Walking through crossroads with thousands of others, I take a moment to stop and glance around myself and I realize no one has stopped and the world continues as per normal.

hogging the roads since 2007.

12th of December 2007 - the day I passed my driving test and attained my license. Today marks the 3rd anniversary of that day. Time undoubtedly and inevitably flies!

It seems like yesterday that I first sat behind the wheel and shuddered nervously when I was asked to drive at merely 40km/h. I remember climbing into the car next to my test instructor and taking a deep breath before starting. That was the first time I had driven without music from the alpine system in the car. I tried to remember the route I was given, but it came to me as nothing but a number. I kicked off my sandals (yes I drive barefooted) and checked my settings before starting off. Unlike my previous test instructor, this one looked remotely friendly so I gave a nervous sideway smile and set off. I focused and survived and he told me I was a smooth driver, which made me smile internally (and would have manifested as an ear-to-ear smile if I had let it). Upon reaching the centre, he refused to tell me if I had earned the right to travel the roads on a four-wheeler controlled by me. I trudged up the stairs behind him and sat down across from him at a table. It was there he handed me my score sheet and I had passed! I might have squealed there and then.

When I freshly passed, everything had to be by the book but now it seems estimation and gut has taken over. It ultimately becomes a task akin to swimming or cycling, where your body automatically takes over as though it is pre-set.

This maturation process applies to a multitude of things in life. Be it a caterpillar taking a temporary hiatus or morphing period in a cocoon only to emerge a butterfly or a baby graduating from sucking his or her thumb to lecturing in a university. Changes are all around us. But with changes comes the baggage of memories of the past. Some sweet, some painful, some happy and some sad and these inevitably become part of us. Whether we use these to our advantage and prevent history from repeating itself or we let ourselves sink into these and allow those emotions to erupt yet once again is entirely up to us. But no matter what we do with these memories, they get planted into our brains till anatomically erased by old age. They are part of us, and will remain part of us; especially if they mean a great deal to you.

In any case, I miss driving a manual car!

sat down with inspiration and a pen.

The gust of wind

The words of life just pass me by

I wonder if I should laugh or cry

I hold out my hand with apprehension

But your words seem to escape my comprehension

Where did I err, I ask myself

As I look at pictures of us upon the shelf

Tears stream down my cheek

As I recall our memories that summer at the creek

We were happy; things were perfect

My heart was whole and fully intact

Somehow this gust of wind took with it our dreams

It was not that perfect after all, it seems

I tried to bring a smile upon your face

Thoughts of you, in my heart I would place

But you slammed the door into my soul

So now with these memories left, I will grow old

By Vibha

A quarter of the pie.

22 years and approximately 11 days have passed since I completed 22 years on this planet. If one considers the life expectancy of an average healthy Singaporean (~80.7 years), that would mean I have completed one quarter of my life. As I stare at the 3/4 of pie left in front of me (where pie = my life), I cannot help but wonder how the rest will taste like. Sure enough there will be a myriad of tastes (sweet, salty, sour or bitter) based on my experiences hence forth and this pie of life definitely has an unpredictable set of fillings which would provoke different feelings within me.

I have reached a stage where a multitude of decisions have to be made. Decisions which seem to be battling out within me, stretching me in different directions. I guess I have to shut off these external noises and truly find that inner voice somewhere within me. And so I close my eyes and meditate and hope that I find those answers. And meanwhile, stick with my gut feel. Because the gut never lies. And perhaps try not to practise romanticism (i.e. mixing reasons with emotions and leading to a perpetual battle between both), which would certainly be a difficult task for me especially since my heart is soft like a marshmellow.

On another note, I truly value the people I have in my life. Some may have entered my life earlier and some later, but all of these people hold a special compartment within the four chambers of my heart. I love all of you dearly; you know who you are :) Cheers!

soccer for dummies, my style.

This is a recycled post from my old blog :)

First, grab a spherical object. Cylinders, cuboids and pyramids are out of the question, but worth a try. Next, find something to kick it into. Well, the wider the structure of the 'goalpost' is, the easier the game due to several obvious reasons. For a greater challenge, get a narrower region to kick the spherical object into. Here's the trick, someone from the opposing team has to place his body in grave danger by guarding this 'goalpost' with solely his body. Hence make sure the spherical object has no sharp or jaggered edges to ensure that the human being does not have to taken away on a stretcher.

So far so good? Now, the tricky bit is the movement of this circular object. Hands are out of the question, so if you'd like to look stylish while playing soccer, tuck your hands in your pockets. It is the emerging style. Feet can be used, don't worry. Well, if you're not too worried about brain damage, use the back of your head or your forehead. For those without heart problems, use your chest by all means. Otherwise, feet work fine. Next step - how many men are required to chase this spherical object and pass it around before shooting it into the 'goalpost'? 11 in total, per team. Oh keep some players on standby. Accidents happen more often than not.

Oh yes, referees are a necessity. They like to keep two coloured cards in their pockets. Red and yellow. (No, they're not all Spanish) They wave the red card if they would rather you get off the field while yellow serves as a warning. Watch your tongue because vulgarities can get you a yellow card or even a red card. Oh and if you like doing chokeslams or headbutts on people, you'll be better off in a wrestling ring.

Soccer politics. Something that churns out millions in terms of the press. So if you're not in for some sweaty action, pick up that typewriter and churn out a story on soccer politics and sell it to tabloids. Likely to get you hordes of cash, if you're really professional.

Scoring. Some people like to kick the spherical object in various arrangements around the field for a bulk of the time and then score a goal whereas others prefer kicking the spherical objects into the crowd. There are some, of course, who rather get to the point and score from one end of the field to the other. Of course, that is only possible if all the players are asleep on the field apart from the one delivering the shot.

So, as you can see, soccer is not all that complicated after all. Go and grab your spherical object and a couple of people today!

molds of plasticine or bricks of clay?

Conformity to the norm or daring to be different. Human beings tend to take different stances, but ultimately they funnel into conformity at some juncture or point in time. How different can we be and how often do we let ourselves stick out like a sore thumb?

This raises the issue of our locus of identity and whether it is external or internal. The former are comparable to molds of plasticine whereas the latter are comparable to hardened pieces of clay. It is difficult to classify humans into either of these two categories and most possess a little bit of that plasticine and a little bit of that clay, just that how much of each vary. Plasticines let themselves be molded and adjusted by the fingers of society whereas clay pieces have set their own standards of living and values, which are immune to external perspectives.

Why exactly do people conform? Why would someone not dare walk out of their house in their PJs? Why would people not dare break out into a musical on a train? Why are there unspoken norms of behaviour and conduct and who exactly created these? It is quite interesting to think about the roots of origin of such practices and how these differ across the globe. In Japan people would look at you aghast if you were to set your mobile on ringing mode, while in America you see people talking at the top of their voices. True enough, we can connect or link these to culture and traditions, but it does not address the issue of people having to be similar or at least not too different from one another. This is an entirely different issue on its own. Is it a need for identity or a fear of being judged? It could be either or perhaps just an easy way out. After all, it takes less energy to do exactly what your neighbour practises instead of having to decide what to do. We begin to doubt our own actions and try and match those of the norm. Also, people may fear being left out or ostracized for being different. But that makes them become someone they are instructed to develop into rather than someone they want to be.

Not convinced? Several psychologists have tested on subjects in the past and proven just what I am rambling about - the need to conform. One of the earliest of these studies is that done by Solomon Asch in the 1950s. Check this out:

Even though the need for acceptance haunts our minds, I think in order to be truly happy we need to take our lives by its reins and take critiques with a pinch of salt. Dare to be different and have that clay within us while maintaining some plasticine as well. Only a healthy balance of these two will make us truly us and unique. It is perfectly fine to stick out like a sore thumb once in awhile and create a whole new direction and perhaps a whole new norm, the irony of it all.

an apple a day keeps the doctor away?

The time has come where apples and blackberries are no longer seen as fruits, but spark thoughts of technological brands. An i-age is what I would define today as. And yes, I am referring to iphones and ipads and iproducts. Not just that, today our opposable thumbs seem to be indispensible in performing our daily tasks (not hard manual labour, but SMS-ing). It's 2010, and the days of snail mail and messenger pigeons are long gone. It is amazing how even siblings living under the same roof can facebook wall each other while seated in their own rooms. Or take the example of handphones and how they have become some sort of appendages on us, without which one begins to feel handicapped and agonized.

Are we truly moving into a society that is non-functional without these gadgets? Are we moving into a materialistic world defined by products and brands? These questions are worth raising and contemplating on. Somehow products have begun to embody our own aspirations and even bits and pieces of ourselves. But is this healthy? Probably not.

Even though, I may have fallen prey to consumerism in several instances, I believe it is of extreme importance to not lose ourselves in the process. A bag, for instance, should be to hold your items and make transportation of objects easier and not something that personifies you. Personification of oneself via objects leads to an unhealthy obssession and drive to attain more objects to express oneself. I recently heard from a friend about a mother who purchases branded goods for her child, just so she can drive them to work hard to attain such brands. But is what we want for the future generation? Children talking in the language of Gucci and Prada and aiming to get that latest design burberry coat rather than personal development?

On the whole, we as individuals need to draw that line between over-indulgence in materialistic possessions and remind ourselves to keep close what truly matters - friends and family and personal development. After all, that latest Gucci handbag may develop holes after a period of time, but our values and morales remain.