Had a fight with him yesterday. I guess I was spoiling for one. Maybe because I hate it that he is away. I am coping OK - have been trying to keep the elf busy - taking him to plays and exhibitions and such. Took him to the chingay parade yesterday and, as usual, I ended up enjoying more than him. I suppose a time will come when he will refuse to go with a mother who behaves like a 5 year old herself.
Been reading. Cleaning the basins and sinks. I always clean sinks after I fight with him. maybe it cleanses my soul.
In another hour, would be taking the elf for the Lego movie and eat out.
As we were returning home, I thought about how safe I feel here in Singapore. It was after 11 in the night and we walked from the bus stand without a care. I have never felt safer anywhere than I do here. I would scared stiff to take a cab or walk outside this late back in India. Whatever you say about Singapore being sterile, I find this place worming its way into my heart. This is the place I would like up the elf to grow up - with me safe in the knowledge that there are no school shootings or people out to grab him.
I will not be the one to mend this fight - well I never am the one. I have too big an ego - an ego that would one day be the end of me.
I am so flawed - a bad daughter, wife and mother..but is that all that defines me? I am a flawed human - all the worse because I am aware of it and still would not change a thing. Let me go and eat some pineapple tarts....what ???
All of my creative juice has apparently been exhausted. So I have a bag of felt, clay and stuffs dying on me. I have not created a single thing for so long it makes my heart ache. My life seems to play out in phases. A bit like the moon waning a d waxing. And filled with mood craters of the kind that would leave you gasping for release.
I have lost weight - no thanks to the smoothies I never drank. I have been surviving on quinoa and the occasional rice and curry. It is no fun cooking for myself.
I completed two years here. Two years. It is scary how fast time flies. And I have nothing to show for it. I still have not written the book I keep telling I would write. I remain a fat caterpillar, moody and bitter. No sign of a butterfly anywhere in me. Do you suppose too much tarts can make one depressed. I need to eat dosa or thosai as they call it here.
At least I know my 1-10 in Chinese. Though I still cannot use the chopsticks in spite of the lessons my two lunch companions give me.
Done.
