Summer Redux Week One

So, let me be a little honest here. It has been a while since I last wrote anything of substance here, ever since the day that Edythe decided to take a holiday. Now that Elyse is online and working, I guess that some life updates are in order of some sort.

By now, I'm already back in sunny Singapore. What I forgot to mention is that Singapore is this really hot and humid place, and that's probably the only reason why I might not really like it here, after all these years. Since this summer, I'm not doing any internships/attachments whatsoever, I don't have the luxury of hiding away in air-conditioned rooms. Running around trying to avoid the heat is one of those "black art" things—there's no real foolproof way of doing it without expending more effort.

In the week (roughly) that I've been back, I've not managed to see what has changed throughout the land. Part of the reason was as above, and the part of the reason is that I don't seem to find the impetus to actually travel out of my house these days. After being away from home for so long, I suddenly realise that hanging out at home is one of the things that I kinda missed, hot weather notwithstanding. The sheer familiarity of it all evokes a certain nostalgia that I cannot quite explain with words, despite the fact that the apartment is as messy and cramped as before, considering the fact that it houses four adults now (as opposed to the two adults and two kids before).

I sit here at yet another coffee house, and just watch the world go by as I pen all these thoughts here. I maintain that one of the more interesting things to take part in is the art of people watching. Sitting quietly in a corner to observe the surroundings have proven to unearth more interesting sights than anything that I have done, and I could have sworn that I actually recognise some of the people who are currently here (I'm probably suffering from a case of mistaken identity, but I guess that as long as I do not make an ass of myself by calling out their names in public, I'd be fine).

In a way, this summer is meant to be a period of R&R, a way of ensuring that my mind is relatively relaxed in order to take on the challenges that the next year will bring. I'm not that vocal these days, preferring to hide away from the crowd and stay hidden, waiting till people seek me out. For too long I have been the prime motivator of things; I guess that the time has come for me to truly take a step back and observe all that is happening, and to wonder if anyone is still interested enough in me to actually take that step to want to meet me.

Is this wishful thinking? I doubt it. Reciprocation is one of those things that is really hard to quantify, yet it is one of those really important values with which one measures the strength of the relationship that one has with another person. To reciprocate𔃀is to acknowledge that another person is as important to one as one is to that person. I used to treat all these really seriously, and be the person who goes round trying to reciprocate to people. But then time has steeled my mindset, and I figured that if I'm the only one doing all these... social things, then what manner of reciprocation is this?

And so I sit there, hidden away in the corner, wondering about things on my own, looking on as the world passes me by. It is interesting how a year can change one's mindset on matters relating to human relationships. This time last year, I was all hyper-enthusiastic in trying to organise meetings between groups of friends—now I just adopt a completely wait-and-see attitude. So much other things to do, most of which have to do with self-betterment.

Ah, writing. My salvation from the complications of the world. It is a known fact that I'm a verbose writer; my professor and teaching assistants for the technical consulting class have grumbled time and again about the level of verbosity. The final consulting report underwent a good 3-4 iterations of edits before settling down to the form that was handed in.

Writing succinctly—I used to know how to do that. Except that these days, where people demand a "minimum number of words" for essays, I tend to bloat up my text such that they read more easily, albeit in a more verbose way. As a mentor once said, my writing reads like a novel, which is good if I am writing a novel, but it sucks if I'm writing something like a business report or even a technical report.

I have found a simple way of dealing with this though. Since my mind thinks in such convoluted ways, it is probably best to leave it as is, and to write the first draft in the most convoluted way that mind envisions it. After that, I will pull out my editor persona and start slicing and dicing the words such that they are the most concise form that I can get away with. I like the fact that I like writing, and so I'm not going to try and kill that innate verbosity just to conform to one of the many standards of writing there are. Prune will be the word of the day now, I guess.

So I've rambled on and on and on without much coherence in my thoughts. Not that it matters much, really. At this stage, I'm just happy that I can sit here in the nice air-conditioned room writing about things that I sort of care about. Maybe one day, at the end of it all, I can look back at myself and think fondly of the times that I had while sitting at the coffee house.

Also, when I'm sufficiently acclimatised to the weather here, I might just jot down random bits of information here and there about the things that I see. And now, time to write yet another article on one of the other blogs.