the best 6 months of my life, and i have a sneaky suspicion that i might never be that happy again, though i certainly hope otherwise. if there is ever an appropriate time to bandy the tired expression “must try, no regrets!!!”, it is at this point. and though it still pains me a little to say this, i would never have traded it up for anything. no, not even love.

(i hope i don’t end up like one of those people who lives in the past, though retrospection seems to be in my nature, and almost compulsively so. i try hard not to imagine this embittered beast that has taken on a life of its own, growing ever hungrier and larger by the day, though i’m sure it is. so far, i have a handle on things, i’m still on top. who knows for how long though.)

from that back to singapore. safe, sterile singapore. a model of stability and efficiency no doubt, but still one gigantic hospital where people come to give birth and to die (i’ll have proof of that soon enough). back to my 4x4x4 room in my parents’ house, which is increasingly beginning to feel like a jail cell. why not get your own place? you may ask. well, last time i checked, all prices pertaining to property looked unpalatable. this has also, among other things, raised in me a desire for a swift exodus.

all is not bleak though, and there are things to be glad for. for one, my parents have yet to signal their intent in crowbar-ing some grandkids out of me. for that i’m grateful.

so here i am, 25 and at the edge of the chasm. so much uncertainty, too much in fact. when we were kids we used to tremble with sweet anticipation for the future. at 25 one can only quake with fear.

make some resolutions man, you say. strive for solid ground… achieve!!! i’ll tell you now that i hate resolutions. rather, i hate having to face up to the unfulfilled ones 2 times in the first month of the new year. it is the great burden and curse of being a january crybaby.

regardless, i did try for resolutions this year. the list ended at 1 – to get healthier and fitter (which actually makes the photo above a bad joke, haha).

on that note, i’d like to wrap up my yearly allowance for self-indulgent pity mongering. see you guys next year.

and life, see you when i’m 90.