|Chinese new year
||[Jan. 21st, 2004|03:02 pm]
On some days, you feel more alive than you felt when you were born. And that's usually as much alive as most people feel. On others, however, you feel like you have just walked into a marsh full of elephant manure. But, second for second, everyday is the same. It is just how we look at it because of the things that happen to us that we consider it different.|
Today was one such day. It is 3 pm in the afternoon and nothing spectacular as yet has happened. Neither do I think it will for the rest of the day. Life these days, it's generally a waste of time. I do not recollect a single productive thing that I might have done in my non-professional time as a hostel squatter. Kilograms of fag smoke have been expired while talking over trivial issues.
The last high point in my life, as I remember it, was the trip to ECP, East Coast Park. Well, what do I say? It's some sort of a park, and it's on the eastern coast of Singapore. Now, some may have conjured a nice isolated beach with blue waters, fine sand, sea gulls flying in the distance, palm trees swaying in the sea breeze and visualised our group sitting on spartan white beach chairs, wearing fronds over our bermudas, wearing psychedelic sunglasses and sipping piñacoladas.
How wrong you are.
It's this beach, or if you can call it that, about 10 feet wide, infested with couples who either do not have a place to get cozy, or are obsessive compulsive exhibitionists. So, why did we, a bunch of 6 single, geeky guys go there? Well, the answer is simple. We just wanted to drink beer in a different environment. Seriously, I am a poor Indian immigrant and I still multiply by 26, so frequent trips to bars, though increasing, cannot be regular, and the general consensus was that we had had it with drinking at food courts. They always induced in us a sense of urgency, that we had to finish our drinks and get back to where we came from; that there was a lot of work yet to be done; lot of life yet to be lived. We didn't like that. So ECP it is, when we feel like this.
ECP was marred by two things; firstly, some indomitable speck of dust getting into Abhays eye, and secondly, Cypher arguing with Ankit about how we weren't culpable for leaving him to guard our stuff for 90 minutes while we sauntered around in search of a jetty where losers fish and never catch anything. However, the train ride back to Boon Lay set everyone's mood right, thanks to the "Swaying Medusa" of Redhill and the "Dunce Strongman" of Jurong East. Life, now, is back to its own mundane routine of trying to make it to work in time, as if that counted for anything, and of communally bitching about people whom we dislike for personal reasons; teachers who make excessive hand gestures, debaters who are too rehearsed, girls who think they are laetitia casta and about why all patriotic Indians must hate Australia more than Pakistan.
You are probably wondering as to what any of this has to do with the Chinese celebrating their new year 22 days later than most of us, but that is another story.