Independence Day

Weather Forecast: Everything is such a breeze.

A good job, just like true love, is elusive. I made that cheesy realization one day as I was observing the goldfish swim inside the aquarium. Swimming from one side to the other it goes, repeatedly moving in circles, only to momentarily stop as if to realize that it ended up on the same spot from where it started. Much like my own personal pursuits.

I’m aware that it doesn’t sound that complicated to the goldfish. Perhaps it was just me trying to stir my idle mind. Besides, who would want to be alone inside a pre-war flat after hearing of horror stories the previous night? Electricity is expensive (among other things) and conserving energy is essential. That explains why the lights are off most of the time even if it looks like a dungeon enveloped in darkness. It doesn’t help that the architecture of the flat permits only a small fraction of sunlight to go in. It was daytime and my housemates all went to work already. The secret goal was to make this flat look abandoned so that no stranger would come knocking. Not that strangers would bother to randomly knock on our door anyway. Just the long, narrow and dark stairs leading to our flat at the second floor would hinder anyone.

I went to the kitchen to scour for something edible. Living with other people aside from your family teaches you the value of “pakikisama” (smooth interpersonal relationship). You learn to adjust, cope and weigh things according to reason and intuition. When Marie and I were still in Bukit Batok, we didn’t feel the need to adjust that much. But that’s because we have known each other for more than a decade. We could share most things with less restrictions and less worries. But with newly met housemates, there are unwritten, non-dictated and perfectly understandable code of ethics which are necessary for peace and order to thrive. But looking inside their fridge made me think twice. I could see the creamy salad staring back asking me to eat it.  Not to mention the ice cream. And the cheese… the pricey cheese that made me appreciate its aroma like that mouse in Ratatouille. I would remember Marie’s “motherly” voice reminding me that we did not have to buy such things as they are still considered “luxury” for the meantime. Indeed, sticking to the budget is key at this point. So before I further get lured, I took out only what’s ours and closed the fridge tight.

But who would complain of having a decent breakfast of sliced bread and strawberry jam, plus a piece of Dole-labeled banana to boot? Besides, this is just the third week straight of the same carte du jour. I prepared a cup of hot Milo and slurped a bit. TOO HOT!!! And not in an OMG-look-at-Zac-Efron’s-abs kind of way. Instantly my taste buds got numb. In my case, whenever that happens, it will surely take at least one full day to heal. On the bright side, at least I could deceive my tongue that it was munching on mango crepe for a change.

It was so quiet. So quiet that it was sort of embarrassing to fart even if no one else was around. (I just didn’t write the F word, did I?) While eating alone in the solemnity of it all was uninspiring, it made me notice the faint sounds that I would otherwise ignore. Like the rhythmic buzzing of the fridge that could tell you its age. Or the mild clanking of the big aluminum wok which moves with the occasional gush of wind as it hangs by the wide kitchen window. Or the unique ticking of the celadon green metal-rimmed (was I right in hearing them say it’s electric?) wall clock which has been around for years – its shape and appearance actually reminds me of the classic and rusty school bell during my elementary school days. In fact a lot of things looked what others would associate with shabby chic. Vintage. Charming!

Right before the kitchen is the comfort room / restroom / toilet. (Is it just me or does that word make you instantly see flashing images of the bowl?) The opaque sliding door adds that Oriental touch to it. Slide half of the door open and it would reveal the shower area. Slide the other half and it would reveal “the throne.” And the cute part lies in the partition which leaves a wide gap from the ceiling. Enough open space to hear what the person on the other side is doing. Bombs away!  >>>

At daytime, the narrow corridor from the kitchen to the living room transforms into an imaginary runway where one could strut like diva Naomi Campbell. I admit to doing the catwalk there sometimes, especially whenever I take my dried clothes out from the washing machine in the kitchen onto our room which is at the other end. No phone-throwing, of course. But at night, that same corridor feels different. Once each housemate is in their respective rooms and I feel like using the toilet, I would usually trade-off my catwalking with brisk walking. Who knows whose silhouette I would see in that pitch black part of the house. And it doesn’t help that the light switch is located about 3 feet outside the toilet as I would have to stop to flick it off before rushing back to our room as if someone is chasing me.

It’s almost 10:30am. After performing the chores and rituals that go hand-in-hand with the reality of being independent, the time has come for me to continue my job hunt online. After sending out several emails and calling a few companies, I psyched myself that after a couple of days I should be getting their replies. With every ad, reading the company background is exciting. And as they enumerate the job responsibilities and requirements line by line, I would nod and make an imaginary check mark, grinning along the way sometimes, as if every single requirement matches my own set of skills and credentials. As if I was that 6-year-old kid again outside the Church, ecstatic everytime the vendor hands me out a balloon until I had enough to make me believe I can fly. Until I reach that last line that reads: “Singaporeans or PRs Only.” Then the balloons begin to burst one by one. Dammit.

But even if most ads specify this, I would still send out my resume. I am not a good statistician but it’s safe to say that 95% of the ads indicate that specific requirement. That makes going thru the ads a swift ride from wild euphoria to mad depression. That is why most of the time I would dash into reading the last line, just so I could easily get over the false hopes. Though sometimes I find that to be KJ (kill-joy), which makes the process all the more pathetic and boring. Like cheating on the newspaper’s crossword or Sudoku puzzles where you can naughtily check the inverted correct answers (although I believe nowadays they only provide the correct answers on the next day’s issue).

Lunchtime came and I have sent enough emails to flood my Sent Items. Thank Starhub for fast Internet connection speed. I took my purse, locked the doors, both the heavy wooden door and the squeaky metal door, and headed to the hawker center. I made a secret covenant with myself to try to be as experimental as possible when it comes to ordering food. This time I’m trying the Kway Teow. Its dark colour seemed icky at first sight, but the taste was flavourful. So yummy that it makes my stomach growl until now just at the thought of it.

And this was how I spent my typical idle days. I know it’s bad but sometimes I envy my friends who have had better luck at finding a job. But at the same time I am grateful for a lot of reasons. It was already September ‘08 and luck was nowhere near. Oprah once said that luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity. If that is true then clearly that meeting has not happened yet.

On my way back I tried to change things up a bit by passing by a different route. I didn’t mind the intense heat of the sun as I was still enjoying every minute of this newfound independence. The mere fact that I chose to pass by a different street, just because I can, felt fun and empowering to say the least. The sights may not be any more captivating than the usual street that I take, but it is different – and I’m loving it. It renewed in me that sense of childlike wonder and awe that I seem to have lost through the years.