In limbo

It’s always sobering when I think of my ‘to-do’ list and all the things I haven’t yet done. In ten or so days, I will be yanked away from the city back into the peaceful rumination of university life, tucked away in a little campus. It’s all so cyclical and I’m so predictable, it becomes a self-perpetuating system fuelled by all my expectations and worries – but also my aspirations; my quiet, wishful thinking.

I could describe this bridge of uncertainty and choice either as liberating or terrifying. I know I’m at a stage where I can make life choices without backtracking too much, but I’m admittedly wary of being on that conveyor belt, that path of ‘settling’ for this-and-that, slowly ensnaring years of my life away until I wake up one day, mid-life crisis and all, asking myself “What the hell have I done with my life?” And, I know, I would have no answer.

Delayed gratification aside, there are a lot of things I wish I could take the plunge for … but I’m a comfort-lover and a convenience-addict shaped by all things safe and within reach. I was never taught how to take risks – only how to avoid them. I’ve spent most of my life trying to sort out Plan B and account for various contingencies, I’ve never really thought about Plan A. There is so much to be said about being strong and choosing what other people might scoff at – but there’s also so much naivety in believing that it would turn out any differently from the previous millions of attempts people have strived – and failed – for.

In any case, this strange inertia makes me feel like I’m overlooking the canyon edge into a bottomless pit. I lose a lot of focus when I’m in Hong Kong because everything here seems so gratuitous, so indulgent, filled with girly chit-chats and softly-uttered romance by Victoria harbour. There are candle-lit dinners overlooking the sea; giggly whispers as we lean over the balcony of a towering skyscraper, dangling our wine glasses in the glow of the light symphony; there are succulent banquets, plates of sashimi, juicy dumplings, warm custard-filled buns with creamy-soft insides, each engulfed in passing moments that are used and discarded. We live for the next, and then the next. I forget a lot of the things that haunt my mind but I know it is starting to all come back as the flight date looms ever closer.

On a lighter note – Kim’s visit! I will post photos as soon as I get my grubby hands on them.

  1. Fyorl says:

    I like to think you can be more confident taking those risky life choices knowing that I’ll be there to support you no matter what. But, really, I honestly think that if you were to take a big risk and go for something you really dreamed about, you wouldn’t need me. You’re a strong person who could deal with any consequences. Sure, it might not all go to plan and you might end up forgoing some of the comforts you are used to – but if you’re doing something that really engages, inspires and fulfils you then I’m sure you’d be happy regardless.

    Taking that first plunge into the abyss is the hardest part and it’s made harder by this high standard of living we have today. If you’re struggling to find the courage to take that leap then I hope that knowing I’ll be there to catch you will help.

    (P.S. I’m not giving you those pictures until you wash those grubby hands of yours).

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