I’m very glad that you pointed it out. Gasp. Yes we’re supposed to be celebrating and supporting single-dom (single + freedom), not wallowing in self-pity.

Yes, we’ve very gracefully bypassed the age of teenage romantic angst. Teenagers are very busy people – to have to deal with parents, siblings, friends, jealous enemies, bullies, foolishly innocent romance and adolescent angst in general (as many American films have exemplified). Well, think of it this way, we cancelled one out and we have probably gained something else in other areas that we’ve been blissfully unaware of. Maybe it’s really strong friendships or really happy times spent with family or lots of time spent pursuing your passions/dreams/hobbies. You know. Trade-offs. They are everywhere. 2 years of Economics have taught me well about opportunity costs and I shall think of things that way (when I can’t think of any other better ways because you know, not everything can be economical).

Maybe it’s all about the making of lemonade with the lemons that you’ve been handed. I believe one of the best lines that has been vital in accompanying me through the difficult initial stages of growing up came from a quote in one of my favorite novels. It doesn’t even belong to the author, it was just there on one of the pages, because some authors have the habit of using quotes to mark each chapter. It came at the right time, I guess. It has since become an old adage that everyone knows, but back then, the 12-year-old me read it for the first time, very simply, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.”

And you know I’m kind of a quirky person. I actually like sour stuff – lemon juice, tom yum soup and the oddly sour mee siam from Toastbox. But of course I understood what the saying was trying to say.

But how I interpreted it was that sometimes even though you don’t get to control what you get, you can control how much you like what you get.

So, people, I like lemonades a lot.

I also like French films a lot. People who are sad should go and start liking French films because French films and the French in general are very crazy. I think the first French Film I watched was À la folie… pas du tout (He loves me… he loves me not), which was shown on Arts Central (the previous modest name of okto) when I was Sec 1 (I think). It’s crazzzzzzyy. I was stunned for several minutes after it ended and the credits were rolling and then majulah singapura came on (because Arts Central is closing). If you have not watched it, do not Google or Wiki it, just go and watch it.

You know, my sister is a huge fan of the Shopaholic series. You know, the novels by Sophie Kinsella, about Becky, the girl who has Lady Luck as her godmother. I’m not a fan but I finished every book within one day of getting them. They are addictive. Yes, they are fluffy and supposedly impossibly unrealistic and support the idea that things in life will always turn out okay if you give it enough time and put in enough effort and that you are not inherently evil (and live in a novel).

Becky is perfect (she is pretty and has good fashion sense, has nice parents, has decent friends and found the perfect boyfriend, married that boyfriend who is rich and smart and lets her buy stuff and is understanding) and she is not (she always manages to do something wrong though not out of evil-ness, but because the natural order of things does not allow utter perfection to happen, and also because the story will become boring and no one will read the novel).

It’s like Harry Potter and the magical world. We like to read and watch and learn about things that might or might not be true but are happy. I mean Harry is not always happy, what with the very painful scar and having no parents and having to fight You Know Who as his destiny, but Harry is happy. He has friends to help him, parents of friends to help him, friends of his parents to help him and he is inherently good, brave and smart. People root for him. He is perfect and he is not.

Maybe we have all sub-consciously been conditioned to hold some sort of perfection as an ideal, some sort of standard from which to mark our life experiences against. I guess that’s okay. It just shows how much of a deviant one becomes as one progresses through life. I’ve learnt in the past semester that deviancy is omnipresent because we don’t live in heaven.

Sure, we missed out on high school romance. In the world of couples, we’re cool deviants who have chosen otherwise.

In the world of singles, we’re happy inhabitants.

Perspective, people. Don’t be blindsided by what you don’t have. YET.


Still gotta have hope.


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